SOMETIMES A LIGHT SURPRISES

Sometimes a light surprises the Christian while he sings;

It is the Lord Who rises with healing in His wings;

When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again

A season of clear shining, to cheer it after rain.

- William Cowper, "Sometimes a Light Surprises"

Storms blew through Obion County this weekend. Real gulley-washers, by our driveway's testimony.

But today, sunshine.

In other ways, we have endured much storm and rain here at Kendallville over the past several months. Deep hurt, great grief, a tumult of confusion, so much pain, so many tears.

Do you think Noah, on the ark, ever looked out at the rain and the rising floodwaters and thought, "Lord, will it never end?"

As yesterday's last cloudburst tapered to a soft, sweet drizzle, a great rainbow arced from horizon to horizon, illuminating the rain-soaked hayfield.

Noah saw a rainbow, too.

"Sometimes a light surprises..."

Like sunlight through rain, shattering gray into glory.

Like an old friend, long absent, now present, reacquainted.

Like the gospel, forsaken, rejected, forgotten...

...rediscovered, quickening, shattering death into vigorous life.

Like a bright spark in a once-dull eye, fueled by a glowing ember in the heart, bursting into flame, illuminated by the gospel.

Out of nowhere, a lost and weary friend, now a near, joyful, very-much-alive brother, this new faith radiating light and warmth into our own dark, rain-soaked places.

Sometimes a light surprises.

I cannot but rejoice.

"Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, 'I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.'" - John 8:12

"And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.' Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance." - Luke 15:6-7

HONESTY

Honesty is such a lonely word

Everyone is so untrue

Honesty is hardly ever heard

And mostly what I need from you

- from "Honesty," by Billy Joel

Many moons ago, way back when I was a college freshman, the university I attended took part in a national survey tracking values in young adults. I think when my class took the survey - pages and pages of questions - the project was about ten years into thirty years of data-collection.

We filled out the surveys, and then researchers analyzed our answers to rank our personal values, qualities like love, kindness, strength, integrity, empathy. I still remember my results from that survey: at the very top of my values list was integrity.

My thinking at the time was this: if someone loves me (love was in my top three), but they are not honest with me, if they are untrustworthy, then there really is no security in that love, no solid foundation for that love to endure. Love based on truth, however, is something cosmically powerful.

If someone is kind (kindness was high on my list, too) but lacks integrity, if that kindness is not based on truth and genuineness, then what IS it based on? Is it truly kindness? Or is it some kind of self-serving philanthropy? And can that kindness be trusted?

I don't really think we can rate values 1, 2, 3, certainly not in the sense of this-matters-to-the-exclusion-of-all-else. We should desire and strive to grow in all virtues. Ranking virtues seems like trying to rank which is most important to the health of our physical bodies: food, air, water, rest, relationship. They are all important. Without any one of them, we fail to thrive. Sure, we may be able to survive longer without some than without others, but neglect any of them and eventually our health deteriorates.

Still, I suspect if I filled out that survey again, thirty-five years later, my results would be the same. I see integrity - as in shalom-ness - as the starting point, the place from which all other virtues flow and on which they build. I can trust God's love, mercy, compassion, forgiveness, correction, providence - because with God, there is no shadow or deceit. I can trust Scripture, because it is the Word of God, and God never lies.

One of the kids was talking to me recently about this virtue: "If I am not honest with myself, about myself, how can I grow? If I lack integrity in my relationships with others, how can those relationships have any depth? How can they last? And the thing is, if I am really loved by God and absolutely secure in Christ - and I am - then I have no reason to not be honest and transparent, either with myself or with others. I have nothing to fear."

Oh, how I wish I could walk in full consciousness and full assurance of those words every second of every day!

In "Honesty," Billy Joel sings that it is relatively easy to find tenderness, sympathy, love, friendship, security, comfort. But honesty? It's such a lonely word.

FIREFLIES

New moon.

The world was dark when Helen and I crunched down the gravel drive home from our weekly Scrabble match at Grammy's last night. (The young'n walloped us, both games.)

Frogs scree!-d at the pond, their shrill songs carrying over the pasture. The evening air, cool and soft, was thick with honeysuckle and the heavy sweetness of mock orange.

Out on the highway, no traffic. I guess everyone was home, watching the evening news or putting away dishes or finishing homework, or they had already clocked in at Walmart for the night shift.

The hayfield is a magical place on a mild, moonless night.

A thousand-thousand stars, fallen from a limitless black sky, come alive and dance above the tops of the grasses.

"Here!"

"Here!"

"Here!"

They call to one another joyfully, ecstatically.

"Dance!"

"Dance!"

"Dance!"

And I am a child again, surrounded by fairies, walking in the darkness through a symphony of light.

ARE YOU A CLEANER? OR A NOT-CLEANER?

Last year, I tackled the enormous task of cleaning out the boys' room upstairs. It was time. My "boys" are all grown men now, and they all have places of their own.

Several times in the process of sorting and cleaning out, I gave up. I walked out of the room, closed the door behind me, and vowed, "I'm not going back in there. Ever." But then I'd get over my cleaning slump, put the hazmat suit back on, and head back in.

Cleaning wasn't entirely without sweet moments of nostalgia and unexpected flashes of humor. If I encountered something I didn't know what to do with, I'd take a picture and message the boys. "What is this? Keep, give to somebody (who?), or throw away?" For example, I found several heavy steel rods in one of the closets.

Me: "What are these?"
One of my sons: "Rods from a foosball table."
Me: "Why do you have foosball rods?" (We have never owned a foosball table.)
Son: "Because you never know when you might want to make something really cool out of foosball table rods."
Me: "?"
Son: "Ditch them."

Finally, after several months of blood, sweat, and tears, the room was clean. I messaged the young men, "You're welcome." When I die and they don't have to miss a month of work to clean out all that mess after the funeral, they can thank me then.

I am happy to say that now, when friends stop by on short notice and need a place to camp for the night, we have a lovely room waiting for them. In fact, my daughter and I like the room so much, now that it's clean and tidy, that it's become a favorite place to write and study.

But cleaning out the boys' room...that was last year.

This year, I'd like to conquer the closet under the stairs (currently almost a bio-hazard), the laundry room (not too bad, just needs tidying), and the downstairs front bedroom (which is not really a bedroom at all, but an in-house, climate-controlled storage unit for dead computers, busted pottery, outdated textbooks, and other mysterious treasures).

Why am I writing all of this?

I have learned there are two kinds of people in the world. Actually, there are infinite kinds of people, but today, I have two particular kinds in mind: people who clean, and people who don't. People who say, "No one's even thought about those fooseball rods in years. Why bother messing with them now?" - and - people who say, "If no one is going to use these things, why are they still taking up space in the closet after all these years? If we clean out all this junk, someone can actually hang clothes in here."

I am a person who cleans. I don't particularly like cleaning, but I do it anyway, because excessive clutter makes me feel claustrophobic and because STUFF, for some reason, drains me emotionally. Seriously. All that STUFF up there in the attic? I can't see it, but I know it's up there, and it feels like a tremendous weight suspended above my head.

Here are a few things I've learned about being a cleaner:

My being a cleaner sometimes makes the non-cleaners around me anxious. Just as STUFF makes me feel claustrophobic, STUFF makes some people feel safe. Getting rid of stuff causes them general uneasiness. I need to remember this and to be sensitive to the proclivities of the people around me.

After the cleaning is finished, everyone actually appreciates the resultant order, even the non-cleaners. I need to remember this, too, when the comments and angst of non-cleaners make me feel like giving up. Be sensitive, but persevere.

Routine housework = less work when you minimize clutter. Mopping the floors, for example: soooo much easier and faster when I don't have to shift a bazillion piles of stuff out of the way to get to the floor in the first place.

Not only is a de-cluttered house easier to clean: it often stays cleaner, too. I finished cleaning the boys' room last fall and, amazingly, it has stayed tidy. Not because no one is using it - we are using it, every day. I think it's because we enjoy having a nice place to write and do homework and to share with friends, and we kinda want to keep it that way.

Now, I need to get back to work on the closet under the stairs. I'm super pumped, though - I found a piece of the closet floor this morning! Let's do this!

A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS

FAVORITE NEW BLOG: Jasmine L. Holmes: Not a Mommy Blog

From Jasmine's "about" page: "This blog is my attempt to create a little corner of the internet to reach out and encourage women in all stages of life." Jasmine does just that.

Young, female, black, Reformed...could she be any more of a target for public dismissal, ridicule or hostility? And yet, Jasmine reveals a wisdom beyond her years as she writes with courage, clarity, grace, humor and transparency. Her posts consistently challenge my thinking and encourage me to live out my faith in the day-to-day.

FAVORITE LOCAL BUSINESS: Soleil Garden Center

Located on the north side of Union City, Tennesse, at 2317 Nailling Drive, Soleil Garden Center provides a wide variety of plants and garden supplies to meet your landscaping needs. A walk through the Grand Pavilion is like a walk through the Garden of Eden.

But the beautiful plants, gurgling fountains, and unique gift shop are not the reason I love Soleil. I love Soleil because of the people who own and operate Soleil Garden Center. They treat my youngest, one of their employees, like family. According to my daughter, not only does she work at a place that looks like a fairy garden, surrounded by beautiful flowers and plants, but her bosses make her feel appreciated and truly loved. Helen sincerely looks forward to going to work every day, and I think that says a lot about the people she works for!

If you live in Northwest Tennessee, stop by and say Hi! You can check out their Facebook page HERE.

FAVORITE READ SO FAR THIS YEAR: Changes That Heal, by Dr. Henry Cloud

I am reading a lot of books this year. Back in January, I set a goal of reading two books per month. I have averaged a book a week. Fiction, theology, history, biography, technical books on writing, classic literature, old favorites, new releases...I am trying to keep it varied!

Twenty books into 2018, my hands-down pick for if-you-only-read-one-book-this-year-make-it-this-book is Dr. Henry Cloud's Changes That Heal. Okay, I admit it: I am totally blown away that a book on mental health is trumping even C. S. Lewis for me this year. Maybe it's the timing.

From the back cover: "In Changes That Heal, Dr. Henry Cloud, a renowned clinical psychologist, combines his expertise, well-developed faith, and keen understanding of human nature in a four-step program of healing and growth."

Reading through this book, I feel like Dr. Cloud has been a fly on the wall in my physical house...and in my heart house. Numerous case studies bring clarity to the various topics Dr. Cloud discusses, and his practical, easy-to-understand advice has been a game changer for how I understand myself and how I relate to others.

These are a few of my current "favorite things" - what's on your list of favorites?

COME ON OVER

I had the privilege of meeting several members of my oldest son's seminary family a couple of weeks ago. The gracious, open, honest, unpretentious hospitality of his "other mother" and the warm affection between his brothers and sisters - no wonder my son loves these people so!

We've been having lots of conversations in my family lately about hospitality...what real hospitality is, what it is not, obstacles to hospitality, how to create opportunities for hospitality, how our personalities influence the ways we practice hospitality. And in Sunday school, we are working through Scott Sauls's book, Befriend, and discussing the need every human being has for intimate relationship.

I am learning that true hospitality is an invitation to true intimacy.

There is a kind of false hospitality - I invite you into my world on my terms, when I am ready, when I feel comfortable with having you in my space. When my house is clean and the fridge is well-stocked. When I am fairly confident your kids won't break my things or get on my nerves, or when the weather is nice so we can send the little heathens outside to play. When I'm having a good day (certainly not when I'm feeling down or when I'm wearing the same yoga pants I've worn the past three days). When I am caught up on chores and work so that I am not distracted by the pressure of uncompleted tasks - after all, I want to be able to give you my full attention. (Because that's true hospitality, right?)

When I invite you into my home under these terms, I am able to maintain the appearance of some degree of competence. I make sure that you see only the "Me" I want you to see. Oh, I may let you peek a sliver of my humanity - "Sorry about the cat hair on the sofa!" - I wouldn't want you to think I am perfect, of course.

I may even brag about the clutter - "Don't mind the mess. You're welcome here anytime!" - but if I'm honest, I say things like that to assure myself I'm being hospitable, when actually, I'm asserting my control over the terms of our interaction. (My house is a mess, but I know that and I'm okay with that, and if I weren't okay with that, you wouldn't be here.) Maybe if I insist that you are welcome in my messy house, neither of us will notice that you are not welcome in my messy heart.

This is not true hospitality, and it does not foster true intimacy. It creates an invisible barrier: you can come this close, but no closer.

I commented to one of the kids last week that I am so done with the I-need-to-clean-the-house-before-you-come-over routine. Really, I am. Let me be honest: I am a type A, cleanie person. Yes, I would prefer that the floor wasn't crunchy and that every horizontal surface in my house didn't look like the site of an archaeological excavation. But the truth is, if I wait to ask you over until those things happen...well, don't hold your breath while you wait for an invitation! And for Pete's sake, do not show up uninvited!

Go ahead...show up uninvited. Please, show up uninvited! I'm okay with that, really, regardless of what my house looks like.

But while I am okay now with letting you see the mess and chaos that often characterize my home decorating, what I am not okay with is letting you see the mess and the chaos that often characterize my inner house. You are welcome in my house, but not in my heart.

Just as thinking I need to mop the floors and wipe down the counters can be a hindrance to welcoming you into my home, so thinking I need to appear cheerful or spiritually "together" (Praise Jesus! all the time!) can be a hindrance to welcoming you into my heart. Both are hindrances to hospitality. Both are hindrances to true intimacy.

God - with the grace of seven children - cured me of the first. Curing me of the second is taking a little longer.

Can I let you in on a secret? So much of the time, regardless of how I look on the outside, I am an emotional, relational, and spiritual disaster. Like stinky soul laundry, mildewing in the washing machine. Heart fungus, like a pink ring in the toilet bowl. Why bother?, like last week's bacon grease, spattered on the cook top.

If I invite you into my heart - if I practice true hospitality - there's a good chance you will see some nasty stuff. If I say, "Come on over anytime!" and you show up unannounced, I may not have time to shove all my emotional crap into a black bag that I can hide out on the back porch. Am I willing to risk that?

Lately, more and more, the answer is: Yes.

Because it's time. And because I have seen firsthand how incredibly beautiful true hospitality - heart hospitality - is.