Triumph and Tragedy

This week, I’ve gone from being on the top of the mountain, to being in a deep valley within the space of a few short hours, and then on the mountain again.  I’ve watched as one of my children embraced love, life, and every good thing and kissed her.  I then had to turn around within the span of a few short hours and wrestle with another child’s efforts to keep her sanity through personal problems I am not at liberty to discuss.  In both cases, the one thing I saw, was the power of the presence of God.  That is the one thing that makes being a child of God so amazing, in the midst of tragedy or triumph, you know God is there and that he will eventually make all things work for good. 

Last Saturday, as I watched my only son embrace his lovely new bride, I wistfully remembered that day I pulled my lovely wife to me. I’m sure there were those who swore we’d never make it beyond the first year, and I’m equally sure that there were those who hoped we wouldn’t.  August 13^th, we will celebrate our 36^th year of life together.  I can tell you, and I believe she would too, it was only by the grace of God, that we’ve survived.  YES, we’ve survived.  It wasn’t easy.  Sometimes, it wasn’t even fun.  One thing is for certain, we’d have never made it without the presence of God in our lives.  We’ve lived through things we’ve never discussed with anyone, nor would we ever want to.  We’ve fought over petty things as well as major issues.  I’ve insulted her, and she’s insulted me.  I’ve hid all the sharp objects in our house, knowing full well if she found them, I’d have been a dead man.  I love that same woman more than ever.  Her embrace and passionate kiss can still drive me crazy.  Without the grace of God, I wouldn’t be able to say that now.  In our 36 years of marriage, we’ve moved eight times, been from one coast to another, had organs removed, brought 3 children into the world, retired a ridiculous number of vehicles, discovered every imaginable eatery along the way, gained enough weight to make three of us, and worshipped in more than sixty church homes (yes, I counted them.)

 

All of this by the grace of God.

Then, comes my daughter’s personal tragedy, and every parent’s heartbreak; the inability to make it go away.  The other evening I sat in my truck in the sweltering heat and begged God to lift my daughter out of her situation. Like any good parent (of which I loosely lay claim,) I told God to put it on me.  At which point he reminded me he already has.

 I forgot, you have to be specific with the creator of the universe.

 

Okay God, just make it go away.  

Some of you who are parents, know what I’m talking about.  Those moments when you bargain with God as if you have something to bargain with.  I pulled out every promise in the bible, and thumped him in his heart.  I don’t know how many times I yelled out ; “but you said.”  I reminded him of the prophecies spoken over her, the dreams I’ve had, the visions she’s had.  Then came his presence, and this soft reminder; “I love her more than you do.” 

Does anyone have a cure for rasping sobs?

 

It was useless to argue with him.  I knew the proof was in his Son. 

It took me a few minutes to compose myself, and then I headed home to my wife.  Later, my daughter called, and informed us that some friends from her home church had ministered God’s love to her in a way I wanted to. That’s the cool thing about God, he has friends everywhere, and they can step in for him to reaffirm his love.  I didn’t need to bargain with God.  I didn’t need to remind him of his promises.  You see, I’ve been here before.  I remembered the day I saw my firstborn infant grandson laying in the ICU with a ventilator pumping air into paralyzed lungs.  I wondered then, why that tiny infant was fighting for his life while I’d made a mess of my own life, and God still allowed me to breathe.  I questioned God that day as I had the other night.  I remember sitting out in the car in the parking lot of the hospital and God telling me the same thing.  “I love him more than you do.”  Eventually, the doctors figured out what happened and began administering the cure, even as people all over the world were praying for him.  How do I know that?  The internet, of course.  You see, God has friends all over the earth who are just waiting to demonstrate his love for us.

    

What I’ve learned from the sparrow’s perch is, life goes on, day after day, a never-ending parade of moments of great joy, or moments of intense sorrow.  What I’ve noticed about the both of them, is that they both overwhelm you, and then subside eventually.  Grief and sorrow often take longer to subside than joy, but in each, God still loves us.  Each triumph is born of conflict, and each tragedy is born of joy.  We can move through each with the creator of the universe, or we can rant at the stars for their callous disregard for our fortunes.

As for myself, I will retreat to the sparrows perch in the tabernacle of God, and softly sing of his presence.  Because, I know if his eye is on the sparrow, I know he watches over me.

MISSING THE SPARROW'S PERCH

For those who've been wondering what the sparrow's perch is, it is the window sill in my office at the church. I come to the office early to pray(Like 5:30 in the morning early), read a few chapters in the Word, write lessons for our men's study group, and write these blogs. It is a quiet place except for the occasional sparrow that perches on the sill. Their playful antics, and complete dependence upon the provision of the Lord have enthralled me numerous times. I especially enjoy it when there is standing water on the flat roof just below my window. They cavort and carry on while splashing around in the puddles. Over the last five or six weeks, work has kept me at home in the morning, and I can feel the affect on my spirit. I miss the sparrow's perch.

I believe there are special places, and even special furniture where you can get comfortable with the Lord and enjoy His presence better than any other place. Such is the case for me at the church office.

I was trying to explain what the sparrow's perch is to a good friend the other day, and they couldn't wrap their head around it. “Anywhere we are, there the Lord is also.” He said. “The Presence of God is in you. You are the temple of the Holy Spirit.”

“Yes, but I feel him stronger, and more clearly in my church office.” I explained. “Especially when the window is open, and I can hear the sparrows chirping above the low thrum of city traffic.” I could tell that my explanation was going nowhere. Try as hard as I might, he wasn't going to understand how important the sparrow's perch is to me. There was no way he was going to understand how much I needed that time in the presence of God.

One of the things I've noticed in my walk with the Lord, is that my attitude is directly affected by how much time I spend in the presence of God. The Presence is more than a specific time of bible study, prayer, or meditation. A matter of fact, I experience different levels of the presence depending upon how I've approached the Lord during the morning. Sometimes, I forget who He is, and I get entirely too familiar. By familiar, I'm not talking about climbing up in His lap and letting him love on me. I'm talking about forgetting that He is the creator of heaven and earth, and becoming presumptuous. You, know, that place of familiarity where you forget your place, and do or say things that presume upon the love of the other person. I mean, even as much as I love my earthly father, there is a level of respect I afford him. It would be presumptuous of me to move into his home, eat his food, and drive his vehicles without his approval. Sadly, I do that with God. Sometimes I presume to know what to do throughout the day, just because I've done it before. I'll pray earnestly, but with no affect because he wanted me to sit still and be quiet. Other times, I get busy reading, and forget to pray. Other times I'll bull up and do what I want to do, because it makes me feel good to do it.

To give you an example, I want to brag on my grandson Elijah for a moment.

Elijah is a typical ten year old boy. He is headstrong, loves fun, and enjoys playing. When he comes to visit, we have a fantastic time playing video games. Of course he knows how to turn on the game console, the TV, and the sound system. We have hours of fun, and he enjoys beating me at every game we play. The other day, we finished playing all the Halo games in my collection (I have them all) and I suggested another game title. He shook his head and said his Dad told him he couldn't play that game. At that moment, Elijah was ten feet tall in my book. I've also told him he can't play any games on my console while I'm away at work. He has never broken that rule, and I admire him for it. I'm more willing to do things for him simply because he is respectful of my wishes. I don't love him any more or less than my other grandchildren for his obedience, but I like him a lot because he respects me.

I think God is the same way.

When we honor him, and don't presume upon his nature, I believe Jesus desires to be with us more. When we reverence the Presence of God, I believe he moves in a little closer and leans over toward us. I think he likes us more when we like to be with him, and he respects us more when we honor him.

Relationship is its own reward.

The sparrow's perch is a place of reverence for me, It is a reminder to be still and listen. It is a place of warmth and joy. Many of the sweetest things I've learned at the feet of Jesus, have been learned in that special place. In another week, I'll return to my old schedule and once more open the window to the sparrow's perch. Hopefully, the Presence of God will be there as He always has.  

THE CHAIR

DISCLAIMER

It’s a given that I’ll probably offend someone in this blog.  My greatest desire in writing THE SPARROWS PERCH  is to share those things that I’ve learned over time and through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.  The Sparrows perch affords a view of the world that is bereft of ulterior motives and personal gain.  I’m not selling you anything.  You don’t have to read this.  If you do, I’m thrilled you found me.  If you are offended, it breaks my heart.  My remaining time on this earth is too short to spend it on empty arguments and angry contests of spiritual words.  When your perch is within the presence of God, there is very little that matters other than remaining in His presence.  I don’t want to,  and won’t defend my feelings, they’re mine.  So many of our freedoms have been taken away from us in this country, the only one you can’t take away, is the freedom to believe.  Christians are now the new object of hate in America today.  We are viewed as spiteful, narrow minded, and ultimately evil people because we withhold approval for certain behaviors.  Forget the fact that these behaviors are definitively identified as sin, and it is our constitutional right to object to them.

 

SOOOOOOO,,,,, if you don’t believe in the nuclear family, the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman, YOU DON’T HAVE TO, AND YOU SHOULDN’T GO ANY FURTHER.   That’s my disclaimer.  YOU DON’T HAVE TO READ THIS.  YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND WITH HATE FILLED VITRIOL.

 

Every family has one.   

THE CHAIR!

 You know, DAD’S CHAIR!  It was the sacred seat in front of the television, and the only place in the living room with an unobstructed view of the TV.   Every home has a  well worn, stained, broken down throne that belongs to DAD.  When I was a child, my two brothers and I would fight over the chair until Dad came home.  It was a game between us.  Serious fistfights, tickle fights, and epic wrestling matches were fought over the privilege to sit in the chair.  What’s funny about this, is that Mom’s chair was actually directly in front of the TV.  Her chair was rarely occupied , and was much cleaner.  Dad’s chair was always at an angle  from the TV and much further away than Mom’s.  The back of the chair was stained from Dad’s  Brylcreem  (look it up.)   Still, it was Dad’s chair that we fought over.  It smelled of sweat, Old Spice, popcorn, ice cream, and peanut butter.  You couldn’t put anything on the end table next to it, because of all the remotes.  His change, wallet, and truck keys covered the top of the end table.  THESE THINGS WERE SACRED.  They were Dad’s.   To sit in Dad’s chair when he was home, was to have him crush you as he tried to grind you into the cushion while he complained to Mom about how lumpy the chair had become.  Forget the fact that my brothers and I were screaming and gasping for breath through our giggles.  Mother would agree, and offer to buy him a new chair, then he would stand up and discover us pressed into the sides of the cushions. 

You know, THE CHAIR.

We can learn the lesson of sanctity from the chair.  There are things that are sacred.  They don’t belong to us, they are the Father’s.  In his presence he’ll remind us gently, with love and affection of those things he holds sacred and to be uniquely his.  The first time we try and sit in his chair, we quickly discover that it doesn’t fit us.  When we fight over his chair, it doesn’t change the fact, that it is his chair.  When he sits in his chair with us in it, we quickly discover our frailty.

Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of Christian books by authors of different or no denominations.  They’re all fighting over ‘The Chair.’   They all seem to spend a  lot of time berating one another, getting into tickle fights, or all out fisticuffs.  At the end of the day, one thing remains unchanged, ‘The Chair’ belongs to Daddy.  The religious diatribe, and fruitless bashing all speak of one thing, the chair doesn’t belong to any of us.  We’re still kids fighting for what isn’t ours. 

I’m 57 years old, live less than 120 feet away from my Dad.  I don’t sit in my father’s chair.  Even when he is gone somewhere, I don’t sit in his chair.  It feels awkward.  I think we need to feel that way about sitting in God’s chair.  What am I talking about?

 

Judging the world.  It isn’t our chair to sit in.  It’s not my chair.  We can judge one another, but not the world. . . .that’s another story altogether.  We can’t expect those who’ve never had a relationship with Christ, to understand or adhere to the law of love.  We pray for them, we minister for them, and we give ourselves for them as Christ did.  Because they aren’t part of the nuclear family of God, they don’t have a sacred chair.  It isn’t our business.  Our business is to show them the family they can become a part of.  We call it the Kingdom, the Church, the Body, a fellowship,. . .whatever, but it is all really about being a family.  Who knows, maybe they’ll discover the joy of ‘The Chair.’