I went to the dermatologist the other day for a full-body check up and the doctor pointed at the five scars on my stomach and said, “I bet there’s a story there.” I could have shared with him a long, detailed account about sickness, struggle, fear, frustration, doubt, tears, disappointment, long nights, prayers, miracles and praise, but I didn’t. I just responded, “Yep, those scars are from the pancreatic surgery I had a couple of years ago at the Mayo Clinic. That surgery saved my life.”

Scars tell a story. Jesus had scars on his hands and feet from being hung on a cross for you and for me, and those scars speak volumes . . . and they are still speaking today. They tell a story of presence, peace, healing, power and love.

Three days after his crucifixion some of Jesus’ disciples were walking to the town of Emmaus when they encountered another traveler. They walked and talked with the stranger for hours, but they didn’t know who he was until they saw the nail prints on his hands and, “then their eyes were opened and they recognized him.” When they saw the scars, they knew it was Jesus. (see Luke 24:30-31)

Later that same day, in the city of Jerusalem, Jesus appeared to a gathering of disciples through barred gates and locked doors, but his presence and words of comfort had no calming effect upon them. The face they saw looked vaguely familiar, but not enough to distinguish him from the other men in that region. The disciples were tentative, frightened and doubting, but then Jesus showed them the marks on his hands and feet and then they knew it was him. He was known to them by his scars. (see Luke 24:36-39)

Decades later, long after the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, the Apostle John was given a glimpse into Heaven where he saw a prophetic and symbolic scene from the gathering of all gatherings. The one who is the King of Kings, Lord of Lords and Creator of the Universe was being called upon to victoriously open the scrolls of all time and eternity, and John, along with billions of others in the crowd, was scanning the stage, eagerly looking for the the Lion of the tribe of Judah—the only One worthy of opening the scrolls——but He was nowhere to be found. Instead, at the center of it all, stood a lamb that looked as if it had been slaughtered. The sacrificial lamb was Jesus, bearing the scars of His crucifixion. (see Revelation 5:6)

Scars tell a story, and the scars of Jesus are still speaking today. The story they tell is all about you and me. The Apostle Peter writes, “Jesus personally carried our sins in his body on the cross so that we can be dead to sin and live for what is right. By his wounds you are healed.” (1 Peter 2:24, NLT)

If you ask me about the scars of Jesus, there’s definitely a story there . . . those scars saved my soul and my life.

Our Prayers Break On God

by Luci Shaw

Our prayers break on God like waves,

and he an endless shore,

and when the seas evaporate

and oceans are no more

and cries are carried in the wind

God hears and answers every sound

as he has done before.

Our troubles eat at God like nails.

He feels the gnawing pain

on souls and bodies. He never fails

but reassures he’ll heal again,

again, again, again and yet again.

A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way. (Luke 19:2-4, NIV)

Tradition says that Zacchaeus used to regularly come to water the tree where he found Christ. That tree, where Zacchaeus first saw Jesus—and more importantly, where Jesus first saw Zacchaeus—was a place of precious remembrance and new life. It is where the ever-flowing river of time lost its hold on that traitor, turned tax-collector’s heart and mind. It is where the wood, hay and stubble of a dead-end life turned into something green, growing and truly alive. 

For me, New Year’s Day is a place of remembering—it’s a place where I water the place of my new creation with tears of joy. Otherwise, it’s just another twist and turn on the river of time. Sure, I can let go of the regrets of last year and resolve to do better in the year ahead, but in reality, it’s just another day. But then I remember when I met Jesus, and He met me, and the burden of my heart rolled away. There is no life, hope or help in the turning of a calendar page. Jesus is the Lord of this New Year and He loves you! Remember Him. Happy New Year.

The angel said to [the shepherds], “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you. (Luke 2:10-11, NIV)

The other night we took our daughter’s dog, Rio, on a walk and enjoyed seeing all of the Christmas decorations in the neighborhood. One house had a rather large Nativity Scene displayed in the front yard and it caught our attention. It was lit up, included all the characters in the story, and even had “Joy To the World” ringing out from a speaker hidden deep beneath the straw.

Rio was intrigued by the cow in the scene. It was funny to watch her stop and cautiously stretch out her neck to touch noses with the plastic beast. Once she realized it wasn’t real and all was safe, she lost interest and we kept walking.

My attention was on the child at the center of the display, and as we walked, I pondered the Creator of the Universe, stooping down, coming as a baby and living among us . . .

The scene of His birth wasn’t on the front lawn of a sleepy little sub-division, it was in the midst of poverty, struggle and danger. Jesus came in the flesh and lived with us in the humblest and most ordinary conditions. He lived quietly, faithfully, obediently and lovingly as He walked the rough and dusty roads of this life—through sorrow, suffering and ultimately to death on a cross “for all the people.”

Jesus was born to us—to save us. He didn’t come to us as a model, example, teacher, healer, or guide. His agenda wasn’t about Heaven or Hell or politics or popularity. It was all about you and me—living today in this very harsh and hard world.

He came to us as a flesh and blood baby, to live among us and save us from sin and all the hopelessness, sorrow, separation and loss that it entails. Jesus is the Almighty God, the Creator of the Universe and the baby in the manger. He is real and in Him we are safe.

As we wrapped up our walk, I found my pondering had turned to humming . . . “Joy to the World.”

Dina,

God’s gifts are good and perfect, His promises are true.
It is a precious gift for me, to celebrate 35 years with you.
As we care together, share together, live our lives as one;
Looking to the light of God, following His Son;
May our lives and our love, show the world why Jesus came.
I love you precious Dina, and will forever, In His Name.

Listen as Wisdom calls out
Hear as understanding raises her voice!
On the hilltop along the road,
she takes her stand at the crossroads.
By the gates at the entrance to the town,
on the road leading in, she cries aloud,
I call to you, to all of you!
I raise my voice to all people. …
But those who miss me injure themselves.
All who hate me love death. (Proverbs 8:1-4, 36 NLT)

You choose.

The Wisdom of God is like a free life jacket kiosk at a lake. It’s always there and available, offering help, support, peace of mind, safety, good sense, protection and . . . life.

But most of us don’t give that kiosk a second look.

C’mon, life jackets are bulky, uncomfortable, too hot, they get in the way, and they just aren’t cool. The water’s calling and we jump right in!  We say, “I’m a strong swimmer, nothing’s going to happen to me,” . . . until it does, and then it’s too late.

The waters of life these days are rough, churning and dangerous, and every morning, as we enter the maelstrom, there stands the Wisdom of God kiosk—calling out, ready and available to help and to save.

Those who miss it, risk injury. Those who reject it, incur death.

Jesus Christ is the Wisdom of God kiosk and the life jacket. “[He] is the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor. 1:24, NLT). He knows your heart, and all about your wants, needs, hopes, disappointments, challenges, losses, victories and failures, and he sees you struggling to stay afloat amidst the troubled waters.

And He offers help.

He says, “I love you and I want to save you. Come unto Me, put me on, and I will give you life.”

You choose.

My heart is not proud, Lord,
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.
But I have calmed and quieted myself,
I am like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child I am content.
Israel, put your hope in the Lord
both now and forevermore. (Psalm 131:1-3, NLT)

My prayer:
Pride is a part of me. Guard my heart Lord and keep me close, for I know you “oppose the proud but give grace to the humble.” I want and need you in my life—more than anything.

Haughty eyes . . . I have them. Forgive me God. Help me to not look down on anyone with criticism, judgment, or disdain. Give me eyes of love. Help me to remember how you see me . . . and may your kindness, mercy and grace be the lens through which I view the world around me.

Keep my eyes fixed on you Jesus. Steady me as the world of science, media, culture, entertainment, economics and politics swirls. Keep me from being caught up in it all. I am not my infantile urges. My peace is found in Jesus. He is my life, my growth, my maturity, my identity and my help.

I am wholly devoted to the Father who loves me, provides for me, guides me and cares for me—completely.

In You alone I put my hope and trust.
Amen.

I cling to you; your strong right hand holds me securely. (Psalm 63:8, NLT)

The other day I spent over two hours watching a power company worker climb and trim a huge tree. Wow. I can’t speak for the climber, but for me, just watching it all was an amazing, interesting, challenging, adventurous, nerve-racking and scary experience.

The climber used a harness, carabiners, ropes, two flip lines and a set of spikes on his feet to hold himself and his heavy chainsaw to that tree. At one point I saw the climber’s spikes slip, but the worker didn’t fall because his flip line and harness held him fast. The tree stood tall and strong, and as long as the climber clung to it . . . he was safe.

In Psalm 63 we find King David (a person just like you and me) in the midst of an amazing, interesting, challenging, adventurous, nerve-racking and scary experience––life.

And what did he do? He held on to the One holding him.

“I cling to you; your strong right hand holds me securely.” (vs. 8)

So, that’s what I will do. I will cling to the mighty Tree of Life who is holding me––Jesus, the one who died upon a tree.

Whether you like it or not, read and pray daily. It is for your life; there is no other way; else you will be a trifler all your days . . . Do justice to your own soul; give it time and means to grow. Do not starve yourself any longer. Take up your cross and be a Christian altogether. — John Wesley

Here it is, graduation season once again. It is a time for celebration and reflection. Here is a piece I wrote a few years ago about how precious and fleeting our lives are. I pray it is a blessing to you. 

***

This moment contains all moments. 

                        ― C.S. Lewis

The other day I taught my final Senior Seminar class of the semester. With the end of the school year in sight it is interesting to hear college students say things like, “I can’t believe that my student teaching experience is almost over,” or “I can’t believe that I am graduating in just a few days. It went so fast." 

It went so fast? Really?

Student teaching generally comes at the end of an Education Major’s college experience and is sixteen grueling weeks of early mornings and late nights, scores of assignments and hundreds of lesson plans. It is the culmination of the four-year experience that is known as college.

Four years . . . and it went so fast?

Completing student teaching and graduating from college are significant occasions in life, hurdles to clear and milestones to achieve. They represent those challenges in life that exist as big, scary, anxiety-laden question marks, that in the moment, we just want to “get through” or “be done with.” But then suddenly, much to our surprise, they are . . . done.

When the goal is achieved and the challenge is behind us, we are left with the experience, the fun, the friendships, the memories—and the sense that it all went so fast.

It is times like these that resonate with the psalmist’s ominous words, “Surely all mankind stands as a mere breath!” (Ps. 39:5, ESV)

A mere breath? Is there really such a thing? A breath is a small, brief and passing event―but oh so important.

Google says that the average person takes 24,000 breaths per day.  That is a lot of breaths, surely more than enough, you would think. But try holding your breath for a minute and you soon realize that every breath counts.

Breaths happen quickly, numerously, and without notice. But the brief second that a breath takes does not lessen its value or importance.

Much like breaths in the midst of breathing, the moments of life, albeit meaningful, slip away subtly, silently and unnoticed. Our adventures, struggles, experiences, emotions and relationships are nuanced through things like perspective and hindsight and then meld and morph into a nostalgic longing we refer to as, “the good old days.”

It's ironic, but even the young long for the good old days. Andy, from The Office, says it well,

“I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.”

Regardless of whether it happened last month, last year, or a decade ago—as we reflect back on those good old days, we find ourselves saying of life, “It went so fast.”

It is here that we experience a mix of melancholy and regret—a feeling that something significant happened and yet, we missed it.

But we didn’t miss it, we lived it. Or did we?

This quandary leads me to the prayer of Moses in Psalm 90. In vs. 10 he reflects back on his life and says,

The length of our days is seventy years—or eighty, if we have the strength; yet their span is but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.

His words are startling. Moses spent forty years shepherding goats in anonymity and then another forty years wandering the desert with God’s people. Over his 120 year life span, he was a prince, a leader, a prophet and a deliverer. He was married, had children and grandchildren, took a stand against evil, stood on Holy ground, and walked and talked with God.

Moses lived a long, full and storied life, and yet we find him looking back with a sigh saying, “Wow, it went so fast.”

If he felt that way, what hope do we have?

Two verses later (vs. 12), we find in Moses’ prayer the answer to this dilemma,

Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

What does it mean to “gain a heart of wisdom”?

Wisdom comes from God. It is the good, helpful, guiding, life-giving way to act, think and live. It is God’s mind and the Holy Spirit’s prompting in our being and doing. It’s the way to live well, appreciate what matters most and take nothing for granted—not even a single breath.

Maybe gaining a “heart of wisdom” is liken to knowing you are in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.

So how do we gain this heart of wisdom?

Moses prayed, “Teach us to number our days aright”.

To “number our days” is to recognize the immense value in the current moment. Upon this writing, the calendar tells me that today’s date is Wednesday, May 2, 2018. This date on the calendar is so much more than a number. There has never been a May 2, 2018, and there never will be again. Yesterday (the past) is gone and there is no guarantee of tomorrow (the future).  Today (the present) is all each of us have, and another word for present, is gift.

Each day is a gift.

God holds the gift of a day in high esteem. So much so that He initiates each one with hope, forgiveness and love. His mercies are new every morning and are as breathtaking and life-giving as a sunrise.

God gives us sustenance for each day’s journey. He feeds our body and soul with “daily” bread—with Jesus, who is our “hidden manna” (Rev. 2:17). And as we journey, God goes with us. On the path of life, we are to rely upon God and the Holy Spirit, moving and breathing in us, as we live every minute of the day.

David Roper says, “Time flies and so do we.” This is a hard truth that should cause us to live mindfully and carefully.

To “number our days aright” is to live them well and with purpose, and that begins with loving God and loving those around us. When we do this we can savor those moments, relationships and experiences that fly by so quickly.

Days and breaths are too numerous to count, but both are so important. Don't wish them away or waste them. Number them aright, not by counting them, but rather, by making them count.

For you can be sure that the day, the event, the challenge, the goal, the dream, and even the four-year college experience, will be over and done with before you know it, and you will find yourself saying,

“I can’t believe that I am graduating in just a few days. It went so fast.”