In “Peter Pan” you will find the following two quotations:
“To live will be an awfully big adventure!”
“To die will be an awfully big adventure!”
The latter is said when Peter has made a sacrifice to save Wendy and expects to die. He does not, of course. The first quotation closes the book/play and is said by the narrator to note what Peter might say if he chose to leave Neverland and return with Wendy to London.
I have had many adventures in my life but I have to agree with JM Barrie (the author of Peter Pan) on both quotations. Life itself is an awfully big adventure and I would not trade mine for anything. Of course there have been valleys and peaks, but I have experienced love, joy, laughter, peace, and the assurance that faith brings.
Marrying someone is a awfully big adventure. Committing one’s life to be joined to another “til death do us part” is an incredibly challenging thing; yet, it can be, and has been for me, an incredibly rewarding thing.
Having children is an awfully big adventure. These little creatures you helped produce require a tremendous amount of care. They bring joy and frustration but they also awaken a profound sense of love that is the only thing on earth that begins to approach the nature of the love God has for us.
Trusting God in the midst of life is an awfully big adventure. There have been times in my life when I could neither understand nor explain what was happening. In my finer moments (all too rare) I simply trusted God to lead me on the path through the darkness. Faith is an adventure because you are giving up control of your life to Him. It can be terrifying and exhilarating, but it is always the right choice, even if suffering ensues.
Death will also be an awfully big adventure because, for the believer, it will bring an end to the sufferings and miseries of this world, and the joys of this world will be magnified beyond our current comprehension. To live forever in the presence of God trumps all other adventures and, while I am looking forward to it, I would prefer to have a few more adventures in this world with my loved ones.
I recently read an article by Carrie McKean titled “I’m Estranged from My Parents. I Still Love Them.” It is a beautiful and poignant message of God’s grace in the midst of heartbreak and broken families. Two sentences resonated with me:
After ten heartbreaking Thanksgivings, here’s what I have learned: Empty chairs always take up the most space. Empty chairs always shout the loudest.
Neither Michele nor I experienced estrangement from our parents and, so far, our daughters haven’t written us off. We are a loving and close family although some physical distance separates us. But we will have some empty chairs this Thanksgiving. Our parents have passed and just this summer, we lost a nephew. One of our sons-in-law has lost both of his parents. Michele and I remember Thanksgivings in our childhood with many other relatives who have moved on from earthly existence. Each of us, at some point, will deal with empty chairs and, greater still, hearts that feel emptiness in the absence of a loved one.
How do we cope with empty chairs? We typically deal with them in the five stages of grief originally identified by Elizabeth Kubler Ross: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. The common denominator in each stage is, as she noted, grief. Whether a loss may be very fresh and we still can’t believe it happened, or we have moved into the acceptance stage perhaps years down the road, an empty chair is still an empty chair and grief is still grief.
In the book of Job, we encounter a man who lost nearly all his family, his possessions, and his health. In chapter three he states that he wished he had never been born. In verses 24 through 26 he says, “For my groaning comes at the sight of my food, and my cries pour out like water. For what I fear comes upon me, and what I dread befalls me, I am not at ease, nor am I quiet, and I am not at rest, but turmoil comes.” In very poetic language Job simply states that he is heartbroken and grieving.
Many people can quote the shortest verse in the Bible which is John 11:35: Jesus wept. What they often do not realize is that he was grieving the death of his friend Lazarus. Jesus knew He would raise Lazarus from the dead, yet he still grieved for the sorrow the family was experiencing, and for the idea of death itself, something that was never intended in the original creation.
Each of us has many reasons to be thankful, yet many of us have reasons to grieve, to feel sadness when we see the empty chair. Years ago, I was participating in a small group while on a retreat, I referred to an empty chair and said we should picture Jesus sitting there since He promised to be present when we gathered in His name. I said it half-jokingly, but it resonated with the group, and I have thought of it often since in large and small group settings, and even when I’m alone sitting in a room with an unoccupied chair. As a believer, knowing you are always in the presence of God can be intimidating but it can and should be comforting.
Grief often leads to anger. We question why things happen and, ultimately, the goodness of God. Many believers will accept the bad that happens for a short period of time, praying and trusting that God will see them through this season. But days can become weeks and weeks can become years. We’re isolated and we lose hope that things will get better. Depression sets in. There is a new normal, a new reality, and we can choose to remain angry and bitter, or we can choose to accept life for what it is, even if the hurt does not go away this side of eternity. This is not fatalism. It is accepting God’s grace – My grace is sufficient for you. God’s grace is not an escape mechanism to get away from the pain; it is a way to cope with the pain.
Nothing I write will necessarily assuage grief, but I can point you to the one who is well acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3). Job cried out for God and says, “Oh that I knew where I might find Him!” (Job 23:23). God does not forsake us in our grief, but in grieving we can be numb to His presence. The Psalmist tells us in Psalm 56:8, “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?” God know every tear you have shed, and I believe He has shed them with you. I encourage you to read Psalm 102. It addresses anger with God directly, but also recognizes who He is and what He promises.
Whatever Thanksgiving looks like for you this year, whether there are 40 people squeezed into a home, or just you and a spouse, or you eat at a restaurant with friends, I encourage you to leave an empty chair at the table. It may bring some tears but, hopefully, it will bring precious memories as well. And remember who is present with you. I pray you have a wonderful and peaceful Thanksgiving.
Are you a good citizen? How do you define that? Voting? Paying taxes? Obeying laws?
Hebrews 11 is known as the “Faith Hall of Fame.” The writer of Hebrews defined faith in verse 1, then described faith initially using the lives of Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, and Sarah. Abraham was a citizen of that land of Ur, but was a stranger in a strange land seeking the country God had promised him. Abel was one generation removed froth the Garden and his parents were literal exiles. These men and women died never fully having received the promise God made in verse 12, but they looked to the future and trusted God. Their desire was to pass through this world without taking on its character. Psalm 84:5 tells us: “How blessed is the man whose strength in in You, in whose heart are the highways to Zion!” As believers, we have got to keep that path in mind.
These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. Hebrews 1:13-14
These folks knew they didn’t belong to the world. They were strangers and exiles here. It is as if they had a homing instinct within them – they knew they were supposed to be somewhere else. Not necessarily a land of their own, but something better that God had promised. They lived in the light of promises God had made to them; promises they knew would never be realized in their lifetimes. We are in the same state, living with the promise of eternity. We must trust God while walking the path on earth, knowing He will keep his promise to us.
We learn in verses 15 and 16 that this better country is a promise of Heaven. God honors the faith of the faithful and has prepared this better country for them. I wish I could describe Heaven, but I believe it is indescribable. It is sufficient to say the faithful will be in the very presence of God and experience the fullness of His love. Everything will be pure and there will be no sin and rottenness.
Philippians 3:18-19 tells us that the unfaithful (enemies of the cross of Christ) walk a path that leads to destruction, their minds set on their needs and earthly things. Paul reminds us in verse 20, “But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.”
We are citizens of earthly governments, and the Scriptures tell us we are to be good citizens, but our loyalty, our allegiance, belongs to God. I spent a great deal of time in Laredo, Texas several years ago. Laredo is a border town with Mexico. One hotel I stayed in backed up to the Rio Grande River. I saw people walking from Mexico to the US early in the day and back across in the evening. I learned that many of them held dual citizenship, and that Laredo and Nuevo Laredo (in Mexico) are almost considered one city because of the close relationships.
In a sense we are dual citizens. There is deliberate tension in this; we live in this world while representing another. As citizens of Heaven, God expects us to have an impact on this world we live in. In Matthew 5:14-16 Jesus said, “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” We cannot isolate ourselves from the world, but neither should we delve deeply into its mess as if this world and its politics are all that matter. We must be intentionally citizens of Heaven while simultaneously serving as citizens of the world. Your American citizenship comes with certain rights, protections, and responsibilities. Your heavenly citizenship comes with great responsibility.
Many years ago, I stood in front of a crusty Coast Guard Master Chief and said, “I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.” Some time later, I stated very similar words as I was sworn in as an Ensign. Years before that, my father stood over me and said, “I baptize you my son in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
The oaths were important to me and governed my behavior for 25 years of my life. But the words of my father and pastor, though not an oath, were symbolic of the promise I made to Jesus when I accepted him as my Savior, and of His promises to me. Those words represent an eternal impact.
We live in a world of loudness, of many voices trying to drown out each other in the name of individual rights and justice, often with diametrically opposed views of what those words mean. Here are your rights: All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; the wages of sin is death. But here is your privilege: But the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Depending on your point of view, you are elated or discouraged by the results of yesterday’s election. Let me remind you that when you ultimately arrive in that wonderful place where your true citizenship lies, this election will be immaterial, except in ways yet unknown that bring people to Christ; and those ways will not happen on a national or international stage but through people sharing with people. I certainly encourage you to be good Americans and citizens; to be patriots. But God commands your allegiance as citizens of His kingdom. That is a much higher calling and commitment where there is neither red nor blue but the spotless glory of a loving God.
On September 11, 2001, I was serving on active duty at Coast Guard Headquarters in Washington, DC. At the time, the Coast Guard was headquartered in the District near Fort McNair, so it was across the Potomac River from the Pentagon. I was working with the group that coordinated Coast Guard missions and activities with the Department of Defense and I was in fairly regular contact with folks in the Pentagon. That morning I was waiting for a call to tell me when to head over to the Pentagon for a meeting.
Our team worked in a secure space with no windows. Someone with the cyber lock combination to our door stuck his head in and told us a plane had just hit the World Trade Center. Like so many folks we first thought something must have happened to the pilot to cause such a horrific accident. We turned on the TV and, like many of you, watched the horror unfold.
If you were keeping up with events that morning, like me you experienced the realization that one plane could have been an accident, but two planes, then three, then four, were part of a coordinated attack on our country. When the Pentagon was hit, we rushed across the hall to an admiral’s office and saw the smoke and flames rising over the Potomac. I will never forget that sight.
My day was spent trying to locate the Coasties who served in liaison roles in the Pentagon. It took some frantic phone calls, but all were located. One man had stayed home that day but had not yet phoned in to let anyone know; we thought we had lost him. Another, a Reservist like me, was an EMT in civilian life. He was a hero that day treating injured survivors. I had the honor and privilege of calling his family to let them know he was okay. I can still hear the relief in his sister’s voice as, through her tears, she relayed to everyone that Mike was okay. I may have teared up a bit myself.
Civilian workers at nearly all government agencies were sent home, which caused a traffic jam that was epic even by Washington standards. Rumors were rampant that another attack was imminent, that a plane was spotted heading for the White House, another for the Capitol. Of course, the planes stopped crashing, but the day remained surreal. I drove home (to a hotel in the District) late that night. The streets were deserted except for a few roving patrols. The nearly constant noise of aircraft approaching or departing Reagan National Airport was missing. It was an eerie feeling. I spent the next few days on a watch rotation serving with the Department of Transportation, the Coast Guard’s boss at the time. Things obviously settled down, but Washington remained a ghost town for several days.
Of course, life went on and returned to a “new normal.” The Coast Guard’s new boss is the Department of Homeland Security, an agency born of 9/11 and one that most Americans would have never envisioned a need for. Planes stopped flying for a while, but eventually took to the air again, albeit under drastically changed security rules. Americans began adjusting to a world we had not previously known where attacks on our homeland were not only possible, but potentially devastating. A “War on Terrorism” was coming, we all knew it, and those battles are still being fought today.
Nearly one quarter of the US population is under the age of 18. That means over 730 million Americans have no memories of that day. Certainly they live with the aftermath, but they do not know a world where terrorist-flown planes have not crashed into buildings killing people. I am sure many people have learned much in response to the events of 9/11/01. From military leaders to corporate security officials to first responders to travelers – we have all adjusted and learned and implemented those lessons. But there is one lesson from 9/11 that was not new, but perhaps was driven again home that day. In all circumstances we should turn to God. The Psalmist says it best: “Whom have I in Heaven but You? And beside You, I desire nothing on earth.” (Psalm 73:25). Where else would you turn?
It should not take a tragedy to cause people call upon the Lord, but it often does. Church attendance spiked in the months after 9/11, but soon fell back to normal levels. Some people cried out to God; others questioned how God could allow such a tragedy. Despite the attacks, despite the confusion, despite the changes, God was always God.
There can be benefits to a tragedy if it brings someone into relationship with God, but we don’t like to think that way. We want to avoid tragedy (naturally) and definitely don’t want God to get our attention through pain and suffering. Unfortunately, too many of us don’t live in strong relationship with God when there is no pain, no suffering, no tragedy. We might even feel like hypocrites turning to Him in our hour of need when we ignore him the rest of the time.
But He wants us to turn to Him, regardless of the motivation. His arms are strong and His love is overwhelming. And there will be pain. It is part of life in a fallen world among sinful creatures. But in the pain is the constancy of God. He does not change with the pain, and He does not change with the circumstances of our lives. He gave His name to Moses … I am. The very words “I am” give comfort because they guarantee the constancy, the permanence, and the everlastingness of God. He is there and He wants to be with us in every moment of our lives.
To me, the ultimate lesson of 9/11 is one I seem to need to be reminded of every day: Turn to God.
Jonathan Smith was 93 years old when this daguerreotype was taken on October 20, 1854. When he was 14 years old, he enlisted to fight in the American Revolution. He eventually joined a church in the free state of Rhode Island, became a lay preacher, and was ordained to the ministry. Jonathan buried two wives, married a third, produced a number of children and grandchildren, and had this photograph taken for one of his granddaughters. Joseph Bauman produced a book entitled Don’t Tread on Me: Photographs and Life Stories of American Revolutionaries where Jonathan’s story, and seven others, may be found along with their photographs. Those photographs may also be found in this Time magazine article from 2013.
It is amazing that we have photographs of men that fought in the Revolution. What is even more wonderful to me is that we do not have photographs of the Declaration signers, members of the Continental Congress, or the leaders of the army; we have pictures of ordinary men who signed up to fight for freedom. Jonathan Smith’s face is truly the face of independence.
The photograph has been colorized, but it still speaks volumes. Those eyes saw harshness and those hands labored long. Jonathan’s hands built fortifications and likely held a musket as he fought in the Battle of Long Island and the Battle of Rhode Island, but those hands also held the Scripture as he proclaimed the Word of God.
As believers, we have had heroes of the faith for 2,000 years. Baptist preachers who stand out in this pantheon include Charles Spurgeon and Billy Graham. But Jonathan Smith was a Baptist preacher who labored in obscurity. We would probably never have heard of him except for this photograph, and therein lies the beauty of unsung heroes.
The heroes of the faith are those like 14-year-old Jonathan Smith, the ones who dug the trenches, who carried the muskets and ammunition, who suffered bitterly cold winters and often wondered where their next meal would come from. Heroes of the faith labor without recognition, know they are serving a higher cause, an eternal cause, and that the momentary afflictions of this world are immaterial.
The American Revolution looms large in our country’s mythos, and rightfully so. But we must never forget that it was fought by the Jonathan Smiths of the world. And while megachurches and mega-preachers capture much of Christendom’s imagination, it is the Jonathan Smiths of the faith that carry the Word forward. It is the Jonathan Smiths, preacher and lay folk alike, who might be recognized and appreciated by a few, but who will labor mostly in obscurity. And it is the Jonathan Smiths of the faith that will ultimately hear their master say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
Thank you for your service, Jonathan Smith, for your country and for your Savior.
Soldiers’ feet, marching smartly in unison on level streets, faltering into discord as they struggle up the steep incline.
Mobs roaring in waves quickly reduced to murmurs as the street narrows so only two or three may stand in ranks and come face to face with him.
A terrified child crying in heaving gasps as the bruised and battered man stumbles past.
Women wailing in great dirges of mourning: professionals weaving their chords into an eerie tune; true grievers spilling out their pain in inarticulate noise.
The rough, barely hewn tree bumping on the cobblestones then dragging through the dust, mixing heavy thumps with muted scraping.
A maul pounding a rusty spike through flesh into wood, its steady beat torn by anguished screams.
Muffled sobs interspersed with mocking laughter, an ill-matched duet of sadness and scorn.
Huge claps of thunder coupled with the sharp cracking of stones as graves are broken open.
No one hears the faltering beat of a burdened heart, no one except his father.
Football is often used as a metaphor for life and, frankly, some of those comparisons are a bit strained. Football is a game. People compete in games. People win or lose in games. So, to some extent, football mirrors life. Please understand that I love football and strongly support my teams (notice they are “my” teams). But when I get a bit too caught up in the losses, I remember this quotation from an unknown source about the Super Bowl from several years ago: “Imagine another world looking down at 60,000 people who pay $900,000 to sit in a stadium that cost $45 million to watch 22 men being paid $7 million a year dispute the possession of a ball that costs $16.95.”
I have heard sermons over the years referencing football. They are usually pretty well received where I’m from. People identify with the game, their teams, the excitement and passion, as well as the bitter disappointment that accompanies fandom. Even before the College National Championship or Super Bowl trophies are presented fans are looking to the next year eagerly anticipating continued success or hoping for an upturn in their team’s fortunes.
Occasionally, those changes in fortune occur midseason. The Jacksonville Jaguars, one of my teams, were having a horrific 2022 season. By all accounts, there had been a toxic environment in the locker room the year before and the team needed fixing. A coach was fired, a coach was hired, and as the season got underway, the Jags of 2022 looked much like the Jags of 2021, 2020, 2019, etc. But things changed; the team had a 4-8 record but won the next five games to finish first in its division, then won a playoff game coming back from a 27-0 deficit to win 31-30. The season came to an end in Kansas City with a loss to the Chiefs in a hard-fought game.
What changed? What flipped the switch to make a losing team a winning team? The Jaguars’ second-year quarterback, Trevor Lawrence, recently wrote a letter to Jags fans thanking them for their support. In that letter he noted the thing that caused the change, which began to take root long before the season started. The new coach, Doug Pederson, knew he had to earn the team’s trust. As Lawrence wrote, “With Doug, it wasn’t even about football – it was about us. It was about every guy in our room and having them look at the person next to them and say, ‘I got you’ … and that doesn’t happen overnight. It took most of the year. We lost five in a row at one point. We were 2-6. It took time. But that belief in ourselves, that refusal to quit, we found it.”
Lawrence went on to write, “The culture that everyone in our room helped build, the work that we put in all year — that’s why we came back against the Chargers the next week. It wasn’t because of some game plan switch or anything like that. It was because we had us. And us, our guys, we have no quit. You can call that cliché if you want, I don’t care. I was there. I’ve lived it. I know what I’ve seen. I know what we did.” And the “us” was even bigger than the team; Lawrence recognized the importance and dedication of the fans who hung with the Jags even when they were down 27-0.
Wonderful letter, wonderful story. But I usually blog about faith, and not faith in ourselves. Faith placed in God can accomplish much but faith placed solely in ourselves usually leads to disappointment. So where is the tie-in here, the apt sermon illustration?
The gospel is not about me, it’s all about Jesus and the grace he offers me. The gospel certainly does concern me as God saves individuals, people who bear his image, so in that sense it’s about me. But it’s about more than me – the Christian life is meant to be lived as an “us.” There are numerous “one another” verses in the Bible from Jesus’ command to love one another in John 13, to Paul’s admonitions to live in harmony with one another and to, in humility, consider others better than oneself. We are meant to be a family of believers.
Lawrence wrote that the comeback against the Chargers was “because we had us.” Believers grow in their faith through prayer, time spent in the scriptures, and taking opportunities to serve in various ways, among other paths of growth. But a key ingredient in spiritual growth (fancy word – sanctification) is being “us.” If we ignore the community of faith, the family of faith, we will not grow and prosper the way God desires us to. We are in this broken world together and we need each other. We need the prayers of other people, we need shoulders to cry on and we need to provide our shoulders to others, we need to laugh with one another, and we need to suffer with one another.
Join a church. If you attend a church join a small group. If your church doesn’t offer small groups start one. For all the attention paid to large gatherings and worship services, for all the money spent on buildings and production, “church” happens is when smaller groups of people get to know one another deeply. Corporate worship is important and the preaching of God’s word is vital. But you won’t grow, and you won’t help others grow if you aren’t spending time with “us.” Jesus showed us the model by going deeper with a smaller number of men, his disciples. He preached to thousands, but he experienced life with a small group. And that small group reached others and changed the world as they shared the good news of the grace Jesus offers.
Find your “us.” Join with other believers. Make much of Jesus. And to adapt a phrase from the Jags – it was always Jesus!
Yesterday, I had the privilege of officiating the chapel and graveside services for a burial at Arlington National Cemetery. Our family laid to rest the remains of my mother-in-law, Frances Dodd, nearly two years to the day after she died. Covid and some missteps on the part of the Arlington staff led to the long delay but, finally, twenty-three family members gathered on a cold, cloudy, windy morning to inter her ashes at her husband’s grave.
Her husband, John Dodd, died in 2004. When we buried him it was in a relatively newer part of the cemetery and we were struck by how barren it appeared. In the intervening years, trees have grown and, of course, more veterans and their spouses were buried. In the understatement of the new year, time moves on.
When we arrived at the Old Post Chapel on Fort Myer, I met with the chaplain assistants and the cemetery representative to review the logistics for the services, particularly the ceremonial parts of each. As we discussed these solemn matters in the foyer and then in a private gathering room, I was struck by the sounds of laughter and the squeals of the children coming from the sanctuary. We had nine kids under the age of fourteen with five under the age of four. There was definitely squealing and chasing going on. But what beautiful sounds in such a setting! Fran would have loved seeing the kids run around, would have joined in the laughter, and would have found joy at her funeral.
Two years may dull the edge of grief, but the service brought fresh grief. We have become accustomed to the world without Fran, but that does not mean her loss was felt any less keenly yesterday. We finished the chapel service and proceeded to the graveside. There the family gathered under and around a tent while I led a short committal service. “Short” is the order of the day at our national cemeteries as they conduct so many funerals each day they run on a tight schedule. After I shared a few thoughts we sang the four verses of Amazing Grace. As I mentioned, it was a cloudy day. As we sang the words, “When we’ve been there ten thousand years bright shining as the sun,” the sun broke through the clouds behind me and bathed everyone in its light.
Due to heavy rain the night before and very wet ground, the service was held curbside, however, we all wanted to walk up to the grave site. My daughter, Callie, captured this photo as we proceeded up the hill. It’s a beautiful picture and to me it symbolizes what I was trying to express in some of my remarks: those who believe in Christ, like Fran, who have claimed His mercy and grace, are journeying to a brighter, better place. And the platitude, “she’s in a better place now” does not begin to capture the life she is leading and the absolute joy she is experiencing. I am grateful for the moment the sun broke through and I am grateful for this photograph. It reminded me that my words really did not matter, God is in control and God provides the peace and comfort we need.
We reconvened at a DC restaurant and spent a couple of hours catching up, reminiscing, laughing, and, of course, eating. It was the perfect way to end a morning that celebrated our mother, mother-in-law, granny, and Gigi (great-granny). We are slowly going our separate ways with some having left yesterday and others today. We will return to Florida, Louisiana, South Carolina, and central Virginia and carry with us the finality of these moments but also the joy of family and memories of a life well-lived. And we will carry with us the knowledge that one day we will live out the final words of that beautiful hymn, “… we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we first begun.”
