Destination Discipline

I have a friend who lived on a lonely island. Sally spent years trying to build a boat that would transport her from isolation and depression to love and security. She was a master boat-builder, but every time she completed a boat and set sail, a tsunami of circumstances snatched her creation and wrecked it at sea. The ocean near her island was littered with the bones of many valiant ships, yet she sat on the lonely shoreline with only a handful of tears for company.

She had a host of friends shouting at her from across the harbor. They all had advice for how to build a better boat. They told her about canvas and rigging and what type of wood to use. They offered plenty of constructive criticism on her rudder design, but while they had the best intentions, they couldn’t stop the tsunami’s from happening.

Some of them got tired of watching her build and ridiculed her instead. Others, faded away because her efforts exhausted them. But there was one friend she barely perceived on the opposite shore who called out to her in a calming voice, “I love you. I have not abandoned you. I am here. I will find a way to rescue you.”

There were times the fog was so thick she couldn’t see this friend. Sometimes the wind was howling to an extent that she couldn’t hear the friend either. In fact, she had never even seen his face, but she kept searching for his voice and his words. She wanted to believe he was there, and that he would find a way to get her off that stinking island. Unfortunately, for all her wishing and hoping, he never seemed to show up.

One sunny day Sally notices the water is rising on the island. Her latest ship is complete and ready to sail–and just in time! She jumps aboard the great “Lottery Jackpot” and unfurls the sails. A great gust of wind fills them, and she is propelled further out to sea than ever before. A flock of gulls swooshes over the bow and lands. They drop gold coins near her feet and then fly away. Sally cannot believe her good fortune. With blue skies and no clouds in sight she realizes that she is finally going to reach the other shore. No tsunamis! In fact, a great multitude of people have gathered to meet her there. She sees they have champagne and fireworks and her heart is filled with happiness when suddenly—she is propelled forward when the ship hits something hard. There is a loud groan. She leans over the rails to discover she has hit a coral reef. Worse, there is a giant hole in the side of the ship, and it is taking on water.

Sally cries out to her friends, “Help! Save me! Send a life raft.”

But they stare at her, perplexed by her predicament. Someone shouts, “Why don’t you grow wings and fly over here?” Another person whistles, “It can’t get much worse than this. You’re doomed.” While another shouts, “Hey, throw me some of those gold coins. I can use them since you’re going to die anyway.”

Sally gazes back at the island and wishes for a moment that she could go back. At least on the island she had food and water. At least on the island she had a modicum of hope.

Sally walks back to the stern and lays down. She knows it’s over now. But over the commotion she hears the voice of her friend. “I love you. I have not abandoned you. Do you believe me?”

Sally wants to answer but her weak voice can’t cry above the rushing water. She really wants to believe that he is there, but she can’t see him. When suddenly above the din and clamor she hears a deep voice proclaim, “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench.” And then Sally believes with her heart that she can see him–even though her sight is failing–even though the ship sinks.

With her last breath she says, “I believe! Lord, help my unbelief!”

And then a hand reaches out and grabs her arms and pulls her out of the water. She is stunned to see she is standing on the most marvelous golden bridge. She looks up at the man who has rescued her and sees that he is just a plain guy. In fact, he’s not dressed very cool, nor does he even have trendy hair. Sally is so overwhelmed with emotion to discover he is real she says, “Dude! Thank you!” But nothing else will come out.

His smile is very kind. And he says, “I told you I would never leave you or forsake you. I’ve been building this bridge to get to you for years. You just couldn’t see it.”

Sally stutters a bit, spitting water out of her mouth and taking deep breaths. She is still reeling from not being sucked into the vortex the sinking ship created. “Why not?”

“You needed faith. The only people who can use this bridge have faith in me.”

Sally takes one of his nail-pierced hands and squeezes it. “Thank you for saving me, Jesus.”

Faith is like a bridge. Bridges are built. They don’t just happen. 

Bridges serve an important purpose. They help us to get from point A to point B. 

Sometimes they are modern marvels; other times they are a spattering of stones over a trickling creek. If the bridge is not adequate, we fall–often to our peril.

In times of war, the opposing army will first destroy local bridges to slow the opposition. 

For those who believe in Jesus, we have a bridge that can never be destroyed. That bridge is faith–and it is more precious than gold.

“For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.” Romans 9:5-6

I like a good joke and I love to laugh. I love to be silly and to inspire silliness in others. When there are so many dark and ugly things in the world, it often helps to focus on the humorous. Laughter is a great coping mechanism.

That is why I recently found myself making up jokes and sending them to my son, who is in the Marines. He is stuck in a medical platoon with an injury waiting for a medical discharge. He has been there for a year and–as one can imagine–it gets pretty depressing. He was not able to come home for the holidays and while we talked on the phone on Christmas Day, it’s just not the same. So, I tried to cheer him up with these gems…

Me: “What do you call a killer whale that swallows a goat?”

Him: “Stupid cuz it’s not supposed to eat goats.”

Me: Orchid! (get it? Orca & kid?) Orchid! funny! Ha, ha, ha! right?

Me: What do you call a bass that swallows a cell phone?

Him: no idea.

Me: Cell-fish. (get it? Funny! ha, ha, ha!)

Him:  Really?

Me: “I saved the best for last… What does Bruce Lee say when he’s thirsty?”

Him: No idea.

Me: “I need a drink of waaaaaaah……..ter!”

So, I imagined my son sitting there in the barracks staring at his phone and thinking his mother isn’t a very good comedian. I mean, I tried, but I guess I should keep my day job.

Two notable comedians passed away recently, and I find myself asking the question, “Where’s the punchline?” When someone dies, a light goes out, and we find ourselves sitting in darkness. In this case, we don’t even have laughter to keep us company.

Boy, this blog got really dark really fast! Geez, Margaret. Tell us something funny. We don’t want to think about ‘you-know-what’.  It stinks!

I hear you. I don’t either.

But I’ve also been thinking about Betty White. She was the master of dead-pan innocence. She could keep a straight face with the best of them. I grew up watching her wide-eyed stare on The Golden Girls. Often, Bea Arthur, Estelle Getty and Rue McClanahan would struggle to keep their composure. Rose was the heart of that show. Now, they are all dead. Who’s next? Carol Burnett? I know. I shouldn’t have typed that. But as far as I know, the human death ratio is one per person. And those are some pretty depressing stats.

But do you know what doesn’t die? Troll Dolls. For some reason, they keep coming back. Troll dolls are immortal.

Freddie Mercury once sang, “All dead, all dead All the dreams we had. And I wonder why I still live on.” God bless him. He wasn’t much of an optimist.

I miss Freddie Mercury. He could sing the alphabet and I would listen; entranced by his intonations. His untimely death also broke my heart. So how do we respond?

Some would say we should get busy living. We should laugh more. And I agree. Except that so many people are sick and dying around us that I’m still struggling to find the punchline. Even sarcasm and cynicism are little deaths. There is a tinge of pain in the brutal reality of having to bear with things that don’t die but should. Disco. Pleather pants. 80’s smooth jazz. Fad diets. But–I think the crux of what I’m getting at is this: in some shape or fashion, we are all afraid to die. But to deal with it, we all just kind of pretend it’s not going to happen. Then, when it does, we are forced to deal with that gut-wrenching reality. And frankly, it’s crippling.

Peace with God is the only way to eliminate the fear of death. And we can find peace by confessing our sin and crying out to Jesus for mercy. His grace will find us no matter where we are–no matter what we are doing–no matter what we have done. And I have to say, living without the fear of death gives me great joy. That is why I set my mind on the things of the spirit. The Spirit is life and peace.

Today, if you are struggling to find the punchline, don’t lose heart. Jesus has conquered the grave! And one day we will be with Him in paradise. He promised. And He never breaks His promise.

“Love is a sadness
Love is a madness
We are the addicts”

–  Jon Foreman

I love a good cookie. The right combination of butter, sugar and flour create an irresistible concoction to the untamed palate. Not that I am in the habit of eating cookies these days. I disdain them the way anyone with a sugar addiction does – ignoring them and even throwing them into the trash can if given ample opportunity.

Some might think that absurd. Who in their right mind spends hours making cookies only to start throwing them in the garbage?

Years ago, I was a very sad girl who took solace in cookies. I thought that I loved them, but to me, that kind of love was a purely selfish affair. It was utterly one-sided. I hesitated to share (even with my children) and overindulged to the point of misery. Who knew that too much of a good thing was so toxic? The more I ate, the sadder I was. One would think a belly full of cookies would feel fantastic, but alas, it was a sadness. I expected something from cookies they could never give in return; love. The more I confused sensuality with love, the more I felt lost.

I am writing about cookies because, alas, I ate a few too many again this holiday season. But gone are the days I thought cookies would satisfy the longings of my heart. Still, heart-matters are heavy on my mind. I have been thinking about what it means to love and to be loved and how the very experience changes a person. When I was 18, my mother told me I didn’t know what love was. I thought it was a feeling–and a very powerful one at that. Alas, that was just smoke and mirrors compared to what I have known of real love since then.

Love isn’t hormones. It isn’t a big, fluffy teddy bear or a dozen red roses. It isn’t negligees or heart-palpitating kisses on the bank of a river at midnight. I dare to add, many of our misconceptions about love come from movies.

Last night I was mesmerized by “Shall we Dance”, a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers film. In the movie, Peter (Fred) falls in love with Linda (Ginger) after he sees a photograph of her. In one of the most ridiculous plot points of all time, they get married to prove to the public they are NOT married by getting a divorce. They “fall in love” in the process. (My husband walked in half-way through the movie and asked me what it was about, but I couldn’t say – that’s how badly the plotted the movie was. But the songs and dance routines were exquisite–especially the ballet sequence at the end with Harriet Hoctor, who performed an elliptical backbend en pointe.)

The song, You can’t take that away from me, was beautiful, but in the context of the movie, it made no sense. Peter and Linda were being manipulated as a publicity stunt and we were supposed to feel sorry for them. They were obviously more impressed with themselves than they were with each other and therefore wholly unsympathetic. Why do I mention all of this? Well, because Hollywood probably had a more accurate portrayal of love via “The Love Bug” than it does in most of its romantic comedies. Why?

Love is not arrogant.

I grew up thinking love was all about me and the way I felt. Big romantic gestures only happened because I wanted something in return. They were wholly selfish. Maybe that is why I struggled to know a God who was self-sacrificial. I thought Jesus came to earth to save me because I was so awesome, not because I was utterly depraved and foolish and needed saving. In the most gracious act to me as a wayward child, God allowed me to eat as many cookies as I wanted in order to see how helpless and hopeless I really was. He allowed me to feel lonely and sad in order that I might cry out to Him so that He might show me what true love is.

What love really means

Perfect love casts out fear because it gives the receiver confidence. Perfect love says that no matter what is done to me, I will still love in return. This takes strength and courage and tenacity. This is no wimpy love! It is mighty and strong. It bears all things, believes all things. Love never fails. That is because it frequently sacrifices its own comfort for the beloved. And in order to truly love, the lover must often overlook and forgive offenses that cause grievous harm. I believe we all want to be loved in this way, but we frequently fall short when we try to live it out.

One of the most powerful stories I’ve read about love is from the book, “The Same Kind of Different as Me.” It is the story of a homeless man who is loved by a married woman who volunteered at a soup kitchen in his neighborhood. She showed him the love and kindness he had never known, and he couldn’t understand it. There was no earthly reason for a married white woman to care for a homeless black man, but she did. And it changed him forever. Her love gave him confidence.

A friend of mine recently divorced her husband of several decades. They didn’t get along and were tired of slogging it out. Besides, she has a good male friend who she is quite attached to. He is her “best friend”. It matters not that he is married. They don’t get along either. He is planning to divorce his wife so they can be together forever. Or so they think. They have even convinced themselves this is “God’s will.” Adultery is, after all, a forgivable offense. But I venture to guess, if they were unable to self-sacrificially love their first spouses, they will not be able to love their second (or third) spouses any better. Their kind of “love” is all about pleasing themselves and has little thought for how it will affect anyone else (not their children, or their parents or their friends or family). What’s “for better or worse” or a stupid vow got to do with marriage anyway? We change spouses like we change our underwear. If it starts to chafe, toss it in the trash.

Love is…not a cookie. In its highest form it transcends feelings or emotions. Or as the apostle Paul wrote in his letter to the Philippians:

“Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but to the interests of others. Have this in mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” – Philippians 2:3-8

First and foremost for a Christian, love is obedience to God. It is our highest form of worship. And until we learn how to obey, we can never love as He loves us. So, with the new year upon us, let’s put down our cookies and take up something beautiful and worthwhile – a love that transcends sugary concoctions – a love that fulfills and satisfies – a love that sets aside self and dies for the beloved.