NEW Experiences with Old Friends

The book came to an end just as my Florida vacation did the same. Days earlier I had been surprised and delighted to find it in the book section of my grocery store after wishing my favorite secular author would put out something new in time for my trip. I’m normally a library patron, not usually having the funds to spring for the hardcover version of the new releases on the bestseller list. I force myself to add my name to a waiting list there or postpone the read til it comes out in paperback. But not this time. With my trip just two days away, I laid my money on the counter, tucked the book under my arm and then in my carry-on bag, waiting til I was seated at the gate at the airport before cracking the cover. My anticipation of a great story and my excitement over my travel plans were both at fever pitch!

Thankfully the book didn’t disappoint me. As usual, I flipped through the pages relentlessly, staying up late after visiting all day to sneak in an extra chapter or two before falling asleep, and picking it up with delight when insomnia attacked in the middle of the night. Of all possible locations, the book was set in Italy, a place near and dear to my heart. Descriptions of the people, places and FOOD in the novel matched those I’d experienced myself in my one visit there several years ago, and catapulted what would normally have been just another good read to a literary experience of the highest caliber. I thoroughly enjoyed traveling anew to a favorite country with this writer who’s given me so many pleasurable literary vacations in the past. Truly it was a wonderful new experience with an old friend.

Those words likewise perfectly describe my Florida vacation, although perhaps in this instance the word “old” should be printed in capitals, italicized and possibly underlined, as well (just kidding, Mary!). Her birthday was the excuse I needed to visit her in far-away Florida. But it wasn’t just any birthday, mind you. This was her 40th, a biggie. How gracious of her to age to this extent, just so I could come and visit! I have fewer years to spare than she does, so if one of us had to sacrifice one for our reunion, she was definitely the one to do it. She didn’t seem to mind.

Surprisingly, I learned some things about Mary that I didn’t know before. And she discovered some new aspects to my personality, as well. Expecting me to comfort and support her as she entered her 4th decade, she was surprised that I instead took the opportunity to razz her every chance I got. I was finally honest about my feelings towards her favorite footwear, preferring the “crocs” you find in the water to the ones she wears on her feet. Surely she was also amazed that I didn’t take a single nap while in her company, despite the tedium of her senile ramblings at times. No, we were much too busy to waste time in sleep. There were sights to see, stores to shop, meals to eat, trails to hike, even alligators to find (from a distance, of course). There were movies to watch, people to meet, and of course, her birthday to celebrate. The days were packed full of new experiences with an old (OLD!) friend. I loved them all.

Those same words likewise describe my relationship with God. Our friendship dates back to a Sunday morning some 32 years ago now, and truly has become deeper and richer over time. Yet my experiences with Him are still as fresh as a new day breaking. He can still make me laugh or cry with a sentence or a look, and just one Word out of His mouth or in His Book can change my attitudes, my actions,… my life.

You know, a book is new only until you’ve traveled through its pages from cover to cover one time. My time with Mary was new only until we ran out of things to do (we didn’t) or until my return flight home eventually left the airport (it did). But my experiences with God can be new every day (Lamentations 3:23) – they never come to an end. Likewise I never have to say goodbye to Him or wait months for the next chance to see Him. He’s always available and I can walk in His Presence continually. He will never leave me nor forget the promises He’s made to me (Deuteronomy 4:31).

I love my favorite author because I trust him not to lace his characters’ conversations with profanity nor place them in lifestyle situations that would cause me to put his books aside. I likewise treasure my friendship with Mary because of its constancy. The love between us is not diminished by the difference in our ages, the miles betweens our homes nor the months in-between our chances to be together. How much more, then, do I trust God, the Author of Life, to do me good and not evil all the days of my life, to extend His mercies new to me each morning, and to be that Friend Who sticks closer than a brother…(or even an aging “sister”)?! Stories reach a conclusion, vacations come to a close, but truly a relationship with God can be a journey of joy that never comes to an end.

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”
(Lamentations 3:23-24 NIV)

FOOT Notes

It’s been a busy nine days, and my feet have a lot to show for it.

Frankly, they’re a mess. Blisters have erupted on the heels and in-between the toes where shoes rubbed skin that was not used to the pressure. Dirt from dusty mountain trails has worked its way so deeply into the soles that even repeated scrubbings with soap and water fail to dislodge it. They’ve plummeted through icy water on a river rafting trip, were repeatedly doused in salty seawater and have baked in the sun and hot sand they traveled through. Sunburnt and dry in some places, there are open sores in others where particles of sand were trapped between skin and sandal and rubbed the flesh raw. In short, they’ve had a rough couple of weeks and are in desperate need of some pampering. They could use a few long soaks in a tub filled with warm soap water, a good session or two with a pumice stone, lathering in lotion and maybe perhaps even a Band-Aid or two. But all that can wait till my vacation travels are over and I find myself home once more. Until then I bathe them at night, bandage the worst of the wounds by day, and walk on them some more.

Amazingly, I’m proud of them in their burnt and blistered state. Their condition boasts that they didn’t sit idle as I visited new places. Instead they’re almost a travel diary in themselves of new experiences and opportunities explored and enjoyed. And as I look at them I wonder what condition my spiritual feet are in and what they might have to say about my Christian walk I wonder if they likewise speak of new adventures in the spirit or would instead shame me with a pristine condition that speaks of too much time on the sidelines. Have I ventured out on to new paths in the Spirit that take me to the high places with God, never minding the bumps and bruises I experience along the way, or have I merely sat safely at home and read about spiritual adventures others have taken? Have I plunged into the river of God, risking the rapids that threaten to dislodge me, or merely listened to the stories of others who braved the trip, envious of the thrills and chills they experienced as a result? Have I simply looked out at the world around me or did I get out and experience it firsthand, hiking miles perhaps through wind and waves and spiritually changeable weather?

Likewise my spiritual feet won’t get the pampering they deserve until I finally arrive safely Home. Till then there’s plenty of work to be done as I go about my Father’s business. Christ still washes the feet of His servants through the saints that He sends our way, fellow Christians who use the gifts He’s placed inside of them to wash off the trail dust we’ve collected, minister to our sore spots and refresh and encourage us as we continue along the way.

The more battered my spiritual feet look to me, the better they look to God. The important thing is to keep them moving. I have a feeling He doesn’t think much of feet that simply stand still.

“How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns!’”!
(Isaiah 52:7 NIV)

Bottomless Bucket

The mother and daughter laughed excitedly as they tried to corral the avocados rolling in opposite directions on the conveyor belt that bore them relentlessly to the cash register. “We’re making guacamole,” the mom explained. “It’s on our summer bucket list.” Suddenly they remembered they hadn’t bought the makings for dinner, but I reminded them that after eating a whole bag of corn chips with the sure-to-succeed experiment, they wouldn’t be hungry for it anymore anyway. Still laughing they headed off to cross off another item on their vacation to-do list, leaving me to realize that with the summer one-third gone I hadn’t even taken the time to write any such items down.

Maybe their words caught my attention because I had a week’s vacation coming up, seven days as yet unplanned. I didn’t want to waste them. Yet I knew that if I left them to chance, they’d fly away like dandelion seeds in the wind, uncatchable, irreclaimable…unremarkable. I wanted to make them count.

And so I got a mental paper and pen and got ready to write. The first draft looked a lot like most of the “bucket lists” I’ve looked at online – things I wanted to see or experience before I ran out of time. In this case it was my week-long vacation time, but the same principle applies to our individual summertimes, and especially to our lifetimes. The emphasis was heavy on the word my. My wish list, for my life and my time.

Suddenly it occurred to me that I could take those seven days and donate them, that I could plan each day around doing something for somebody else instead of concentrating only on what I wanted to do myself. Of course, college students have been doing exactly that for years, spending their spring breaks on mission trips or building houses for homeless people. Without having seen the movie The Bucket List myself, I read a synopsis of the plot and learned that two terminally ill men who started off as complete strangers ended up as friends who helped each other cross items off their lists. Even the popular TV show The Buried Life about a group of friends on a mission to accomplish items on their bucket lists includes a segment each week of how they helped a complete stranger realize a particular dream of his own.

Suddenly I understood why God has been nudging my heart about this topic of late. It’s because my life is not my own anymore. It belongs to Him. And so perhaps my determination to make my time on this earth count for something should lead me straight to His “bucket list”, the purposes and plans He has for the people He loves, while there’s still time to accomplish them.

All this talk about buckets got me to thinking of one in particular I’ve seen at the entrance to the lodge at Hueston Woods State Park. It hangs under a faucet that delivers a slow yet steady stream of water, gradually filling until the weight of the water inside tips it over and dumps the contents into a basin below. Then the empty bucket swings back into an upright position and the running water starts to fill it once more. The process repeats itself over and over again.

I smile at the thought that maybe God’s “list” has just one item on it! Perhaps His sole desire is that before we “kick the bucket“, as the saying goes, we position our own in such a way that our lives become so filled with His goodness that they can’t help but spill it all out on the people around us, over and over again.

“…Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, ‘If a man is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.’” (John 7:37-38 NIV)