A Light in the Ruins

An American friend who once lived as a missionary in Ukraine told me a story about an encounter he had with a friendly atheist. This young woman was giving him a tour around the city of Odessa. As they walked from place to place, she began to open up, and at one point, she told him that believing in God was both ridiculous and irrational. How could any educated person believe that God existed? She was not belligerent; she just stated her belief as a proven fact. She indicated that she was doing fine without God in her life.

As they were talking, they came to a blighted intersection that was nothing more than a ruin left over from the devastation of World War II. The decaying and empty structures were fragmented shells. Rubble rather than trees created an impression of an arid wasteland. Even flowers and weeds seemed to avoid this desolate place.

It was at that moment that my missionary friend turned to the woman and gently observed: “Look around. If you want to know what the world looks like without God, here it is.” She gazed at the wretched scene and seemed to make the link between a war torn world and man’s banishment of God. Did she see the relationship between famine, disease and war and mankind’s fractured relationship with the God who created us and nurtured us? Can love even exist in such a place? My missionary friend believes he touched her by using that wretched picture as a way of introducing God back into her life. He did not make his point with words, nor with arguments or talking points. He just revealed the obvious and he let that do its work in her heart.

A Fleeting Moment in Time

Many years ago, during my first long hike on the Appalachian Trail in New Hampshire, I witnessed a fleeting moment of beauty that has never left me.

Late one day, after an easy ten miles, I began to search for a place to rest for the night. About a mile or so beyond a small town, I happened upon an empty cabin about fifty yards off the trail. Inside, the uninviting shelter was dark and cold. I dropped my gear and settled in and resigned myself to a night in the woods alone.

After a light dinner, I felt an urge to get away from the cold gloom of that inhospitable place, and so I left it to take a walk toward an open field on a hillside that was surrounded by thick woods. As I approached the field, the light from the declining sun drew contrasting shadows against the bright yellows and greens of the long, uncut grass. It was a picture of tranquility and I was glad to discover it.

As I stood in the midst of this natural still-life, I became aware of three deer grazing above me on the hillside. They didn’t notice me, and so I quietly gazed on that scene of solitary beauty. Time seemed to suspend itself: even the wind briefly stood still. Just as quickly, though, a soft breeze cut across the scene and the deer lifted their heads in unison, sensing an intruder. They hesitated a moment and then vanished into the shadows of the surrounding woods. Once again, I was alone in a once bright place that was now turning cold as the ghostly dusk transformed the waning light into varying shades of grey.

Now, all these years later, I remember that beautiful scene as if it were an image painted by God himself. I felt the warmth of God’s peace that day, but I had to turn back to the cold embrace of the solitary cabin. I did not know then that the journey ahead would often be long and hard. Yet, wherever life took me, I carried with me that image of beauty and peace as sustenance for those times when I would experience hunger and thirst.

A Cup of Morning Theology

Keeping it simple and relevant seems to be a trial for many in leadership roles within the church. Yes, the Bible is a huge complex book filled with stories, parables, revelations and prophecies that sometimes seem hard to grasp, especially when it comes to applying what we are reading to how we are living. Last night, though, I came upon a wonderful way to understand the meaning of the word “Grace.” We hear about the “Grace of God,” but do we get it? What is Grace? Well, here is one way to understand Grace in a deeper way:

G…God’s
R…Riches
A…At
C…Christ’s
E…Expense

Grace is a gift of love. Love originates with God. This truth is foundational to everything that proceeds from the Genesis story of creation. “We love because he first loved us.”(1John4:19) If we want to know what it means to live an abundant life, we need to reestablish that love connection with God. And here is how Paul tells us it can be done: “Be reconciled to God. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2Corinthians 5:20-21) God’s riches at Christ’s expense.

Men and Marriage

In the mid 1980’s, George Gilder wrote an interesting book called Men and Marriage. In it, he argues that marriage is the glue that holds civilization together because, without marriage, many men would be nothing more than barbarians within the gates. Since marriage has been so central to our everyday experience, we tend to accept the arrangement without thinking much about the dynamic behind the institution. Gilder seems to enjoy troubling our normal perceptions, however, by arguing that marriage permits women to transform the barbarian into the prince who then becomes the protector of the community for this and generation to come. In short, Gilder argues that women civilize men and that marriage is the structure through which this happens.

Gilder explains that young men are characteristically dreamers, warriors and adventurers. Without the self-limiting relationship fostered by marriage, young men would be content to do whatever they want whenever they want. Though the institution itself has changed over the past fifty years, marriage still generally defines the role of men as provider and protector; he has willingly allowed his own freedom to be circumscribed for the sake of love and mutual interest. And this bond creates the context for commitment that is the essential building block for the next generation.

While marriage may seem to some men like a sacrifice and a loss of freedom, it would be more accurate to describe the marriage bond as a transition into a new stage of life through a new kind of freedom. The dreamer does not vanish under a mountain of new domestic responsibilities; rather the new purpose behind the dreams changes by including others as part of the new dream narrative. A Man’s instinct for adventure is a good thing and it needs to stay alive, but devoting one’s life to the well being of the family and the generation to come is a greater thing because our entire civilization depends upon it. The adolescent boy may dream great dreams and he may yearn to be a superhero, but in most respects, these dreams find their most powerful expression in the form of a committed and loving husband and an involved and caring dad.

The Old Man at the Window

One of my very favorite Trail Thoughts is about what it is like to be an old man. The selection below from Ecclesiastes was written over 3000 years ago, but the imagery and language is as powerful and beautiful today as it was when it was first conceived.

THE OLD MAN AT THE WINDOW

“Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, ‘I find no pleasure in them’— before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars grow dark, and the clouds return after the rain; when the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men stoop, when the grinders cease because they are few, and those looking through the windows grow dim; when the doors to the street are closed and the sound of grinding fades; when men rise up at the sound of birds, but all their songs grow faint; when men are afraid of heights and of dangers in the streets; when the almond tree blossoms and the grasshopper drags himself along and desire no longer is stirred. Then man goes to his eternal home and mourners go about the streets.” —Ecclesiastes 12:1–5

Thousands of years have passed since Solomon wrote this description of old age, but there is nothing old about it. It is immediate and contemporary and we can see and feel the dusty street “where the grasshopper drags himself along.” (v5) Even if we are young, we can imagine, through this verse, what old age feels like.

The poet transports us back in time into the person of the old man and there we are, sitting in the shaded room by that same window, unable to hear the sounds of children playing in the street or the music of the organ grinder. At one time, that same old man was like one of the little children playing in the same street. And one day that same child outside the window will grow into the old man who looks out at a world where “songs grow faint.” (v4)