Thursday, November 07, 2013
Many who grieve speak to the one who has left them. They do so years, even decades later.
It has been 10 years since my father died, and I still sometimes speak to him. Usually, I thank him for something he did, for the person he was, part of which continues to live in me.
He is as real to me as the clutter on my desk that I promise to clean some day but probably never will. I quickly get distracted by what I find any time I try to make order of the mess.
Sometimes I speak to him with understanding, finally comprehending what life was like for him. I empathize with his struggles and talk to him as a companion on this crazy journey of life that, on days like this, I love so dearly. He taught me that love.
Watching him taught me to love my struggles because it is in the midst of them that you find yourself … and God. In the midst of the mess you discover your soul. You discover you are deeper, more mysterious … and beautiful … than you’d imagined.
“You never know what will happen.” I have recollection of Dad saying that sometimes. Maybe he didn’t say it much or even once, but somehow I remember it. Maybe it is just what I feel when I look at his life … and mine. “You just never know. Life surprises.”
So open your heart and embrace what comes as from God; it will bless and challenge you in ways you have not imagined. This is the attitude of faith in the face of life … and death.
Don’t think you have it all figured out. Don’t imagine you have really understood much that has or will or might happen. Don’t even think that the dead are dead and can’t speak to you. They do.
God is. And all who have lived live now in him in ways we can’t imagine. The universe is more mysterious, more confusing, more interconnected and more surprising than you think … because God is God of the living.
So live this day and love everything and everyone that comes. You just never know what might come.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, November 05, 2013
I hunger for the vitality of assurance that invites human souls forward to embrace the day, to throw their hearts into what must be done and into whatever comes with expectation of love and laughter, knowing the goodness you are will crease my cheeks with joy and fill my eyes with hope.
For I know, … I know Love abides and always will to meet me on my way and to open my eyes one final time when my body fails and I fall into the repose of those who rest in you.
It is faith to which you invite me, the faith of the seed that falls into the earth and dies soon to be born into life unimaginable. It is a mystery, of course, one that does not await the end of my days, but which is here and true on this day.
This day I surrender myself, my life and hopes into the mystery of your love, trusting you have plans for me I do not know.
But this much I know, of this much I am sure: You love life and will lift me from all the little deaths I die, lifting me from despair as I surrender plans and hopes I cherish. So I trust that like the seed I will be born anew from every death, every end, every weariness and sorrow, born anew and more alive than ever before.
I will trust that every day is truly new, and joy comes in the morning.
I will trust because this is who you are and what you do, so let me laugh this day and love … knowing.
Pr. David L. Miller