Jeremiah 3

“How gladly I would treat you like sons and give you a desirable land, the most beautiful inheritance of any nation. I thought you would call me ‘Father’ and not turn away from following me. But like a woman unfaithful to her husband, so you have been unfaithful to me, O House of Israel,” declares the Lord. Jeremiah 3:19-20

The painting is from above and it shows colorful fields of crops, a beautiful inheritance. But seen from another perspective, it is also a picture of fragmentation and division which is the result of unfaithfulness.

Jeremiah 2

They did not ask, “Where is the Lord who brought us up out of Egypt and led us through a land of deserts and rifts, a land of drought and darkness, a land where on one travels and no one lives.” Jeremiah 2:6

Twice in this chapter the author mentions that the people failed to ask, “Where is the Lord?” That is the primary question, isn’t it? When I meet with individuals for counsel, that question gets asked at least once during most conversations. Even if we don’t know the answer, asking the question points us in the right direction. It gets us out of our dark, claustrophobic introspection so we can start noticing signs, stirrings, and promptings from beyond. I tried to capture the sense of a barren landscape depicted in the verse.

Jeremiah 1

Before I shaped you in the womb, I knew all about you. Before you saw the light of day, I had holy plans for you: prophet to the nations—that’s what I had in mind for you. Jeremiah 1:3

Most of the older adults who knew me and my family as a child are long gone. Roles are now reversed. I know children and grandchildren who were dreamed of and prayed for long before they showed up in the delivery room. And that knowledge creates a kind of intimacy and hope. That hope has the power to shape our destiny. That hope is like a womb of rich, life giving, amniotic fluid strengthening our inner spirits.

Jeremiah

Talk about a tough job assignment. In 627 BC the Assyrian Empire, wracked by internal strife, was crumbling. Babylon to the north was rising, Egypt to the west was threatening, and tiny Israel was caught in the middle. Having abandoned their original purpose as a nation under God, worship of Yahweh was a shell. The nation, torn by its own civil strife into two kingdoms of Israel and Judah, had given itself as a prostitute to other foreign gods. Into that maelstrom of political plots and religious apostasy, Jeremiah was called to speak. But few would listen. In the end his warnings proved to be true and the nation was destroyed and carted off into captivity.

What might a crusty old prophet have to say to me in an age of vast inequalities, political gridlock, empty speech, and the specter of demographic, economic, and ecological gloom around every corner?

Campus by the Sea Boat House

It has been Campus by the Sea’s welcome mat standing as a silent sentry guarding the entrance to the camp for over sixty years. It is a humble rustic structure that has been creatively adapted for many uses— boat maintenance yard, repair shop, snorkel checkout area, tool shed, and storage facility. In the early days the camp caretaker slept there during the summer. Peek inside and you will discover a dusty museum of ancient nautical parts and old tools. The ceilings are low enough that most people have to stoop. It has endured the crashing waves of winter storms and the gnawing of mice and termites. Its gleaming white facade says to all who pass by, “We are glad that you are here!”

Visit the Campus by the Sea website to view the complete article.

I’m OK

An older saint from our church, Nancy Zurfluh, died this weekend after a long battle with cancer. I had the chance to spend an hour with Nancy and her husband, Walt, about a year ago. They had served as missionaries their whole adult lives.

In the early 1950’s they were sent to Berlin to work with refugees. The city had been divided with the Russians controlling the east and Germans supported by the Western Allies in the west. As Americans, the Zurfluhs initially had permission to travel back and forth between the two halves of the city. They could often carry supplies and messages between families trapped on either side of the check point. Once the Berlin wall went up, however, all transit stopped. Families were cut off.

With tears in her eyes, Nancy described the plight of two sisters living on opposite sides of the wall. Without phone or mail service, they worked out a plan. Each evening at sundown, they would stand in the window of their respective apartments and wave a white flag to signal, “I’m OK.”

This week I sense Nancy Zurfluh is waving a flag for her husband, family, and friends to say, “I’m OK. I am safely with the one who loves me.”

Learning to Wait

We are waiting for a child to be born—our grandson. He was expected a week ago but has yet to make an appearance. We can see him kicking and three days ago our daughter thought labor was about to begin. But alas, not yet. So what does this waiting mean? What lessons might this little boy teach me?

It makes a difference that we are waiting for someone to join us rather than just waiting for a process to come to completion. This someone embodies hopes, dreams, and potential. May his life make a positive difference in our world. May he find meaning through the babe born to Mary thousands of years ago. We do want the birth process to end but not so we can get on with our normal life. Life will transition to something new and the old normal will end.

Waiting is a big theme in the scriptures. We wait in faith. We wait for one who loves us. We wait for something beyond our control. It feels uncomfortable—an inherent tension, an unfulfilled longing, a sense of helplessness, a fight to keep hopelessness at bay. We are waiting for our grandson to be born.

P.S.
The wait is over. He arrived an hour after I completed this post. 8 pounds and 10 ounces of joy.

No Longer in a Hurry

The older woman in front of me in the checkout line at Trader Joe’s in Fresno mentioned to the clerk who was scanning her groceries that the sprinkler system at her home was not working. The clerk, who was about her same age, responded by telling her his own sprinkler system woes. He had a repairman to his house three times in the past week and he was still having problems. By the way, these issues are important when it was 95 degrees at nine in the morning and headed to 108 by the afternoon.

As I waited, I looked around the room and noticed that all of the other shoppers in the store were senior citizens in their 70s and 80’s. Some were carefully inspecting the fruits and vegetables. A numbered had gathered around the new product tasting bar and were engaged in animated conversations with the clerk and one another. And no one was in a hurry. That is what made the scene so attractive. They had time to talk with each another. Trader Joe’s was more than a grocery store for them. It was a social network.

George Vaillant in the book Aging Well says that as we age and suffer the loss of mates and friends, we must learn to replace our lost companions with new friends. Grandchildren work spectacularly well by the way. Early morning at the grocery store may be another place to meet new people. And if your sprinklers don’t work, I know some folks who can steer you in the right direction.

Clause 53 in the Grandparents Rule Book

On Saturday my wife, daughter, two granddaughters age 4 and 2, and I walked into the Stride Rite Shoe store in the mall. The two granddaughters needed new shoes. As we walked in, two other children age 1 and 3 bolted for the door like caged alley cats eying their chance for freedom. Their weary grandmother had turned her back for a moment to speak to the store clerk. Remembering that grand parenting is a team sport, I stepped into the path of the fleeing felines, stretched out my arms and growled. That slowed them down long enough for grandma to catch up.

Whoever owns the Stride Rite Shoe store is a marketing genius. They have managed to take the simple children’s canvas shoe made in China and transform it into an array of designs and colors complete with blinking lights built into the tread. The shoes were neatly arranged by theme—princess, superhero, cartoon character, etc. on brightly lit shelves around the room. They are sold for about a dollar per millimeter of shoe length and it is expected that children will outgrow their shoes in about four months.

What was most intriguing was to notice that almost every mother and child in the store was accompanied by a grandmother. When it came time for check out, it was grandma’s credit card that paid for the transaction. I remembered that my mother had done the same thing for our children when they were young. It is as if there is a Clause 53 in the unwritten grandparent’s rule book that says, “Grandparents shall buy all school shoes for young children.” Our daughter is about to add grandchild number five to the litter so it would be nice if we could unearth this secret rule book.