Worship

Nobey sits in my lap and pats my arm while telling me some intricate story about spaceships or dinosaurs. He is extremely articulate for four years old, and creative. Pete gives good hugs and kisses. Adah studies my face with her big brown eyes, and adores me simply because I put a bottle in her mouth. My beautiful Mervey tells me she misses me when I call from work. I barely work 40 hours a week and she wants me to come home, or wishes I didn't have to go. These people bring me great joy. I love them, and I remember, God loves me even better. I've been thinking about worship, and how we please our Father. It's beautiful to be shown affection or complimented and admired, but what's more touching is to see their love expressed in the subtleties of people's behavior, according to their individual personalities. I like to see them enjoy a meal, or for my kids to appreciate their toys. I like to teach them things, show them things, and to see their fascination. Jesus sanctifies daily life for those who are His. "To the pure, all things are pure" (Titus 1:15). For God's children there is no more distinction between the common and the sacred. We ourselves have become a temple of Holy God (1 Cor 3:16). So worship is more than vocalized adoration in church, or fixating on His greatness in our personal meditation. Worship is a perspective, a conscientiousness, by which we walk through each day with a heightened enjoyment and gratefulness for every good thing, no matter how small, as a gift from Heavenly Papa.

Death

A student killed thirty something people at a college in Virginia. You never know when you're going to go. It bothers me. I don't take a day for granted, not only because it might be my last, but also because I'd like for it not to be. Not taking life for granted means not only acknowledging that life is short, but also doing our best to make it long. So we try to be healthy, and we try to be careful. What else can we do? I've always had an overactive imagination. I mostly consider it a good thing. As Jack London wrote of the man in his story "To Build A Fire," the man's problem was that he lacked imagination. He never foresaw himself freezing to death. I've done, and still do, some daring things, but never without practice and careful assessment, and maybe that's helped to keep me from any serious injury. Imagination on the other hand can also paralyze us with fear. I've worried sick over uncontrollable, even ridiculous, possibilities. Jesus doesn't want us to fear. God is in control. Not even a sparrow "will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father" (Matt 10:29) Tragedy disturbs me terribly, and never as much as senseless, stupid violence. Sometimes I break into a sweat when I consider that I have brought kids into this place. I have to trust God, to trust Father's good plan and align myself with it. I want to truly say, "To live is Christ, to die is gain" (Phil 1:21).

Laying on the couch in the dimness before sunrise with Adah in my arms as she gulps down a warm bottle, drifting in and out of sleep. Those are some of my happiest moments. I open my eyes and see her big brown eyes studying my face, and she stops drinking a minute to break into a big grin, and it overjoys me. I feel great, warm overwhelming hope that this little baby loves me, she'll always love me, we'll have a good long life together. "You just don't understand," I tell her sometimes, "what you mean to me." She plays with my hair, rubs my face, pats my shoulder. These are some of the most peaceful moments for my mind. It's a tremendous assurance to know that she, along with the other 2 kids in the house, really seem to think I'm great, no matter what, even while to society I probably don't look like much of a contributor, and to some who know me well I'm probably a real smart alec or worse. The boys revere me as if I were Spiderman. I never want to spoil that for them. Pete says, "Can you do that because you're very strong?" I'll have done something like bring the play-do bucket down from the top shelf. "Yes," I tell him, "I'm intensely strong." Nobey asks sometimes, "Why you have to go to work?" He wants me to stay home with him. I tell him they're counting on me to build those windows, and he discusses with me how very big they all are. They treat me like I'm amazing.