Another Chance, Part 2

Today's blog will be a little longer than ususal, but please bear with me...

Like many Christians in my generation, I was raised in the Church in a time when the spiritual atmosphere focused a lot on rule-keeping. Fortunately, (or not so fortunately, depending on one's point of view) the list of glaringly inappropriate behaviors was fairly short. It took comparatively little effort to avoid involvement in those activities, and if we were successful, many other things could sort of slip by unnoticed. Dancing was definitely out, but gossip was tolerated. Drinking and gambling were out, but racist attitudes were tolerated. Smoking and movie-going were out, but TV at home was O.K. The rule-keeping thing was not always rational, or, in some cases, even biblical.

But a pre-occupation with rules was even more prevalent in my parents' generation. By the time I came along, things had actually started to loosen up a bit. But there was still enough of it to put the fear of God into me as a kid growing up. I know it was well-intentioned, but like I said, it wasn't always rational, and it certainly wasn't always consistent. Whatever we may think of the Jews in Jesus' day, at least they took their legalism seriously. They had rules against virtually everything you can imagine--hundreds of laws that went beyond Scripture--and they worked hard at enforcing them. I wonder what it must have been like for a kid growing up then.

I was a teenager with just the beginning of a relationship with God. I really had no desire to be a bad kid or a "wild child," but I was still enough of a teenager to know that I didn't want to keep all the rules. The Church's rules were adult-imposed rules, and like so many kids, I resisted them. But my church had a strategy for dealing with potential delinquents like me. I was led to believe (thankfully not by my parents) that since God is holy and cannot tolerate sin in His presence, if I were to die with some unconfessed sin in my life, or if Jesus should return before I dealt with that unconfessed sin, I would be in danger of not being admitted to heaven. I could be a Christian, but if I told a lie and died before I could repent of it, supposedly I would be excluded from heaven. That's a really scary thought, and my constant state of imperfection caused me to make a fairly regular appointment with the Lord (usually at the conclusion of the Sunday evening service) so that I could get my passport to heaven once again stamped "acceptable."

Don't misunderstand me. Confessing sin when prompted by the Holy Spirit is always a good thing. But looking back, I'm just not sure that the pressure I felt was always coming from God. And, the notion that in the event of my untimely death, any unconfessed sin would keep me out of heaven...good grief! Fear was a frequently used motivator in attempting to control youthful behavior.

Since those memorable days of yesteryear, my wife and I have raised three children. I'm the first to admit that during those teen years kids are frequently not very receptive to calm reasoning and logical arguments. There are times when a good healthy dose of fear might be in order to motivate compliance. But, I don't think using questionable theology is a good way to bring about that kind of fear. It's quite a challenge to think of God as a loving Father if you're living in more or less perpetual fear of Him. When our children disregarded our parental guidance and made poor choices that were sometimes very destructive, it was heartbreaking. But we never stopped loving them because of their unacceptable behavior. The relationship was strained, but not broken. Later, when they realized their mistakes, and apologized for them, we were always ready to forgive them and restore the relationship. Our children didn't always agree with us, but they did love us, and they knew that we loved them.

Over the years, life has thrown many painful curves at my family and me. There have been times of great sorrow, and times of terrible fear and uncertainty. I have seen other people's lives come unravelled when facing similar circumstances, and I don't hesitate to say that it's because of God's love and grace that I'm able to write these words today. In those terribly dark times I have experienced the peace and comfort that can only be explained by God. Long ago I managed to leave the perceptions of my youth behind. When my world seemed to be falling apart all around me, I was not afraid to run to the Lord. I had no fear that He might turn me away from His presence because of some lapse in judgment on my part. No. In those times I heard Him say, "Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest."

I've fallen short of God's expectations many times in my life, and, sadly, I still have those times when I let Him down. I regret those times very much, and I would never try to make light of them. But, I regret those times because of my love for the Lord and my gratitude for all He's done in my life. He deserves better that what I've sometimes given Him, but I know He's willing to forgive me. My regrets aren't tied to a fear of punishment. My regrets are tied to my love for Jesus--a love that has sometimes offended and disappointed Him. If He were not so wonderfully patient, He would have given up on me a long time ago. But I'm still here, and I'm still following Jesus, grateful for the many times He's been willing to give me another chance. My passport to heaven, so to speak, was stamped a long time ago with the word "forgiven." I have admittedly followed the Lord imperfectly, but from the day that I bowed before Him until the present there has never been a question as to who I am and whose I am in Christ.

And now another of life's curves has been thrown our way. Another challenge that has immediately driven me to my knees. The words of an old hymn have quickly come to mind: "O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come..." It has only been a week since we learned that my daughter-in-law has breast cancer. This very special young woman has been a wonderful wife to our son, and an outstanding mother to their two little boys. We have thanked the Lord so many times for her, and this news has been so painful for all of us. That word, "cancer," can immediately strike fear into the bravest hearts, but once again the Lord I love--the Lord who is so approachable--quickly spoke to my heart: "My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." It's a great comfort to know that He cares; He's intimately involved in our lives and this did not take Him by surprise. We're trusting that this cancer was detected early and that her treatment will be successful. But as the family stands together in the face of this challenge, united in Christ and in mutual love, we know that we are not alone. The One who made us and gave Himself for us is right in our midst.

S.F.

Another Chance

You know, for a long time now I've been a little suspicious about the standards that Universities maintain for their star athletes. I hear some of these college seniors, or graduates who are now playing in professional sports, and they often seem to struggle to put together an intelligent sentence. They sound more like they're at Junior High level. Well, I recently came across a little story that only fuels my suspicions...

It seems that a college football coach was faced with the possibility that his star player might be declared ineligible for academic reasons. So he pleaded with the chemistry professor not to flunk the athlete. The professor was willing to negotiate. He said, "I'll tell you what, coach, I'll ask him a question in your presence and if he gets it right I'll pass him." The athlete was called in and the professor asked, "What is H2O?" The player answered, "Water," and immediately the coach called out frantically, "Give him another chance! Please give him another chance!"

I hate to fail. I can't imagine that anyone likes to fail. I've often found it hard to know what to do with failure. Failure makes me emotional. I'm tempted to act impulsively in the wake of failure. No, I don't like failure at all, but I've certainly known my share of it in my life.

I once read an interesting story about a vice-president at IBM who had come up with an idea to set up a separate division. He was given permission by the then CEO, Thomas Watson, but when he put the plan in motion, he promptly lost ten million dollars. Not surprisingly, he was devastated by this failure and he walked into Watson's office and informed him that he was resigning. When Watson asked him why, he said, "Because this thing is such a miserable failure." But Watson said, "You're not resigning after I just spent ten million dollars on your education." I really love that!

That's an attitude I can appreciate. If my past mistakes were translated into currency, I think it could reasonably be said that God has spent at least ten million dollars on my education. What's so amazing is that he hasn't put me on the shelf. When I fail, He doesn't treat me like a loser. Instead, He gives me another chance to get it right. It's really humbling, but it's also consistent with what a loving father does. When my children were first learning to walk, they kept falling down. It seems like they fell more than they walked. But, as their father, I was thrilled with each step. I couldn't imagine saying to them, "That's it, we're done, you just don't get it, you'll never walk." Of course not. Instead, I kept encouraging them, giving them repeated chances to develop their ability. I saw beyond the present stumbling to focus on what I knew they would become. And that's the gracious way in which God has patiently dealt with me.

One of my favorite promises is found in Philippians 1:6 where the apostle Paul wrote that he was "confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." I've come to realize that God has invested a lot in me. He has spent endless hours building me up as a person. He has sent others to teach me, encourage me, and sometimes even to correct me. He watches over me constantly while he arranges circumstances (that I don't always appreciate at the time) designed to make me more like Him. It's not ten million dollars that He's invested in me. It's worth much more than money. In fact, what He's invested in me is priceless.

1 Corinthians 6:19-20 says, "Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price..." And that price was nothing less than the very life of Jesus, a life He was willing to lay down so that I could have another chance. It still blows my mind.


S.F.

You have to start someplace...

When it comes to this fascinating realm of the blogosphere, I admit to being a tenderfoot, a greenhorn, a novice, or whatever word best describes the newbie who often feels clueless in the face of rapidly evolving communications technology. I'm still in the early stages of learning to send text messages, and while my ability to text is pitifully slow compared to everyone I know under the age of thirty, hey, at least I'm trying to keep up. Fortunately, most of the youth I'm acquainted with are kind-hearted, and rather than viewing my efforts with condescension or disdain, they actually think it's cool that I can text at all (or so they say.)

That being said, I want to say "welcome, and thanks for checking out 'Silver Fox' today." Since this is my initial posting, I thought a few words of explanation would be in order. My friends were not at all puzzled when I told them the blog would be known as "Silver Fox." They immediately made the connection between that name and my pre-maturely white hair. Well, actually, I guess I can't really call it pre-maturely white anymore. At my age, white hair is a perfectly common human attribute, but white hair is something I inherited from my father, and those first strands of gray began appearing while I was still in my late teens--definitely pre-mature then. I've been calling myself pre-maturely white for so long that I guess I failed to notice when the rest of my body finally caught up with my hair.

But, "Silver Fox" is more than a vain reference to my hair. I chose the name as a tribute to my father who is no longer with us. He was the original "Silver Fox," and I loved and admired him greatly. So much of my understanding of what it really means to be a man, a husband and a father has come from his example. Oh, he had his flaws, like everyone else, but his life, more than that of any other man, made a profound and lasting impact on me. Today, when I look in the mirror, I see so much of my father. My white hair is a constant reminder of how blessed I was to be able to call him "Dad."

Well, what about that line in my blog title that reads: "The view from the other side of the hill?" Again, that was no big surprise to my friends. I make no attempt to disguise or dispute the reality of having attained a certain place in life that would be considered "over the hill" by some mischievous friends (or perhaps less charitable critics). I've had my mid-life crisis, and thankfully I lived through it, only slightly worse for the wear. Oh sure, I fought hard for a time, trying to hold back the effects of the relentless advances of time on my body. But, inevitably, I had to accept certain physical limitations. Still, I completely reject the notion that being "over the hill" means that my best years are behind me. I prefer to think that so many years of experience have helped to mature and refine the way I think and look at the world. And, I would also like to think that perhaps some who are struggling, as they make their way up the front side of the hill, might in some way be helped or encouraged by what I've learned.

I am a Christian, a follower of Jesus, and I try hard to maintain my biblical worldview, even as I encourage those whom I serve to do the same. For the past fourteen years I have been the pastor of a wonderful Christian community in Utah. It's the latest chapter in a long and phenomenal journey that began over fifty years ago. It's a journey that has taken me to many different countries and a variety of cultures. It's a journey that has allowed me to experience the faithfulness and trustworthiness of God in times of great blessing, and in times of great pain.

In the days ahead, as I look back over this wonderful journey, with "a view from the other side of the hill," it's my intention that the reader's focus will be on the person and character of Christ. I've tried to be a faithful follower, but my walk has been far from perfect. I think I've always meant well. On many occasions, by the grace of God, it might even be said that I did well--but not always. Many of the most valuable lessons were learned in times of failure or disobedience. I'll be talking about those times too. I sincerely hope that future postings will prove to be encouraging faith builders.

Again, thanks for visiting today, and may the Lord bless you!

S.F.