Young Love

Ryan inched the newspaper forward for a quick peek at this son. The boy dropped down on the opposite end of the couch five minutes ago and had yet to make his move. Stillness in the living room for that long was a sure sign of trouble brewing in teen paradise. Ryan's single sidelong glance was enough to pick up all the signs. Head on fist; check. Vacant stare--check. All that was missing was...
Across the couch Jimmy forced the air from his lungs.
...a forlorn sigh. Yep, all signs present and accounted for. Ryan had one chance of escape. He shifted the paper again to peer around the other corner at his wife. Ryan's brows jumped up and down, followed by a quick jerk of the head in Jimmy's direction. Peg's lower lip and right shoulder lifted a fraction of an inch before she remembered a matter of grave importance in the kitchen and fled. Forsaken, Ryan folded the paper into his lap and turned to look at his son.
"Be careful what you wish for," Ryan's father told him when Ryan announced he and Peg were going to try and have a baby.
"Why'd he wait until I was nearly forty to get so smart," Ryan asked himself.
Jimmy caught his father's shift of position. "I have a problem," he muttered.
"Really? You're kidding?"
The feigned surprise was almost too much. Storm clouds blew across Jimmy's face.
"Dad," he said.
The single, drawn out title brought a smile to Ryan's lips.
"Okay," Ryan said. "Let's have it. What's bothering you?"
Jimmy studied the tops of his Nikes; wiped his hands on his jeans and sighed again.
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
The question caught Ryan flat-footed. The sincerity in Jimmy's eyes did the rest.
"What?" Ryan stumbled, his hold on fatherly composure spinning. "No; of course not. Where did that come from?"
Jimmy shrugged. The renewed interest in his Nikes lasted a full minute before his hand braced on the arm of the sofa.
"Wait," Ryan said. "Let's talk about this."
Jimmy open his mouth and closed it again. The shrug was back.
"Look," Ryan started over. "There's a lot of unexplained things in this world. Most of them disappear with a little study. Help me out here."
"Do you remember Leah Thompson?" Jimmy asked.
"From you trig class. She's the one who died recently; some kind of lung disease."
"Cystic fibrosis," Jimmy supplied the name. "Yeah, that's her."
"Pretty girl. I remember," Ryan said. "I remember you were kind of sweet on her."
The flush that rose in Jimmy's cheeks was swept away seconds later by a weight that settled over him. A tear worked its way to the corner of Jimmy's eye.
"I... I... never told her that," he said.
Ryan set aside his paper and laid a hand on Jimmy's arm. The silence touch whispered an incantation of unity.
"Son," Ryan said. "I don't know much about women and don't you ever believe any man who says he does. But, I know this. If you liked that girl, she knew it long before you did."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely," Ryan assured him. "Now what's this about ghosts?"
"Nothing really, I was like wondering what happens to people when they die. I mean do we just wink out or do we go on somehow? You know like ghosts or spirits or something."
"A question men have been asking since we sat by the fire in our cave," Ryan told him. "It comes with as many answers as people thinking about it."
"What do you think?"
"Well, I don't believe in all that heaven and hell stuff. If there is a God, He is love and God is forever. So, I suppose the good and love in us goes on forever. It's only the bad that's lost. Does that make sense to you?"
"Thanks Dad." Jimmy's crumpled features filled with renewed teen hope. Jimmy was up and climbing the stairs two at a time. At the top, he turned back to his father. "Oh, and nobody says "sweet on" anymore."

"That was amazing," Peg said from the kitchen when Jimmy was gone. "I had no idea you were such a philosopher."
"Yeah, well what can I say?" Ryan said. "You're a lucky woman."
Peg ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head. "Leah has been dead for months. I wonder what brought on his sudden interest?"
"He's a teenager," Ryan explained. "Who knows what goes on inside that head?"
"If you say so, but it sounds like more than the usual teen angst." Peg dropped down on the couch and summoned NCIS. Mark Harmon was so hot.
Ryan tried to go back to his paper. His heart was no longer in it. The ghost of Sunday sermons past had awakened. Was the picture of eternity he just gave is son more wishful than factual?

On his way to bed Ryan eased open his son's door. Jimmy was at his computer. A world of trolls and zombies was just visible over  Jimmy's shoulder.
"The things kids play today; I'll stick to Farmville," Ryan told himself and pushed the door closed.
"Okay, he's gone," a voice said. "But we'd better go to IM so they don't hear."
Jimmy tapped his finger and a message box appeared; plastic keys clattered.
"How come you never told me," Jimmy's fingers hovered over the keyboard, "before?"
"I was scared. I still am--a little. But I wouldn't be if you were here with me."
"Are you sure it's okay?"
"Did you ask your father?"
"Yeah. He said love goes on."
"See, I told you. I love you Jimmy. Bring flowers."
The screen when black. It would do no good to try and reconnect; she was gone for the night.


The next morning a one word message from Leah appeared on Jimmy's wall. They were taking it to the next level---at last. Jimmy didn't care what she called it. He knew where he wished to go and that was good enough; no matter how many levels it took to get there.
Ryan wasn't happy with his son's new screen saver. Cemeteries gave him the creeps. But, it wasn't something he was ready to fight with Jimmy about.
"Choose your battles carefully," he reminded himself.
Ryan figured the boy's fascination with his classmate's grave would pass soon enough, especially now that there was a new girl in his life. Ryan hadn't met this new one yet. He didn't know her name, but, he knew she was out there. Jimmy had been talking to her for a week. He ought to tell Jimmy that his room wasn't sound proof. Maybe--some day. For now, the boy had quit moping round and talking about ghosts and dying. Ryan had only caught a few words anyway. Flowers had been one of them. He slipped Jimmy a couple twenties across the breakfast table.
"Just in case you want to do something nice for someone," he said. "Your mom always liked roses."

Peg was waiting for Ryan at the door. The excitement in her eyes and the smile spread across her face told him Jimmy had taken the old man's advice. As soon as Ryan was inside Peg launched herself into his arms.
"Have I told you lately that I love you?" she asked.
"No, but it looks like love is in the air." Ryan's voice dropped slightly. "Did he get her roses?"
"Red ones," she said with a wink. "I saw him take them up to his room."
An hour passed without Jimmy asking to borrow the car. When that hour became two, Peg began to pace. She tried several times to shoo Ryan upstairs. He resisted as long as he could, but when the sun went down, it was time to act. With Peg in tow, Ryan crept up the stairs into a strange quiet. There was no music; no phone conversation to over hear; no even the clack of a keyboard. Ryan shrugged and knocked on Jimmy's door.
No answer.
He tried again; louder. When no answer came, he tried the doorknob. It turned freely in his hand. Ryan eased the door open. The lights were on; the window closed, but the room was empty. There was no sign of Jimmy or his roses.
"He wouldn't just sneak out. Not after you.." Peg stopped short. "What's wrong?"
She followed her husband's eyes to Jimmy's new screensaver. Leah Benjamin's grave was decorated with red roses. A horrible impossibility turned Ryan's face a pasty gray.
"What's Skype?" he asked.

Theology is a wonderful thing. You can spend a lifetime studying and never come to the end or run out of questions to pursue. However, even with a thorough mastery of homiletics and hermeneutics, there comes a time in every Christian’s life when the lessons of personal experience supersede study.

God is past finding out. The strongest man of faith will never understand the mechanics of how He restores sight to the blind. Yet, the newest babe in Christ is capable of understanding, “I was blind but now I see.”

For most of his entire adult life my father refused to accept Christ. He feared that once accepting he would stumble over sin again and thereby fail God. If a Christian sins, even willingly, is he immediately a hypocrite; a liar; or deluded in his faith? Is a Christian’s faith worthless if he fails to mirror Christ at every moment and under every circumstance? Experience and scripture say--no.

The Bible is filled with stories of those who trusted in God only to yield to their humanity and sin anew. What is it that separates Peter from Judas? David from Saul? Esau from Jacob? I believe it is the willingness to rise from defeat, broken and contrite, and be remade. Why God sticks by fallen Man is beyond the human heart. We may only say with David: “I will be glad and rejoice in thy mercy: for thou hast considered my trouble; thou hast known my soul in adversities; And hast not shut me up into the hand of the enemy...”

I Think I Am

“What is man that you are mindful of him?” Whether or not you believe in the existence of a divine being, the question begs for an answer. If, as some say, self-awareness is nothing more than a biochemical reaction across a chance arrangement of neural connections, why does it happen at all. What’s the point? Why be sentient only to die and vanish away with the cessation of biological function?

Thoughtlessness may be something we playfully accuse others of, but the reality of it is not a state we can accept for ourselves. To cease to exist; to be without thought, emotion or senses is beyond the capacity of imagination. We may say life ends with biological function, but we don’t believe it. The notion that the essential us; our thought or our soul whichever you prefer, transcends death is deeply rooted in our make-up.

We need not experience our own death to know it is not the end. I’ve watched  complete strangers “shuffle off” the mortal coil and in their passing found evidence enough to persuade me of a continuing existence of the individual. So, if death is not the end, what lies beyond?

For me the simplest solution is that God lies beyond. God blew into Man the breath of life and Man became a living soul is the way Genesis tells it. Inherent in the breath of God is life. His essence created an everlasting existence; the spark that will not die; the soul of Man.

God gave Man, and among the Creation, Man alone, the breath of life. He gave it for a purpose. That purpose is fellowship between Creator and creation. Man’s refusal to accept the existence of God or His purpose does not diminish the truth of it. Neither does it remove from the hand of God the right to reward fidelity and punish rejection.

Reaching for the right to decide good and evil left Man cursed, but did not take from us the everlasting life bestowed by creation. Man is cursed and everlasting; a pitiable combination. However, it is only in light of this fallen state of Man that Christianity makes sense. Christianity is based on Man’s need for a savior. If there is nothing to be saved from or saved for, what is the point of self-awareness? Moreover, what is the sense of claiming we are anything less than perfect?  

The Price of Praise


In the world in which we live service to others is a one-way street. At work, in traffic, even at church helping others is seen as one’s duty by server and served alike. Assumed failure, at any point in service, is considered by those being served as an attack on their self-worth.
It doesn’t seem fair---and it’s not. But what happens next time a policeman pulls you over; a waitress bungles your order; or you have to wait in line? Do you feel offended or slighted? The entitlement mentality rampant in our society is deeply rooted in the preservation of self image. This kind of thinking has put a chip on everyone’s shoulder. How can the world not see our unmet desires; our righteous expectations and our right to be served?
This may be the way of the world, but it should not be so among Christians. To follow the example left by Christ, we are to serve not be served. Moreover, the scripture is clear, we are to expect no praise for helping others. It is an unprofitable servant who does only his duty.
That being said, consider for a moment the power in giving to another praise for his efforts--even if they fall short of our expectations. When the servant is praised for his application to duty, he is built up, empowered and encouraged to greater heights. The giver of such praise honors the Lord, his brother who serves, and himself. Herein is the command to build up one another in the faith made a reality. The Kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. Application of the truth is better than possession of it this is why faith without works is dead.
Praising another person takes nothing away from us. On the other hand, belittling others serves only to reveal just how small and petty we can be.