“Highs, Lows and Fair to Middling’”

It was common in my childhood to hear “How are you doing today?” greetings followed by “Fair to Middling” responses.  “Fair to Middling” meant mediocre; average; neither good nor bad; not great but not poor. 

Need a neighborly conversational (and cultural) demonstration?  Here:

Jack:  “Hey, how ya’ll doin’?”

Evert:  “Oh, fair t' middlin’ I reckon.  Ow ‘bouch yeself?”

Jack:  “Cain’t complain none.”

Evert:  “Wouldn’t any good anyway, would it?”

Jack:  “Ow’s ye mom-n-‘em these days?”

Etc…

Don’t we all wish that every day could be full of prosperity, success, comfort, approval, encouragement, order, attention, affirmation, excitement and satisfaction?  More specifically – that all of these positive things would not only describe our existence, but that each one of those words could be defined and described according to our own preferences and passions? 

What a dream…  So far from reality…

Not that all of life is miserable, discouraging, depressing, dark and dreary – but how many of our days are simply plain and mundane; common; ordinary; routine.  Jumping right to the obvious, I would think that a life exclusively consisting of soaring peaks and plunging valleys would put us in an early grave.  Or, even if there were only peaks – I think the intensity might kill us.  I don’t know what the effect of such a life would be and doubtless there is no chance of me having to find out what it might be like. 

No – experience teaches us that most days feel insignificant and inconsequential in comparison with the few great moments of life.  But, how does God view these seemingly trivial periods of minor accomplishments? 

Example: I recall vividly the day I graduated from high school, yet the majority of the details of the hundreds of days that led up to that day have faded into the shadows of unimportance in my memory.  But, were they irrelevant after all?  Hardly!  It was those forgotten hours in the rigmarole of my education that actually made that memorable convocation day possible and meaningful.

Let me tell you what has caused me to think upon this.  In a weekly men’s group that I co-lead, we just completed our reading and discussion of the classic Christian novel, “In His Steps” by Charles Sheldon (published 1897).  Being a critical reader to some extent, I welcomed negative feedback from the men as well as positive comments.  There seemed to be agreement among the gentlemen that although the author’s thesis was pertinent and powerful (“What Would Jesus Do”), the constant melodrama and superlative over-intensity that his characters variously endured or enjoyed seemingly at every moment, implied a surreal picture of life that could definitely be theologically misleading.  Naturally, novels are meant to be interesting and appealing on every page so as to keep the reader plugging on.  Because of that, it would not occur to me to suggest that he should have written his book differently.  Yet his style did repeatedly cause us to reflect upon how far from realistic his scenarios were in comparison with our own lives and in contrast with some of the great saints whose lives are recorded for us in the Scripture.

Consider the lives of Noah, Job or Moses.  They are remembered for some pretty unusual highlights from their journey here on earth.  These men lived for many years, yet we have no specifics about what they did the other 90 plus percent of their lives.  Why?  I submit to you that those portions are ignored in Holy Writ (in part) because those times were too normal. 

Particularly, take Noah’s life as an illustration.  He had some rather extreme and forceful encounters with God.  But did they occur daily?  It is recorded that his Creator graciously met with him to warn him of the coming flood and to give him the blueprints of the ark.  That must have kept him awake that night, eh?  It is recorded also that God brought the animals in pairs to Noah, that God miraculously closed and sealed the door of the ark, that God caused the supernatural deluge (drowning the entire population outside of the ark) and that (about a year later) He made the rainbow covenant with Noah.  But… what are we to imagine about the hundreds of years before all of that?  Was life equally as spectacular and amazing for him every day?  Not likely!  Did he suffer from excitement insomnia every night?  I would think not.

More intriguing to me still is the century that he spent building that boat.  Surely there were many, many, many days of cutting wood, moving equipment, gathering supplies and who knows what all other kinds of mundane odd jobs in physical labor and management in which there was no real adrenaline pumping concentration of evidence concerning God’s involvement in Noah’s life, much less God’s approval of his actions.

Yet, think with me – was God as pleased with Noah as he swung his axe day after day as He was while Noah sacrificed to Him on one of the mountains of Ararat under the arc of that reassuring rainbow?  Obviously, Yes!

Need a current application of this principle?  Someone once stated that churches are not built on big promotion Sundays, but on the cumulative effect of the countless normal (forgotten) Sundays faithfully undertaken for the glory of God (my wording).

Charles Sheldon was attempting to portray for his readers what a real revival might look like – I understand his motive.  And, truly an individual or a congregation under the acute attention and control of the Holy Spirit should expect some awe inspiring events… but, so too should it be expected that there would be significantly more ritualistic duties of lesser magnitude (to our perception) but equally valuable to the God who judges every moment in which we live. 

This awareness is reassuring to me.  While I don’t want to use this realization as an excuse to settle for humdrum boredom and spiritual atrophy, I do believe that it can be used by God to comfort and bolster us and to alleviate false guilt and manufactured expectations. 

The Israelites did not cross the red sea every day.  Solomon did not dedicate a new temple every morning and afternoon.  Paul did not raise men from the dead every day (nor preach through the night every evening).  Elijah did not call down fire on every altar.  Jesus did not whip the thieves from His house every morning.  And, we should not imagine that every moment in which we live must be overflowing with miracles “on steroids” in order for our days to be meaningful and good.

Undertake the grandest endeavor and the least trifle with the same mindset: “God cares about this moment.”  We are to allow faith to permeate our every move for the honor and praise of our dear Savior. 

Two verses as I close:

1.       “Whatsoever your hand finds to do, do it with your might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10).

2.       “Whether therefore you eat, or drink, or whatsoever you do, do all to the glory of God” (First Corinthians 10:31).

RC Cola and a Moon Pie?  Dr. Pepper and Doritos?  Milk and cookies?  Coffee and doughnuts?  Fried chicken and sweet tea? (Gotta’ stop this.  Getting hungry).  Popcorn and coke . . . for the glory of God?????  Those things are just about as routine as it gets – don’t you think? 

Don’t belittle the regular life.  Live it for His pleasure. 

“Who has despised the day of small things?”  (Zechariah 4:10).

Aim high, indeed!  But don’t despair in the simple climb toward that summit.  Periods in your life may be sprinkled with Divine gifts that shock you with their grandeur, Providential trials that trouble you with their apparent pointlessness or a confusing mix of concurrent blessings and curses.   But, more likely than not, most of us can expect the plain (not necessarily painful) monotony of basic practices that can make us feel either irrelevant or ignored.  Don’t believe such a lie from Satan.  If we will just be faithful in the small tasks now – God will be freed up to use us more extravagantly in the world to come; a world in which we will be properly equipped to enjoy eternal prosperity without becoming vain and self-engrossed.

Ho hum for now?  I’m OK with that… I think…

I’m fair to middlin’ for God’s glory. 

J

“On the Other Side”

Sometimes reality is more surreal to me than the most absurd of fictitious narratives.  Such has been the case for me since the passing of Mrs. Mildred Gloyd this past Sunday.  Oh, my mind is sound enough to accept realities and understand circumstances.  I’m not losing my sanity or denying the obvious.  Yet, my heart seems to be on some kind of delay.  I don’t feel the emptiness and hollow ache that separation commonly seems to bring to most normal people… well… I don’t feel it yet anyway.

A few years ago, it took me three months to break down and really grieve the passing of one my dear friends.  He died suddenly at a young age.  The knowledge of his absence was secure in my mind.  My sense of awareness of what had happened (that average people like me possess) was not disturbed in the least.  I functioned normally enough.  Yet, the horrible feeling of loneliness that accompanies death only came to me after many weeks of reflection. 

I seldom cry sad tears anyway.  Indeed, I cry plenty enough – but, usually the tears of gratitude, worship, or joy are the kind that stream down my freckled face.  Perhaps I inherited these “crossed wires” from my Father.  Most, not all, of the tears that I ever saw on his face were accompanied by a smile.  Particularly, at Faith Baptist Camp, while other Christians were screaming, shouting or jumping up and down – Daddy was smiling, laughing and crying all at the same time.  Emotion is a strange and wonderful gift from God.

Regardless of the disappointing realization that (unfortunately) I haven’t yet truly begun to hurt and yearn – the facts surrounding the loss of Mrs. Mildred are obvious to me.

She was a great and gracious saint of God.  She loved God, loved His Word, loved His people and loved to serve Him.  Especially in the field of music (which is distinctively near and dear to my heart), Mrs. Mildred’s absence will be felt acutely for quite some time.  Her name and face will flash through my consciousness over and over, spurred forward by everything from choir music to specific songs that I associate primarily with her.

This is not her obituary, nor is it her Eulogy.  As such I do not attempt to cover every base in commenting upon her life, ministry, influence and departure.  This is simply a haphazard and random meditation on how we feel when we lose a grand soul like Mildred.  It’s an inquiry about why each of us react the way that we do at times like this.  But, mostly I just want to do some musing about what death might have been like for her as and after she took her last breath here.

Intellectually, it is easy enough to see why there is a bittersweet tinge in the decease of such a believer.  We (I) wish she had not gone away.  Yet, simultaneously we recognize that she is with Christ at last – truly there is nothing to sorrow about in that.  There is, of course, vicarious sorrow for her close family members who have never had to endure life without her smiling encouragement.  But again, there is vicarious jubilation for her – for we know that she wouldn’t want to return to her life here on earth and lose the glorious fellowship that she now enjoys with her Creator.

I like to imagine what death was like for Mildred.  Grant me some imaginative and speculator liberty, if you please. 

Perhaps God allowed some of her loved ones who have gone on before to accompany some heavenly angels in ushering her from this world to the next.  Maybe she saw them on Sunday (as, with a sound mind, she claimed to me earlier in the week that she had already encountered some of them in the hospital).  Did God use them to calm her and comfort her as she made the quick journey from our material world into His spiritual one?  If she entered a gate in heaven with them by her side – what would she have noticed first?  No doubt it would be the incredible glory and beauty of her Savior, seated at the right and of the Father.  I envision Mildred (now young, healthy and strong again) running toward her Lord with her million-dollar-smile spread across her face, tears welling up rapidly in her eyes and arms spread out in a hungering sign of her desire to embrace just the feet of her worthy Master and Friend.  As she nears Him she willingly falls humbly before his feet and worships Him for the first time without any regard for her surroundings, with no awareness of the passing of time or any of the other distractions which no doubt dogged her down here (like they do the rest of us). 

You know, I’m guessing that there are no clocks in heaven and that a great number of lengthy events can occur there in what is just a moment of time here on earth.  If so, Mildred didn’t have to enter heaven in a crowded line of saints as an irrelevant number.  What if all of heaven’s grandiose populous paused to welcome her there?  Imagine if everyone stood quietly as Mildred met Jesus face to face for the first time. 

I think as she lay at His feet she simply adored Him by breathing quite and unintelligible expressions of love, gratitude and amazement.  Doubtless she prostrated herself before His majesty for a long while.  But, after receiving a measure of worship from Mildred; after listening with pleasure to her happy sobs; after watching the tears flow freely down her face, across her white robe and onto the golden pavement of glass… I can see two of God’s blessed angels approaching her and lifting her to her feet again.  Jesus stands up from His throne to a crescendo of cries of praise and respect (which we would expect to accompany any significant movement of the Son of God in the presence of the redeemed).  One of the angels wipes the tears from Mildred’s eyes and lifts her chin so that she might gaze into the glorious eyes of the Christ who died for her.  After a stretch of moments during which she shakes her head in absolute astonishment and wonder at the reality that has dawned upon her – Jesus speaks…

“You did so well, Mildred!  I’m so pleased.  I loved you… and you trusted me.  Look now at the beginning of the rest that you will forever enjoy.”  Perhaps Jesus took her into his arms and held her tightly for a long moment.  Then, taking her by the shoulders, he turned her around and pointed out to her a few landmarks of that celestial city, reminding her that the whole city belongs to Him, and therefore… to her as well.

But, in Mildred’s case, I just wonder if Jesus didn’t then turn to her and say, “Mildred.  Would you like to sing with me?”  Surely the emotion overwhelmed her when she heard this invitation.  She (as any of us would) began to tremble with excitement and awe.  Feeling the enormity of such a privilege and recognizing her own unworthiness, maybe she told Him that there was nothing that would thrill her more, “…but I couldn’t… could I?”  Maybe He took her by the hand and as His strength and perfection flowed from His virtuous body into hers, she sang perfect alto in harmony with The Chief Musician.  What would they sing about?

Together: “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound…”

Mildred: “…that saved a wretch like me….”

You know, I don’t know… the Bible tells us so little about what it will be like there.  Ezekiel, Isaiah and John tried to tell us about it, didn’t they?  But mere words and human experience are doubtless so far inadequate in any attempt to fully describe the glory that heaven possesses.

Well, whatever it’s like… Mildred now knows about it first hand.  I wish for my sake, and for the sake of her loved ones, that she would have survived her bout with leukemia and would have lived until the rapture.  But, God’s will was otherwise.  He always knows best.  Whether He allowed her death or assigned it – she is infinitely better off now than you or I. 

The time will come when I will mourn deeply, but, right now I honestly think that it is my theology that stands in the way of that proper grief.  Please don’t rebuke me, but honestly… for her sake, I literally feel like celebrating her departure.  I envy her in a way.  She will never be tempted again.  She knows what perfect fellowship with the Father is really like.  She has obtained that for which we long for…

Does this explain my peculiar emotions at a time like this?   

“Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep” (Romans 12:15).  My unwilled dilemma is this: do I rejoice with her or weep with you?  Without purposing to do so, I have been rejoicing with her…

Please forgive me for my delayed mourning… it will come in time…