Date Archives → November 2005

I Get To

I read this a few weeks ago in Disciplines of a Godly Man, about Robertson McQuilkin, the former President at Columbia International University. It is his resignation letter, served when his wife was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. It moved me, and I want my life to emulate his.

Twenty-two years is a long time, but then again, it can be shorter than one anticipates. How do you say goodbye to friends you don’t wish to leave? The decision to come to Columbia was the most difficult I had to make. The decision to leave twenty-two years later, though painful, was one of the easiest. It was almost as if God engineered the circumstances so that I had no alternatives. Let me explain. My dear wife, Muriel, has been in failing mental health for about twelve years. So far I have been able to carry both her ever growing needs and my leadership responsibility at Columbia. But recently it has become apparent that Muriel is contented most of the time when she is with me, and almost none of the time when I am away from her. It is not just discontent, she is filled with fear, even terror that she has lost me, and always goes in search of me when I leave home. So it is clear to me that she needs me now, full time. Perhaps it will help you understand if I share with you what I shared in Chapel at the time of the announcement of my resignation.

The decision was made in a way forty-two years ago when I promised Muriel to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, till death us do part. But there is more. She has cared for me fully and sacrificially for all these years. If I care for her for the next forty years, I would not be out of her debt. Duty, however, can be grim and stoic. There is more—I love Muriel. She is a delight to me. I don’t have to care for her—I get to. It is a high honor to care for so wonderful a person.

backtracking

a lost post from september.

After snuggling deep into a wool sweater all day yesterday (and avoiding puddles, having perpetually damp hair, and a chill affecting my spine), I am very happy to see today’s forecast: 68 and sunny. I think I’ll make sure to be outside a bit today.

I woke up at 7:00 this morning, which I haven’t done in awhile. It started with exhaustion catching up to me, sleeping consistently through my alarm, and finally giving up and letting sleep run its course. But that led to sleep getting the best of me, robbing me of early mornings, and leaving me with that awful sense of being lazy and a bit behind. Enough is enough, and last night I set my alarm. Funny how a little thing like getting up infuse my rest with a sense of anticipation.

Now if I can just start getting to bed at a reasonable hour. (These are the “growth curves” of being newly married: how to be a night person for him and a morning person for me…)

Days seem to disappear rapidly as of late. Not that they haven’t always, but now those hours melt away, dissipate, vanish into thin air as never before. It’s morning, and then it’s mid-afternoon. Before I know it, it’s time for candles and lamps and post-dinner chores. I only pray that I’m able to do what it is He has for me in this fleeting space of time. Grasping and holding certainly won’t help, but living in His presence, abiding in Him–that will fill these short days with meaning. It will cause my vapor of a lifespan to have impact.

Lord, use me today. My plans aren’t very grandiose. No one ever made history cleaning a bathroom–but somehow use me. Let the fragrance of Christ fill the rooms I enter and the conversations I have. Let my mind be on You and Your Kingdom. Fill my cup to overflowing.

sunday reflections

I forget how intimately acquainted He is with all of my ways. I remember common grace, but I forget that He extends His mercy to me in my particular moment of need. I underestimate His ability to fill my emptiness before I even have time to notice the gaping hole. He’s so good, so perfect, so strong. Sometimes that overwhelms me.

Sometimes in a moment of need, I do what’s natural:

I lift my eyes to see Your beauty…

and it takes me by surprise when suddenly He can

still my heart and take my breath away.

I can’t imagine life on earth without the Lord. The clearer that the pain and brokenness of this life becomes, the more my compassion increases towards those who are blind to Hope. My heart aches to see His glory. And I will:

I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.

Come quickly.

daily doings

A two-day shopping trip with my mom and a sister–the anticipated event of my pre-holiday season–is over. We shopped from the time the doors opened till the last door closed for two days and came home with a Caravan full of packages. When it comes to shoppers, we are the real deal! My favorite moments of the trip were when Mom would pull into the parking lot, and without a word to each other we would simultaneously unbuckle, strap on the purses, and emerge from the vehicle, fully armed. We were as synchronized as any SWAT team!

Now my living room is home to a pile of goods, from new lamps to wrapping paper to stockings to presents… A few more weeks, and the music can start playing while I wrap all of these packages.

Before then, I’ll fill my new pie plates with dessert for the biggest meal of the year, which I’m also excited about. Ryan laughed at me when I bought a $4 children’s book about the pilgrims. “Who’s that for?”, he asked. “Oh, for us. You know, to set out with our decorations.” I’m not sure he knows what to do with me sometimes!

But today is cleaning day–big time. I was sick for five days last week, and then left to go shopping, so today I get to make up for all of my “time off”. Besides enjoying a clean house, Ryan and I have to prepare for our first “real” guest to arrive: Dr. Wilson. Anyone know what I should have in my cupboards for his enjoyment–besides black tea and lots of sugar in the sugar bowl?

november 7

Afternoons this time of year are so strange. An hour ago, I was so cheered by the bright sunshine pouring through all of our windows. Now, long shadows cast gray light, and it doesn’t look like afternoon anymore: it’s dusk.

Well, only one thing to do-start cooking and make this place cozy with the aromas of an autumn eveming.

2 Cor 4

I read this today and noticed this for the first time.

Even Paul, the Apostle of Jesus Christ, third heaven guy, had his days when he just didn’t get it. And even when that happened, he never despaired. What a great example.

I love these moments, these glimpses into our heroes and their real-life Christianity. I love when they come down to my human level and I realize that even a man who, under the inspiration of God Himself, wrote most of the New Testament, was a believer just like me. His faith was child-like, and that means that things went over his head sometimes, but even so, he was content because he knew what God was [is!] like, and that was enough of a firm footing for his faith.

Maybe perplexed, but not despairing. Confident in hope, joyous in expectation. Not always understanding each moment, but fully convinced of the end. That was Paul.

May it be me, too.