He's 70.
(Yes, apparently my two thought this was a “goofy face” picture. Goofy is the only face they have.)
|He’s Papa|
We walked in the door and within 30 seconds the two of them were far-off in some mutually imagined world.
Dutch grabbed the telescope and instantly the front room became a pirate ship. Dad was immediately in character–whether Billy Bones or Captain Flint or Long John Silver I’m not sure, they’re all the same to me–and Dutch was Jim Hawkins.
Then this morning he was outside with the kids, hunting for wild animals of some sort, exploring the property, inspecting mole-holes.
As I type these words he’s reading Treasure Island (all 121 pages!) aloud.
Yesterday he led a treasure hunt for all four kids–Seifers and Pattersons–complete with treasure map labeled “very old”, with x’s and trails and dollar-store puzzles hidden for each child.
Earlier this week he was Tinker Bell. With amazing adaptability he transforms from scruffy swashbuckler to pixie-dusting fairy. This game is new to him so he follows Dutch and Heidi around, learning the ropes of Neverland play.
Last week he was Chewbacca. Then Darth Vader.
Next week it will be back to Lightening McQueen. Dad will do his best Mater impression, talkin’ Hillbilly-like, then switchin’ to Doc or Sarge on cue.
He builds the Lego spaceships, towers reaching to heaven. He reads the same book over and over. He goes outside, even when it’s cold, to draw chalk treasure maps on the driveway or build some wooden masterpiece in the shop. Dutch will race in, later, nose red and fingers freezing, carrying whatever they’ve constructed, beaming.
When it’s a question of Will you do such-and-such with me? His answer is always,
Yes!
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|He’s Husband|
He shows us all What Love Looks Like:
{From last Spring} When I woke this morning at 6am, he was already gone. My dad, that is. I don’t know what time he left to get back to the hospital with mom. The night before last he slept here until 12:30am and then was back by her side by 1am to be sure she was alright. There’s no extra bed in her hospital room, so he just sits in a chair by her side. He helps her go to the bathroom. Cleans her up, gets her water, makes her laugh. He challenges her to do one more leg lift, insists she do 10 “windshield wiper” exercises and then produces–to her great delight–a dark milky way candy bar from his jacket pocket. Her reward.
The truth is that he is her reward.
My dad is the greatest earthly gift my mom could ever imagine. This year my he will turn 69 years old. He and mom have been married for 40 of those. He is the hardest working man I have ever met. When he was 15 he wanted his own bedroom so he built one on to his parents’ small house–by himself. Bought the materials and built the whole darn thing all by himself. That tells you a little bit about my dad. He once wanted to repaint his car so he converted an old shop-vac into a paint sprayer and did it himself. He played college football at Linfield. He served in the Vietnam War. He was Athletic Director and coach for more years than I can count. He built all three of our homes with his own hands … after getting home from work.
But now is the real work.
The toughest coaching job he’s ever had.
The greatest battle he’s ever fought.
Mom’s battle is his battle because they are one. My mom has Parkinson’s, as many of you know, and just recently had her second hip replaced. She’s having some trouble recovering, so she’s still in the hospital doing rehab. Because it took so long to get into surgery, she spent the last 3 months unable to walk at all. Dad, the man used to having dinner served to him for the last 40 years, jumped in with both feet–the only way he knows how too–and learned how to do it all himself.
He cooks. He cleans. He grocery-shops. He gets up multiple times at night to take her to the bathroom. He dresses her, cleans her, and kisses her while he’s at it. He scrubs floors, does dishes, pays bills. He loads her in and out of the car, driving to doctor appointments. And now he sits by her hospital bed, quietly coaching: lets do 10 leg lifts, 5 more windshield wipers, no don’t go to sleep Karen, keep at it, we’ve got to get you home. He’s spent his life with a clipboard in hand and whistle in his mouth, shouting plays and running drills and pushing athletes. Now he sits holding her hand, no whistle, no shouting, but still the most amazing coach I’ve ever known. Ten more, Karen. You can do it, babe.
He loves her.
While there, a young nurse timidly peaks her head in their hospital room.
“Could I ask you a question?” She looks at dad. ”You’ve been married for 40 years. I just got married last year and I want to hear from you, because you obviously know. How do you do it?”
Dad smiled and looked at her. “Pray together every day.” He left it at that. I dare say the rest of the sermon was preached through his 24/7 selfless care of his bride. His life preaches whether he knows it or not.
Yesterday he asked me to stop on my way to the hospital and get her some new clothes to wear while she’s there. I prayed my way through Target and found the perfect thing, in her favorite color. Today on the phone dad said, “She’s wearing her new outfit and she looks hot!”
That’s love.
Not just to serve, but to lift up. Not just to coach, but to inspire courage. Not just to sleep at her side but to assure her that she’s beautiful in the midst of a most unbecoming circumstance.
This world offers us very few glimpses of true love.
But this is one.
The 4-West wing of SW Medical Center has seen a little glimpse of Jesus this past week.
So have I.
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|He’s Dad|
I remember…
- Dancing around the May Pole. I barefoot in that long turquoise dress. You in polo shirt and PE shoes. I proud. You prouder.
- Working on my free-throws. How many times did you say,”Keep your elbow in!” A thousand. My elbow still creeps out, Dad.
- Going to that minor league baseball game. I telling you about a guy I liked. Scared to death, I told you. “His name is Jeff Patterson…”
- You scaring many boys to death. Thank you.
- Being tiny, sitting on your lap, fingering your earlobe. I loved the feel: Soft and rough at the same time. Just like you.
- “Daddy, can I marry you when I grow up?”
- You always tearing up when you pray.
- Boat rides.
- You silly. Always silly. Riding bikes at the beach and coming around the corner to find you on your back, riding your bike upside down.
- Waving goodbye every morning out those big front room windows, waiting excitedly for that one spot when we could see you down the road. How you always knew to hold your arm out the window and wave. Knowing we were back there, waiting and waving.
- Hearing the sound of the garage door open. “Daddys’ home!”
- You getting pulled over for speeding and listening to you lecture the police offer that he should quit wasting his time giving measy 5-mile-over speeding tickets when real creeps were out in the world. No one ever said you didn’t speak your mind.
- How you built those wooden lap-tables for us so we could have all our books and colors and papers with us on those long road trips to your basketball games.
- Watching you ref. Being about to burst with pride that I got in free to all the games because you were my dad. I thought you were a celebrity. Now I know you are.
- How you taught me to ride my bike that one Christmas, freezing cold, driveway a sheet of ice. How many miles did you run holding onto the back of the seat?
- Jeep rides up in the snow.
- The gym you built in our backyard. A gym! I still sometimes shake my head at that. Who gets to have a gym in their backyard?!
- That moment–was I nine-years-old?– after we moved from our Deardorff drive house, when just you and I went back for one last look, make sure we hadn’t forgot anything. How we stood in that entry-way. I had started to cry and tried to hide it, then looked and you were too. You looked at me and I could read your mind, you’d carried me home from the hospital to that house.
- Building that house on Wright Rd, how we hadn’t drilled the well yet so we had to ride our bikes to the neighbors’ house and bring home buckets of water. Showering in the locker room at school late at night. I just remember all that being SO fun, which has everything to do with you…
- All those summers in high school building decks together. All those complaints about the 3-minute lunch breaks we were allowed and the $5/hour wages I received. You worked me hard and now I’m so very glad.
|He’s 70|
And now, you’re 70. Seventy never looked so good. God has been gracious and you have worked your tail off extending that grace to mom, us, everyone you meet. A whole hoard of folks are coming tonight to your birthday party, not because we told them, just because word spreads like wildfire when it comes to honoring a man who’s loved by all.
And you are: Loved by all.
But the only voice I have is my own. Sure, you’re loved by all, but you’re also loved by me.
Your only daughter adores you.
Happy birthday.
The first thing to change: What we believe.
I shared here about the pilot that pulled a u-turn on our flight to Medford. Halfway down we turned around and returned to Portland because of a mechanical error. Some alarm or light had warned him that something was wrong and he wisely turned around so we could change planes.
What warning light is flashing on your dashboard? What is the struggle, sin, area of weakness, hurt, wound, thing that’s alerting you to the act that God wants to bring change?
Whatever the problem may be, the answer to that problem is the gospel of grace.
All errant behavior is a result of errant belief. And I don’t mean errant head-knowledge. Head-knowledge is not the same as belief. We always act according to what we believe, what we actually believe.
- We don’t give generously to people in need because we don’t actually believe that there’s enough for us, or we don’t believe those people are as important as we are.
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We don’t trust because we don’t really believe God is trustworthy.
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We don’t rest because we actually believe that things completely depend on us.
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We don’t forgive because we actually believe we are responsible for keeping standards and making people pay for their sin.
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We don’t meditate on and study God’s word because we don’t actually believe He has the power to change us.
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We don’t pray because we don’t believe God.
Do you see what I mean? We don’t give, pray, live joyful lives, because there’s something amiss in what we believe about God.
That’s why AW Tozer said that what comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us. Because he knew that what we believe about God dictates every single behavior in our life.
It all stems from what we believe about God.
So often we think that our Bible study, our church-attendance, our faith is somehow separate from the nitty gritty details of life. But what we believe actually has everything to do with how we live because we always live, act, behave, in accordance with what we really believe.
Sacred mundane.
So, in order to be changed our behavior we must change what we believe. And in order to change what we believe, we must hold our current beliefs up to the truth of God’s Word. That’s the only way to see where we’re believing something other than the pure, gospel of grace. Scripture says faith comes by hearing and hearing by the Word of God. So in order to change our faith, or what we believe, we need to look, really look, at God’s Word.
All our efforts at change will be mere behavior modification if they are not fueled by the truth of who God is. They’ll all backfire. Real change takes place when we change what we believe about God and line it up with the truth of His Word.
{Have you spent time in the Scriptures yet today? Perhaps take five minutes right now and let His truth soak into your heart and mind. This is the first step on the road to change. Thanks for reading.}
The power to change.
Yesterday we celebrated the glorious truth that Jesus Christ rose from the dead. He conquered death, sin, the grave, to give us life.
What does that life look like?
According to Scripture, when we believe the gospel and trust Christ, we are actually a new creation.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ he is a new creation. The old had gone, the new is here! (2 Corinthians 5:17)
We aren’t just a sort of cleaned up version of ourselves, we are new selves. As Priscilla Shirer says, we aren’t merely changed, we’re exchanged. And this new exchanged creation is being continually renewed, or changed, day by day, and transformed into the image of Christ.
But here’s the thing: The majority of Christians don’t look like a new creation. They don’t actually look or behave any different from the non-believers around them. For example, divorce rates in America are exactly the same between Christians and non-Christians.
Now, this is sad because divorce is sad and because it’s tragic that people can profess Christ and yet still be living lives of defeat and discouragement, but even more so, the fact that professing Christians live lives that do not reflect the power of Christ to make them a new creation actually denies the power and existence of God.
There is a website devoted to proving that God is imaginary. On the sidebar they have ten “proofs” that God is imaginary. One of their proofs? Divorce statistics. The fact that Christians get divorced just as much as non-Christians (even though our faith forbids it!) “proves to them” that all this God-stuff is just imaginary fluff.
That’s why it matters that we change—our lives are the only Bible some people will read. It matters that our lives change because that is what the world sees. A watching world wants to know – is this Jesus stuff for real? Do their lives really change? Do they really have hope? Are they really freed from addictions? Do they really have something that I want?
If our lives aren’t radically changed—transformed—by the gospel of grace then what is the gospel for?
Is the gospel powerful enough to save us but not powerful enough to change us? Is it powerful enough to save us from sin and eternal damnation but not powerful enough to save us from bad habits? From besetting sins? From selfishness?
Paul prayed for the believers in Ephesus,
“that [you would] have the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know … what is the immeasurable greatness of His power toward us who believe, according to the working of His great might that He worked in Christ when He raised Him from the dead…” Eph. 1:18-20
Yesterday we celebrated the greatest day in history. The day that God raised Jesus from the dead with His immeasurable power.
That same power is working in you now. The same resurrection power is at work in your life. Paul said it too:
“If the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you.” Romans 8:11
Do you think we have the power to change? Absolutely.
Why is it so critical that they do?
Because the whole world is watching. Right after Jesus rose from the dead He gives the command to:
Go into all the world and preach the gospel to the whole creation. (Mark 16:15)
What do our lives “preach” about the gospel? Do they tell the world that God is imaginary? Or do they tell the world that He is the most powerful, transforming, life-changing Being in the universe. What conclusions would they draw about God based on your life? What would make your life attractive and compelling to an unbelieving world?
The world is reading your life.
What does it say?
{Changing, growing, with you. Thanks for reading.}
He is Risen {focus}
Sunday’s Reading: Matthew 28:1-14, Mark 16:1-14, Luke 24:1-48, John 20:1-22
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He is not here, for He is risen, as He said.
Matthew 28:6
Remembering this …
I stirred, half-asleep, and found Dutch at my side. Of course he was at my side, he’d been up all night long for some reason, coming in our room, missing us, asking to snuggle, unable to sleep. I don’t remember letting him in but he was there, and I was frustrated. And irritated. And agitated. And exhausted. But he was wide awake. I hadn’t even slid my feet out of bed and my heart felt overwhelmed: Lord, it’s EASTER. I want to celebrate and I’m already frustrated. Please help me. I know I’m being selfish, please help! I lay there a few more moments and saw exactly how I felt: Like my heart was this big heavy boulder, and I had a leash around it and was dragging it along. I was trying trying trying to be joyful, and for some reason my heart would just not keep up. It’s EASTER, for crying out loud! Come on heart, rejoice!
By 7am Heidi was up and my morning was gone. Both kids were not feeling well and church was at 8:30. Both kids cried their way through the morning. Are you KIDDING, Lord? It’s EASTER. I just want to wake up and celebrate YOU, not drag around these crying kids. No time to shower, no time to wash my greasy hair, I lead my children out the door crying. Happy Easter.
I keep praying, keep asking God to give us joy. We pray together in the car. We get to church late, it’s ok. Church is great. God moves. Yes, Lord! I see all the people, rejoice, take part. Secretly I wish that I could stay there all day at church, wish someone would take my kids and not give them back until about 7pm that night. Someone says they feel for all the volunteers who have to be there at church all day. A thought runs through my mind, “I’d rather be here at church all day than at home serving my crying sick whining kids.” Then of course I feel guilty for feeling that… Lord give me joy in parenting. The sacred mundane is haunting me. Lord, help me embrace the sacred mundane. Help!
I get the kids, and five minutes later we have the most ultimate melt-down I have ever experienced. The details don’t matter, but suffice it to say that Dutch got upset about something and literally threw himself on the floor screaming like a wild animal. I’ve never seen him do anything like this. I had to drag him, physically, into the bathroom while dozens of people watched, Heidi slung over my shoulder with a wild kicking maniac boy on my arm. Happy Easter. I hid myself in the bathroom until Jeff and his mom could come help me. Yes, we took care of getting to the root of the problem and disciplining Dutch appropriately, but by the time we got home I had determined this was just about the worst parenting day we’ve had on record and I still had Easter dinner for nine people later that afternoon. Thank goodness my mother-in-law was here who was a huge help.
After everything was ready for Easter dinner, I snuck upstairs for a moment of silence. I had wanted to do something special for each place setting, so I pulled out little cards and began to write scriptures.
This is the day the LORD has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it. Ps. 118:24
You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in You, whose thoughts are fixed on You! Is. 26:3
The LORD gives His people strength. The LORD blesses them with peace. Ps. 29:11
If God is for us, who can ever be against us? Rom. 8:31
With God everything is possible. Matt 19:26
Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.Matt. 11:28
Taste and see that the LORD is good. Oh the joys of those who trust in Him. Ps. 34:8
God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble. Ps. 46:1
No matter what happens, always be thankful. 1 Thess. 5:18
For the happy heart, life is a continual feast. Prov. 15:15
And the resurrection came.
How could I read these life-changing Words of God and not have a heart change? God was graciously resurrecting my heart, resurrecting my day, my attitude, my focus–one sacred word at a time. So much ugliness I’d struggled with all morning (all week, really), all cleansed out by the beautiful water of His Word.
Over dinner we each read our verses and then each answered a question written on the back of our card, sharing unique facets of the goodness of God in our lives.
God’s power was resurrected in our hearts.
We laughed and cried over the goodness of God. What he’s done in my mom’s body, in Jeremy’s life, in Debra’s life. We shook our heads in awe at His power. We spoke of His goodness and beauty. We stood amazed at His resurrection power at work every day in our lives.
Resurrected, He resurrects.
He resurrects marriages, dreams, lives. He resurrects areas of our hearts that were dead because of sin or pain or loss. He resurrects us from besetting sins that threaten to render us useless. He resurrects every single day. So we sat around and spoke of His power, little ways He demonstrates His sovereignty, from Debra and my meeting at the writers’ conference, to the amazing and immediate answer to pray my mom experienced just this morning.
Resurrected, He resurrects.
That’s what He does. All the time. Everyday. Everything He touches comes to life. Things that are dead bear fruit because of His living water.
Like the wheat grass centerpiece on our Easter table. The grain of wheat dies, is watered, then springs up in life.
How thankful am I to not only experience the glory of an Easter worship service, but to experience the glory of a resurrected day? Of a day that was filled with my own selfish resentment that was resurrected into a day of joy and hope.
Resurrected, He resurrects. That’s our God.
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Today, I pray we have no expectations except that Christ is Risen and we are the undeserving recipients of extravagant grace. So just in case something goes “wrong” today … He is risen indeed! Thanks for reading…