make it count

What’s the big deal? It’s just another day. March 31st, 2014. What’s so special about it? What even makes it noteworthy?

 

I don’t know about you, but this is how I feel about a lot of my days. Ho hum. It’s just another day in a string of seemingly endless days. Endless days when nothing ever changes and life goes on in much the same manner as it did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. 

 

Psalm 90:12 

¹² Teach us to number our days,
    that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Moses wrote this psalm. Moses who wasn’t known so much for his eloquence as his humility penned two lines in Psalm 90 that pack a powerful punch. 

¹² Teach us to number our days,
    that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

It’s so easy to take our days for granted, and, though, every once in a while we talk about the brevity of life in phrases such as, “You never know when your last day will come,” or “You’ve got to make each day count,” how many of us actually do—make our days count, that is.

If we truly never know when our last day on this earth will come, what are we doing in the meanwhile; taking our days for granted, wasting them, wishing them away?

One of my favorite songs by singer/songwriter, Chris Rice, succinctly says all that I am thinking but can’t express quite as eloquently. 

Every day is a journal page
Every man holds a quill and ink
And there's plenty of room for writing in
All we do and believe and think
So will you compose a curse
Or will today bring the blessing
Fill the page with a rhyming verse
Or some random sketching

I love the idea that life is like a journal page, because if you look at each day as a blessing it begs the question; what kind of days are you penning? 

It is interesting to me to watch life go by and days pass at an almost dizzying speed. In the midst of the everyday mundane, important and interesting things are happening whether I always recognize that or not.

When my kids were small every day seemed pretty much the same as the day before. In many ways, it felt as if nothing would ever change. But things did change—maybe in small inconsequential ways too minimal for the human mind to register. But though those days seemed endless they really weren’t. 

Each day did end. Both of my kids are school age now and it feels as though that happened in the blink of an eye.

If I could encourage you in any way today, it would be to remind you that life is short—too short and precious to waste any of it. Make the most of your days. Make them count. And just as Moses did, pray for a heart of wisdom—a heart that knows and understands that time is valuable and that each day is to be treasured and cherished because you truly never know when your last one will come.

¹² Teach us to number our days,
    that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Despair

Defeated. Have you ever had one of those days when you just felt defeated? Like you had this weight of dejection hanging around—your own personal cloud of gloominess. It’s one of those days for me, and I can’t give a specific reason why.

Yes, it’s a cloudy day here in Nebraska, and, while that may be contributing to this general feeling of doom and gloom, I’m not sure I can blame it all on that. 

This gloominess isn’t depression necessarily. It’s more a state of mind that stems from the fact that there are people I really care about who are hurting and I feel powerless to help. 

I think back to Jesus’ time on earth and wonder if he ever felt this kind of defeat—this overwhelming feeling of despair. About the only story I could come up with was the following.   

A little background here so you understand what’s happening. An argument is occurring among the crowd. There is a father who has brought his demon-possessed boy to the disciples and, unlike other times, their attempts to cast out the demon are unsuccessful. The following three passages from Matthew, Mark and Luke record Jesus’ response when the father turns to him instead: 

Matthew 17:17 

¹⁷ “You unbelieving and perverse generation,” Jesus replied, “how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy here to me.”

Mark 9:19

¹⁹ “You unbelieving generation,” Jesus replied, “how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy to me.”

And again in Luke 9:41

⁴¹ “You unbelieving and perverse generation,” Jesus replied, “how long shall I stay with you and put up with you? Bring your son here.”

In the midst of all the gospel stories about Jesus healing, teaching and preaching, this one seems obscure. But, what I find interesting about this particular story is the fact that it is recorded in three of the four gospels; Matthew, Mark and Luke. It makes me wonder why. 

This is a theory, mind you, but could it be that this atypical response by Jesus astonished his disciples? After all, this is a side of Jesus they’d rarely, if ever, seen. And apparently, it made a lasting impression. 

Somehow, this minor story makes me feel better. It reminds me that Jesus had feelings too—real ones, human ones. He understands what it’s like to be frustrated—to want to give in to feelings of defeat, maybe even despair. 

I, for one, am glad that Jesus didn’t hold back. I’m glad to know that my Savior understands.

He understands. That thought gives me hope, because the one who overcame the world empathizes with me. He “gets” why I have feelings of frustration. What’s more, he is here to guide me through them—teaching me to persevere and never give up on hope. 

So bring on those cloudy, gloomy days, Nebraska. I can handle them. Despair doesn’t have to win. Not this time. Not ever.

a crazy race

Psalm 119:32 I run in the path of your commands for you have set my heart free.

I am not a runner. It is a serious desire of mine to be one, but there are physical reasons for why I cannot. I have to tell you, though, when I have a dream about being a runner, I feel this exhilaration that can’t be described. Then I wake up and it’s, bleh, when I realize it was all just a dream. 

The verse I quoted at the beginning is an interesting one. First of all it’s tucked away in the longest psalm in the Bible—Psalm 119. 

Psalm 119 is a tough one—lots of talk about rules, commands, laws, decrees, statutes. Not that any of those things are bad but the author of this psalm seems to be struggling with the same thing I do, wanting to do the right thing all the time and failing miserably.

Admittedly, in the past I haven’t cared too much for Psalm 119. That’s because when I think about the laws of God, I feel so guilty. I can’t measure up to God’s standards and I know it. So Psalm 119 just pretty much depresses me. 

But in the midst of some of the psalmist’s strongest pleas, ‘I long for your commands’, ‘[I] put my hope in your word,’ ‘your law is my delight,’ there is this one little verse tucked neatly inside:

 Psalm 119:32 I run in the path of your commands for you have set my heart free. 

Are you as amazed as I was to find this gem in the midst of a psalm that focuses so much on God’s commands and decrees and obedience to them? 

Shortly after I came upon this verse, it became the quiet prayer of my heart, ‘God, I want to run in the path of your commands, not stumble, not walk, not limp, I want to run.’ Over time I kept praying and praying it. The problem was, I didn’t know how to get there. How does one run in the path of God’s commands? 

And this is what occurred to me a few days ago; I am the one keeping myself from running. God isn’t. Instead of slowing down because I’m afraid I’ll mess up, God is waiting for me to take off fearlessly and run the race with all my heart.

It’s not my job to keep myself on the right path. That’s God’s job. And if God does his job as well as I believe he does then I need to trust that, as any good coach would, he has prepared me for this race.

Sanctification. We don’t talk about it enough in the Christian Church. The Holy Spirit, yea, we tend to set him aside forgetting that it is through his power that we are equipped to run the best race ever.

1 Thessalonians 5:23-24
  
May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it.
 

You see it’s not so much about me in this race—whether or not I do the right thing every time, consistently walking the narrow way. God is my sanctifier; the God of peace wants me to run a good race. Mostly, I think he just wants me to run.

And when I do go astray, God’s not surprised, he’s not caught off guard. No, he just picks me up and continues to teach me to stay on his path, even when I’m in full sprint mode. What’s more, when I do stray God’s there to guide me back.

Isaiah 30:21   

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk [even run] in it.”

God is for me, what do I have to fear? Starting today, I’m going to do something I never thought I could, I’m going to run—the best race of my life. Because I’ve finally learned to get out of my own way.

judge and jury

^{Matthew 7:1-2}

¹“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. ² For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

Never used to “get” these verses. Never. And by saying that, what I mean is that I didn’t understand what the heck they were talking about.

But now? Oh yea, I get them all right—maybe a little too well. 

You see, I am a recovering hypercritical person—a fault-finding junkie. It’s something I’ve struggled with my entire life. In the past, my attitude went something like this; if a certain person didn’t meet “my standards” for living, then I figured there was something wrong with them. It didn’t matter whether they deserved my condemnation or not, I judged them anyway. 

A few years back, I stumbled across these verses from Matthew Seven—words spoken by Jesus when he gave his Sermon on the Mount. When I read them, I was fascinated. First of all, because I was starting to get what Jesus was saying, and, secondly, because I realized that in the same way I was judging others my own heart was condemning me.

^2 “For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

Ironically, while I was busy judging others, I was accusing myself. Whatever I saw wrong in another, I became hyper-aware that it was wrong with me, too. Waves of guilt crashed against my soul again and again. It was like I was receiving the same amount of judgment I was doling out. I held the measuring stick for what a “good” person does. The problem is that while I held that measuring stick, I realized that I wasn’t meeting the mark either. And deep inside my soul I knew it.

³ “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? ⁴ How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? ⁵  You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.'

The word picture of a speck compared to a log stayed with me and I finally understood how these verses applied to me. I started to “get” them. 

Jesus understood this notion of judging and being judged. That’s why he tucked these words away in the middle of one of his most famous sermons. These words are golden and ones that we all need to heed.

Do you see it, too? The irony of believing that you’re right and everyone else is wrong? Trust me I’ve been there. That’s why I call myself a recovering junkie when it comes to being someone else’s judge and jury. 

I’ve learned that I have no right to judge anyone. I really don’t. Neither do you. When you find yourself focusing on others’ shortcomings, are you missing the “plank” in your own eye?

Though I can’t say I’ve mastered it, I’ve learned that taking care of the plank in my own eye helps me see others a bit more clearly. 

After all, if you think a speck of saw dust in your eye hurts, imagine how much more painful a plank would be. It’s time to take those planks out so we can stop condemning each other and start loving our neighbor as much as we love ourselves.