Recently I lost a dear friend and high school classmate to cancer.
Since Jim was a world-class runner, I often think about him while running.
The day after his funeral, I decided to go for a run but dreaded it because I hadn’t run in more than a week and knew it would be difficult.
I started strong, but with each mile it grew more difficult to understand how Jim or any human could endure an ultra marathon, 50 miles.
At mile 5 I was enjoying all the beauty around me, but by mile 8, I doubted I could finish. By mile 9, I was gasping, my gait slowed to a limp, and my hips hurt so badly I wanted to cry. I just kept thinking, “Go to the next telephone pole. Make it to the next mailbox.”
At dusk, the scenery grew dim, but I saw the lights of my house in the distance. I became completely focused on getting home: seeing my family, resting and being refreshed. Nothing else compared to this end—no chirping birds, no red and gold leaves, no fitness goals. Home meant everything.
At the last mile, I thought of several friends who passed recently. All fought diseases that wore them down with each passing week or month much as the miles were taking their toll on me.
For so long, they relished their journeys and were not ready to head home. I wondered if there came a time when everything around them, while still lovely, began to dim as the lights of “home” became brighter.
Parting from people we love is sad, but the sadder thing is to be in a race with no goal in mind. Merely to run and run and run through life stopping only for one novelty after another is very tiresome.
I know some don’t believe we can have an assurance of a “home” at the end of our lives. I couldn’t see my house at mile 8, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
CS Lewis said: “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”
Faith in Christ isn’t “pie in the sky.” It challenges you to find meaning in suffering and death and prompts your spirit to admit, “This is hard truth” when truth must be faced, whether or not it’s politically correct or raises even more questions, such as, “Why Jim?”
As I grieve, I remind myself that Jim was not ultimately made for this life, beautiful as his life was with his family. He fought the good fight, finished the race and kept the faith (2 Tim. 4:7).
So now, at the end of each run when I re-live the joy of returning home, I take a second to think about Jim, who is really home, and that brings me an even deeper joy.
Recently, my pastor closed a service by sharing a Regina Spektor song, sparking a whole lot of discussion due to the ambiguous last line: "We're all laughing with God."
I was certainly confused. It was all I could think about on the way home. Then my family discussed possible interpretations over lunch. We didn't agree.
Later that evening, a group of friends took up the discussion. We even piled into the hosts' home office to watch the video and analyze the lyrics. Then we read online comments to see what others thought. In spite of all of this research and theorizing, we never reached a consensus. Even the next day, co-workers gathered around my desk to discuss the enigmatic lyric.
Apparently, people feel that the song is meaningful and worthy of attention, but they also feel unsettled by it.
I think this is probably the way people felt about Jesus. They knew he was unique, that there was something deeply meaningful and worthy of attention about him, but he was also unsettling.
For instance, Jesus often turned old ideas upside down using parables and sarcasm to illuminate absurdities, especially concerning religious precepts stretched far beyond where they were intended to go: "You blind guides, filtering out a gnat and gulping down a camel." (Matthew 23:24). Not only was this a stinging rebuke aimed at religious leaders oppressing people with religious laws, but the idea of swallowing "unclean" (forbidden) gnats and camels was quite insulting. He could have simply said, "Pharisees, please stop being so hard on regular folk." But no, he went for the religious jugular.
Even Jesus's closest friends didn't always understand him. They didn't understand why he paused to bless babies when parents brought them. They wondered why he didn't lead the Jewish revolt against the Romans. They couldn't grasp his acceptance of his upcoming crucifixion.
None of his contemporaries understood why he ate with sinners, crossed cultural barriers or allowed Mary Magdalene to anoint his feet with oil. And sometimes, they just didn't get his lessons. He was always talking in riddles.
And yet there was something magnetic about Jesus. Crowds pursued him, public officials noticed him, religious leaders certainly envied and resented him.
Jesus once asked his disciples, "Who do the crowds say I am?" They reported several opinions. But then Jesus asked his friend Peter specifically: "Who do you say I am?"
People are still grappling with that question. Jesus is the line in the sand of all religious discourse. Around the world, we talk about him over dinner, in hospital rooms, in trendy coffee houses, convention centers, art museums, foxholes, weddings, funerals and around water coolers.
Putting aside misgivings you might have about organized religion, is there anything about Jesus himself you find appealing yet unsettling? Maybe you should consider joining the big conversation and answer the question, "Who do I think Jesus is?"
Linda Crow, of Muncie, is the mother of three and works in youth ministry. Visit her blog at www.2nd-cup-of-coffee.blogspot.com.
If you're interested in the lyrics and video:
No one laughs at God in a hospital No one laughs at God in a war No one’s laughing at God When they’re starving or freezing or so very poor
No one laughs at God When the doctor calls after some routine tests No one’s laughing at God When it’s gotten real late And their kid’s not back from the party yet
No one laughs at God When their airplane start to uncontrollably shake No one’s laughing at God When they see the one they love, hand in hand with someone else And they hope that they’re mistaken
No one laughs at God When the cops knock on their door And they say we got some bad news, sir No one’s laughing at God When there’s a famine or fire or flood
*Chorus* But God can be funny At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or Or when the crazies say He hates us And they get so red in the head you think they’re ‘bout to choke God can be funny, When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus God can be so hilarious Ha ha Ha ha
No one laughs at God in a hospital No one laughs at God in a war No one’s laughing at God When they’ve lost all they’ve got And they don’t know what for
No one laughs at God on the day they realize That the last sight they’ll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes No one’s laughing at God when they’re saying their goodbyes But God can be funny At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or Or when the crazies say He hates us And they get so red in the head you think they’re ‘bout to choke God can be funny, When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus God can be so hilarious
No one laughs at God in a hospital No one laughs at God in a war No one laughs at God in a hospital No one laughs at God in a war No one laughing at God in hospital No one’s laughing at God in a war No one’s laughing at God when they’re starving or freezing or so very poor
No one’s laughing at God No one’s laughing at God No one’s laughing at God We’re all laughing with God
When I was a young girl planning my wedding, older people would offer impromptu marital advice in bursts reminiscent of popcorn popping near my face -- very annoying.
I'd ask my mom, "Why do they want to dampen my joy and excitement? Doesn't anyone believe in love anymore?"
After 24 years of marriage, I know why they were compelled to caution me. Like the Apostle Paul, they understood that "those who marry will face many troubles in this life" (1Cor. 7:13). Paul acknowledged that even though singleness might hold specific trials and loneliness, getting married is just "asking for it," trouble-wise.
At 1:30 p.m. today, the daughter of dear friends is getting married. I've determined not to be one of those popcorn counselors, but instead tell Ann that if she can hang in there through those inevitable trials, marriage gets sweeter and sweeter.
Here's one example.
My husband, George, has been traveling on business this week. I've joked that when your spouse travels, there are many opportunities to live outside the couple that you've become.
For instance:
You can eat out of foam bowls with plastic forks to avoid dirty dishes.
You can get in and out of your vehicle without adjusting the seat and mirror.
There's no one to mock you for watching The Bachelorette.
Shaving legs, wearing makeup and getting out of sweats become options, not requirements.
You can see a chick flick on a Tuesday night with a friend just because you want to without feeling guilty.
You can indulge in sour cream and onion potato chips without worrying about bad breath.
As much fun as I had while he was gone, I experienced a small nagging feeling until George walked in the door and made me part of the couple that is us again. One of the mysteries of my life is how every year he grows dearer and dearer to me. I did not foresee this kind of love on my wedding day or even 10 years ago.
Now we're back to finishing each other's sentences, re-telling old private jokes, competing at crosswords, bouncing creative ideas off one another, encouraging each other spiritually, protecting and defending each other even in the midst of our own fights and marveling at our wonderful kids. We're also back to dirty dishes and car trouble.
So Ann, although "you will have many troubles," you and Andrew can survive, experiencing a deeper, sweeter love than you can imagine even on this special day. May you share the kind of love referred to in 1 Corinthians 13:7 which "always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres."
Linda Crow, of Muncie, is the mother of three and works in youth ministry. Visit her blog at www.2nd-cup-of-coffee.blogspot.com.
Recently during vacation, I awoke at 4:42 a.m. to a frightening mix of intermittent, deafening buzzing and pulsating, blinding light.
Panicked and confused, it took me a second to realize that the fire alarm was going off. As I headed toward the door just a few steps away, I couldn't find my daughter because of the strobe of the lights, so I called her name and turned to pull her out of her bed.
Because she was already up and moving, I banged my forehead against hers so hard I saw stars, which only heightened my discombobulation.
Once we were assembled outside on the lawn, I realized I was wearing a knee-length night shirt and felt a little exposed, although everyone else was in the same vulnerable situation. The irony is, being the worry-wart that I am, whenever I travel, I always sleep in exercise pants and a T-shirt just in case there is an emergency -- except this time. I've always known the moment would come, I just didn't think it would be this time.
I noticed that those assembled on the lawn were in the same boat: taken by surprise, feeling exposed, no credit cards, laptops or phones to distract us. We were a pitiful homogeneous bunch, waiting around for direction from someone in charge.
This unnerving experience along with the stories of recent celebrity deaths has prompted me to remember that inhaling one moment doesn't guarantee an exhalation. Even when medical knowledge gives us months to prepare for our exit, there is a definite moment when we are here, and then we simply aren't. It seems when anyone passes, we are all taken by surprise as I was during the hotel alarm. We do not seem to truly believe, as Hemingway said, that the bell will actually toll for us.
And when we move to the other side, no acquisitions or accolades we've garnered will mean anything as we stand empty handed, waiting for the next step from the one in charge.
As I watch the fireworks flash and fade this evening, remembering those who were alive one minute and gone the next so that I could live in a free country, I won't forget the one who died so that I can have freedom within, as well. And I won't forget that I have the same inevitable moment ahead of me: "In a flash, in the twinkling of an eye ... the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed." (1 Corinthians 15:52).
My eldest, Katie, graduated from Anderson University a couple of weeks ago and is currently in Australia, living one of her life's dreams: feeding wallabies and holding koalas.
It's not hard for me to imagine Katie doing that; all I have to do is recall her in a plaid sundress feeding her stuffed animals with a pink plastic spoon about 19 years ago, and I can see it clearly.
For her graduation, I wrote Katie a letter, excerpted here, that I'd like to share with moms and graduates:
Author Marilyn Ferguson said, "It's not so much that we're afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it's that place in between that we fear. It's like being between trapezes."
That's where you are right now, graduate, letting go of the bar behind you, anticipating that second swing to take you to your future. In this split second of your life, you're precariously suspended in air, hoping all the preparation you've done won't fail you when your big moment arrives.
Don't be afraid to grab the incoming bar and swing away! You're more capable than you know. When you're apprehensive, remember that the power of Christ is in you, giving you his wisdom, helping you accomplish his purpose in your life: "For it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose" ( Philippians 2:13). When you surrender your life to Christ, the task ahead of you is never greater than the power in you (1 John 4:4b).
CS Lewis said, "We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad."
Well, no one wants to see you "go bad!" I'm glad you're not in diapers or braces anymore, although I miss my little girl so much sometimes. But it's been fun watching you hatch into such a great young woman.
When you were small, I tried to save you every bump and bruise, believing that as long as you were an arm's length away, nothing could harm you. You didn't even go to the mailbox unwatched by my loving eye.
When you started driving and filling out college applications, I realized that from then on, you would be farther than my arm's reach and eye's sight for the rest of your life.
I was forced to recognize that not only was I not in control of every influence and circumstance around you, but that I never was. Moms only like to think we are in control, which is silly because the truth is that someone much greater and wiser is in control. As Emerson said, "All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen."
And so I learned to let go of you bit by bit, which is what's supposed to happen in families. I let go of my own trapeze, believing that God would see both of us through to what lay ahead knowing, "He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion" (Philippians 1:6).
So congratulations to my beautiful graduate — to all graduates.
You were born to fly for His glory -- swing away!
Linda Crow, of Muncie, is the mother of three and works in youth ministry. Visit her blog at www.2nd-cup-of-coffee.blogspot.com.
Despite being married 23 years, I’m not a good cook.
Recently I overheard my husband, George, claim that living with me has been a life-long exercise in “faith-based eating.” Oh, that husband of mine, he’s so funny.
But he’s oh so right.
For example, once it was my turn to cook for a group of friends. Playing it safe, I prepared a stew which mainly required opening lots of cans. Imagine my horror when one friend ladled up a deadly-sharp can lid!
Now that you know the extent of my culinary deficits, you might be surprised to learn that I recently entered my church’s chili cook-off to benefit ALS.
Perhaps no one was more surprised than George.
But I did enter, a move not unlike a tone-deaf person auditioning for American Idol.
For weeks I tested several recipes until I finally concocted an original—which won the competition!
As Kelly Clarkson sang, “Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this.” Or at least 23 years.
I’ve been so elated that I’ve been wearing my first-prize apron embroidered, “Grand Champion Chili Chef 2009” to school functions, church services, funerals, gynecology appointments, etc.
Oh, I kid. But I just can’t get over succeeding in a challenge I never dreamed possible.
George and I recently began hosting an Alpha group, where people come to wrestle with the big questions of life pertaining to faith. We were excited to begin, but for the first few weeks, we felt uncomfortable and a little incompetent, like I do in a kitchen.
Soon, we forged true friendships, sharing moments of spiritual growth that we never would have if we hadn’t said yes to the risky opportunity.
And last year, George began meeting weekly with an elementary student as part of the Kids’ Hope USA Program. At first he felt awkward and ineffective, but the student’s enthusiasm for their weekly meetings has affirmed George’s sense of purpose and fulfilled his desire to positively influence a student.
So maybe old dogs can learn new tricks. Because we were willing to feel uncomfortable for a little while, we’re leading a small group; George now has a precious new friend, and the world has a brand new chili recipe that totally rocks!
If we’re willing to find the places where God is at work and step into the game, we can shake off routine and make a difference. A little bit of discomfort can do a body and spirit good.
Galatians 5:25 says, “If we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.”
Is God calling you to take a step somewhere out of your comfort zone today? What will you miss if you don’t? What might you gain if you do?
Tell me how you like to communicate, and I’ll guess how old you are.
If you rely on telephones, you’re probably reading this through bifocals.
If you prefer email and instant messages, you may be growing a wrinkle at this very moment because you’re in your 30s.
If you’re addicted to Facebook and/or texting, you’re under 25. In fact, as soon as my daughter and her friend get in my car each day after school, they check their messages and begin texting. In a moment of revelation one day, I asked the friend, “Are you texting Kristin?” She grinned and nodded. If I didn’t rank so low on their list, I might think they were secretly discussing me. Kids aren’t the only ones texting friends in the same room; some parents occasionally text their kids when they’re at home. While that might seem odd, think of texting as leaving a note in a lunch box, which I’ll bet you’ve done. You can text your child a family joke, ask if he’s OK or send a caring message: “praying for you.”
Of course, texting can’t replace face-to-face communication, but you can make an appointment for a deeper discussion later. In the meantime, you’ve touched base with each other in a way teenagers enjoy. Any activity or gizmo that dominates so much time in our lives is bound to have spiritual implications. Group Magazine offers great questions to ask your teen: “Does technology simplify or complicate your life? Do you like always being reachable? Why or not? How open are your communication lines with God?”
That last question hit home with me. I wondered how open my communication lines are with God. Am I just as accessible to God, or does he wait on the sidelines of my life for me to get back with him?
For instance, I’ve noticed that whether teens are engaged in birthday parties, movies or ball games, when they receive a message, they discreetly check it right away. They are always accessible. Like them, I hope that when I sense a “God moment” I stop in my tracks to check in with prayer. Because after all, God is not limited to influencing me through long periods Bible reading and prayer or sermons. He also gives me important warnings, encourages me to help others and inspires timely ideas for newspaper columns!
May we be as attentive to his voice as we are to our cell phones and email, and as quick to respond to God as Samuel was: “The LORD came and stood there, calling as at the other times, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ Then Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening’” (1 Samuel 3:10).
When was the last time God got your attention in the middle of an impossibly busy moment?
Is your prayer life a balance of speaking and listening or mainly speaking?
John 10:12: “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” Everyone loves a note in the lunch box--don’t miss God’s little messages to you throughout your day!
Who is "Lid?" I am. That is, I am Linda, but when caffeinated, I type so erratically that my name often appears "Lidna," or "Lid" for short.
I'm a married mom of 3, owner of a 4 lb. Yorkie, youth ministry employee, writer and perpetual gladiator in the battle against middle-aged weight gain. Oh, and I'm a big fan of the java.
The real java, not script. Email me at lindacrow.net.
Recently I lost a dear friend and high school classmate to cancer. 
