A Pause: A Poem for Chuck Morris

Flowers at Wild River State Park

The best friendship in this world is like an ongoing conversation, one that you can pick up where you left off before you got interrupted. I know because I have been part of a conversation that span 28 years. Even though Chuck and Linda Morris were much older than me, the friendship they offered to me as young girl was rich and sincere. They were kindred spirits, sharing good books, encouraging words, and refreshing hikes in the woods. While my marriage and children eventually meant that our visits happened less often, these friends happily jumped into our busy lives whenever the opportunity came, blessing even our youngest son, Nathaniel Charles, with a ready smile and listening ear. And they always ready on the other end of the phone to talk and pray about everything.

Mr. Morris died last week. 

He is now with Christ, and we are left here. While I struggle with words, with everything I wish I could say or ask him now, I take a breath and pause. This is not the end of our conversation. It is a pause. By grace, through faith in Jesus' saving work, this friendship will not end with death. Someday we will be together again, this time where the fellowship will never end.

What follows is a poem exploring this hope, written to Mr. Morris before his death as my farewell to a very dear friend.

_________________

A Pause

A pause is nothing new to us.
We’ve had many of them before—
         A flash of scarlet tanager;
         A song of phoebee;
         A parting of trees to wildflower vistas—
Each glimpse of glory a break in sentences,
A sharpening of thoughts,
A divine redirection of conversation.

A pause is nothing new to us.
We’ve had many of them before—
         Visits spaced far apart,
         Interrupted by weddings, by babies,
         Interrupted by children who grow into talkers—
Eager and energetic,
The young boy who shares your name most of all.
A Providential irony to brighten the days.
(Maybe someday he will pause to breathe?)

A pause is nothing new to us.
We’ve had many of them before—
         Silences in prayers;
         Humble petitions spoken;
         Followed by a humble waiting—
An accepting of the Father’s will,
By living in faith.
Surely God will do what is best.

But now we come to a new pause.
One we’ve never done before—
         When you are called to greater Pleasure
         More vivid Glory
         A Home not here—
And we will be left to wonder,
What would he think?
What would he say?

We will have to live in that pause,
For now, but not forever—
         Only until we are called ourselves
         To our Greatest Friend,
         To our forever Home.
There we will be together again,
Fully seeing,
Fully knowing,
In a life never paused again.

 

In Change, Trust in the Unchanging God: A Letter to My Son

How far we've come...
the Lord will not leave us now.

 

 Dear Edison,

You had a rug pulled out from under you. Miss M is leaving the clinic and won’t be your therapist anymore. Next week is your last session with her.

As she told you this news, you held your tears in like a champ, but we could see the anxiety in your face. At home there are tears when we talk about a thank you card and a gift. Goodbyes are hard for you. Your roots run deep, and though you don’t always show your love by doing your therapy homework, your affection for friend Miss M is still there. Aside from that, you're not only saying goodbye to Miss M, but must now go to a new therapist—someone you haven’t met yet. That’s hard, too.

Mommy has shed a few tears as well, because I know this is hard for you. It’s an unexpected change for me, too. You and I are creatures of habit. That said, we don’t always have the option of keeping life the same. So how are we going to find hope to keep going during times of change?

Let’s start by remembering how Miss M even came into our lives in the first place.

About two years ago this month, our neighbor Bao announced that their family was moving. This was very unexpected news, and it hit quickly. Their house was on the market within a month, and eleven people showed up to tour it within two days of the "For Sale" sign going up. “Who is going to buy the house?” we wondered. “Will they have children?” you asked.

A young couple moved in. It was the height of COVID panic, but they came over to shake hands and give us a plate full of the best home-baked cookies we’ve ever eaten. Before we knew it, these new neighbors were in our home at our table to eat pizza for dinner. That’s when Miss A, who just happened to be a pediatric occupational therapist, noticed you didn’t eat pizza with sauce on it. “Have you ever heard of food aversion therapy?” she asked. No, we hadn’t—but this piece of information just happened to come at a time when you had finally grown bored of your very limited diet. Over the next three months we learned much more about food therapy. Miss A just happened to work at a clinic that did food therapy for kids—a clinic that didn’t require the face masks that made you so nervous. We decided to try it. Miss A did your paperwork, but she didn’t want to be your therapist—she wanted to be your neighbor. But it just happened that her friend Miss M also worked at the clinic and had openings for new patients.

We had never met Miss M before your first session, but it didn’t take long for her to become a trusted friend. After that first session, you were content for mom to run errands while you explored foods we never thought you would ever eat, let alone taste. While you were warming up for therapy with exercises, Miss M found out other important things about your eyes and brain, challenges we didn’t know you faced, and helped you grow stronger in other ways. You didn’t always like your homework (and you still hate pizza with sauce), but you’ve made a lot of good progress in your eating and moving. Along the way, Miss M encouraged you and helped you work through anxiety, bad attitudes, and the winter blues, and helped us find new ways to help you at home. Her work in your life has been a very good gift to this family.

Who sent us Miss M? God did. You know this. He causes people to move to new places (Isaiah 46:9b-11), directs the decisions of the heart (Proverbs 21:1), and writes our days (Psalm 139:16). God brought Miss M to our lives at just the right time when you were ready for her help. And while Miss M’s job and life are changing now, God isn’t.

The God who knew your needs and directs moves and jobs is still God now. We are clearly told that "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever" (Hebrews 13:8). God Himself declares, “I the Lord do not change” (Malachi 3:6). He knows our hearts and listens to our prayers (Psalm 34:15; Romans 8:26-27). He knows you have not yet learned to eat all the good food He has made, and He knows you need more help. He is even now working all things together for good (Romans 8:28), to give you a hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11).

So why is Miss M leaving?

We don’t know all the reasons why. Could the Lord change her heart to stay? Yes. But He hasn’t, and He might not. He is directing her steps elsewhere (Proverbs 16:9), and He is giving us something, someone else instead. Just as He sent Miss M into our lives, He is sending someone new into your life. As the Lord has provided, He is still providing. God is still God.

That is the hope we must hold to in every change and in this one: God is God. He brings good things and people into our lives, but ultimately our hope must be rooted in Him—the constant, unchanging God—not in His good but finite gifts. We will always be thankful for Miss M, but our hope must finally rest in the God who sent her, not in Miss M herself. She can and did help you, but it is the Lord who must ultimately work in your heart and change your tongue.

We haven’t met your new therapist yet, but we will soon. She will probably have games, encouragement, and help to offer. Our final hope, however, won't be in her but in the God who sends her our way. No matter who we see or where we go, we can be hopeful because the Lord at work in our lives. “And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6).

When Mommy Doesn't Know: Resting in God's Omniscience

"O Lord, you have searched me and known me!"

It’s a beautiful summer day. Three of my children are playing outside in the yard, but not my oldest. He’s sitting on the sofa, trying not to throw up—a place he has been too many times this summer. He has no fever, no cough, and no congestion. He just has a tummy ache that keeps coming back. There are good days and weeks when he feels fine, and then there are the long days and restless bedtime tummy aches. Even as I type, we’re still searching for answers.

He doesn’t ask why this is happening, but anxiety comes into his eyes, especially at night. We’ve seen specialists and we still don’t know. The uncertainty takes its toll. As I tuck him into bed, I try to soothe away the fears. This is probably just something small, something normal, something treatable. It will be okay. He is okay. That’s what mommy says, thinks, and hopes. But the fact is, I don’t know—and it’s only the tip of the iceberg of what I don’t know right now.

“How long will this pandemic last?” my kids ask. “When will the history museum open again? When can we stop wearing these masks? When will life get back to normal? When can we go inside the condo to visit great-grandma?” All I can answer is, “I don’t know.” I wish I did, but at this moment, God’s good purposes have placed me in a state of ignorance.

Typically I like to think I know what is going on with my kids, with current issues, with politics. Staying informed is what a responsible parent and citizen does, right? But increasingly I have had to check out of social media, news, talk radio, etc., because instead of being informed, I was being tossed about on a stormy sea of speculation. Everyone wants to know what is going on and what is going to happen. However, we don’t know, and instead of just saying we don’t know, we start to guess at the future. We vacillate between man-made assurances and man-made nightmares, failing to remember that both are merely man-made by human “experts.” At the end of the day, what is going to rescue my heart from the anxiety of my ignorance isn’t the knowledge of man, but the knowledge of God.

When questions come that I can’t answer, my children and I can take comfort in the truth that God knows. He knows. It’s not just that God is all-powerful, that He is the ruler of the universe, and that He can do all things. He is also the Lord of history, King over time, the Beginning and the End. There is nothing that He doesn’t know—from the workings of each cell in our bodies and the number of our days to the future decisions of kings and the outcomes of plagues. Consider these scriptures about the vast omniscience of God:

“[F]or I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me, declaring the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, ‘My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose’” (Isaiah 46:9b-10). God knows all of history. No event is outside of His knowledge.

“Great is our Lord, and abundant in power; his understanding is beyond measure” (Psalm 147:5). God’s knowledge is without limit. He doesn’t run out of memory or get confused.

“Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand and marked off the heavens with a span, enclosed the dust of the earth in a measure and weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance?” (Isaiah 40:12). God knows every aspect of our world and universe—from how many gallons of water fill our oceans to the name of every star in the heavens (Psalm 147:4).

“Still Pharaoh's heart was hardened, and he would not listen to them, as the LORD had said” (Exodus 7:13). The decisions of kings are known by God before one of them is decreed. There is no announcement made by any administration which takes Him by surprise, nor is there any coup d’état that takes Him unawares (see Daniel 7-8).

“The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord” (Proverbs 16:33). How many times have you played Yahtzee or Candyland or War? You didn’t know who would win—but the Lord ordained every outcome of every roll of the dice, every card drawn or played, before time.

“And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel—and God knew” (Exodus 2:24-25). The Lord knows the suffering of His people. He is not oblivious to our pain, but is attentive to and acquainted with our every grief.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you” (Jeremiah 1:5a). Each person who ever has, is, or will live, has been known fully by God forever.

“For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. […] My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth” (Psalm 139:13, 15). He knows each cell in our body, how each of our parts has been made and works.

“But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore” (Matthew 10:30-31a). Few of us think to know something as trifling and changeable as the number of hairs on our head. But God knows. Even though the number changes with a stroke of a brush or a gust of wind, His knowledge of us is that complete, perfect, and current. How much more does He pay attention to every big and important aspect of our bodies and lives?

“Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them” (Psalm 139:16). Before time, the events of each day of our lives are known by God—including our last day.

“[H]e knows the secrets of the heart” (Psalm 44:21b). There is nothing hidden from our God—neither unspoken words and thoughts (Psalm 139:1-4) nor secret deeds. All people and their inmost thoughts are known to Him (John 2:24).

“As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust” (Psalm 103:13-14). He not only knows when we are formed and how, but He knows that we are weak. He remembers we are helpless and in need of His sustaining grace.

About a month ago, I lamented to a friend that my girls had not enjoyed playtime with another girl since the shutdown in March. All the friends willing to play this summer have been boys—nice boys, but boys. Instead of praying about it, I tried to think of moms I could reach out to, but life got busy before I could act on my list.

A couple days later, we noticed a moving van and some bikes in the driveway two doors away from our house. Someone new was moving in, with kids. A few days later, a new face appeared at the edge of our yard as my kids were playing on the swing set. SHE was looking for someone to play with. She was the same age as my oldest child. Now, multiple times a week, she is joining in the adventures and escapades of my kids in the backyard. In a summer of COVID, my girls were given a new girl to play and laugh with.

I didn’t pray for her to come. The prayer had never formed in my mind, let alone sat on my tongue. Still, the Lord knew my desire:

O Lord, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether. Psalm 139:1-4

Worried? Anxious? Feeling the uncertainty of these times? Rest, friend: the Lord knows. He knows the outcome of 2020—from COVID to the presidential election. He knows the balance of your bank account, the cells of your body, and the yearnings of your heart. He knows your weaknesses and your future—and what grace you will need for the next minute. He even knows why my son keeps throwing up. There are some bits of knowledge He may never reveal to us, but that will be the choice of His perfect and loving wisdom, not due to any deficit of His understanding. Other things He will make clear in time. In either case, we may rest in the fact that all things are known to Him. That He is God—omniscient, sovereign, wise, and loving—is the most important thing we could ever know.

Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations. (Psalm 100:3-5)

Worried? Turn to Jesus, and Worship

Turn your eyes away from what is being taken away
and look to Jesus, who is better than life.

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus,

Look full in His wonderful face;

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace.”
—Helen Howarth Lemmel

The song “randomly” came into my mind and out of my mouth while I drove down the road on my weekly errands. Coronavirus was starting to dominate headlines, but there were still only a few cases in the US.

Much has happened since that day when I pulled into the overflowing parking lot at Sam’s Club, not just in the headlines, but in my heart. Without trying, I became a panicked person, unable to sleep or relax. The anxiety worked better than any diet, but I was an emotional wreck. As I lay in bed one morning, heart pounding, ears aching, praying hard to calm myself, “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus” came back into my mind. Why? I wondered. I was praying my heart out. Wasn’t I turning my eyes upon Jesus? Not really.

A popular slogan right now is, “Don’t worry. Pray.” It’s true that we should pray instead of worrying, but somehow it isn’t always enough to just pour out worries into prayers. I was praying out the panicked sentences running through my head, asking for mercy, pleading for comfort, pleading for it all to stop—but really, I was pleading for my easy, healthy life to not be taken away. With that attitude, I wasn’t gaining ground by turning my fear into petitions. The petitions were earnest, but mostly because the fear of losing my “normal life” was consuming my heart.

As coronavirus has crept into our country, most of us have felt the loss of our normal routines: going to work, going to school, sharing a meal at a restaurant, going to a birthday party, going to a grocery store and finding everything on our list, even shopping at the store without the fear of crossing paths with other shoppers. While I’ve felt the preciousness of physical life and my family, I’ve also mourned the loss of my ability to go wherever I want whenever I want and not find the toilet paper aisle empty. While I hadn’t consciously bowed my knee to these earthly conveniences, the truth is that I’ve treasured them in my heart. The recent threat that these good, comfortable blessings might be taken away caused me to clutch and panic, even though not one of these things is owed me. Praying that Jesus would spare my comfort and let me hold tight to this world’s fleeting shadows hasn’t brought peace of mind, nor should it. If I desire true peace, I must to look to something more precious and steadfast than the normal life being taken away.

King David was no stranger to hard times. More than once he had to hide in the wilderness while his enemies pursued him. He experienced many battles and treacherous plots. We have glimpses of his turmoil in the psalms—and also a look at what helped his heart rest in peace even when his world turned upside-down. Consider Psalm 63, which he wrote while being pursued in the wilderness:

O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;

my soul thirsts for you;

my flesh faints for you,

as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.

So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,

beholding your power and glory.

Because your steadfast love is better than life,

my lips will praise you.

So I will bless you as long as I live;

in your name I will lift up my hands.

My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,

and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,

when I remember you upon my bed,

and meditate on you in the watches of the night;

for you have been my help,

and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.

My soul clings to you;

your right hand upholds me. (Psalm 63:1-8)

Nothing in David’s physical circumstances changed from the beginning of the psalm to the middle (or the end). He was still in the wilderness being pursued. However, throughout the verses, we see him strengthened and encouraged. How? His cause for joy was not based in immediate deliverance from his trial, but in beholding his Deliverer.

When we face fearsome circumstances, the only thing that can calm our hearts is looking to Christ. In looking at Him, we are reminded of eternal truths. We remember this world is a fleeting vapor, but He is eternal, wise, and sure. We remember this world is doomed to death under the curse of sin, but Jesus has come and purchased a great salvation to provide His people with eternal life in a new earth untouched by sin and death. We remember that He Himself entered our world in flesh and died, but that He rose triumphant from the grave and even now lives. He is our always-present Shepherd who will faithfully and tenderly guide His own through every valley He places in their path.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus, self. Do you see Him? Do you know Him? Have you beheld His beauty? Have you meditated on His mighty deeds, His wondrous works? Have you yourself been saved from eternal death into eternal life by His powerful and gracious salvation? Look at Him. Look at this mighty Savior, this eternal God. Study the works He has made that surround your life. Meditate on what He has done in history to reveal Himself. Fix your eyes on this Pearl of Greatest Price. Be still and admire His perfections, His holiness, His beauty. See His love and wisdom. Worship Him—and let the world grow dim.

Jesus intends to loosen our grip on lesser things. His love for us will not allow us to keep our empty idols. While He may be doing a million things through coronavirus, surely one of His gracious providences is to remind our hearts that He, not our easy American life, is to be our treasure. Giving up our comforts is never an easy thing to do. No person walks happily into suffering, not even King David, but in the light of His glory and grace, our hearts gain perspective and peace when we realize that we are not losing our Greatest Treasure, but being changed so we can see Him better.

Self, are you panicked? Worship God. He is better than the easy life, the American dream. He is more powerful than any virus or world leader. He may not let us keep our comforts and idols—but He gives us Himself. If you have Him, you have everything, so fear not. Turn your eyes upon Him, turn your heart to Him, and worship and live in the grace He supplies.