No Guilt in Life, No Fear in Death . . .

One week ago I received news that a much beloved friend's husband had received a devastating diagnosis of recurrent and possibly aggressive cancer.  I didn't (and still don't) have all the details, but that didn't really matter; the news alone was enough to bring tears and overwhelm my heart with sadness. Even today I still am having trouble keeping the tears back, the situation just hits too close to home to be devoid of emotion.  My thoughts this week continue to return to a time that I was experiencing a similar situation.

It was the spring of 2008 and I was sitting in the ferry line at Anacortes, dreading the family gathering that was about to happen. After months of declining health and numerous inconclusive tests my father had been tentatively diagnosed with lung cancer. We were gathering as a family before he went in for a bronchoscopy of his lung to get a definitive diagnosis. As I waited, songs of worship played in my car - "Blessed be Your Name," "He Leadeth Me," "His Eye is on the Sparrow," and "It Is Well With My Soul" - each song seemed to speak to the uncertainty and anguish I was feeling, while directing me back to God and His goodness. 

But it was the final verse of "In Christ Alone" by Stuart Townend that gave me the assurance I was seeking, the hope that God was working in the midst of this terrible situation.

No guilt in life, no fear in death,
this is the power of Christ in me.
From life's first cry to final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
can ever pluck me from his hand.
'Til He returns, or calls me home, 
here in the power of Christ I stand.

I can still feel the impact the words of that song had on my outlook about my father's future. I knew without a doubt that my daddy was in the hands of his/my Father. God knew the number of days he'd set aside for my dad, and I could trust he was safe in the mighty arms of God.

It was a good thing that God spoke to me so clearly during the ferry wait, because things didn't resolve quickly and neatly. It was another four or five months before they definitively diagnosed lung cancer and removed his left lung. Then 18 months later he died of pneumonitis after radiation for a recurrence of cancer in his other lung.

During that time, we all learned what it meant to rely on Christ alone and to have no fear of death. My father's last days, before he could no longer speak, were filled with praise for God and concern for those around him – friends, family, nurses, doctors, technicians- who might not know Christ as their Savior. He wanted everyone to experience the confidence he had in his Savior, the surety that death was nothing to be feared.

How do people do this thing called life without something bigger than themselves in which to believe? To whom do they cry out for help and hope? I am so grateful that I - and my family, and my friends mentioned above - have someone on whom we can depend.

Today, I join with the Psalmist in Psalm 62:5-8 by declaring :

For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him.
He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.
On God rests my salvation and my glory; my mighty rock, my refuge is God.
Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us. Selah  

What more can I say - Selah, indeed!

In Pursuit of an Almond Croissant

A thought came into my head on Wednesday morning while I was riding the bus into work, “I’m hungry for an almond croissant.”  I could taste the flaky, buttery, sweet, freshly baked goodness of my favorite pastry. As soon as I got off the bus I made a beeline for Pegasus Coffee, where I knew they carried an authentic version.  Alas, they had already run out of their supply at 8:30 in the morning.  Seeing my dejection, the server offered up a chocolate croissant, which I quickly rejected.  It was almond or nothing.

The thought of an almond croissant stayed with me as I went grocery shopping on Thursday, but there were none at Panera, Safeway or QFC, not even in the frozen food section. I tried Pegasus again on Friday morning, no luck. On Saturday I went for a walk with a friend and we stopped into a new bakery, but again, no almond croissants.

On Sunday afternoon, during another walk with a friend, I told her about my plan to have an almond croissant with my morning coffee on Memorial Day – that would simply make my weekend.  We stopped by my favorite bakery in Bellevue.  I was salivating as I looked over the rows and rows of croissants at Belle Pastry.  But to my dismay, they were all out of the coveted item.  Even though there were many other delicious pastries, my heart was set on that almond croissant, no substitute would do.

Later in the evening, I went online to research other places that might carry the treasure I was craving.  From my research it appeared that my options were few, unless I was willing to drive to Trader Joe’s on Monday to get a frozen version that I could bake at home, in hopes that by Tuesday morning my dream would be fulfilled. I told myself that this was stupid, wasting all this time searching for the elusive delicacy.

Yet where did I find myself this morning?  I was back in line at Belle Pastry for yet another fruitless wait. I was so desperate that I drove around to all the other places that I had tried earlier in the week, each time leaving more disappointed than ever.  In desperation for something to go with my morning coffee, I finally purchased an apple-filled croissant at QFC in hopes that it would satisfy my craving.  It didn’t and I’m still craving the real thing.

Sitting here now, sipping on a cup of assam tea and reflecting back on my quest for the elusive almond croissant, I am mortified at how far I was willing to go for something so temporal. What a waste of time and energy, only to end up with an unfulfilling substitute for my craving.

Of course, the practical application to my spiritual life was patently obvious. Do I pursue God in the same way I pursued that croissant; do I hunger after Him?  Do I wake up every morning craving time with him, or imagining what it will be like to taste of his presence? Do I go out of my way to plan God into my day, to talk about him with friends, or to look for him throughout the day?  

And how often to I accept a lesser fulfilling substitute for time with him – like listening to a catchy worship song on my iPhone as I walk to the bus, reading a quick email devotional during the commute, or even reading a chapter from an inspirational Christian book? How many times to I turn to the wisdom of earthly teachers, rather than the wisdom that comes from God?

Now none of these things are bad in and of themselves.  But just like the tasty apple-filled croissant from QFC didn’t really satisfy my deepest craving, neither do the lesser spiritual substitutes fulfill my craving for God and the wisdom that comes from him alone.  I will always be disappointed unless I fill myself with the “real thing.”

Oh taste and see that the LORD is good!  Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him! The young lions suffer want and hunger, but those who seek the LORD lack no good thing. (PS 34:8 and 10)

How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth! (PS 119:103)

My son, eat honey, for it is good, and the drippings of the honeycomb are sweet to your taste.  Know that wisdom is such to your soul; if you find it, there will be a future, and your hope will not be cut off.” (Prov. 24:13)

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. (Matt. 5:6)

What is the lesson I learned today?  Don't accept any substitutes!

Life Lessons from Les Miserables

It is no secret, I was already a Les Miserables fan before our pastor assigned the movie as a homework assignment for his next sermon.  I had seen it three times on the stage and then 7-8 more times on PBS when they aired the 10th and 25th anniversary productions.  The first time I was in the 12th row dead center at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre in Vancouver, where we were so close that we could see the spit coming out of the performers' mouths and smell the sweat of the students and soldiers after the revolt ended (okay maybe that was my imagination).

I had heard the best of Jean Valjean, Javert, Fantine, Eponine, Cosette, Marius (who can forget Nick Jonas) and the Thernardier's, and knew most of the songs by heart after listening to the soundtrack for more than 25 years. I had also seen two of the many movie productions of the book, had read the abridged version as a teen, and was in the process of reading Hugo's immense unabridged novel.

Yes, I was a fan and was nonetheless hesitant to pay $10 to see a bunch of Hollywood actors try to sing and act at the same time.  It seemed like it would be the worst of both worlds; sub-par vocals and passable acting - hardly worth my time when I had seen the best of the best. Boy, was I wrong . . .

Tom Hooper's movie brought the story to life in a way that I had not anticipated.  The movie was gritty and dark and rough; the emotions raw and believable.  True, the vocals were not performed at the caliber of Broadway actors, and at times the close-ups and frantic movement seemed to be too much.  But, never has the musical been performed with such emotion and realism. I was moved in a way that I had never experienced in my 25 years of being a Les Mis fan.

For me the Hooper interpretation brought out the darkness and desperation of the story in a way that perfect operatic voices in brightly colored costumes on a well-lit stage have never conveyed in the past.  The music was always moving, but there was always such a distance from the performers and it all felt so . . . . well, staged.

While some might disagree, Hugh Jackman was the standout performer of the film as he made the redemption and transformation of Jean Valjean come to life.  As he sang Valjean's Soliloquy, for the first time I really felt the amazement Jean Valjean experienced when he was treated as a human, not an animal; his shame when he realized how far he had fallen; his gratitude when he did not receive the penalty for his crime against Bishop Bienvenue.  My heart broke as he barely croaked out:

"One word from him and I'd be back,
beneath the lash upon the rack,
and yet he offers me my freedom,
I feel my shame inside me like a knife.
He told me that I have a soul, 
how does he know?
What spirit comes to move my life?
Is there another way to go?"

I can still picture the look in his eyes and hear the desperation of his cry. And while his vocal renditions of "Who Am I" and "Bring Him Home" don't quite compare to the careful control of Colm Wilkinson or Alfie Boe, they did convey the depth of emotion and wonder that Hugo artfully described.

It could be that the impact was heightened because of what we've been studying in our Discipleship Group - the basics of the Christian Faith - what it means to be a disciple and how to practically apply the truths of theology. We had just gotten through the chapters on sin, grace, and redemption.  I had been reminded - as every Christian needs to be reminded - that "we all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God," and "it is by grace you have been saved," and "while we were yet sinners, Christ died." As these themes were fresh on my mind, it was easier to identify how Hugo's masterpiece communicated those truths - whether or not that was his intention - and how they clearly applied to me.

It is easy to believe that my sin is not as great as Valjean's, that my choices are not as devastating as Fantine's, and my desire to "do the right thing" is more purely motivated than Javert's. The truth is that I am no different than any of these characters. If my life story were made into a musical, it wouldn't be a pretty picture filled with lilting harmonies. I am broken, my relationship with God and others is broken, and my motivations are not always pure. I deserve punishment and yet God reaches down to show me grace in ways that go beyond Valjean's experience with the Christ-like Bishop.

Unlike Valjean, I don't need to look behind me at every step, wondering if my bad choices of the past will catch up with me.  As a Christian I am not pursued by the arm of justice, I am pursued by the God of love.  I am forgiven, redeemed, brought into right relationship by the blood of Christ that covers me. But often I forget that and try to make my way on my own.

Like Valjean, who could have admitted his need by asking for a piece of bread or silver rather than stealing them, I have to stop relying on myself and my own efforts. I am in daily need of God's grace to keep me from self-righteous independence.  The transformation that comes from relying on the Holy Spirit is deeper and more permanent than anything my own efforts can accomplish, and certainly more life-changing than the "good works" of Jean Valjean.

Back to Les Miserables - I could go on and on about the performance of Ann Hathaway, Russell Crowe, Samantha Barks, and others. Some of them were great, some just good, and some not so good. But the bottom line for me is that this version of Les Miserables actually made a profound impact on me - despite its imperfections.  Sometimes perfection gets in the way when trying to communicate the incredible truth of God's grace.