A Rarely Used Word

      Define juxtaposition: “the act of driving down I95 while listening to christian music.”  Well that’s my definition anyway. Now, if you aren’t familiar with Interstate 95 between Washington D.C. and Richmond, Virginia I applaud you for your good fortune.  For the rest of us that are intimately aware of it’s painful nature you may have a bit better insight into my description of the rarely used word juxtaposition. Just to clear things up, the real definition is “the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect.” At least that’s what Google says and hey, if Google says it… well anyway.

Back to my definition.  I came up with it just today while navigating thick holiday traffic.  Great music was booming out of my speakers and the name of Jesus was prevalent, and all was well.  On the inside of the car anyway. On the outside was a hoard of individuals looking to get somewhere, and doing so without a care about anyone else around them.  And that is where the juxtaposition begins. The sharp contrast of Jesus music setting the background to my myriad of epithets hurled toward those all around me. That’s right, don’t try and tell me you haven’t been there before, cursing anyone who drives faster than you as a maniac and anyone slower a fool.  Let’s be honest, we have all been there.

But there is another great use of the word juxtaposition, an honest definition.  It goes something like this; placing the glory of God against the everyday actions of… me, or you, or that guy next to you in traffic… fill in the blank with whatever you like.  I have to say, when that thought hit me in the car it was a bit unsettling. It didn’t come as some huge put me in my place moment in regards to my relationship to God, but it did remind me of how hard it is to be on this side of a fallen world.  I can’t even drive down the road without messing things up for crying out loud.

It’s also a great reminder that I don’t have to drive down that road in worry of messing things up. God knows I’m going to fail over and over again, and that’s ok because I know Him… and I know of His grace.  It’s only because of that knowledge I can comfortably say “I messed up, again, and I’m sorry.”  I can give up whatever that ailing feeling is, whether it’s something as simple as cursing to myself about the driver next to me or something far larger.  I can give it all up, I can give it to the Lord above; the one that surrounds us and loves us as we are. I can do it right then and there with no special pomp or circumstance needed.  Talk about comforting.

So the next time you take a drive on I95, or whatever road near you has selfish drivers on it (don’t they all), take a moment and breath.  Relax and remember that we have all failed and we have all fallen short. We don’t have to be blaring christian music to appreciate that fact of life, although I do recommend it.  Take an extra moment and perhaps let that too fast driver pass you by without reincarnating George Carlin in your car. Lastly, but most importantly, praise God for the grace He has shown you, and me, and remember what a juxtaposition life really is on this side of the fall.


-C

Those Eyes are Calling

"Captivating Beauty" by Ruthie Robbins based on 1Peter 3:3-4

Mother’s Day is coming up.  It’s that time of year where flowers and chocolates and cards are bought, all to say thank you for being you. Thank you for being a great mom, mother, grandma, etc. We acknowledge our own moms, but also our wives if they happen to also be mothers.

I want to take a moment on this worthy occasion to give a different kind of gift, one of words and one from the heart.  What follows is a personal nod to my own wife, but also marriage and lasting love. To my wife, my love, happy Mother’s Day.  To the rest of you… Enjoy, it’s cheaper than roses.


Those eyes… don’t look too deep into those eyes… you’ll get lost.  You won’t be able to find your way back out if you look too deep into those eyes.  They’re like a siren song, calling you in, calling your name. Come to me, dive into me, be consumed by me.  She has those eyes.  Those eyes that change with her mood and the weather, but always enticing, always mesmerizing.

They draw me in, they call me now, they know my name.  Oh, what a sweet song they make with their gaze, what an enticing invitation.  Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be forever lost in them and the beauty they hold. Come to me they cry, the song grows louder and louder still.  Lose yourself, fling all you have aside and crash into my gaze.

The song deafens the mind, only the heart can hear now.  The heart knows the song, it sings along in tune. It thumps and pounds and drowns out the mind, lost in the sea of those eyes.  Come to me they beckon, you are almost here. The siren song has drawn me in, I am spent on the rocks of the shoal, but blissful still.  My heart laid bare before her there, given to those eyes.

Can I, should I, find my way out of these depths… or stay forever lost in the abyss of those eyes.  Oh, why go, there is nothing out there that cannot be found here, the warmth, the love, the rapturous embrace.  I am found now that I am lost, deep, deep in her eyes. The gaze has felt like an eternity though only a moment lingered.  It is broken only as she looks away, off into the distance still.

My mind begins to hear again, the Heartsong weakens slowly, never gone, never silent, playing softly every moment.  The siren song plays on and on, I know the tune too well. It plays for me and me alone, it calls me ever present.  I have looked too long, I have wondered too deep, I have lost myself and must live for her, lost but not lost, deep in her eyes.  It is no curse, but rather a pleasure, to have given in to the siren song of life together.

My love, my life, my wife, and oh… those eyes.

- C

The Back Pew... or Chair

I sit in the back pew at church.  You’ve seen me there I’m sure. I don’t do it because I want to be disconnected or left alone.  It started with my son, my second oldest and often most challenging. I say that not because he’s adopted, but because he is truly unique unto himself.  You see, he has had a significant hearing impairment since birth. It’s a gigantic life hurdle when paired with learning disabilities and all of the baggage that comes with eight years of life lived in an orphanage.

By this time you are asking, what does this have to do with you sitting in the back pew.  And wait, we don’t even have pews, we have chairs. Just hang in there with me for a quick minute, I’ll get there.  You see, we have an amazing group of people at church, with all sorts of talents just waiting to be put to good use.  Well, one of those gifted individuals volunteered to translate opening words, prayers and songs for my son after we had gone through a handful of sign language courses.

It’s not easy you know, it’s a legitimate language that takes time and dedication to master.  My wife and I weren’t exactly up to that particular task, not at the moment anyway, and my son is not deaf, not by a long shot.  Actually, he understands more things than he likes to admit, but that’s a different story. Back to the pew thing. Well, you see after a couple of weeks of sitting here and there, somewhere near the back, but not the way back, I couldn’t help but notice some other people… noticing.

Most turned and looked briefly out of curiosity, and no, nobody complained, we have a loving, amazing church.  But then there were the kids that turned and stared out of curiosity and yes, even an adult or two that seemed to have misplaced their manners.  So… let’s try out the very back row, let’s see if that solves this little issue of the day. And wouldn’t you know it, it did. No more awkward moments, no more thoughts of “hey, go find your manners” right in the middle of a service that is intended to refocus our attention on what really matters, the love and grace of God.

Well time marches on and our lives changed this way and that.  We went from a family of six to one of eight and then back down to six again.  Life can seem cruel that way you know, but that too is a story for another time.  And being rigidly afraid of being late, thanks to my father and the Marine Corps, we always made it early enough to sit in the back row, and our incredibly generous volunteer never failed to meet us there.  But then things changed further still and with the complexities of living with an adopted child that are nigh impossible to put on paper we decided that interpreting was not needed anymore.  And so now we no longer have a need to sit in that back pew, but yet, we haven’t moved away from it. Why?

Maybe it’s just out of habit.  Or maybe I just like the extra legroom (insert laugh here), legroom, isn’t he that short guy with all the boys you ask.  In honesty it is out of habit, but there is an amazing side benefit that I have just started to truly take note of.  You know what you see when you sit in the back… everything. Those kids that aren’t paying attention, who comes in late every week, who leaves as fast as possible to avoid talking to people, I see it all.  I’m not spying, I swear, I’m just observant, as any guy with four boys should be.

But those things are not what I’m really thinking of.  Those are the mundane that happen everywhere you go. What I’m speaking of are the lives that I see before me.  It struck me one Sunday, there it was.  The sermon was over and we were two songs from the end and a light in me came on.  Everyone was standing and enjoying the musical talents of our church body and there it was. The light that came on was in my heart, not my head.

You see, I’m also one of those guys that doesn’t sing, out of respect for those around me.  Trust me, you don’t want to hear that. So, standing there in attentive silence I looked around at those in front of me.  What I saw was a body of individuals that have suffered and struggled, lost loved ones and jobs and for many, their heart from time to time… and yet, here they stood.  Here they stood in awe and respect for the Lord above. Here they stood, and my heart struggled to contain itself in place. That is God! That is the whole point of life.

To be amongst His fellow believers and feel connected to it all is a feeling that I pray will never grow old.  It comes with time, time invested in getting to know those people standing and praising in front of me. Time spent volunteering and interacting and talking to those that profess the same beliefs that I do.  Now, I don’t know them all, I’m not the most interactive person, I often just don’t know what to say. But that didn’t change the feeling… that doesn’t change the people.

So maybe the way back pew, or chair, is where I belong.  We all have a place in the story if you haven’t heard. And even when the day comes that I change my seat, or even dare I say, open my mouth to sing, I will not forget those around me.  They’re generosity, love and sorrows alike hold a place in me now. Glory to the triune God on high, and praise to Him that allows me even the smallest glimpse of what is to come at the end of my days.


- C