I learned yesterday that a good friend has died. June had not been well for the last several years, nonetheless, her death came as a surprise and has evoked bittersweet emotions.
I was hired for my first ministry position by a pastor with 40 years of experience. “You don’t serve people,” he sagely said to me, “you serve God, and people are served in the process.” He advised against living in a parsonage and instead purchasing a home to build equity. “You will never get rich in ministry,” he counseled, “but God will provide for your needs.” Now, nearing his years of experience, I can attest to the wisdom of his counsel. Nonetheless, there was a financial situation in that ministry that had me scratching my head in amusement.
About 35 years ago, my wife and I purchased a house next to an older, Lebanese couple. One afternoon, after lunch, I was about to head back to the church, when I saw my neighbor. I waved to him. He gently called to me, “Mike, please, come for coffee.” I hesitated, did a quick mental assessment of my busy afternoon schedule, sighed, then answered, “Sure. Thank you.”
There is the story about a young man who was walking home on a very dark and moonless night and decided to take a shortcut. This shortcut took him directly through the local cemetery. As he crept through the graveyard, he fell into a deep open grave. It was so dark in the grave he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face.
I was raised in a devout Roman Catholic family and have fond memories of the tactile “smells and bells” of the mass, the priest lifting the censer, rocking it back and forth, the pungent scent of incense, the jangle of bells. But there was one tactile experience I dreaded every year – the application of ashes on Ash Wednesday.
It was the end of a workday and, as is our custom, my wife and I were “debriefing” one another. I initiated, “How was your day?” My wife’s workdays of late have been exceedingly busy but today was less so. “It was okay,” she answered, “I only had about 40 phone calls.” Yes, that is a less busy day for her. She reciprocated, “And how was your day?” As I answered, I began to do something that I have done for my entire life. Leaning on my right elbow, my head cradled in my right hand, the fingers of my right hand were tugging on the flesh under my right eye. Yeah, it’s weird, but I do it unconsciously.
Many people search for happiness in their lives. If you don’t mind a little “reverse psychology” today, keep reading. You will find a prescription for attaining unhappiness.
In thirty-five years of ministry, I have had several speaking engagements, some at conferences, and many at churches. That is not remarkable for a preacher. What is remarkable is that many of those engagements were in Spanish-speaking countries, and I do not speak Spanish; to be understood, I had to speak through an interpreter.
One of my favorite passages in scripture is from the 43rd chapter of Isaiah. It says in part, The Lord says, “Do not be afraid, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” (43:1)
