Spring

It has been a little over a week since I last wrote anything on this blog, and for that I apologize.  While pain and joy both are often mothers of creativity, numbness seems to result largely in blank pages.  Or, put more concisely, I have simply had nothing to say in the last week.

I have resolved and then endeavored several times to get caught up on a number of projects that have mostly languished over the last two months.  Each time, however, I have lost focus -- managing to eek out only the most pressing or time sensitive tasks.  Real life in its present form is increasingly insisting on my return, but finding the will to move forward is far more difficult than I might have imagined.  There are few moments in any given day when Jonathan is not on the top of my mind.

As Pam and I sat together and talked this morning, one of us mentioned something that has been on both of our minds lately -- Spring.  Spring in Texas is always an odd mixture of life returning or emerging and unpredictable weather -- thunder storms, hail and the occasional tornado.  But, it is the "life returning and emerging" part that had captured our attention.

After over twenty years in Texas we are all familiar with the signs of Spring.  The grass slowly returns to green from the dormant brown of winter, leaves emerge on the trees and bunnies, lizards and other critters become normal sights again.  And then there are the incredible Texas wildflowers.

For both Pam and I, though, the reemergence and renewal of life this Spring is just another reminder -- like so many other things -- that our son is gone and that he is not coming back.  To see the world spring back to life without Jonathan in it evokes emotions that defy description.  Pam often uses the word "unfair" to describe the loss of our son.  But to me, "unfair" seems so singularly inadequate to express the gravity of our situation.  At the same time, no other word, nor even any number of words strung together, seems adequate.

Last night Pam, Dani and I went out to dinner, as we have done many times since Jonathan went home to be with the Lord.  It was a long wait, and I am trying to recover from what I suppose is the flu, so I was pretty worn out by the time we were seated.

As I looked around the crowded room I could not help but imagine the conversations that were taking place at other tables.  They were, no doubt, mostly focused on trivial matters -- maybe even entirely so.  It is interesting that even as Christians we allow the most trivial of things dictate our moods, thoughts and interactions with others.

It may be the trivial thing that makes us "happy" -- such as the latest Texas Rangers game or an episode of Downton Abbey.  It may be the thing that ruined our day and left us angry -- such as the rude comment from our boss or coworker or the person who stole our parking spot at the grocery store.  But the truth is that the wrong kinds of trivial things take up far too much of our time and emotional energy -- time and energy that would otherwise be spent loving God and loving others.

The other side of the coin, though, is that trivial things make up most of the substance of life.  This last week Pam posted numerous pictures of the family taken during our two trips to Germany in recent years.  Some of those pictures were of the many snowball fights that we had during those vacations.

One series of photographs in particular was taken while we were touring at Hohensalzburg Castle in Salzburg, Austria.  I am not sure that snowball fights were thought of favorably at the castle.  On the other hand, signs saying that such activities were prohibited were conspicuously absent.

At one point during the tour Jonathan went inside to use the public bathroom, and the rest of the family used the opportunity to quickly plan a snowball ambush.  Jonathan seldom came out on the losing end of such things, so this presented a rare and overdue opportunity.  Unfortunately, while the rest of the family armed ourselves and took strategic positions, other tourists became interested in our little ambush, and the gathering assembly tipped Jonathan off that something was amiss.  So, while he was unable to avoid the onslaught in its entirety, it was far less effective than our minds had imagined.

Was that moment in time trivial?  Surely.  But trivial is not always the same as unimportant.  Indeed, the most important moments in life are usually trivial in their nature.  Yes, it was just a snowball fight -- but one that brought our family closer together -- that stirred in each one of us our love for one another and our desire just to spend time together.  The question is not whether we will spend most of our time on trivial things -- we will.  The question is whether we will spend most of our time on trivial things that matter.

Along those lines, I want to leave you with this thought.  Pam and I have in the last couple of months been given a number of books written by people who claim to have had near death experiences -- where folks have been given at least a glimpse of heaven and lived to tell about it.  I don't know how you feel about near death experiences, but I approach them with some skepticism.  It is not that I discount them entirely -- to the contrary, I frequently find them to be thought provoking, fascinating and sometimes even quite credible.  Nevertheless, I think we are to be discerning about such things.

Having said that, one of the things that these authors commonly say is that in heaven there is an overwhelming sense of love.  Indeed, that is undoubtedly the most common and most poignant part of the experience.  It is a sense of love that they almost universally describe as, well, indescribable.  On the other hand, I have yet to read an account of heaven where Jesus wanted the person to return to the world with some theological clarification.  None of the writers describe Jesus saying, for example, "I brought you to heaven so you could go back and settle all the confusion about 'election and predestination.'"

I think there is a reason for that.  I just don't think Jesus is all that interested in most of our theological debates and conflicts.  I think He just wants us to learn how to love Him and to love other people.  You will have plenty of time in eternity to debate the great theological issues -- although I suspect that when you get to heaven you won't much care about most of that anymore.  Sorry, but in the scheme of things I think that most of those debates center on things that at the end of the day are trivial -- in a bad way.

Love God, Love People, Advance the Gospel