Names... Ichabod?

Brushing my teeth is not a personal thrill of my day, I don't know many people who would say it is, but I do it because I know it's best for the long haul. We have a lot of things in our lives like this, even though we don't wake up shouting "I can't wait to take out the trash!" or "be still my heart cause I'm about to wash me some dishes" or "ohhh dear lord Jesus, I got time for me to do some laundry!" But we do these things, and many things, because we believe it's worth it, worth it in little ways today and worth it in big ways tomorrow. We do this because we believe we look better with teeth, the house smells better with the trash taken out, dinner taste better on a clean dish, and sweat stains aren't exactly socially acceptable. 

Some thing else that happens daily in my life, not because it's a thrill or wow moment, but because I believe it simple is best for the long haul of my life is waking up, getting a cup of coffee and sitting down with the Bible and reading it. I usually pick a book and read a chapter a day until I finish it. I've found this works best for me, a chapter, nothing more, nothing less. 

The other day I was reading 1 Samuel 4. I read the chapter, finished my coffee, got ready for my day and went on my way.  But a part of the chapter has just stuck with me, like last nights MSG, reminding me it's there and not leaving me alone.

It's:

1 Samuel 4:21 She named the child Ichabod -- "Where is the glory?" -- murmuring, "Israel's glory is gone." She named him this because the Ark of God had been captured and because her husband and her father-in-law were dead.  (NLT)

A pregnant lady finds out her husband and father-in-law have both died, as well as her societies prized procession believed to connect them to God, called the "ark of God," was lost at war. She finds out this tragic news and goes into stress induced labor. Upon delivering the baby she takes all of her woes and worries and names her child after them and then dies. 

All I could think was "sucks for the kid."

Then as the verse kept noodling around in my head till it hit me that parents may no longer legally name their child Ichabod but they do impose other defining terms. Some of these are terms of the parents issues but they somehow hurl them on their kids. Terms like lazy, stubborn, stupid, chubby, slow, ditsy, etc. terms that will haunt and weaken the conscience and identity for years to come. Parents do this, but so do coaches, teachers, neighbors, pastors and almost every other living being. 

We label someone as something and its stuck. They're stuck, stuck as forever called Ichabod, the glory lost. 

But the Bible tells me we're capable if being known as something other then the labels we've collected over the years. It talks about a God who loves, accepts us as we are, and then has a history of changing our name. 

Changing the:

lazy, stubborn, stupid, chubby, slow, ditsy, but also the drop out, slut, pushover, weak, whiny, fag, blockhead, arrogant, moody, snobby, alcoholic, work-aholic, shop-aholic, anything-aholic, 

Into the accepted, liked, and loved child of God. 

The names given here on earth will come and go, but oh the freedom when we move past them and to the embrace of what God calls us. 

Loved. 

So as the week starts, what name will you answer to? What name will you believe from, see the world from, work from, befriend from, lead from, love from? The labels imposed, or the name declared? 

You're not an Ichabod. You're a child of God. 

A lesson from watching Zi.

Zion turned one this past Monday. It's amazing what a year can do. 

Our lives delightfully were totally turned upside down but were simultaneously turned better. We heard lots of voices preparing us for the "change to come" when Zion arrived on the scene. These voices caused us to grow nervous about our life being different in a bad way, but I think what was trying to be said is that Life pre-child is good, but life with child is just gooder! 

Gooder, I always laughed at that word, I think because it reminds me of booger and the fact that it's "not really a word-word, like Ain't"

With Zi turning one it seems like his exploring and experimenting side has turned full steam ahead. He's like a little scientist testing, reacting, retesting, reacting differently with everything. Every step, every object, every person. He's discovered dog bowls, watering pots, drawers, dogs, pianos, steps, cell phones, books, fuzz, dog hair (opps, I mean our house is spotless, yeah spotless, umm no dog hair here, yeah right!). Everywhere he turns, he turns to discover something new. 

This morning as I sat on the coach, reading, reflecting, sipping coffee, Zi was cruising around the living room exploring. At one point I looked up and he was exploring one of his puzzles. His intensity, focus, and inquisitive nature held my attention. I found myself putting my books and coffee down and internally cheering for him, wanting him to find how the latches fit together, and how the pieces moved. I found myself deeply enjoying his enjoyment, his experiencing of life. 

And then it hit. 

I am Zion's Dad, and my dad, not only Papa Parks Dad, but my God Dad, looks at me the same way. God looks at me, and you, and simply smiles when we enjoy this creation he gave us, the talents he put in our lives, the challenges near us. God loves watching me learn how to throw a frisbee, love Pearl, tell a good story, he smiles at watching me be fully me, which is actually being fully what he designed me to be. 

Over the past year my view of God's "don'ts" have been changing. The idea of Sin, or laws, or commandments, or whatever you want to call the things that God tells us not to do has changed. I once saw the angry rule keeper God with his clipboard just watching and waiting for me to get enough "x's" next to my name to really give me a little hell on earth, and if I did this enough, long enough, then I'd get Hell Hell, like capital "H" Hell, and not just the annoying hell of finding a parking spot at wal-mart on Saturday morning.

What's changed in my view is not whether sin matters to God, cause I believe it still does, but in how it matters to God. I'm understanding the grace of Jesus to now be so pervasive and consuming that God no longer looks at me as a "sinner" or screw up but simply as his son, fully declared Holy, set a part because of following Jesus, not perfect and sin is now me simply hurting myself, my relationships, the world around me and the potential that God has given me in it.

I'm viewing sin not as a checklist of wrath accumulation but as steps away from what's best and closer to things, ways of life, ways of thinking that only hurt me and others. To quote Paul from the Bible, each choice that's agains't what God says is best is a step that takes me towards the death of the things I love, death of relationships, death of trust, death of freedoms, etc.

Now, as Zion's dad I will do everything I can to help him have the best life possible, part of that will be using any and every form of support, discipline, encouragement necessary to help him realize the danger in what he's doing. Catch that, I want to correct the behavior due to the danger not because I want to keep him from fun or enjoyment of life. I want him to fully enjoy life, but he can't enjoy life if his hands are burned off because he touched the stove or he screams every time he wants something. 

So, all this came rushing in this morning while watching Zi flip latches and solve wooden puzzles. 

Just as I love him, God loves us, but only infinitely more. 

Just as I love seeing him become fully him and enjoying life, God loves seeing us, becoming fully us and enjoying the world he gave us. 

Just as I want to help Zi have the best life, I'll have to do everything I can to help him make good choices, but I'll never stop loving him no matter what he chooses, so it is with God and us. 

Watching Zi makes me love him more, and helps me embrace the love God has for me just a little bit more, it's like God knew having a child would help us enjoy being his child just a little bit more.

The Ground we've got.

It's the first really warm day of spring. Warm as in you can wear shorts and feel the sun warming your skin causing your muscles to feel five years younger. The type of warmth where the grass lets off it's fragrance and trees blossom and life feels like it slows down for a bit and love fills the air and tiny little musicians sing sweet music in your ears. 

I love the first days of Spring. These days feel like a recharge to my winter weathered soul. The cold, dark glum of January to mid-March just sucks the life out of me. I want to soak up all of today, so today I sit on a back porch, listening to the sounds of the world around me, smelling the aroma of some tree's white blossom, what it is I don't know, it's a tree with flowers, white flowers to be exact, white flowers that smell awesome, that's all I got. 

Over my right shoulder I can see cop lights giving someone a speeding ticket and to my left the glow of a house that has started to sleep. 

But I write not because the love of spring compiles emotions to burst forth into text and type but because in the midst of beautiful moments life can just suck. I'm not talking about little disappointments that in ten minutes you laugh about, I'm talking about questions that rattle your bones and questions your foundations and introduce you to regret, fear, sorrow, shame, and a host of other emotions that are nasty and cruel. 

See, yesterday our son turned one, ONE, he also took his first three step shuffle. The weekend was filled celebrating his life, the joy he brings to the world with his smiles, giggle, and eye popping screams. We celebrated Zion and it was good, really good. Part of what made it so good was my family traveled to celebrate with us. My sister and her family traveled, as well as my Mom and Dad. Our family is rare in that we actually love and like each other, so traveling to be together, especially for weekends like this is normal for us. But what makes this trip so extraordinary this year is that it was also made by my Dad. 

Dad this summer received a new lease and leash on life. After being diagnosed with a terminal lung disease he was given a new lease on life with a double lung transplant, but this gift of life also came with a leash on life. Dad's list of do's and don't would make an Olympic athletic stutter. The dietary restrictions, life restrictions, visitation restrictions, pet restrictions, etc are life altering to say the least but without them post-transplant life would be short lived. This is a necessary "new normal" for my family. 

So with this "new normal" permission to travel from the medical experts 12 hours to our Son's birthday party was quite the big deal. 

We relished our time together this weekend. We laughed, shared stories, smiled, played, ate, and simply enjoyed being a family and it was wonderful!

Yesterday Mom and Dad loaded up after a birthday breakfast, drove south and Pearl and I drove to work. We thought that was it, life back to normal. We worked, took walks as a family, connected with local friends and got back to doing what we do. 

But tonight as Zion slept and Pearl and I played board games one call raised fears, questions and doubts about the unknown. 

The call was from my sister and went something to the effect of, "Matt, have you talked to mom" No, "Well, dad is sick, he's had a massive headache all day and thrown up at least 30 times. The doctors want him in the ER right now for a spinal tap to check for meningitis. Mom's scared, crying, and trying to get him there. I'm headed to the ER to meet her. We'll keep you posted. Gotta go." 

And like that one call, a couple of sentences, and a peaceful evening turned into a personal hell of questions. 

Before the phone clicked I had questioned

- is this the last time Zion will meet his Papa? 

- did we push him too hard to be a part of the party? 

- If he dies can I forgive myself for not being there? 

- is this all my fault? 

And the questions flooded. I felt I needed to become emotional, not because I wanted to be, but because that was what I thought was expected of me. 

But tears did not come at first but the questions rolled and raged stronger and I could feel them connecting to heart strings and tear ducts causing emotions to grow, I knew it was only moments before I would lose it. 

Lose it. 

But, Why? 

What was causing these emotions? What was I responding to? 

I realized that all I knew, and all that I know as of writing these words is that Dad is sick. 

Is being sick as a transplant survivor bad, yes. Could this cause bad things to happen, yes. 

But are those bad things realty now, NO. 

No, these are not reality now. 

What does reality now expect of me right now? 

To be honest, I don't know?

But I think being honest is best. 

I friend recently said, "when life is foggy and you don't know what's going on, simply stand on the ground you've got."

The words "Stand on the ground you've got" are now echoing in my ears. 

We all have our own version of ER trips, unknowns answers, budget fears, job insecurities, relational strains, anxiety around raising our child, and the ever present big-bad-crazy-scary-unknown-freakin-future! All of these are amazing stress and fear catalyst but they often are not the ground we've been given to stand on. Their power and fear comes not from a current reality but from the crushing weight of the unknown future, a future that we do not hold, nor control. 

So, as we worry about fears of tomorrow's budget numbers, we must stand on the current ground we've got.

As we question job roles and security, we must stand on the ground we've got.

As we question relationships and the strength they still have to stand the pressure of life, we must stand on the ground we've got.

As we wrestle with anxieties of raising a child, we must stand on the ground we've got.

As we look the the-big-bad-crazy-scary-unknown-freakin-future in the face with all of it's unknowns and fears, we must stand on the ground we've got.

So tonight as I eagerly wait for news from a doctor 700 miles away, I push off all the questions I do not have to yet answer and I fight to stand on the ground I've got. 

Our lives are each different but our emotions are not. May we each show our faith and courage and choose to stand on the ground we've got. 

May we answer the questions that actually come, make the choices that actually must be made, and carry the weight of life that actually is reality. May we stand on the ground we've got, with the life we've got, and not jump foolishly into the unknown reality of what has yet been revealed. 

May we choose to stand on the ground we've got.


PS - 15 minutes after posting this, I received a text ruling out bleeding on the the brain and Meningitis. They are now looking at treating him for a nasty virus, a virus that is not good or normal, but also not as extreme as was feared. Some meds and some rest and he should be good.