Dandelions...Part II

The other day my mother shared a picture of the current condition of her childhood home.  This was the same home that I knew as Grandma’s house.  Ironically, Grandpa’s house was the house next door.  Before you draw any conclusions about my grandparents being some separated Hatfield-McCoy marriage debacle, let me reassure you that my parents grew up as next door neighbors.  This made it exceptionally convenient as a young grandson.  For example, if I found, while visiting my grandfather, that he didn’t have any sweet treats to my liking, I could run across the driveway to Grandma’s house and scope out the confections.

Grandma’s house was a magical place, filled with candies, treats, mysterious rooms and a smokey blue haze from my other grandpa.  It was hard to tell if his marshmallow cookies had actually been “smoked” to perfection or if you just tasted the flavor of the air. 

Grandma’s house was the kind of place where sugar plums truly danced in your head.  Though honestly, even on Christmas Eve, I never had sugar plums dancing in my head.  My head was usually filled with bows and arrows and guns and gophers two stepping between my ears. 

As I grew older, I found myself helping Grandma with a number of things around her candy filled home.  I would cut the grass, paint the walls, haul in wood and swing from her weeping willow in attempt to relive the adventures of Indiana Jones.  The weeping willow really wasn’t strong enough to make swinging viable, so when the long branches snapped off, we continued the adventures using the long soft branches as whips.  This game was frowned upon by the lesser dominant siblings and cousins. 

I also remember the dandelions.  Grandma’s lawn was a perpetual battle of green and yellow and cotton white puffs.  We would often pick the yellow flowers and rub them against our skin giving each other “butter burns.”  The yellow mark left on our skin would linger for days.  Grandma always encouraged us to pick the dandelions.

“Keep going boys! Get rid of all of those stubborn weeds!”

I never fully understood how a bright yellow flower could be considered a “weed,” but, despite that, I picked them.  Additionally, I would pick the white puffs and blow them, unwittingly, spreading the seed for the noxious weed to expand even further and broader across her lawn and to the neighbors.

“Oh! Don’t blow those! That spreads even more dandelions!”

Nearly every homeowner struggles to control the aggressive spread of the yellow bane.  In fact, in 1935 Minot ND threatened all homeowner with arrest if they failed to immediately cut or remove dandelions before they became the fun white puffs.  I must admit, that Minot took their dandelion issue very seriously.

In a similar fashion, Jesus takes the spreading of false teachings seriously.  In Matthew 16:1-12, two groups of proverbial “weeds,” the Pharisees and the Sadducees, join forces to confront Jesus and disprove his truth claims.  Jesus uses this moment to speak of the severity of the “yeast” that they are spreading that will affect all it comes in contact with.  This passage confronts us with the choice, will we accept the truth of Jesus? Or our own truth systems?  Jesus wants to crush our own truth systems, in order to draw us to him…the real and perfect truth.

May we come to see and cling to the truth of Jesus alone.

 Care

 

Our oldest daughter moved to Georgia this past week.  Not the country…the state. Yet, to my heart it feels as if she has moved to the moon. I know that I am not the first person who has had to navigate this chasm between the “new home” and the “no longer home” transition of a child.  I have to admit, it is even harder than I expected. 

I try and take some encouragement from some of my friends who have children living in California, Montana, Kentucky, Georgia, Florida, Texas, Maryland and Germany.  Somehow it seemed easier for them…though I doubt that it was. 

There are aspects that help reduce the sting.  Such as, face time, Spirit Airlines, unlimited talk and text and the fact that Christmas is only 31 weeks away…yes, I’m counting. 

As I ponder, I can only consider one thing that would fully remove the sting…and that is, if I didn’t care.  If I could somehow stop caring about her, about seeing her, about being with her or about helping her…then, I think it wouldn’t hurt. But, I think I’d rather have the hurt.

I don’t want to live my life without care.  In fact so many things in life hurt. If I could stop caring, then maybe the hurt would go away.  But…again…I think I’d rather have the hurt.

My parents stopped by this last week to say goodbye to Hannah as well.  It was easy to see that they too were experiencing the pain.  It was obvious…they cared.  In fact, I watched my dad slip some cash quietly into Hannah’s hand and with tears in his eyes he choked out, “This is a little something for your new place.”  I couldn’t help but think during this sweet exchange…”Who are you? You are not the dad I knew growing up! You are not the same person that gave me one penny per piece of wood that I hauled into the house in a form of an IOU.”

Despite my own feelings of injustice, I didn’t miss the beauty of the care that was expressed. 

On the day that Hannah drove off, I may or may not have sobbed off and on from 4:30-6:30 am....and battled tears throughout the day…and the next…and the next…and even now.

The lack of action doesn’t necessarily mean that we don’t care, nor does our action guarantee care.  However, I am convinced that if we hold to genuine care, action would have no choice but to follow.  You could see it in my dad’s actions and you could see it in my tears. 

All the more, you can see it in the life of Jesus.  Matthew 15:29-39 reveals yet another distribution of the deep care of Jesus to people.  In fact, every time we encounter Jesus having compassion on people in the Gospels, he follows it with action.  In this case, Jesus once again has compassion on a crowd of people…primarily Greek people, and once again he feeds them, he cares for them. Once again Jesus takes action fueled by his compassion. 

May we come to see, that Jesus cares much more than we could ever think or imagine.  We don’t always understand the ways of God, but he understands us and he cares for us deeply, longing to spend eternity with each of us.

Crumbs

I often write about the unfortunate being that is known as our dog…Coda.  I have told of his aversion toward me, his breath of death, and his ability to overtake other being’s spaces.  For example, every time we would take him to my parent’s home, he would, despite his slight nature, overtake the sleeping space of their dog…which was twice the size of Coda. 

One thing that Coda hasn’t done much is beg for food from the dinner table.  We have worked to train him in this way and for the most part he complies.  However, I have noticed that after our son moved home for the summer Coda has been much more active during meal times.  The dog seems to continually pace in circles beneath our son’s chair.  One might consider this strange until you watch the boy eat. 

Isaac’s dining habits have been compared to a blue hairy Sesame Street monster chomping cookies and letters while crumbs fly everywhere.  Our dog loves it when Isaac is home to eat.  Coda finds more than his fill of table scraps as they fall to the floor in an explosion of consumption. 

Jesus uses a parable like this in Matthew 15:21-29.  Here he is encountered by a Greek woman whose daughter is possessed by a demon.  Jesus uses this picture to reveal the beauty and power of the Gospel that is for all people and available by faith. 

May we come to see that even the crumbs of the Gospel are more than enough! Jesus has enough grace and mercy and love and care and power for everyone and everything.  He is more than able and he is more than enough. 

 The Bedroom

For as far back as I can remember, my older brother and I shared a room. We even shared a room briefly in college. Not now though...we are both married...that would be weird.  We have always gotten along well together…as long as he did what I said…which he usually did.  My little brother on the other hand would often not do as I demanded, which as anyone could see, would cause conflict between the two of us. If only he would have humbled himself a little bit as a child, obeyed and submitted himself to his older and dominating brother, we may have had better childhood relations. 

Imagine my dismay when one day my dad approached my older brother and I told us that he had decided to move our little brother into our room.  He “said” it was for “safety reasons.”  I tried to argue, “What is so unsafe about a basement bedroom tucked in the corner of dry rough cut lumber next to a wood burning furnace and absolutely no windows?” It seemed fine to me.  But dad insisted that we “try it” for a few months. 

I regret to tell you that it was the worst “few months” of my life.  I don’t remember why…but I do remember hating it, so it must have been terrible. After a few months I decided it was time to confront my father on the issue.  I took plenty of time to gather my thoughts and reasoning.  I rehearsed my speech and was ready to answer all of the hypothetical questions that I could imagine. 

When I was confident that I was ready, I marched upstairs with a purpose and approached my dad in the kitchen.  “Well Dad…It has been a few months…and well…it’s just not working.”

“What’s not working?”

“Rory in our room. It is time for him to go back to his own room in the basement corner.”

I knew that my dad would argue, but what I didn’t know, was that I was about to receive a tongue lashing unlike anything imaginable.  My dad verbally lit into me before I could even argue any of my preconceived points.

The worst of it was, that he was saying that “I” was the problem and that my little brother wasn’t the problem! I wondered if he had even ever met his third born son.

When the dust cleared, I went back to my…the room…that three boys still shared.

In that moment, I fully believed that I was in the right. Even after the lashing, I couldn’t see my own depravity. 

I am reminded of what we find in Matthew 15:1-20.  In this passage we find Pharisees and Scribes coming from Jerusalem to confront Jesus.  In a similar fashion as I received, they receive a tongue lashing from Jesus that reveals their depravity.  Sadly, they…like me…refused to see it.

May we come to see the sweet beauty of God’s ways…and follow them…as opposed to our own.

Incidentally, I am pleased to say that my little brother is not nearly as annoying as he used to be...he must have matured a great deal!

The Quarter

I remember sitting in the third row church pew on the right hand side of the Wadena Alliance Church, as a child, on Sunday mornings.  It was always the third row. It was our place.  They could have hung a sign on the end of the pew that read, “The Olson’s,” but it really would not have been necessary.  Everyone knew it was our spot.  Everyone except…visitors.  Imagine our surprise when we arrived one Sunday morning to find strangers sitting in our spot.

“Dad! What do we do? There are people sitting in our spot!”

“We will sit elsewhere…like right behind them…the fourth pew is open”

“But then where will the Johnson’s sit? The fourth pew is their pew?”

“They are in Bemidji this weekend.”

Whew…disaster averted…barely.

Additionally, there were other traditions that our family held to in church.  One such tradition was that on occasion, our mother would hand each of us children a coin that we could place into the offering plates as they passed.  My mother’s generosity may have been fueled by efforts to eliminate the fighting amongst her offspring as each week we would fight as to who would get to put the week’s check into the offering plate.  Henceforth, she would be the one to take care of the check and each child would take care of their own quarter. 

On one particular Sunday morning, I joyfully dropped my shinny quarter from as high as my 3^rd grade arms could reach.  I am not sure what my actual intent was aside from the creative expression of giving. Imagine the surprise of my parents as the quarter bounced off of the bottom of the plate and pinged to the floor.  Once on the floor the coin did what loose coin would be expected to do…it rolled.  I, on the other hand, did what any excitable 3^rd grade boy would do…I chased it.  As the congregation sang “Jesus Paid it All,” I pursued the coin.  Imagine the surprise of the “visitors” as a young 3^rd grader popped up from under their feet pursuing a loose quarter. 

The good news is that I captured the loose quarter.  The bad news was the visitors never came back…but as a serendipitous benefit, my family got our spot back.

Now many years later, I remember placing coins into the hands of my own children, so that they too can place the gift into the passing plate.  I know that we are not the only family to do so, as I have watched others employ the same tactics.  Over the years I have come to see the beautiful parallel that this procedure displays.  In Matthew 14:12-21, we find the account of Jesus feeding more than 5000 people with merely 5 small loaves and 2 small fish…it is virtually nothing.  Jesus tells his disciples to “give them something to eat,” and yet the disciples have nothing to give.  Jesus in a sense gives them all that they need…in order to give what he has asked them to give. 

Far too often I fall into the trap of wondering what I can afford to give.  This is not just about money.  This includes giving of our time, abilities, finances, knowledge…etc.  Everything that we have has been handed to us by God Almighty, one way or another. 

May we come to see the incredible generosity that our God has bestowed his gifts upon us.  The greatest of which is His love expressed through His Son…Jesus...the gift of grace upon grace.

No Longer…

I recently came to the realization that I have been training to be a parent from a very young age.  Much of what I have learned as a parent, has come from watching my own parents and trying to imitate their style.  So, when my little brother and sister came into the walking age, I began to boss them around and have them do things that I didn’t want to do. 

“Rory, go haul wood into the house...Dad says.”  (Dad didn’t really say, but I found that Dad’s name had a great deal more authority than my own).

“Jasmine, go make my bed…Mom says.”

“Ross, go take out the garbage…mom says.”

When my siblings became wise to my tactics, I changed my methods…into manipulation.  I did not learn manipulation from my parents.  It was a strategy that I developed on my own and it became quite successful…for a season.

“Jasmine, if you make my bed I’ll play with you.” By “playing,” I meant steal Barbies and threaten them to bodily harm. 

“Ross, take out the garbage for me or I’ll punch you.”

“Rory, haul in the wood and I’ll let you live.”

Other parenting lessons came in unexpected ways.  For example, when “I” was forced to haul wood into the house, I didn’t realize that this was going to one day revolutionize my parental grocery shopping skills.  When we were young boys we were paid one penny for every piece of wood that was carried into the house.  Logically, I took the initiative to find the smallest available pieces and overload them into my arms making up to twenty five cents per trip.  In four trips I could make a dollar and go back inside to rest my weary bones and muscles over a nice cup of hot cocoa while my idiot brothers carried in larger pieces.  Fools!

I mentally relive those wood-hauling days when I walk the aisles of the local grocery stores.  My children mockingly ask me, “Dad, do you need a cart?,” knowing full well that, more times than not, I will refuse to take one.

“No, we only need a gallon of milk.” I will say. 

However, when a parent of multiple children enters a store, MCSSS (Multiple Children Surprise Sale Syndrome) often takes over. It is shocking how much food can be consumed in a home which inhabits multiple children.  This syndrome is manifest as a parent of multiple children enters a grocery store only to find that the items, which are regularly consumed by their multiple children, are currently on an incredible sale.  Since it would be nonsensical and a blow to the ego to go back for a cart, the parent will begin to load their arms with the sale items.  This continues until the parent can no longer safely carry any more items.  It is at this time that a parent will pass the extensive load of groceries to the children who are walking with him or her, which frees the parent to continue to gather additional sale items.  Once all of the sale items have been dropped…picked up…purchased and struggled to the car. The parent will go home and employ the same process of transferring the groceries into the house.  Once finally finished the parent’s spouse will ask, “Where’s the milk?”  At this time, the entire process will begin again.

Believe it or not…this makes me think of Easter. Not because I have dropped cartons of eggs buying groceries in this manner, but rather, I see Jesus carrying an even greater load than I could ever comprehend.  I see Jesus’ arms filled with the burden of my sins, my fears, my insecurities, my loneliness, my anxieties and my utter depravity.  He carried that load…my load…AND your load…AND the world’s load to the cross.  He died with my load.  He was buried with my load, and then in a beautifully mysterious way, he rose from the grave and left the tomb EMPTY! He has conquered it! He conquered and defeated sin and death.  When the angel tells the women to “Fear Not…He is no longer here…the tomb is empty…” I am struck with the reality that the empty tomb is proof that I no longer need to submit to sin.  I no longer need to fear dying…or loneliness…or insecurity. 

Because the tomb is empty, I no longer need to be…empty.

Jesus isn’t in the tomb any longer…he is in me.  He is in those who have put their trust in him.

May you come to find that Jesus has taken your burdens to His grave.  He wants to be in you too.  Will you invite him in?

 Self Preservation

I have become a strong proponent of self preservation, although my definition of self preservation has changed since I have found myself approaching the beginning of my 6^th decade. Egad! That last sentence made my stomach church, my toes curl and my skin crawl…and several hairs turn gray and fall from my scalp!  At my age self preservation involves putting on sunscreen and having someone hold the ladder while I stand precariously on the top rung.  However, when I was a younger person, self preservation was all about protecting my image. 

The things that I did as a child were always measured against the effects that they would have in keeping me in the “cool crowd.”  The problem was that I was never “in” the cool crowd and thus I had no barometer of comparison to know what to do or not to do to attain this. Yet, I was not detered from attempting to gain access into the upper class of Wadena Elementary School.  So when a “cool kid,” said, “Hey Ryan…eat this…ha ha,” I usually did, even if it was covered with green fuzz and found under Mr. Nelson’s blackboard. 

Life is a journey of discovery.  In some ways, the journey reveals who we really are…to ourselves…and hopefully to others.  In other ways it is a journey of discovering what and WHO is really important.  I am struck by a contrast that I find in the Bible.  In Matthew 14:1-12 we find an account of Herod Antipas commissioning the killing of John the Baptist.  Herod didn’t especially want to order this execution and yet he does so to keep people pleased with him.  He is worried about losing popularity and power if he does not perform in the ways that he is being expected to act.

Contrarily, we find the True King of Israel entering Jerusalem on a colt, Matthew 21:9-11, in an astounding image of Kingly authority.  Here indeed, is a man of noble stature…a man of importance.  Yet, when pressed to conform to the image that the people desire of him, he holds to his true nature, and instead of caring for what the people think…he cares only of what God thinks.  In fact, what Jesus does in the week that follows is to create a way…THE way…for all mankind to find peace with God…to be accepted by God, if they will put their trust in His Son Jesus. 

What concerns you? Are you concerned with how people see you or how God sees you?  When we put our trust in Jesus, we are covered in His righteousness and when God looks at us…all he sees is the perfection of His own Son.

May we come to care what God thinks and be transformed into the person that He desires for us to be.