Oct 17, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
We seem size-obsessed in America. Sometimes we say bigger is better, while other times we argue slim is best. We long for big paychecks and houses, but we love slim waistlines and cell phones. When we want new and fresh ideas, we encourage big thinking. But I suspect many women would agree that when it comes to gifts, “Good things come in small packages!”
Perhaps size does indeed matter.
However, when one considers the Scriptural story of the shepherd boy David in his battle against the Philistine warrior Goliath, bodily size was of no consequence to the outcome. In fact, one could say David’s victory over Goliath was in spite of Goliath’s enormous physical proportions (1 Samuel 17:23-50).
Then in another biblical setting, when tax collector Zacchaeus, a “wee little man,” according to the children’s rhyme, was trying to get a glimpse of Jesus, his small stature didn’t stop him. He simply climbed up into a sycamore tree to get a better point of view (Luke 19:2-9).
Both examples teach me valuable lessons about size. In the David and Goliath story, it wasn’t physical size that mattered but rather the size of David’s faith and courage. And Zacchaeus didn’t use his shortness as an excuse when he had trouble seeing over the heads and shoulders of the crowd before him. Although his physical size was small, his determination and creativity were huge. These stories teach me that no matter how big the problem I face, I must not be too quick to give up — that the size of my hope and persistence must be big to win the day.
Yes, these stories assure me that there are no obstacles too great to overcome. The Apostle Paul offers this same assurance. He asks: “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?” Then he answers: “Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, or angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:35-39).
I find much comfort and promise in these words of Paul. Whenever I’ve felt challenged to the point of almost giving up, I’ve reminded myself of the expanse of God’s love for me as his beloved child. This fact brings the reassurance that God’s love is vast, immeasurable and without limits. Knowledge of God’s infinite love transforms and heals — removing and destroying fear. I have found it impossible to feel completely and totally loved by God and afraid at the same time. And many times in my life, when fears were no longer consuming my outlook, healing answers came into view and changed the course of my life.
So I venture to say to anyone, that with an understanding of God’s infinite love embracing and shepherding your every thought and action, there is no hill too steep, no ditch too deep, no distance too far, no trail too long, no river too wide, no hurdle too high, no wave too big, no job too tough, and no problem too difficult. As children of God, we are each equal recipients of a treasure trove of spiritual skills and abilities that equip us to meet and master any “Goliath” and enable us to find the “sycamore tree” that lifts our spirits to a new and higher perception.
What matters most about size is where we place our confidence — the material, transient and changeable or the spiritual, eternal and dependable. Although there may be many theological points to explore and understand, I don’t think any is greater than the breadth, depth and scope of God’s love for each one of us. You can believe in it, trust it and count on it. The size of God’s love is what matters most!
Oct 17, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
In the hustle and bustle of our everyday lives, I suspect we all are unaware of many things that we take for granted.
To take something for granted is to not appreciate its full value. This can occur for something that we experience on a day-to-day basis, and so we become accustomed to its availability. For example, we often forget how valuable food, clean water and shelter are to us — or even our many freedoms — until we don’t have them.
To take someone for granted is to not acknowledge the difference they make in our lives. This may mean not showing appreciation to our parents, teachers or siblings for the help they give us throughout our lives. In addition, we probably never think about many other people without whom our world would be very different. People with essential skills and responsibilities such as tradesmen, engineers and factory workers, who in turn make available and accessible the many things we tend to take for granted.
I’m reminded of a story I was recently introduced to — the life story of Charles Plumb, a U.S. Naval Academy graduate who was a jet fighter pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands and spent six years in a communist prison camp. He survived his ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from his experience. It was one of his lessons that a friend shared with me.
Apparently, Plumb and his wife were in a restaurant one evening when a man who had been sitting at another table approached. This man recognized Plumb and knew he had flown jet fighters from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk during the Vietnam War. And, he knew Plumb had been shot down. To Plumb’s surprise, this man served on the same carrier, and Plumb was even more surprised to learn this man had packed his parachute the day he was shot down. With this news they shook hands, and the man exclaimed, “I guess it worked!” Plumb expressed his gratitude, responding, “It sure did. If your chute hadn’t worked, I wouldn’t be here today.”
While that was the end of their exchange, the incident kept Plumb from sleeping that night. He tried to imagine the man in his Navy uniform and wondered how many times he could have seen him in passing without any acknowledgment. Fighter pilots had a tendency to not give much attention to those who were “just sailors,” Plumb said. But now, Plumb said he couldn’t stop thinking about the many hours this sailor had spent “weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn’t know.”
Since this encounter, Plumb started asking his audiences, “Who’s packing your parachute?”
Plumb, of course, wasn’t referring to a physical parachute like the one this sailor had packed for him. In fact, Plumb says he needed many other kinds of parachutes to survive his six-year experience in the hands of his enemies and also mentions his mental, emotional and spiritual parachutes. He reminds everyone to be sure we recognize all the people who pack our parachutes, which prepare us to weather whatever storms lie ahead in our lives.
And by the same token, perhaps we also should be asking ourselves, “How’s our parachute packing?” Our lives interconnect with many people during our lifetimes, and we knowingly, and sometimes unknowingly, make an impact and difference in the lives of the people who cross our paths. Parachute packing is important work, and the job we do could save a life. Sometimes I think we get so caught up in our everyday lives, we forget that we do make a difference, and that what we say and do matters to someone.
Perhaps, too, we have a tendency to focus too much on what is wrong in our lives. After all, we’re trained quite well by the news media, which generally accentuate the negative aspects of life — deaths, disasters, diseases. We probably all have days when we wonder if anything went right in the world. But an excess of the stressing all that’s bad about life can lead to a tendency to take for granted all that’s good. Sometimes we don’t realize what was good until it’s gone. We must not wait until we lose something to place a high value on what we have. We can begin now to appreciate, treasure and nurture all we’ve been blessed with.
I think one of our country’s greatest blessings is the U.S. soldier, who perhaps is best exemplified by the scripture: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:8).
When I think about things I take for granted — my air-conditioned home or clean running water, along with all the other comforts and luxuries my home includes — I can’t help but think about our soldiers serving in Iraq and Afghanistan and other parts of the world. Perhaps we could all give pause every day, not just on days like Memorial Day, and consider what yesterday was like for our soldiers — were they able to sleep; take a shower; have a hot, cooked meal; drink some cold water? We can make certain we don’t take for granted the sacrifices of America’s soldiers and make sure we’re thankful they are willing to be there for us and do whatever is asked of them. And, we can make sure we express our thanks when given the opportunity.
The peopling of the world is surely part of the divine design of Love. We are people who need people, and God has tenderly provided for the meeting of our needs with the gift of one another. May we someday let ourselves love one another; then not only will we never take anyone or anything for granted, but also we will have no basis for hatred or war.
Oct 14, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
Who wouldn’t be willing to give up their bus seat to a pregnant woman, the elderly or handicapped? Or who wouldn’t consider taking advantage of an airline offer of a free ticket to give up their seat on an oversold flight?
A few days ago, we heard the story of the helicopter copilot who unflinchingly gave up his seat to an injured pilot he was rescuing. His Apache helicopter had only two seats, one for himself and one for the pilot. After belting one injured pilot into his seat, he strapped the second injured pilot to the gun mount outside the helicopter on one side and then strapped himself to the other side of the helicopter.
Unflinching — showing a fearless determination in the face of danger or difficulty. One wonders whether this courageous soldier even thought twice about putting his own safety second to a comrade. I think not.
Joining the U.S. military today is totally voluntary. Americans freely choose to enlist for service, knowing the potential risks and sacrifices. So perhaps it should be no surprise that an individual who has made such a choice would also make the voluntary decision to give up his seat, even if it means putting himself in harm’s way.
This warrior’s unblinking and unshrinking willingness to give, in this instance, his seat, is one of the purest examples of volunteerism. His actions could be described by Paul’s words “Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver” (2 Corinthians 9:7). God was surely smiling on this helicopter copilot’s selfless action.
Soldiers’ devotion of care to their comrades reminds me of how Jesus defined what it meant to be a neighbor with the famous parable frequently titled “The Good Samaritan.” A man traveled from Jerusalem to Jericho. Apparently, during his journey he was attacked by thieves who robbed and wounded him, leaving him half-dead on the side of the road. Other travelers saw this poor man on the side of the road and didn’t stop to help him. Then, along came a Samaritan who didn’t hesitate to stop and render aid. The Samaritan cared for his wounded neighbor in the same way soldiers care for not only their comrades but also anyone in need of their assistance. Both are role models for us all.
The story of the Samaritan takes on even greater significance when one understands that the wounded man whom the Samaritan stopped to help was socially and politically his enemy. I guess Jesus was trying to teach us that humanity’s bonds in brotherhood transcend social, racial, sexual, political and religious segmentations that we often adopt in our lives. Compassion is a universal moral code for behavior at all times.
Maybe we will not have the same opportunities as soldiers, firefighters or police officers, who willingly and often heroically give assistance to others. But heroism is about character that includes qualities we would all do well to embody and practice — courage, strength, perseverance, compassion, faith, hope, selflessness, tenderness, patience, willingness, unconditional love.
Heroism is about how we live our lives. Heroes don’t look for glory or praise, nor do they seek recognition for their actions. They expect nothing in return and ask for nothing in return. Heroes live lives of deep commitment, believing in the greater good for all.
Every day we have opportunities to be someone’s hero — to offer assistance, to listen, to help, to care. Perhaps we can all ask ourselves: “Am I willing to give up my seat?”
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
Christmas 1968. We were on a westbound journey. I don’t think we knew what or where our final destination was. Or at least I didn’t. I was ten years old. All I knew was we had left Georgia suddenly, late one evening, to escape my dad, who, I felt was rarely happy and was almost always angry about something.
My parents had divorced after 25 years of marriage, and my dad just couldn’t seem to let go of my mom. She was like a possession that he’d had a long time and didn’t want to loose.
Now he’d begun a “cat-and-mouse” chase that lasted several months. We left everything behind us –most of our clothes, my toys, my dog. All I remember taking along were our ice cream freezer, Bible, and a blue and white paperback book a friend had recently given to my mom, Science and Health.
As we passed through Mobile, Alabama, my dad found us, and we were literally in a car chase, with Mom and me driving very fast and making lots of turns to try to shake him off. We did . . . for a while.
That Christmas found us in a mobile home in Beaumont, Texas. We stayed in mobile-home parks instead of hotels as we traveled west, so as to be more elusive as the chase continued.
There was little to no money to be spent on gifts. But my mom and I were safe – and in several ways we were happy.
Christmas in Beaumont had no glitz or glimmer. There was no family gathering, no holiday feast. We got ourselves a tiny Christmas tree. It was so small I suspect it was like the tree in the cartoon classic “A Charlie Brown Christmas” – the tree nobody wanted. We didn’t have any decorations. Not even a tree stand. So, we found a way to hang the tree from the ceiling. I remember thinking how cool that was. We strung popcorn and made paper strings. This too, I remember, was fun.
What is perhaps most remarkable as I look back on it now, is that my memory of that Christmas is not one of fear and uncertainty, but of peace. It’s almost hard for me to understand how, in the midst of such a violent and unstable time in my life, my memories could be so dear, so special. In fact, I’ve often said that was the best Christmas ever. How could that be true?
Since childhood I had been taught that God loved me. That God is good. That God is everywhere. I had learned the Bible stories of Daniel in the lions’ den and of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego being thrown into the fiery furnace. I think I was confident of God’s care, even though my life was apparently in danger and my future most uncertain and at risk.
My Bible study had begun to involve the Science and Health my mom had been given. It never ceased to amaze me by explaining and putting into words what was somehow already written in my heart. It was filled with powerful affirmations of God’s saving power and helpful explanations of the mission of Jesus. The book assured me that all things were possible to God and that I could never be separated from Him.
Certainly, the Bible teaches these things, but my study of Science and Health clarified many Bible passages for me and convinced me that what I was learning in the Bible was true. If I was ever in doubt, this book would defend the Bible’s claim and strengthen my trust.
I was not a member of a Church of Christ, Scientist. In fact, I had recently been baptized in another denomination. But it was very natural to include Science and Health with my Bible study. It provided extra assurance that I, too, could be as safe as those Bible characters.
“Love is much stronger than hate and
can dispel fear, uncertainty, and doubt”
Two years later, I did join a Church of Christ, Scientist, and have been blessed in more ways that I could ever have imagined during my childhood.
We made our way up to Dallas after that Christmas, where my mom found a job. I found myself in a new school making new friends. We established a new home, and my mom married the friend who had given her that paperback Science and Health. I even got my dog back. My grandmother had rescued him and cared for him.
And what happened to my dad? He ended his chase, went back to Georgia, and began a new life of his own. I never had the opportunity to see him again, as he passed on several months later. But I like to think that, before he passed on, he was as happy as we were in our new life.
Now, I try to take a few moments every holiday season to remember the Christmas of 1968. Our modest celebration taught me that peace and hope can be felt in the midst of threats of violence; that joy is not dependent on money and circumstances; that love is much stronger than hate and can dispel fear, uncertainty, and doubt.
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
“I love you this much!” our daughter would say, smiling and stretching her little arms as far apart as she could. And she would ask us to say how much we loved her while we held out our arms and included as many quantifying phrases as we could think of — such as, I love you … more than the number of stars you can count in the sky, or I love you … more than all the people in the world. Oh, how she would giggle with delight at this news!
I guess I’m a bit like my daughter, who is now grown up and married. I can’t help but tell my husband how much I love him, and I love for him to tell me the same. So, there are those times when I ask, “How much do you love me?” And he responds with answers similar to those we used to tell our baby girl.
Recently, after I asked him my “How much do you love me?” question, he sweetly answered and then asked, “But is there a measure for love?” A good question. A profound question, the more I thought about it.
Pondering if it’s possible to measure love, I can’t help but think of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways … .” Her beautiful love sonnet includes such sentiments as “I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach” and “I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life!” I must admit, to hear such statements of “quantity” would certainly make me feel really loved.
Perhaps it’s not possible or necessary to measure one’s love for another, because our love truly is more than mere words could ever express. And I know the old saying often holds true, “Actions speak louder than words.” But I still want and long for the words, too. Maybe that explains my passion for romantic songs, books, movies and greeting cards.
Consider how weddings almost always include a love song. Couples choose a song or songs that express their feelings for each other. Such romantic ballads have existed for thousands of years and have been found in most cultures. Songwriter and producer Robin Frederick wrote, “The earliest love songs sound so contemporary, so honest, so urgent, they might have been written yesterday. They are proof that human emotions have not changed. When we fall in love today, we feel what men and women felt in centuries past: desire, joy, disappointment, yearning, fulfillment.”
It seems we’ve always loved to tell our beloveds how much we love them, and we cherish having the same sentiments expressed back to us. “An anthropologist once asked a Hopi why so many of his people’s songs were about rain. The Hopi replied, ‘Because water is so scarce. Is that why so many of your songs are about love?'” (“Gila: Life & Death of an American River” by Gregory McNamee)
My answer to this Hopi would have been a resounding “Hardly!”
The American culture’s interest and passion for love is anything but scarce. We may not always have our actions coincide with our desires, but we are in love with love nonetheless. Love is the theme of many of our songs because we long to soothe and inspire our soul with love lyrics. We love hearing about longing for love, finding love, wishing we could find love, as well as when we have found it and want more of it. And yes, we also love lyrics that paint a less rosy picture, expressing our many fears and insecurities about love — losing it or never having found it.
But the Hopi was correct in that many of our songs are indeed about love. In fact, over half of the most popular songs written in America throughout the decades have been, and still are today, on the subject of love.
The subject of many of Jesus’ teachings were on love — love for God and from God, love for our neighbor, and even love for our enemies. Jesus also warned us against the wrong kinds of love — praying aloud because we love to be seen and heard and disproportionate love of our material treasures. His teachings established the basis for how we can measure our love for God by our love for one another.
Paul’s famous words on the extent and reach of God’s love for us is perhaps my very favorite Bible verse: “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God … ” (Romans 8:38-39).
Wow! Those words surely quantify the love of God for us as infinite and eternal and sure make me feel very much loved. So, maybe words fail to fully give a measure of love, but that’s no reason to stop trying to express our love — not only in our actions but, yes, also in our words.
