Your worth, my Dear, is Incalculable

This is a poem for my daughter, really any one of the three of them, and my son, but inspired by that time a daughter doubted her worth.

It starts out imagining that first race she won — the X chromosome sperm that beat all the other X and Y chromosome sperm in that infinitesimal race.

She is one in ten-million already, as every human being is:

~

You my dear won the race,

you did it my dear; your sweet face,

your first challenge was to beat the rest,

that’s why, my dear, you are already the best!

When we first discovered that you were on your way,

our excitement, truly indeed, we could not keep at bay, 

ever since then, you’ve been our impassioned choice,

and there’s nothing better now than to hear your bubbly voice.

Your life for us, every day of it, has always been good news,

even though we understand not all of it you would choose,

and even if we tell you, again and again and again,

we understand just why you find this life’s a drain.

Yet having said all that, please don’t be unaware,

that we still wish to shower you with all our loving care, 

without despairing despondency take life a day at a time,

it’s the only way through a life you must hope to climb.

The older we get, the more we cannot fail to see,

how verily enriched, because of you, our lives have come to be, 

so please always consider that whenever you doubt your worth,

we’ve thanked God Almighty ever since the hour of your birth.

Finally, above all, when all is said and done,

our chief hope for you is that you can say you’ve won, 

and as you look back one day, upon these hard days of pain,

our hope for you is that you’ll feel the sunshine after all the rain.

Image by Alex Bello on Unsplash.

Under Constant Observation

There I was, waiting for the hearse to arrive, and though it was a beautifully cool summer’s day, God reminded me, through the finality of death, that I’m under constant observation.

We are never fully our own. Ever. Though life tempts us with the thought, our control is ours, it isn’t.

Then I read Psalm 139. Read it right here. If we read this psalm and get any idea other than we’re under constant observation, we’re probably missing something. Sure, we have the assurance of God’s radiant Presence in our lives, and we’re never beyond his care, and he that knows me knows me with an incomprehensible knowing. In other words, with more of a knowing than I can be aware of.

All of that.

But there is more.

Nothing we do, and nothing that is done to us, escapes his notice or knowledge. Nothing.

Everything we previously thought was secret will be shown in the light. Every justice and injustice we do in secret is done in the full vision of the One who sees everything. Every little and good deed he notices.

Why then would we pretend that we’re getting away with anything when we’re not so good. This may not be very encouraging to you, but at least it’s the truth. There are unknowable dimensions all about us in this spiritual of spiritual lives.

The Christian’s theology might as well be believed, for it has not only grown into the world’s religion, it protects us from an unconscionable outcome — that God might judge us severely and damn us to hell for the dark secrets we hold and the travesties we’re performed. Thank God for the cross of Christ!

When I’m reminded that I’m under constant observation I’m thankful. This is because I’m given important information about the potency of the moment; that I might ‘show off’ a little before the Almighty — that translates into not letting my left hand know what my right hand is doing (see Matthew 6:3-4), which are the best of secrets saved only for God’s knowledge. To conceal a good deed from humanity.

In doing secret things that are holy, especially prayers, I’m shown the eternality of God’s Presence, and by eternality, I mean how God is absolutely and cosmologically ever-present at all times in all ways, always!

Death is a reminder of this indelible truth:
we come into the world,
and, then just like that,
we leave the world.

That is a tremendous thought that ought to wake us immediately from our spiritual slumber.

The fact that the world was here, and as far as we’re concerned, always was, and the fact that the world will be, and as far as we’re concerned, always will be, and yet we’re here for just a finite time, suggests there is something bigger than us overseeing it all, overseeing us all.

The idea that I can look at a tree or a beach or even a street or a building and see that they were here before me and will be here after me makes me feel appropriately small.

The fact of my death reminds me that I must trust it.

Death is the invitation to learn how
to surrender before that act is demanded of us.

Death teaches us profound wisdom
if only we will avail ourselves of its lessons.

Death has its purpose in reminding us that we’re not God. Death is instructive. And though there is no sense in fearing death, this fear too is something also of an invitation to overcome.

Most of all, death teaches us
that we’re under constant cosmological observation.

The certainty of death teaches us
that everything we ever did or didn’t do has significance,
for every human being is aware
of the possibility of judgement.

Why then do we live pretending that life doesn’t matter?

Image: The Helix Nebula Courtesy NASA/JPL-Caltech

The Benefit in Being Faithful

Spending time with friends is one of the best things about enjoying life. Recently, while we were with friends over the holiday period, I was given a vision about faithfulness.

I was shown just how powerfully good an encouraging time of connection with people can be.

I was shown how much soul-abundance experiences of friendship give; how fundamentally impactful a seriously good investment of time with other people is.

And I was shown how humanness is epitomised in such dynamics of connection that build remarkable intimacy, bearing the hallmarks of the safety of a ubiquitous trust.

In a word, faithfulness. The perfection possible as a state of relationship.

The best thing about faithfulness is it’s easy enough to do. But it does take consistent trustworthy behaviour over time.

Faithfulness is consistent trustworthiness. And better than that even is the halcyon feature of faithfulness that achieves the pinnacle of intimacy when conflict has been negotiated.

But that requires HUMILITY — and none of us ever master that! Humility enough to believe in the bigness of relationship over the smallness of the issues that would divide us.

If relationship faithfulness were the ascent of Everest, without conflict the relationship is just reaching base camp. But when a relationship survives conflict and faithfulness is intact, the peak is in sight. At the summit, the relationship has survived the potential perils of conflict, and faithful cooperation will get the relationship down the mountain to oxygenated safety.

Although all human relationships bear within them the constant possibility of moral failure, faithfulness doesn’t end when moral failure impinges to the point of hurt or even betrayal. Within relationships is the redemptive quality and capability of restoration after things have been broken.

Here are some ways where faithfulness is necessary if we’re to live the God-willed life well:

There’s faithfulness to God. No secret thing we do is unknown to God. God knows. Read Psalm 139 anytime lately? Faithfulness to God isn’t about being perfect and blameless. It’s about being honest.

Yes, that’s right, it’s how faithfulness is manifest — through confessing and repenting of deeds where we haven’t been faithful. God is faithful and just and forgives our transgressions and we’re cleansed of our unrighteousness as much as we acknowledge our fault (1 John 1:9). Faithfulness in our relationship with God is achieved when we’re honest about our unfaithfulness.

There’s faithfulness to others. Within relationships that last, for instance, within marriages or best-friend relationships, there is the characterisation of trustworthiness, which doesn’t preclude failure.

Faithfulness in relationships with others is much more about negotiating conflict successfully than having no conflict at all, especially where we might be tempted to avoid conflict.

This requires humility in both as each person ideally owns their contribution to conflict where it occurs.

Relationship perfection occurs, paradoxically, through bilateral confession of individual imperfections.

Determined diligence beats charismatic feats.

Quiet achievement meets, and faithfulness completes.

Relationships mature when both sides own their respective fault.

Perhaps the greatest achievement of any human relationship is its capacity for restoring what was previously damaged; trust and intimacy and faithfulness can ultimately grow through conflict.

There’s faithfulness to ourselves. Let’s talk about the fruit of self-control. How many Christians sin against their own bodies. I’ve been a typical Western-cultured binge-eater. It’s taken me many years to realise I can’t get away with being unfaithful to my body and to recognise what I need to faithfully do. There are myriads of examples where we’re challenged to be faithful stewards of ourselves.

Again, faithfulness is not particularly difficult; it’s tortoise-beating-hare consistency over time. Reliability beats charisma. Quiet achievement beats impressive feats.

There are some who cannot be faithful. Narcissists for one. Faithfulness, therefore, is the one reliable vital sign check on character. A faithful person, a person committed to self-honest reflection and regular repentance, overall is a safe person to be in relationship with.

Photo by Lukas Robertson on Unsplash

A Funeral Prayer

This is a widow’s prayer. I recited it for her at her husband’s funeral:

God, give us strength to hold on and strength to let go,
courage to go forward and courage to look back.
Thank you for the joy of memories that are held in the heart,
that bring loved ones alive although we’re apart.
AMEN.

Her prayer, with a couple of minor changes, is shared here with her permission.

This prayer reflects the paradox that exists especially in loss; that strength and courage are available, albeit in burgeoning, threatening, paralysing weakness and fear; both are possible in two spacial ways.

Wisdom, compassion and humility give us strength to hold on when our world is falling apart. But there is also equivalent and relevant strength in letting go. It takes strength to let go; the strength of faith. Yet, it takes strength to hold on. Both dimensions of strength work in unison and are mutually inclusive. One without the other exacerbates grief.

Likewise, courage is required in letting go of our loved one’s physical presence; we do this — though we must, because there’s no choice — to move forward. Just the same is true about looking back when it seems easier to deny our pain. Don’t deny your pain. Both dimensions of courage, like strength, work in unison, one complementing the other.

Engines work because their pistons go back and forth. The downward stroke and the upward stroke are equally important; the engine cannot work without them both. Whether it is holding on or letting go, moving forward or looking back, accepting the past or hoping for future, one cannot exist without the other.

Blessed is the capacity to move forward and to look back, to have no regret for past nor anxiety for future; for God to give affirmation to such a prayer, by his equipping, must surely be the greatest of all needs satisfied in grief.

This prayer also holds aloft the sanctity of our memories — those very real possessions we have that are held surely and securely in our heart by our mind. Memories that cannot be erased do surely bring the people we miss alive even though we’re cosmically apart.

If our memories remain intact, possession of our loved ones cannot be taken away. They just become spiritual possessions rather than physical ones.

Acknowledgement for the first line to Leunig.

Photo by Bobby Rodriguezz on Unsplash