More or Less Precisely

 

(Anika Sage Phillips)

More or Less Precisely

for caring health workers and my beloved granddaughter Anika

(“All of God’s promises have their yes in him. That is why we say Amen through him to the glory of God.” 2 Corinthians 1:20)

I walked into the room and sat down in the maroon lounger
ready for my quarterly cocktail of headache juice.
Something in my brain broke 4,470 days ago
(more or less precisely)
and now I visit the infusion bar for another
in a long chain of failed remedies. The pain
in my head
runs in front of me most days,
digging a rut, a labyrinth
of loneliness…
most days.

I am the new one at this bar where most
are infused with healing poison
to kill the rebel cells that turned traitor
on the cancer patients’ bodies. They visit monthly,
sometimes weekly and call the barkeeps by name.

Me, I’m only here for a headache, and it has been 90 days
since I drank from the newest elixir claimed
to turn my brain around.

One of the angels set my table:
a bottle of water,
a package of trail mix,
blood pressure slightly high,
and a polished steel frame that will hold
the long pour that will keep me there a
half hour or more.
I have never had such attentive mixologists before.
Another angel sticks my arm with a pin
and leaves it there waiting for my cocktail to begin.
Then the third hangs my hope on the frame,
a premix in a plastic bag flowing from above me
into my veins.

I should add (for the reader some years from now)
we are living and breathing in a pandemic, and
I am not the only one isolated these days. The angels,
they all wear masks, as do their patrons, to stop the spread,
and get ahead of this virus that outsmarted most of us.

I could not see the angels smile; they could not see my crooked teeth,
but I watched their eyes sparkle and the third one had curls that
bounced slightly when she talked:

“How long?” she asked. It is what everyone asks. And I tell
her I am starting a baker’s dozen of years now. Her brow furrowed,
her breath suspended like a dream that lasts moments but
is filled with twists and plots and a-list faces you never remember.

“13 years?” she asked. It is what I wonder too. And I tell her
“yes”
while I recount my work history, my retirement, my fear of displacement,
and my desire to visit Ireland someday. And then I say

“But I did take a trip last year.”

II.

And recount my fortnight with the sunshine of my life,
my Anika, my beloved granddaughter, my bubbles, my
too soon growing up girl in the north country, to help
her mom and dad

Go to Asia.

We dropped the parents at the airport, Minneapolis, 15 above.
I borrowed my son’s coat and boots and thick socks and gloves.
We drove back home to plan our 14-day adventure.

We would eat sushi and pizza,
Papa would cook once or twice,
we would eat ice cream and noodles.
Ani would take me to see the sights
on long adventures in the basement with
flashlights, laundry baskets and Hamilton
on the playlist.
We got snowed in on the weekend, a Mid-March
blizzard caught us by surprise.

But, to the third angel I said:

My ten-year old Ani, my smart and sweet one,
took dance lessons downtown and I stayed while
she and her friends practiced in cohorts. There
were arms and legs becoming machines,
twirling hair and flowers made of magical things.

And then it was time
to show what they had rehearsed. Each
troupe in the studio performed for us; whirled
and turned, interpreted the score for us.
I sat in a chair, Ani sat on the floor with
a dozen dance mates.

But two, maybe three performances in she
looked back and up at me, noticed a chair next to me
and slid away from her friends to join Papa for
a while. Of course I smiled.

But then, one of those moments where time and the divine
meet in such warmth that the space between now and then
becomes so thin there is little difference;
in that moment she laid her head on my shoulder and
I don’t mind telling you,
my pain became amnesia. Oh, and she may not
have noticed,
but Papa cried tears that day,
and is tearing up now just telling you about it.

III.

While I was speaking, angels one and two
joined the third angel listening to my story.
I had finished my draught some time ago
and I wished they could make it a double.

I am not nearly so talkative most days,
but today was one of those yes days,
an amen day,
a day when the angels would not depart until

I finished telling my story.

Promises

Promises

“Immediately a rooster crowed a second time. Then Peter remembered what Jesus had said to him: 'Before a rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.' And he broke down and wept.'” Mark 14:72

Has someone ever made a promise to you and then failed to follow up? Maybe the someone said they would mow your lawn on Tuesday, and by Wednesday, not only was your lawn still a scraggly mess, you hadn't heard from the person at all. Or you make plans with your best friend to go out of town for the day, and they call you minutes before you've scheduled to leave saying, they have "made other plans."

I know as a pastor I dealt with this many times. People would jump into a ministry; youth, driving the bus, leading worship, and, without more than a week's warning, would decide they weren't going to do it anymore. Here's the thing; most people think their reasons for "quitting" are valid. They found something they like to do better. They don't like the way the ministry is run. They need more family time. It was more of a commitment than they expected.

Granted, some gracefully exit by giving plenty of notice so other arrangements can be made. Our friend who cancelled the day trip at the last moment would have gained more respect had she discussed the matter a couple of days earlier.

We have all been on the receiving end of broken promises. And, if we are honest, we have not always dealt with our own commitments well. We dive in, discover the situation wasn't all we expected, and we find reasons to back out of it.

For me, the most difficult broken promises are the ones that are volunteered. "I'm with you 100%", says one person, when you haven't asked them for their support. Yet, when they know you are in a desperate situation, you don't hear from them. "We will have date night every week." Then the husband or wife forgets the promise, finds reasons to let it go a week or two, or it simply fizzles into emptiness because of the inertia of their everyday lives. "Hey, we'll be glad to run that ministry. Leave it to us. You don't need to worry about a thing." Then suddenly one week they are telling the church they found somewhere else to fellowship, taking the help they promised out the door with them.

Not all broken promises are quite so stark. Sometimes people are "promisers" by nature. They truly do want to help, but haven't thought through the time and energy required. Other times we are careless. We throw out phrases of support like "I've got your back", and forget it is an actual verbal contract with someone.

Peter was a bit like that. As Jesus neared His crucifixion, He told the disciples that they would all "fall away", quoting the prophet Zechariah: "I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered."

Peter, the "gotta do something" guy, popped right up and said, "Even if they all fall away, I will not!" Jesus, sadly I think, say that this very night, Peter will deny Him three times. Peter doubles down. "Even if I must die with you, I will never deny you!" All the other disciples chimed in.

I think Peter meant it. First of all, I don't think any of the disciples had any notion that Jesus was going to die within the next 36 hours, let alone be cruelly crucified by the Romans after a mock trial by the Jewish religious leaders.

But hours later, after Jesus has been taken away by soldiers, Peter sits outside the proceedings hanging around the courtyard. In the space of just a few hours he is asked three times if he was one of those who were with "that Nazarene, Jesus." And three times he denies it, "I don't even know what you're talking about."

After hearing the rooster crow the second time, as Jesus had predicted, Peter broke down and wept. His broken promise pierced his heart.

Peter actually had gone farther than the other disciples. Besides John, he's the only one that even follows Jesus to the trial. But then it gets scary. He is a man separated from Jesus, the person who had given him a new identity, a new chance in life, a new outlook on God and the world. And that man was in the hands of people trying to execute him.

Suddenly, Jesus no longer inspired him. Maybe Peter was even a bit disappointed by Jesus. His hopes were crumbling before his eyes. If they were going to do such things to Jesus, the one who healed the sick, fed thousands with a meager supply and stilled the storm, what would they do to his followers?  Peter had good reason to be frightened.

He wept bitterly. He didn't live up to his own proclamation about himself. "I'll never..." And within hours he was doing the very thing he swore he would never do. But Peter's humanity prevents him from excusing himself. His bitter weeping speaks of both his love for Jesus and a new awareness of how easy it is to make rash promises that we break without thinking.

I'm not suggesting you or I need to weep bitterly over every broken promise. But I do believe we need to take them seriously. Think this way; "What hurt may have come to someone else's heart because I did not do what I said?" And then do something about it if you can.

Remember, Jesus is not here to upbraid and scold you. So, there is no reason to hide your weakness, and we never grow if we try to excuse them. When the women come to the tomb after Jesus has risen, the angel has a special message for them: "But go, tell his disciples, even Peter, that he is going ahead of you into Galilee. You will see him there."

So, even if you have broken a promise to Jesus, He still wants you on His team. Not only that, you still have a huge role to play. On the Day of Pentecost, Peter preached to the very people he was afraid of 40 days earlier, and over 3,000 people were added to the church.

Be careful with your promises. When you break one, make it right. And remember, nothing can disqualify you from the love of Christ.

Fulfilling our Duty

Fulfilling our Duty

“The master of that slave will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour that he does not know.” Matthew 24:50

This morning I stopped at Starbucks to get a latte and a croissant for breakfast. The server asked if I would like the croissant heated, and I said “Yes, but could you heat it just a bit less than normal?” Mine was a chocolate croissant, and I did not want the chocolate completely melted. She said she was happy to do that. She told one of her fellow workers that she would take care of the croissant because of the special heating instructions.

I found that a bit odd. I figured she would set the microwave for only 20 seconds rather than 25, for instance. Instead, they depend on a buzzer that goes off at the right time for each pastry. She had to keep her eye on the microwave and turn it off when she said it was the right time. My “special order” actually meant she had to do something out of the norm. But, she did it all with a cheery outlook and a smile.

For my order to be correct, she had to keep her eye on the microwave. Jesus has given every believer “special orders”. We could list a few of the obvious: to love God with all our being, to love our neighbors as much as ourselves, to share the Good News, to be faithful to attending worship, and so one. In Matthew 24, Jesus outlines one order that must take place or we might miss the opportunity to complete the others.

Jesus tells his disciples that He, the “Son of Man” will return and “will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.” (verse 31). He goes on to tell them that no one can predict when He will return, “neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” (verse 36).

Let’s think about those two truths. 1. Jesus promises to return to earth sometime after His resurrection. He will gather His followers to Himself at that time. 2. Nobody but Father-God knows when that will happen. NOBODY!

I was manager of a clothing store called Pants for Less. When my afternoon employees came in to work, I often took my lunch break and then did errands for the store. I might make a bank deposit, pick up supplies, or even visit one of the other stores in the area to talk strategy with their manager. So I would tell my employee, “I’m headed out for a while. I’ll be gone anywhere from two to four hours. There is a list of things you can take care of around the store. Customers are first, of course. If you run out of things, find something that needs to be done.”

It made me happy and proud when I came back to the store and found that employee dusting bins, putting up a new display, pricing items, or any of a number of things that could be done. I would often compliment them on how good the store looked and how much it meant that I found them working when I returned.

But, those few times when I found my employee behind the counter reading a book or talking to a friend on the phone, I would be a bit discouraged. Not only were they not tending to the store, they hadn’t even finished the list I had given them.

Jesus told us to “be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” Can you imagine God’s joy when His people are in His house every Sunday without excuse? And, He is even more thrilled when we bring a neighbor to whom we have shown Jesus’ love. We have all been given “jobs” in the Body of Christ. And, in each individual church, we are called to fulfill certain duties.

One of the most discouraging things for a pastor is having to encourage people to be more faithful to attend church. But, the greatest discouragement is when many who miss that great time of worship are people who have known Jesus long enough to be teaching others themselves. We have been asked by Jesus; no, commanded, to take the Good News to the ends of the earth. How sad if, when He returned, He had to ask, “Why weren’t you at work for my kingdom?”

What would happen if we all, expecting Jesus to return at any time, said, “I am going to fulfill the duties Jesus has asked me to do?” The church needs revival. God’s people need a new awakening. We need, not just to be reminded to “go to church”, but to “be the church.” Who will stand up and take their place, the place Jesus has asked you to take? Imagine Jesus returning, seeing your local fellowship alive and abuzz with the Holy Spirit’s fire, with each member in their place; imagine Him saying, “Well done, even though I came at an unexpected hour, you were busy fulfilling My will!”

On His Way

"On His Way"

Genesis 32:1 says, "Jacob went on his way, and the angels of God met him." Poor guy. He had been employed by Laban, his father-in-law, for twenty years. During his first year, he fell in love with Laban's daughter Rachel. Laban says Jacob can marry Rachel if he works for him another seven years. So Jacob does. He shows up on time, does his work, even going beyond what Jacob desired, and finally, seven years later, It is time to marry his beloved.

"I Promised"

“I Promised”
(for Bob and Virginia)

Look how long he carries her, see how drawn
his face is.
She does not eat, she will not sip the water
coagulated so it will not slip down her throat
left helpless by the massive stroke.

Look how he longs for her, see how far
the words fly.
He cannot speak, he will not give in to the
mocking swarms of angry words that slip dribbling
not from his heart but from his throat.

“I promised God I would care for her,
I promised Him in sickness and health.
I promised God, I know He heard me,
I promised Him, where is His promised help?”

Catching the late afternoon shadows that leave
sharp silhouettes against the pale green siding,
he pushes her wheelchair (it is no burden;
she is a tiny bird in a nest). He pushes her wheelchair
to the deck facing south; their favorite place
forever. Over half their lives, nearly half a century,
they have watched the highway from gravel to asphalt.

He pushes her to the second pew from the back,
her chair fits neatly in the aisle; and they hold hands
from announcements to benediction. She is greeted so
sweetly by the circle of hands that touch hers, touch his;
their tears wet the fingers of each laying on of hands.

Look how long He carries them; see how He watches
their rising and sitting. Do you notice how He slows
His own pace to meet their shuffling gait?

No one pens their ending or beginning,
no one chooses the timing either way.
I am sure he would write
her and his final silence
at just the right time,
at just the same time, asleep
to awaken
hand-in-hand beyond the river
in the New Land neither rushed or lagging.

They hear the Voice they know kept them waiting,
and hear His “well-done” like a trumpet call of dawn.

I Wish I Could Blame

I Wish I Could Blame

(“My friends, God has made us these promises. So we should stay away from everything that keeps our bodies and spirits from being clean. We should honor God and try to be completely like him.” 2 Corinthians 7:1)

I would rather be battered by the Holy Spirit’s wings than
massaged into oblivion by a stranger’s strong hands. When
tight and twisted within, thoughts rebound so often they seem
multiplied, beginning with one or some and leaving me full of them.

I wish I could blame my enemies; the ones that murmured so often
behind my back they started a fire in the alley where they met to discuss
the continuing saga of their disgust of me. We all saw the smoke-signal,
the tower of gray rising west of main street above old two-story buildings;
the kind where the owner lives upstairs and sells his wares down.

I wish I could blame authorities who handcuffed me with letters signed
from the tiny minds who, after meeting, put it all to a vote, and sent it
to the Controller. They donned their pretty disguises, (helpful words,
integral wigs, and the monotone of those who hide anger and abhorrence),
and led us in their jury room, asking our intentions. “Where are you going
next?” they squeezed the words like butter. “Let us know, and we will help
you there.”

Just days later the phone rang four times in a day; one place we were going
(we made other plans); another (oops, we found a man under the table) and
3 and 4 (we’ve closed the door we said was completely open). And so,
the disguised dignitaries cut off every road we might take to rediscover
hope. I believe there exists a file with 20 or 30 letters loving us,
yet there effect was the same as spitting into a hurricane.

I wish I could blame the dishonesty, the policies, that left me hanging,
and placed me in momentary darkness in hopes I could die with
no one mourning.

And if enemies or dignitaries ever read this in its entirety, they would miss
its meaning entirely. I am black, they are white and why would the failure whine
over the actions of the godly and fine.

I wish I could blame, but Christ will not let me. I wish I could document
these headaches, started after the final blow and unending. I wish I could
make them see their policy is a deathblow and far from helpful.

I wish I could blame, but the Father calls me to healing. (He does not need
to convince me of my wrong, long, long, long moments are full and complete
of marksmanship so panicked the target is clean.)

In spite of the promises, (disguises), in spite of the offers ($10/hour),
in spite of the book with two endings (old statements in new places),
I know now the pleasure of the Father. I am gray as ash, never white,
and write to speak, and speak to scream, and scream to be heard,
and heard to be noticed, and noticed to be understood, and understood
to be human

Again.

And so, by the perfect promises never withdrawn by the Holy God,
Three-in-One, I cannot blame, but purify my name for the glory of

the Father who showered me clean before I knew it.

Tenants of Planet Earth

“You, Lord, are my God! I will praise you for doing the wonderful things you had planned and promised since ancient times.” Isaiah 25:1

Patti and I rented a number of apartments and houses before we bought our first place to live. What a difference it makes to actually own the floors you walk on. Even though we were no responsible for all the upkeep, there was less worry about how the landlord would see things.

Inner Comfort

“Now let Your unfailing love be my comfort, in keeping with Your promise to Your servant.” Psalm 119:76

It is so easy to buy into the myth of self-reliance. Perhaps it helps to think back upon the day of our birth. You know, the moment in time when we decided to emerge on this planet. We had enough of those dark days surrounded by murky liquid all alone. So, without any help from the outside, we made our appearance. Within a few quick breaths we hit the floor, started walking, and began our first full-time job within the week.

The Art of Patience

“And so, after waiting patiently, Abraham obtained the promise.” Hebrews 6:15

I am not one of those who gripe about how terrible “this generation” is. You will rarely hear me grouse about today’s society and pine for the good old days. I am not unaware of the deep ungodliness of our own times, but, any student of history will be quick to acknowledge that all eras have had their atrocities.

An Unchanging Promise

(“This is exactly what Christ promised: eternal life, real life!” 1 John 2:25 [The Message])

Anyone can make a promise. There are promises of health if you just drink someone’s juice product. You can lose 50 pounds in 2 days if you use the most recent weight-loss gimmick. Men and women promise to live together as husband and wife, “forsaking all others”. Friends graduate from High School, and, before moving off to college promise to make sure they will stay in touch.