Hello Friends –
It’s Christmas Eve at the Farm on Willow Road. My father, Jocelyn and I are sitting by the warmth of the fire after our round of the day’s visiting. Jim Laramie dropped by earlier with his now signature gift of hand-crafted toffee. Its richness is the source of superlative conversation even weeks after the box has been emptied. Marilyn Gordon’s homemade pretzels had made an earlier appearance; and we are yet again swamped with the kind holiday offerings of friends and neighbors alike. Despite the possibility of a hazardous morning’s drive down to Dayton tomorrow, I look forward to being with Jocelyn’s family and their Christmas afternoon tradition of fried egg sandwiches and trash-talking games of Trivial Pursuit.
I took a break from preparing the smoked turkey that my sister had sent from Colorado and stepped outside to take in the warming air that was settling over the fields. I felt the cool of the evening on my face; and in the waning daylight, I surveyed the green shoots of winter wheat poking through the blanket of snow. As I stood there, taking in the sublime weight of the moment, the echoes of an old Hebrew refrain rang again in my mind as it had for days: “Thus far the LORD has helped us.” I’m not sure if the words came from the fatigue of Christmas preparations finally completed or from today’s conversations with three good friends.
The first was with David, who was looking forward to buying a few more last-minute Christmas gifts for his son. This was an especial indulgence because it had been a year and a day since he and his wife, Dana, got the devastating news that her pregnancy would be difficult and perhaps life-threatening. We gathered that night in prayer to encourage and steel them for the hard decisions that would follow; and in spite of the counsel by some of their physicians to terminate the pregnancy, Dana gave birth to Christian David in February, some three months premature.
What followed was nine-months of the ebb and flow of medical procedures, wait-and-see prognoses, and several brushes with utter despair as their boy fought for life. But through it all, even when their prayers were offered through tears of frustration, the conviction of Christian’s ultimate homecoming remained. That promise was fulfilled when they brought him home just before Thanksgiving, and according to his dad, he’s making great strides. But I heard quite a different man in David as we talked today – a man leaning far more on God for the ultimate healing of his son than on anything medical science can offer. And in our conversation, the assurance of the outcome was clear even when the path remains unclear: Thus far, the LORD has helped us.
Another conversation was with my friend Jaya, who for twenty years has spearheaded an orphanage and several other helping initiatives in India. Not long after our visit with him in November, we found out via the BBC that longtime tensions to carve Jaya’s home province into two separate states had finally exploded into violent street demonstrations and civil unrest. The strife required a government suspension of all transportation and commerce in the province; and to make matters worse, opponents of Jaya’s work were taking advantage of the chaos to level false accusations of wrongdoing against him and sparked a near riot outside the gates of his orphanage.
After nearly a week of the government lock-down, I heard a weary, but reassuring voice over the phone this morning. There was peace in the streets and supplies were flowing again into Grace Children’s Home and the 225+ orphans there. “Things are better here by the grace of God, but please continue to pray for us.” Through my tears of relief, I was again reminded: Thus far, the LORD has helped us.
The last call of the day was from friends of mine who have joined the many who have been forced to follow opportunity outside Michigan. David and Stephanie walked with dignity and faith through a year of unemployment before an offer in Georgia presented itself in late June. As David and I celebrated and went shopping for business suits and loaded up his car for the long drive down, we remembered (with embarrassing fondness) his long hours preparing for countless interviews and our regular “talks down from the ledge” when one prospect after another vanished.
David and Stephanie, like many others, feel the mixed emotions of relief and sadness as they make a new life in a new place. But their family is strong, with their son David Nathan acclimating well and a yet-to-be-named daughter on the way. With faith not in the future, but in the God who orders that future, their whole lives are a testament: Thus far, the LORD has helped us.
That affirmation – sometimes spoken with confidence, other times whispered in quiet desperation – echoes from an Old Testament story of God’s power and faithfulness over threats of Israel’s national extinction. After their enemies had been swept aside by a voice of heavenly thunder, the priest Samuel set up a stone of remembrance and called it Ebenezer, or “the stone of God-sent help”. Generations would cling to the promise of that raised stone. That even in their deepest despair, God could and would intervene. That injustice would be ultimately conquered and the head bowed in shame could be lifted again to wholeness.
But God did not stop there. As if to show the extravagance of his love, God enfleshed the promise of that raised stone and entrusted that flesh with deity. Deity that invaded, spoke into, and overcame life’s tragedies. He died to save us from the greatest tragedy of eternal separation from ultimate Good. And he lives to co-conspire with us to mend broken relationships, feed the hungry, offer hope to those who have lost their way and to make wrong things right again.
His name was – and is – Jesus. Every December, sometimes without even knowing his name, the world’s citizens in their Christmas celebrations set up an Ebenezer stone in their hearts as a hopeful reminder of Love’s nearness. And despite the crush of economism, cynicism, and the conflicted image that we supposed Christ followers portray, the persistent rhythm of Love. Quietly. Remains.
In the end, my friends cling not to a stone when life’s danger threatens to overtake them. They cling to the promise of that stone enfleshed and alive. They cling to the promise of a hurting world ultimately made right again and everything that is unclear and unknown – even the uncertainty of their pain – to be drawn into lasting and final clarity.
I give God thanks for all that you do, and wish you all the best for Christmas.
Christmas Greetings from the Farm
Hello Friends –
It’s Christmas Eve at the Farm on Willow Road. My father, Jocelyn and I are sitting by the warmth of the fire after our round of the day’s visiting. Jim Laramie dropped by earlier with his now signature gift of hand-crafted toffee. Its richness is the source of superlative conversation even weeks after the box has been emptied. Marilyn Gordon’s homemade pretzels had made an earlier appearance; and we are yet again swamped with the kind holiday offerings of friends and neighbors alike. Despite the possibility of a hazardous morning’s drive down to Dayton tomorrow, I look forward to being with Jocelyn’s family and their Christmas afternoon tradition of fried egg sandwiches and trash-talking games of Trivial Pursuit.
I took a break from preparing the smoked turkey that my sister had sent from Colorado and stepped outside to take in the warming air that was settling over the fields. I felt the cool of the evening on my face; and in the waning daylight, I surveyed the green shoots of winter wheat poking through the blanket of snow. As I stood there, taking in the sublime weight of the moment, the echoes of an old Hebrew refrain rang again in my mind as it had for days: “Thus far the LORD has helped us.” I’m not sure if the words came from the fatigue of Christmas preparations finally completed or from today’s conversations with three good friends.
The first was with David, who was looking forward to buying a few more last-minute Christmas gifts for his son. This was an especial indulgence because it had been a year and a day since he and his wife, Dana, got the devastating news that her pregnancy would be difficult and perhaps life-threatening. We gathered that night in prayer to encourage and steel them for the hard decisions that would follow; and in spite of the counsel by some of their physicians to terminate the pregnancy, Dana gave birth to Christian David in February, some three months premature.
What followed was nine-months of the ebb and flow of medical procedures, wait-and-see prognoses, and several brushes with utter despair as their boy fought for life. But through it all, even when their prayers were offered through tears of frustration, the conviction of Christian’s ultimate homecoming remained. That promise was fulfilled when they brought him home just before Thanksgiving, and according to his dad, he’s making great strides. But I heard quite a different man in David as we talked today – a man leaning far more on God for the ultimate healing of his son than on anything medical science can offer. And in our conversation, the assurance of the outcome was clear even when the path remains unclear: Thus far, the LORD has helped us.
Another conversation was with my friend Jaya, who for twenty years has spearheaded an orphanage and several other helping initiatives in India. Not long after our visit with him in November, we found out via the BBC that longtime tensions to carve Jaya’s home province into two separate states had finally exploded into violent street demonstrations and civil unrest. The strife required a government suspension of all transportation and commerce in the province; and to make matters worse, opponents of Jaya’s work were taking advantage of the chaos to level false accusations of wrongdoing against him and sparked a near riot outside the gates of his orphanage.
After nearly a week of the government lock-down, I heard a weary, but reassuring voice over the phone this morning. There was peace in the streets and supplies were flowing again into Grace Children’s Home and the 225+ orphans there. “Things are better here by the grace of God, but please continue to pray for us.” Through my tears of relief, I was again reminded: Thus far, the LORD has helped us.
The last call of the day was from friends of mine who have joined the many who have been forced to follow opportunity outside Michigan. David and Stephanie walked with dignity and faith through a year of unemployment before an offer in Georgia presented itself in late June. As David and I celebrated and went shopping for business suits and loaded up his car for the long drive down, we remembered (with embarrassing fondness) his long hours preparing for countless interviews and our regular “talks down from the ledge” when one prospect after another vanished.
David and Stephanie, like many others, feel the mixed emotions of relief and sadness as they make a new life in a new place. But their family is strong, with their son David Nathan acclimating well and a yet-to-be-named daughter on the way. With faith not in the future, but in the God who orders that future, their whole lives are a testament: Thus far, the LORD has helped us.
That affirmation – sometimes spoken with confidence, other times whispered in quiet desperation – echoes from an Old Testament story of God’s power and faithfulness over threats of Israel’s national extinction. After their enemies had been swept aside by a voice of heavenly thunder, the priest Samuel set up a stone of remembrance and called it Ebenezer, or “the stone of God-sent help”. Generations would cling to the promise of that raised stone. That even in their deepest despair, God could and would intervene. That injustice would be ultimately conquered and the head bowed in shame could be lifted again to wholeness.
But God did not stop there. As if to show the extravagance of his love, God enfleshed the promise of that raised stone and entrusted that flesh with deity. Deity that invaded, spoke into, and overcame life’s tragedies. He died to save us from the greatest tragedy of eternal separation from ultimate Good. And he lives to co-conspire with us to mend broken relationships, feed the hungry, offer hope to those who have lost their way and to make wrong things right again.
His name was – and is – Jesus. Every December, sometimes without even knowing his name, the world’s citizens in their Christmas celebrations set up an Ebenezer stone in their hearts as a hopeful reminder of Love’s nearness. And despite the crush of economism, cynicism, and the conflicted image that we supposed Christ followers portray, the persistent rhythm of Love. Quietly. Remains.
In the end, my friends cling not to a stone when life’s danger threatens to overtake them. They cling to the promise of that stone enfleshed and alive. They cling to the promise of a hurting world ultimately made right again and everything that is unclear and unknown – even the uncertainty of their pain – to be drawn into lasting and final clarity.
I give God thanks for all that you do, and wish you all the best for Christmas.