Belong

Legacy

"...not on tablets of stone but on tablets of the human heart" (2 CO 3:3b).

I saw a monument this weekend in the middle of the Wyoming prairie built to honor the Ames brothers of Massachusettes who were instrumental in building the first transcontinental railroad. The monument was erected on this high plain in 1882 at a staggering cost of $65,000 and at the highest point on the railroad at just over 8,700 feet. It's an impressive 30 foot high granite structure resembling a pyramid with the portraits of both men carved into red sandstone towards the top, and the noses of both men appear to be eroding. It was built on a choice site beside the rail line and was a centerpiece of the town of Sherman, Wyoming.

There is no trace of either the town of Sherman or the old rail line. Both have completely vanished long ago.

All that remains of what once was is this odd monument so strangely placed in the lost space of the Wyoming prairie. With the exception of a few ranchers and wayfarers like myself who wander off the beaten path, this monolith, I'm sure, goes largely unnoticed. To be honest, I didn't stumble across it by accident but found it because my brother told me it was there. I was amazed at its immensity and a little amused at its peculiarity.

Having our legacy written in stone is important to some. We erect monuments to commemorate significant events and place headstones on our graves as proof that we were once here. Whether we inscribe our name in marble monuments or carve our name onto the bark of a tender aspen tree, it seems like we are grasping for a little bit of permanence that will out-live our presence here.

Proof that we existed. Something that says our life here mattered.

I love walking through old cemeteries to see the dates on the tombstones and think about what life must have been like back then, but even the finest crafted stone can only extend the reminder of our existence by a 100 years or so. Eventually, the stone will erode and be returned to the earth from which it was hewn. Our best efforts at gaining permanence and validity in stone and structure are temporary at best.

I don't really believe that our structures validate our existence or measure our success. We can obsess over our buildings as though they validate our existence and provide proof that we've "arrived". Often, I've heard that a church isn't a "real church" until it has its own building. For some people, they believe personal success is found in owning your own home rather than in renting. Although these structures provide a sense of permanence, I feel we miss the point when we base so much of our security on what moth, rust, and decay will eventually claim.

In the Kingdom of God, what matters is what is passed from person to person. The scriptures teach us that Christ is building a spiritual house with living stones, not one of bricks and mortar. The love of God is inscribed into the hearts of men, women, and children, and we are His legacy...participating with Him in loving and serving the world in which we live. Our lives don't become legitimate because of what we build but are legitimate because of Who's identity we carry in our lives. Our success as a church or as individuals is not in building or owning but in passing the love of God from person to person. It is His Spirit that keeps this spiritual house alive from generation to generation.

Religion builds institutions and trusts structures, but Jesus calls us to invest in people the same sacrificial love and grace that has been invested into us. Our legitimacy doesn't come from the number of years we've existed or the number of monuments and buildings connected with our name but is, instead, something much more spiritual...

...and much more real.

Safe

What Is Not Said

"A loud voice cannot compete with a clear voice, even if it's a whisper" (B.N. Kaufman).

Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, "In the end, we will not remember the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends." I was reminded of that quote the other day upon having a conversation with one of my students who was struggling with the detached silence he was receiving from his friends. He remarked to me that he would rather get into an argument with his friends and have that friendship end abruptly rather than having it all fade away in a malicious blackout. At least then, he would have the dignity of knowing what was going on.

Silence can be used as a powerful weapon in any relationship, from the school yard to the marriage bed. Silence as a weapon is one thing; silence that is simply neglectful, I think, can be much more painful for people to deal with. Early on in life, we learn the whole "sticks and stones" routine to save face when pummelled with words and taunts from our classmates or main street bullies, but who can prepare someone for the silence? How do we reverse the effects that silence has on the child who has never had encouragement, counsel, or affirmation? How does someone recover from the absence of friends and the quiet of family?

From my experience, what people don't say is often much more powerful than what they do.

Just as a small cup of water can do a lot for someone in a drought, words of life change things for those in desolate families and desperate situations. I see the light in my high school student's eyes when they are affirmed and praised, and I seem to get better results with them when they are not ducking from a barrage of criticism and fault-finding. I see a difference in my students on those days that my negativity may cause me to focus on theirs rather than affirm in them what is good, unique, and right about who they are.

Unfortunately, many of us have learned that "if we have nothing good to say, then we shouldn't say anything at all."

So we don't say anything.

Either we don't see the good in people or we don't look for the good in people. I'm not sure which is more acurate, but I am convinced that followers of Christ need to be much more in tuned to people's lives and careful to be a voice of life and hope. Yes, Jesus spoke the harsh word, especially to some of his disciples, but I am confident that he was able to make the difficult withdrawals because of all the healthy investment.

Admittedly, sometimes it is easier to say nothing at all, especially when we don't know what to say. While that might be convenient for us, it is probably not beneficial for those in our lives who need a hopeful voice. I suppose it would be good to ask God to transform our eyes to see what he sees and feel what he feels towards them. I am almost certain that is a prayer he would answer.

B.F. Kaufman said, "A loud voice cannot compete with a clear voice, even if it is a whisper." Even if our words are few, words of life can compete with -- even pierce through-- the onslaught of negativity or mute the deafening silence of neglect.

Even if your words are few, let there be words.

Ornament

Absence and Sadness

My cousin, Philip "Butch" Rink, is being buried today in Indiana. Unfortunately, today is the first day of students at my school, and I am unable to be with the family today. I was asked to write some thoughts to be read at his funeral, and so I pass them along to you today in honor of his life.

Dear Family.

By now, I am sure much of your conversation has centered around what an exceptional life Butch lived – how his longevity far surpassed what his doctors could have ever imagined. I,for one, am glad they missed the mark by 50 years or so! Those extra decades gave us all the opportunity to know, love, and appreciate the life of someone I believe to be a remarkable person.

I am Butch’s first cousin – the youngest of all the first cousins born to the Bechtel six. Butch was the oldest, and I reminded him of that fact every time we got together. We got a laugh out of it every time, and I don’t think we ever got tired of the banter. I’d call it to his attention that he was so much older than me, and he’d fire back about how he was wiser and better looking, too.

He was probably right.

That was always the way it was with Butch when I saw him. His weezing, lively laugh was infectious, and it was in those times that his whole body seemed to dance in the laughter. I recall many Sunday afternoon visits with Butch and Aunt Evelyn where we would cackle so hard that we would cough, cry, and nearly be sick! Something would hit his funny bone, and we wouldn’t stop until we were exhausted with laughter.

My mother enjoyed telling stories of when her first nephew (Butch) was born, and looking through her photo albums again today, I found so many black and white pictures of little Butch. Don’t be jealous…there were plenty of pictures of Marcia and Roger, Diane, Pamm and the twins, too...but Butch was her first. And she loved him! She never failed to mention after a visit with him how glad she was the doctors were so wrong!

As for me, many of the milestones of my life were marked with the presence of Butch: my graduation parties from high school and college, many of my very early days of preaching, and so many funerals of those we love who have gone before us. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been to a family reunion, but I’d have a difficult time imagining such gatherings without my cousin Butch to harass and catch up with. He loved his family – his sister and brother, nieces and nephews, aunts and uncles, cousins and all. And we loved him, too.

He lived such a rich and full life! To have loved and have been loved as Butch has been is one of the greatest things that can be said of a man. At the end of the journey, there is little else that matters more. How many people have been able to pursue career, wealth, and everything expected of a man and yet meet their end empty and alone? While Butch may have been limited in some areas, he certainly was not lacking in fullness of life!

Along with so many of you gathered here today, I affirm my belief that his Hope is now realized. He has shaken off this body, and he dances in new-found liberty and in the love of the Lord, and he dwells in the company of those he has been longing to see again. Who among us would be so cruel that we would want him to come back? It’s time for Butch to enjoy what the Father has in store for him!

To Marcia and Roger and the rest of the family, I wish that I could have been with you today in person to celebrate Butch’s life. God knows that my heart is there with you. I would love to sit around and recount the stories of his life and re-live those memories that still cause us to laugh. Marcia, you are a remarkable woman to have given Butch so much (Ken, you’re not so bad, either!). I am happy that you were able to be with him and share those special moments as he made his transition from this life to the next. Those irreplaceable moments are some of the most difficult but precious.

Until we see each other again, and with much love,

Mark