Fifty years! I trust
you have let that sink in. The Bible says our life is like a mist
that arises for a moment then disappears—like grass that withers in
the noonday sun. C. S. Lewis said, "to be in time is to change."
Time means change. It's inevitable. It's those old scientific laws of
gravity, of friction, and entropy. And from our graduation day until
today, we have had a lot of it. In particular, we've had to adapt to new personal
technologies — email, the Internet, texting, Facebook, selfies,
flash drives, Bluetooth — all unheard of in 1967. In fact when I
typed those words in my word processor, some of them came up
redlined. “Bluetooth, texting and selfies” have not yet been
added to the spellcheck dictionary! “Facebook and Internet” made
the cut though. But they may not have at our last reunion! We
have probably seen more technological change in our lifetimes than in
the past three generations combined. And the accompanying social and
moral changes. A few years ago I visited our campus while Faye,
Lynn's Mom was living in the retirement community across the street
from it. I saw something etched on one of the glass windows that I
never saw in my 12 years at the school: The “F” word. I had a
small anxiety attack—felt like running away quickly thinking, “O
my God! Somebody's in a world of trouble, and I don't want to be
suspected. They'll probably shut down the whole school until
somebody confesses! And if no one does, Coach Hayes will probably line
up the whole school and give every one a lick”. ... Then I remembered
that times have changed. Our society certainly has become more
desensitized to vulgarity in our lifetimes. In our lifetimes we've
either progressed or regressed from a time when Ed Sullivan wouldn't
show Elvis from the waste down because it was too suggestive, and
Lucy and Ricky slept in separate beds, to Victoria Secret commercials
and beyond.
Over these 50 years
some got married, and some divorced, and some remarried. Some became
parents, some early on, some later. Some of us went to Vietnam. Some
watched it on TV—the first generation that was able to watch a war
unfold in real time. We've all had to, in some ways deal with the
confusion, grief, anger and guilt that resulted from it. We've seen
TV programming evolve from extremely unreal to
extremely, sometimes refreshingly, sometimes sickeningly real. Those
of us who've had children are still helping them [and our
grandchildren] negotiate this complex, bloated society. As some of
you know, I've lost one—a very good one—to drug addiction. Most
families have been impacted in some way by addiction. We've
learned that prosperity only blesses when it's paralleled by
spiritual maturity. And it is usually the pain of deprivation that
drives us to spiritual maturity. Prosperity puts us out of touch with
our deprivation. When God was delivering the Hebrews into the
Promised Land, He warned them solemnly about becoming “full, fat,
and forgetful.” He even commanded a set of rituals designed to keep
them mindful that they had not delivered themselves—that they owed
a debt of gratitude to Him and obedience to His commands if they
wanted to continue to prosper. They failed. I still hope we won't.
But if we do, I want to be among the faithful remnant. One thing is
for sure; we have certainly lived in at least a close proximity to
the Promised Land; evident in any study of human history. We have
been blessed on this big bountiful continent! We owe our Founding
Fathers a debt of gratitude for giving us a democracy and a system of
government that has built in protections against the ever-threatening
lust for power.
I'm thankful that
they were men of faith and prayer.
I told some friends
recently that I had this vision of my life like a river. Earlier, in
those cold mountains where the river originated, there were many
twists and turns down the descending rocky stream—alot of
waterfalls and boulders to avoid. There were people in my boat who
depended on me to steer us clear of the dangers. Sometimes I ran
aground or faltered, and we all suffered. I had to pay better
attention to what I was doing. Diligence was necessary. Had to
decide which fork in the river would take me in the right direction.
The river was moving fast..for a long time. But one day, not too long
ago, as I took time to look around, I realized that the river was
wider now, and moving more slowly. The noises along the river banks
was quieter—fading away in the distance. I started to put a paddle
in the water, as I was accustomed to doing, and realized that the
boat was floating right on down the river, just fine without a lot of
effort—at least that kind of
effort. I laid back and, for the first time in a long time, looked at
the beautiful amazing sky. I felt a little anxious at
first—like I was ignoring
something—so I sat back up and looked around. But
sure enough, everything was
Ok! And as
I let that Okness sink down deep into my soul, I relaxed my gut for
the first time, maybe since I was a baby at Momma's
breast. And those words that I had read and even studied in seminary
took on a more profound meaning for me: “I have calmed and quieted
my soul. Even as a baby at its mother's breast is my soul.” “Peace
I give to you. My peace I leave with you. Not as the world gives do I
give to you.” “Fear not. Let not your heart be troubled...” “Be
still and know that He is God.”
Diligence
is still required—the diligence to guard my heart against whatever
is dark in our culture—and
in myself! All that stuff that steals and kills and destroys our
peace and faith, hope and love—especially our love. Jesus said
that, in the end times, because there would be much evil, that our
love would wax cold. I can see how that happens. It's hard to love in
a culture of apathy, hedonism and hatred. But He said that whoever
endures to the end will be saved! That's what I want us to do—endure. Keep on loving our people all
the way to the end. Just like I saw my mom and dad do. When I think
of all my teachers at BB Comer [school], I realize they were loving me. I
never felt mistreated by any of them. I appreciate their stern
requirements that shook me a little, and caused me to begin waking
up. I never want to stop waking up. And, as you've already surmised,
Jesus has been the most unspeakably profound influence in my life. I
give Him credit for all that is good in me, because without Him, it
would have been choked out
by what is not good in
me.
That
brings up the thought that, despite all this change, there are
thankfully some things that don't change. Just like Babe Ruth said,
“The most important thing is love; but baseball is good too.”
“Heaven and earth shall pass away, but the word of the Lord endures
forever.” The most important thing is still love—the love that
Jesus brings us to
in a powerful and commanding way; and that he keeps us rooted and
grounded in despite the
glaring distractions of change.
The love that is the greatest adventure of life. As
that river of life gets closer and closer to the infinite ocean, all
that stuff that doesn't matter—all those distractions—really do
begin to fade away. We let those who are in a hurry dash past us.
We've learned that it doesn't do any good to push the river. We're
gonna reach the place we're going to. I wrote this poem some years
ago:
Why are we going
so fast, so fast?
Why are we going
so fast?
Where will we end
up at last, at last?
Where will we end
up at last?
Why are we going
so fast to where we will end up at last?
Maybe
a good way to think of our life span is: it's like a process of
waking up. We see the
process clearly in our little infants; new born; squinting their eyes
in the bright light outside the womb. Unable to open their
eyes in the bright light of day. Then growing onward they begin to
realize that they are a self—they have a separate identity—the
terrible two's—waking up to insects, rocks, and other people—the
ocean for the first time. Discovering
later that there are people who believe differently than they and
their parents—about the most important things: God, Truth,
Eternity. We wake up to the fact that relationships are as tough as
they are important. We wake up to deep and profound pain that either
defeats us or sends us on a quest for Truth. Pain awakens us! We
discover that we're going to die. Then, like Ernest Becker pointed
out in his book, The
Denial of Death, we spend
some energy trying to distract ourselves from that fact. If we're
blessed, and especially at our age, we stop doing that. We look at
death squarely in the face; and keep looking, and looking until he
smiles at us and gives us some important wisdom. “Your days are
limited and precious. Live them well. Sow good seeds. Love your
people well,” death says to us. “And by the way, I am not the
end. I am a doorway, just like Jesus said.” We wake up to freedom
from fear. We wake up again, as when we were children, to the wonder
of each present moment. The mystery of a blade of grass, a flower, a
child's precious mind. And we
may grieve some, knowing that we've missed some things. We've
strained out some gnats and swallowed some camels. We lost some of
our people before we could love them very well. We
made some bad decisions with long-term affects. We've
been in some darkness, and, in that darkness, even perpetrated some
evil. We've hurt some people. But when we face that darkness in us,
and take responsibility for it, we hear Jesus say, “Father forgive
them, for they don't know what they are doing.” A major part of
waking up is realizing that we didn't know what we were doing. And
still don't to some degree. We still “see through a glass darkly”
as Paul wrote. At some point in the awakening process, if we carry it
all the way through, we fall on our knees and say “God have mercy
on me, a sinner!” And if we are listening, carefully, intently, to
that still small voice, we hear Him say “You are justified. I
forgive you. I love you more than you love your children and
grandchildren. I am the One
Who put that Love in your heart. All
is well. The universe has been designed lovingly
to get you to this place. You
have arrived. You are home, as well as going home. Go, and sin no more. I am with you always, even to the
end of the world.”
What
a wonderful awakening that is! Now we are no longer walking in
darkness, but in the Light of Jesus Christ, the Eternal Light of the
world. But this is not the Jesus that we thought we knew—the
“religious” Jesus. This is the Jesus who imagined a butterfly and
the process of conception. Bigger than we can imagine. The Author of
imagination. Above all our concepts; and closer than the beating of
our hearts. We understand now that all our suffering, all our
mistakes and weaknesses were part of the Great Plan. And we find rest
for our souls.
May
He bless us as we strive peacefully to impart the wisdom that He has
given us to the coming generations. May we not allow our weaknesses
and failures prevent us from pointing others in the direction of the
One who embraces all those failures in Grace and Love—the One Who
has enabled us to refine what we have been given by our elders—our
teachers and parents, pastors and guides. In this final leg of our
journey, may we bring all that we have gleaned from life into a laser
beam focus. May we build a solid foundation for the next generation
to stand upon as they take life to the next level. May
we not leave any Truth unspoken, nor any Love unexpressed when we
depart from this amazing journey; when this river reaches its end,
and our lives pour out into the infinite ocean of eternity, where
God's Love will be more evident than ever.
Mark Graham
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