Spring

Oh yes, my friend I do believe its spring;
The finches build a nest in yonder spruce;
Why, just the other day, I heard a robin sing;
The geese in pairs are nibbling tender shoots.

The hills about are clothed in their spring green,
Flowers adding color to the lovely scene;
On moonlit nights, one hears the music of the bog:
The marsh resounds with many singing frogs.

The little doggies run across the sunny green,
And make their master think of what might be;
Here and there a tractor moves ‘cross a field,
As farmers plan and work for summer yields.

On sunny afternoons in mama’s beds,
The daffodils do nod their yellow heads;
Most bucks have shed away their last year’s racks;
Coyotes loose winter coats from off their backs.

And me it never ceases to amaze,
How God made life to ever more renew,
How He puts all mankind’s art to shame,
In just one sunny springtime afternoon.

Love

It has been the favorite topic of bards and idiots throughout history.

We imagine it will make us feel like we've never felt before. It will carry us off to new heights of happiness and unending bliss. We envision the day when Hollywood's magic will strike in our backyards. Even those who say we're committed to "courtship" (whatever that means) dream of falling truly in love, for the first time, with THE ONE, the only, "God’s best."

Then come the not-very-inspirational testimonies of rejection, misdirection, and pain that seem to inevitably haunt human interactions in a fallen world. None hail these stories, but I suggest they tell us more about love than the romantic successes in which we all revel.

You see, love isn't encapsulated in the heat of a first kiss or the never-to-be-felt-again excitement of that first high school or grade school or college crush. I won't say the heart pounding, head-spinning, giddiness has nothing to do with love. Most of us apparently wish for it, and it seems like an important part of the journey toward something more mature, but love is perhaps most evident when it encounters the poor, the ugly, the evil, the misguided, and the unlovely—and redeems them.

You'll see love when you see the patient way your mom cooks another meal. You'll recognize it when your dad wipes your vomit off the bathroom floor without saying a word. Love's what motivates a friend to confront you with your hypocrisy. You'll see love when you look at the cross.

Christmas Eve

I walked along a rain-soaked track
One silent Christmas Eve
Saw clouds aglow with moonlight
Heard the chuckling creek

Beheld a house upon a hill
Outlined all in white
With reds and greens placed here and there
A scene of brilliant light

The stable and the fences too
Were clothed in garlands green
All shown in Christmas brilliance
T’was a lovely, glowing scene

Then I spied the neighbor’s cross
It cast a white reflection
Glistening on the wet tin roof
Like the pathway to redemption

Trust and Duty

In God we trust has been our glorious theme
Through darkest days we have in past believed
Nor must we stray though broken or bereaved
We’ll find no strength in human self-esteem
Our own technology or human scheme
Let right be ever held and truth received
Mercy ever loved and meekness esteemed
God made men free; it is not just a dream

Words scarcely can describe our gratitude
To those brave souls who fight in freedom’s cause
To families here who’ve shown such fortitude
And those keeping them supplied
They faltered not nor shrank from giving all
Now may we likewise each heed duty’s call

November Night

Standing here on a frosty night
Just after moonset under the sky
Watching my breath ghost through the dim light
Human life, brief vapor and finite

My collar up and coat buttoned tight
The ragged wind sighs through the grass
And whisp’ring wings as ducks fly by
How often life shrouds mysteries

These are the thoughts that occur to me
Under the starlight down by the stream

Grace

I’ve often run I knew not where to find I knew not what
The only thing that mattered then was to escape the pain
And yet at last I find myself by grace pursued again

Turning 30

After playing flag football last Sunday, I was almost immediately sore—a new experience for me and a reminder I’m only two weeks from 30.

And that’s been bothering me lately.

Most of my friends have gotten married in the last three years, and many of them have babies. Then there’s the feeling the past six years at work haven’t made a difference—or not the right kind of difference.

A friend and I were chatting about this the other day when he said, “I think you've accomplished at least two critical things. First, you've been a friend to me….” Then he mentioned what I do at work. “I think that’s quite a feat to chalk down for your 20s.”

His statement caught me off guard not because I had overlooked those things but because he measured the situation in terms of friendship and the cumulative influence a person can have. Those weren’t the priorities by which I measured success.

It reminded me what an elder at church said recently—that it’s not our work product but the gospel visible in our lives that makes a difference.

But I get distracted with outcomes, even when thinking about a legitimate calling to marry, have children, or write the truth. Then when life doesn’t match my expectations, it becomes apparent I’ve lost track of the whole point.