“Love your neighbor as yourself.”  – Matthew 22:39 

Loving America

Several years ago while on a road trip with one of our granddaughters we stopped in St. Louis to visit the Arch.  While there I recall standing in line next to an elderly gentleman on a walker wearing a baseball cap bearing the Stars and Stripes.  In a gesture to be nice I remarked to the man, “I like your cap.” Smiling back at me, this was his reply.  “I still love America, don’t you?”  Ironically, when that occurred I happened to be in the midst of reading a recently published book by Eric Metaxas, If You Can Keep It: The Forgotten Promise of American Liberty which included a chapter entitled “Loving America”.

Prior to those simultaneous experiences I’m not sure I had given much thought about loving my native America and what that means, especially in light of the widespread ideological polarization and negative political rhetoric we are exposed to today.  But Lincoln believed, according to Metaxas, “that love of country is necessary, that America cannot and will not survive without it.”  To do so, though, requires taking a realistic view of America as being both heroically great, yet also deeply flawed.  We should, for example, feel a healthy sense of pride for the “greatest generation” who saved our country and the world from tyranny in World War II; or the courageous responders to the 9/11 attacks.  By the same token America has made shameful blunders in its history, the most obvious and egregious being slavery, and the racism that plagues our culture still.  As Metaxas points out, “Heroism and ignominy both are part of our history.  The only question is whether, having seen both, we can repent of the one and rejoice and be inspired by the other.”  Considering both, then, can we still love America?

But there’s another factor yet to be mentioned, which has to do with Jesus’ command to “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  America is blessed with good citizens from all over and from every walk who live out those words – good, kind, caring, generous folks looking out for each other.  There may be scant mention of them in the media, but there is no need, for we can witness them first-hand anywhere we turn if we only take the time to notice.  Therein, I believe, lies the true heartbeat of America and hope for its future.  And that’s why I still love America.  Happy 4^th of July . . .  and may God bless America!

“That the generations to come might know, and the children yet unborn; that they in their turn might tell it to their children.”  Psalm 78:6 

As we were cleaning out our previous house a few years ago preparing to move we came across a dusty old King James Bible propped up against some other old books on one of the high built-in bookshelves in our living room. It had belonged to my great-grandfather.  Age had taken a toll on the leather binding, but judging by the tattered pages and notes in the margins, the inside was worn not from age but from usage.  According to the inscription the Bible had been a Christmas gift to my great-grandfather back in 1911 from his two daughters, my grandmother and great-aunt.

My great-grandfather, Robert Boyle, died in 1924 long before I was born, so needless to say I never knew him.  What little I know about him is that he was an Irish immigrant, moving his young family to the U.S. in 1889 where he established a sheep ranch in northern Texas.  His grandchildren called him Grandpa, same as my grandkids call me – a mere coincidence, though touching.  In his younger days I’m told he had studied theology at the University of Edinburgh in preparation for ministry in the Presbyterian Church, so the fact he read scripture regularly comes as no surprise.

I don’t know a lot of other details about his life other than these, except that I realized something I had never considered before when I discovered his old King James Bible.  My great-grandfather left a great legacy to his successors; for in reading the notes he scribbled in the margins and the verses that were dog-eared it is obvious he was a man of great character, high moral values, a student of scripture and a man of God.  Now here it is a hundred years later and he’s still making a difference in people’s lives – mine in particular.  What a legacy!

I wonder in this day and age if we consider our own legacies the way we should, the ones that really matter.  Grandpa Boyle’s old Bible made me pause and give some thought to that.  Will I leave that kind of inspired legacy that will endure a hundred years or more?  I need to be thinking about that so “that the generations to come might know, and the children yet unborn.”  As a reminder we have given his old Bible a prominent place in our new home where it lays open to Psalm 78.

“The Lord disciplines those he loves, as a father the son he delights in.” – Proverbs 3:12 

“Let me tell you a secret about a father’s love / a secret that my daddy said was just between us. / Daddies don’t just love their children every now and then. / It’s a love without end, amen.”  Leave it to that wise philosopher, country singer George Strait; for no one could have described a father’s love for his children any better than he did in that great hit song.

My own dad was like that.  He didn’t just love my brother and me every now and then, meaning only when we were good enough or made him proud.  I can’t speak for my brother, but God knows there were plenty of occasions when I didn’t deserve his love, yet he loved me anyway, even when I needed to be disciplined.  And there were, in fact, occasions when my dad’s greatest expressions of love, as they should have been, came in the form of discipline rather than affection.

I will never forget the last time I was ever disciplined by my father.  I was a grown man by then, married with a family, and about to start a career.  I had two job offers in hand, and I was sure I was making the right choice when the phone rang and I heard my dad’s voice on the other end, except he didn’t sound like his usual jovial and friendly self, but business-like, stern and to the point.  I should rethink my decision, he stated firmly, else I could be passing up the career opportunity of a lifetime.  For once I didn’t argue, just listened, the whole conversation lasting no longer than two or three minutes.  When it was over all I remember saying was, “Thanks, I’ll think about it.”  My dad was right that day, his words prophetic, like the voice of God – and I give thanks every day for the way my life has turned out, and especially for that last time he disciplined me.

“The Lord disciplines those he loves, as a father the son he delights in.”  My dad disciplined me that day, not because he was angry, but because he loved me and delighted in me, plus he knew my potential and had more confidence in me than I had in myself at that time.  You see, “Daddies don’t just love their children every now and then.  It’s a love without end, amen.”  Happy Father’s Day to all my fellow fathers and grandfathers out there.  And please join me in expressing gratitude for all the ones who have gone before.  Theirs’ was a love without end, wasn’t it?  Do I hear a big AMEN?

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.”

• Ecclesiastes 3:1 (ASV) 

Sometimes the counsel we offer someone else turns out to be exactly what we need to hear ourselves.  It happened to me a number of years ago.  A friend approached me whose daughter, his first-born, had graduated from high school and would soon be heading off to college.  My friend was agonizing over the emptiness created by his daughter leaving home.  Since my own children were a few years older he knew I had experienced the same emotions and wondered how I had handled it.  “Don’t worry,” I assured him, “your life will soon be filled with new activities such as going to visit your daughter at college.”  “Ah!” he replied as his whole demeanor suddenly shifted from sadness to excitement, “so now we can start looking forward to more road trips.”  “Exactly,” I said.

I doubt my friend would remember that very brief conversation from all those years ago, but I do; for ironically, what I told him were the exact words I needed to hear with my own ears, that life consists of constantly changing seasons for each of us, and with each change, as with all transitions, come feelings of sadness and loss and nostalgia, even pain and suffering at times, but also hope and renewal, joy and excitement.

In 2008, after a hard-fought battle with cancer, Tee lost her dad, my father-in-law and the last among our four parents and our children’s grandparents.  It had been a sad and difficult journey – the end of a season.  Then, suddenly it seemed, the season changed only a few short weeks later with the arrival of our first grandchild, then the second only three weeks after that.  Later, Tee wrote these beautiful words to a friend, “Little did I know the journey God was going to send me on in the last few months.  It has been a walk with the past, the present, and the future, and a lesson in the completeness of life.”

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.”  Thousands of years ago the author of Ecclesiastes wrote those words, yet that is what I was reminded of in my own words I spoke to my friend that day.  Like a road trip, the seasons of life take us on a journey with the past, the present, and future, ever teaching us about and leading us toward that completeness of life we all long for.

“Build up, build up, prepare the road!  Remove the obstacles out of the way of my people.” – Isaiah 57:14 

Did you ever know someone who just seemed to constantly cause trouble?  I remember this kid when I was growing up, I’ll call him Sam (not his real name) to try to protect his identity.  Perhaps the best way to describe Sam, who was a year or two younger than me, is that he was one of those kids who spent more time in the principal’s office than in the classroom, which was true from elementary all the way through high school.  Very bright, as I recall, but always into mischief.  To be fair, in today’s world Sam would have been diagnosed with ADHD and treated medically for that condition.  But in those days no one knew or understood such disorders, they were simply labeled as troublemakers.  Poor Sam!  I don’t know what ever became of him, but I hope at some point he was able to re-channel his talent and energy in more productive ways.

A good friend of mine once suggested there are two kinds of people, those who create problems like Sam was notorious for, and those who fix problems like my late brother-in-law Chuck who, amazingly, could fix anything – plumbing, electrical, mechanical, carpentry – you name it.  And he didn’t just fix things like new, as we often say, he fixed them better than new with better parts and extraordinarily better craftsmanship.  I doubt there has ever been a tool invented he didn’t know how to use.  And unlike Sam who spent most of his school days in the principal’s office, judging by the certificates hanging on his walls Chuck spent most of his school days – not to mention his Scouting days, Navy days, corporate days, and community service days – on stage receiving awards for his fine work and accomplishments.

But it is not the awards and certificates and recognition that matter so much to people like Chuck, and others who dedicate themselves to fixing problems rather than creating them.  No, fixers fix things because of their desire to leave the world better than they found it, which they inevitably do.  The prophet Isaiah wrote that we should “Build up, build up, prepare the road!  Remove the obstacles out of the way of my people.”  Which leads to the question we must all ask ourselves, “will I spend my days being a troublemaker, leaving messes to be cleaned up and obstacles to be stumbled over, or will I use my time on earth clearing the path so those who follow might have a smoother journey?”