“Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy.” Psalm 126:5 

It was one of the most iconic photographs of the twentieth century, and we have all seen it. Captured on camera by Alfred Eisenstaedt the photo portrays a U.S Navy sailor embracing and kissing a young woman. The place was a crowded Times Square in New York, and the date was August 14, 1945, “V-J Day”, the official end of World War II. Published the following week in Life Magazine (the equivalent of going “viral” in today’s world), that snapshot remains one of the iconic symbols of the victorious conclusion of one of history’s most devastating wars.

It would be presumptuous, at this point at least, to equate the current Coronavirus pandemic to World War II, and we certainly pray it is contained swiftly so as not to be as prolonged and tragic as the War turned out to be. But there are some similarities, most notably that in addition to the great heroes on the front line – the healthcare workers, first-responders and many others who are in harms way, like the brave soldiers in war – every citizen in the entire world is a participant. We are all in danger, many have suffered loss with sadly more to come, and we are all engaged in the war against this pandemic in one way are another, particularly in the call to sacrifice, just as all citizens were called to do during World War II.

Considering these similarities, a look-back at that 1945 photo may reveal a deeper message than merely the war’s end, a message we are all badly in need of. For, what it really symbolizes is hope, which may be why it became iconic as it has, symbolizing new beginnings, people living again and moving on with their lives, growing and prospering, raising families and enjoying the fruits of their labors.

We should be reminded that even when forests burn down they are able to grow again, that broken bones heal, and even grief is not a permanent condition, that tears can be seeds that will grow into a harvest of joy because God is able to bring good out of tragedy. We must remember that as we trudge through this mighty battle, that one day, “Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy.” In that lies our hope. May we pray continually for that day to arrive soon when we too are free to celebrate – maybe even kiss a stranger in the middle of a crowded Times Square.

“. . . seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” Matthew 6:33 

One of the great challenges we faced working on a bond trading desk in the Wall Street world, as I did for thirty years, is the urgency of everything. Phones ring non-stop during trading hours and every one of those calls is something urgent. While in one sense the high level of activity is energizing and exciting (one never lacks for something to do). On the other hand – and this is the challenging part – it is easy to get caught up in the frenzy – the urgency – and lose sight of the greater purpose and the mission and goals of the business.

Among his countless nuggets of wisdom the late management guru of the twentieth century, the great Peter Drucker, emphasized the importance of making the “important” rather than the “urgent” our priority in life. But like most of us he struggled with it too. “If I look back,” he once lamented, “my greatest frustrations are probably, in retrospect, this is hindsight, that I have, far too often, made the urgent rather than the important my priority and that as a result, some of the books I should have written I haven’t written. And I have written books that were urgent, or I have taught the things that they needed at the moment rather than the things that were needed five years since. I have been willing to run shorter rather than long-term.”

It’s a tough call because urgent matters do matter, but they should never be allowed to cause us to lose sight of the greater purpose and the longer-term mission. That is why clear concise mission and vision statements are so critical for organizations and that that mission and vision be instilled in the organization’s culture. Thus, the most successful organizations over the long haul are those who do.

Jesus himself reminded us that we should first seek God’s kingdom – the “important” – then deal with the other matters of life – the “urgent”. By doing so we guard ourselves from being caught up in the frenzy of the urgent; or as Drucker put it, we must make the “important” rather than the “urgent” our priority in life. But sometimes life demands our attention to the urgent in order to achieve the important. Such was life on a bond trading desk, and such is the battle we are currently engaged to defeat the Coronavirus.

“But as for me, I will always have hope . . .” – Psalm 71:14 

We have the good fortune of living in a neighborhood with an abundance of walking-jogging-biking trails nearby, our favorite of which leads into a deeply wooded nature area bordered by a series of small lakes, where a sunrise jog on a spring morning such as there have been recently is, to say the least, a spectacular experience with wild flowers in bloom, sightings of rabbits, squirrels, and an occasional armadillo or coyote – birds, of every sort singing in the trees, ducks and geese enjoying the lakes and ponds.

One point along the path requires crossing a low-water dam that typically has water trickling across separating one small lake from another. Recently we’ve been fascinated by a single goose that seems to always occupy the vicinity near the dam as if he had laid claim to it, that is until we looked across toward a peninsula that juts out about thirty yards up stream where, hunkered down in the tall grass was the female goose obviously nesting on some eggs. So, yes, the gander had laid claim to the territory in order to protect his mate and family-to-be. Then it happened. Just this past Friday there were the goose and gander together wing-to-wing, like young lovers, out for a morning stroll proudly herding their three newly hatched babies. What a sight!

Like many, I’m sure, the confinement of sheltering-in-place, the dark cloud of pandemic lingering above, the nonstop tragic news reports had all begun to take their toll on my usual positive outlook. So, a good dose of nature that spectacular early morning was exactly what the doctor ordered, as they say. I felt revived, renewed and hopeful.

In case you’re unable to escape to nature as I did, may I suggest a few excerpts from Wendell Berry’s poem “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front.” “So, friends, every day do something that won’t compute. Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be poor. Love someone who does not deserve it. . . Say that your main crop is the forest that you did not plant, that you will not live to harvest. Say that the leaves are harvested when they have rotted into the mold. . . Listen to carrion – put your ear close, and hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come. . . Practice resurrection.” My walk in the woods is what led me back to Wendell Berry’s poem, from which I am reminded, “But as for me, I will always have hope.”

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”

• Hebrews 11:1 

My friend – singer, song writer and renowned harmonica player – Buddy Greene tells a beautiful story about once attending a funeral service for a man named Charlie. So moved was he by what happened that day that it inspired him to compose and record a ballad describing it. The song lyrics tell the story best:

“Now the sky was cold and gray / at the funeral home that day / And the friends and family gathered from far and wide / And they all stood by Charlie’s grave / and they listened to the message the preacher gave / And thought it was over when up stood Charlie’s bride. / She said ‘I’m sure glad to see you all here / ‘cause Charlie held you all so dear / And he wants to see you all in heaven when it comes your time. / So if you want to die like Charlie died / you’ve gotta live like Charlie lived / Loving God and people and longing for the other side.’” 

It goes without saying that Charlie was a man of deep faith. But what does that mean? First of all, faith is not optimism, a “Pollyannaish” belief that a positive outcome is forthcoming. Neither is it a philosophy or religious system. Rather, faith is just as the scripture defines it, “being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see”, derived not from scientific proof or mathematical fact, but from an intimate relationship with God. It’s like when my mother who, after being told she only had a few months to live, proclaimed boldly to those of us gathered round these exact words. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Grieve because you miss me, that’s okay. But don’t worry about me. I know where I’m going!” She was as sure and certain as anyone I’ve ever seen and remained resolutely so up to her final breath.

The surety and certainty of our faith gives us the strength to overcome the difficulties we inevitably face in this life – including our current global health crisis – and provides the freedom to use our lives for good purposes. It is by faith that we are able to live like Charlie lived, and one-day die like Charlie died. For faith comes from being sure and certain of that empty tomb on Easter morning. As the witnesses cried out, “The Lord is risen!” Yes, He is risen indeed, and I am sure of that! Happy Easter!

“So God created man in his own image . . .” – Genesis 1:27 

“Disasters remind us that we depend on each other,” read the sub-headline of a recent newspaper article that caught my attention. “Disasters rip away the tidy fallacy of self-reliance and lay bare our utter dependence on each other,” the article went on to explain, “They shock us into seeing our shared fragility, which is also our shared humanity. That’s why, in times of crisis, we are usually eager to help strangers . . .”

I found this commentary especially refreshing on the heels of reading scores of other articles that cause me to shake my head and literally say out loud, “it’s grim out there.” Who would have imagined an uncontrolled contagious disease could attack our highly advanced world with such devastation. Not only is it potentially deadly to those who contract it, but it has essentially shut down the economy of the entire planet. Yes, things definitely are grim out there.

That article aroused an awareness in me of something I had failed to notice, and it’s going on right under my nose. Notwithstanding the much-deserved recognition of our healthcare workers and professionals and the many essential service employees laying their lives on the line, heroes in this coronavirus war, there exists an amazing underground movement of human goodness. That’s what I had failed to notice. Goodness abounds, but mostly beneath the radar. On my rare trips to the store to restock a few essentials, contrary to the images the media paints about hoarding, I’ve found my fellow shoppers to be helpful, generous, cheerful and polite. At takeout restaurants it is not unusual for customers to purchase meals for strangers, or to tip higher than normal. In one such story, a couple upon receiving delivery of their takeout lunch order, a tab of approximately $25, handed over to the delivery person a check for $1,500.

While it may be grim out there, goodness abounds. And why should that surprise us? We are, after all, created in the image of the Creator who is Good. So, if we are the image of the One who is Good, are we not created to imitate that goodness? Sometimes it takes a disaster to remind us of that, to “rip away the tidy fallacy of self-reliance and lay bare our utter dependence on each other . . . to shock us into seeing our shared fragility, which is also our shared humanity.”