“He has made everything beautiful in its time.”  – Ecclesiastes 3:11 

My grandparents’ homestead was a grand estate.  That’s not an exaggerated childhood memory, it truly was.  While it might not quite attain mansion status by today’s standards, it would certainly come close.  It was a massive six-bedroom two-story house above a huge two-room basement, with grounds that included an English rose garden, my grandmother’s prolific vegetable garden, a large backyard that included a fountain and fishpond at one end and an outdoor fireplace at the other.  But most memorable to me as a child was the tile swimming pool, a rarity in those days, where I learned to swim.  The pool area included a cabana complete with his-and-her full dressing rooms with showers, a laundry facility and servants’ quarters.  Adjacent to the pool was a lighted tennis court.  What a showplace it was, not to mention the memories of my grandparents’ warm hospitality, especially the huge platters of fried chicken my grandmother would prepare in the summertime while the rest of us were swimming.

Several weeks ago, while passing through the small town where my grandparents had lived, we made a detour by the old homeplace.  Sadly, it was barely visible for all the unkempt trees, shrubs and weeds that grown up around it.  Peeking through the overgrowth as best we could, we could see the whole place had deteriorated badly, as had the once prosperous neighborhood surrounding it.

I’m a little like that myself these days I suppose, deteriorating that is.  An old acquaintance reminded me of that the other day, amused by a picture he had seen of me at a much younger age, referring to a wedding photo I had posted on Facebook recently on the day of our forty-seventh wedding anniversary.  “Wow!” he remarked, “you looked so young, I almost didn’t recognize you.”  Admittedly, I did have more hair back then – among several other features – which he also observed was a different color. 

“He has made everything beautiful in its time,” like my grandparents’ home back in its glory days, or my looks at a younger age, though not exactly beautiful.  There is a season and a purpose for everything, the writer of Ecclesiastes points out, and through it God gives us a glimpse of the perfection of His creation – but only a glimpse – so that through our own lives and those we touch that beauty is re-created for another season and time.

“Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” 

–          Psalm 90:12 

For years I was not much of a reader.  This extended well into adulthood.  I read, of course, what was required in school, but not much more, except for newspapers and magazines.  But books?  I had little interest.  It was not that I was incapable, just that sitting still for an extended period of time curled up with a book seemed like an incredible waste of time when I could be doing something else.  Maybe I suffered from a little undiagnosed attention deficit disorder.  Who knows.

This tidbit may come as a surprise, for most people today know me as a voracious book reader, which I am.  I don’t recall exactly when or how I caught the reading bug, except at some point I started reading novels, bestseller types, devouring them, one after another.  Eventually, that led to reading out of a desire to learn.  Through the years, books have changed my life.  If only I had known then what I know now, the amazing power of reading books, and the vast knowledge and wisdom to be attained from them.

Haven’t we all made that same remark about various things in our lives, “if only I had known then what I know now”?  Someone once said, if only the young could be old for a day, they would neither fear so much growing old, nor foolishly squander the days of their youth.

Julia Cameron, in her book The Artist’s Way (speaking of influential books I have read!) offers a helpful remedy for this common malady.  “Write a letter from you at eighty to you at your current age,” she suggests.  “What would you tell yourself?  What interests would you tell yourself to pursue?  What dreams would you encourage?”  If only I had done this exercise myself forty or fifty years ago.  If only I had known then what I know now. 

The Psalmist sums it up this way, “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”  What do we want to see happen in our lives before we die?  What small steps can we take toward that purpose today?  And what else can we do to circumvent that all-too-common malady, “If only I had known then what I know now”?

“I press on toward the goal to win the prize . . .”  –  Philippians 3:14 

“Put first things first,” is how Stephen Covey describes Habit Number 3 in his widely read book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.  In other words, highly effective people are those who identify what is most important and make it top priority, above everything else.  They focus on opportunities rather than problems, centered on their mission rather than being seduced by outside forces.  “The key,” as Covey puts it, “is not to prioritize what’s on your schedule, but to schedule your priorities.”

In my former career I was responsible for a bond trading operation for a major Wall Street investment firm.  On any given day it was a beehive of activity, phones ringing constantly, squawk boxes blaring, people shouting across the room, a chaotic atmosphere, a perpetual fire drill.  There was an urgency about everything we did; the ringing phones demanded our immediate attention, impatient investors who needed someone to help them “right now!” Yet in the heat of battle decisions had to be made, big decisions involving substantial sums of money.  It was those big decisions that were of utmost importance; for from them our profitability was derived, our life blood, our reason for being, the purpose of our existence, our mission.  If we were not careful, though, the urgency of the ringing phones and blaring squawk boxes could become seductive, distracting us from the importance of the big decisions that had to be made.  In other words, in the midst of that perpetual fire drill we had to manage to put first things first.

In a sense, the experience of working on a bond trading desk was an imitation of real life, for in real life we constantly encounter urgent demands on our time and energy, problems to be solved, projects to complete, impatient people who need us to help them “right now!”  And it is not as if we can or should ignore those urgent demands, for indeed they must be responded to.  Rather it is a matter of prioritizing, because if we are not careful the demands of life’s urgent matters can become seductive, distracting us from what is most important, our reason for being, the purpose of our existence, our life mission.  For the Apostle Paul that means to “press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me.”  Or as Covey encourages us to do in order to become highly effective individuals, get in the habit of putting first things first.

“Let us therefore make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification.”

–          Romans 14:19 

What does it mean to be tolerant?  Or perhaps the better question is, how do we practice appropriate tolerance in today’s world?  On the one extreme some might answer that tolerance means anything goes, to simply live and let live.  At the other end of the spectrum are those who believe tolerance should not be tolerated at all, that doing so is simply sending society to hell in a handbag.  The problem with the two extremes is that one lends itself to a world of chaos with no common value system and sense of order, while the other leads to exclusivity and isolationism, thus perpetuating the divisions and adversities that already exist in this increasingly global society.

My friends who periodically volunteer to work inside prisons – and there are a number of them who do this – have taught me more about practicing tolerance than anyone I know.  What I’ve observed about them is twofold: (1) Upon returning from a weekend on the “inside” they always refer to the men they encounter by their first names, that is as fellow human beings and never as prisoners, inmates or criminals; yet (2) neither do they ever excuse them for their offenses.  Instead, by spending time with these incarcerated individuals they come to understand them as real people with real feelings, real desires and real needs to be loved and to love, to forgive and be forgiven.  My friends often reflect on the fact that they – indeed all of us – are only one bad decision away from being in the same circumstance.  There but by the grace of God am I.

There is a marvelous scene in the movie “Invictus” in which Nelson Mandela (played by Morgan Freeman) is being scolded for his acts of forgiveness and peacefulness toward those who had imprisoned him for almost three decades.  In his response he said something to the effect that he had gotten to know his enemies, in his case the promoters of apartheid.  He had read their poetry, studied their writings, and engaged them in conversation.  And while not condoning their actions and beliefs, he had nonetheless learned to understand them as human beings.

Thus, tolerance does not mean to condone, rather to know and understand.  “Let us therefore make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification.”

“But by the grace of God I am what I am . . .”  – 1 Corinthians 15:10 

During high school I became good buddies with a guy named Keith.  Keith was a blast to hang out with, smart, fun, funny, and extremely talented musically, especially on the piano, one of those people who, when he sat down to play his fingers would dance – effortlessly, so it seemed – across the keyboard.  Watching him entertain people with his amazing talent made me crave to be just like him, so much so that those piano lessons I had grudgingly endured years before at the insistence of my mother, suddenly became meaningful, inspiring me pick up where I had left off, in hopes of teaching myself to play like him.  It was to no avail, of course, for I had neither the natural talent he had, nor had I ever put forth the effort to practice as my mother persistently encouraged.

Keith the piano player is but one example among many I’m afraid, when I’ve coveted being like someone else.  I loved basketball and spent many hours shooting hoops in the backyard in hopes of one day being a star on the court like other guys I knew.  Regardless of my efforts, though, I was still too small, too slow, and at best a so-so athlete.  Then there were the ones smarter than me in school.  I coveted being like them too.

Have you ever coveted being like someone else, or worse, wished you actually were someone else?  I suppose we all have.  And it’s not merely an adolescent syndrome, not for me at least.  As an adult I’ve struggled craving to be like those who have climbed higher up the corporate ladder, been more successful in business, made more money, become more influential – I could go on and on.

Then one day I heard someone say, not at all in a boastful way, “I am the best ‘me’ there has ever been.”  That’s when it began to soak in, that I’m not supposed to be Keith on the keyboard, or the star on the basketball court, the top student in the class, or the most successful.  I’m simply supposed to be me – and the best me I can be. 

Longing to be someone we are not puts us in grave danger of believing we have somehow been deprived.  When in fact we have not been short-changed, rather we are made in the image of God.  And come to think of it, isn’t being in the likeness of God far superior to the likeness of someone else? “But by the grace of God I am what I am . . .”