“. . . we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character hope.”  – Romans 5:3-4 

Once around age ten or eleven my boyhood best pal Steve and I had an idea that involved digging a deep hole on a nearby vacant lot.  But first, being the honest young citizens we were, we went to the property owner who very kindly granted us permission, provided we would fill it back in when we were finished with our fun.  Thus, with picks and shovels from our parents’ toolsheds we began our dig.  Now this was not to be some small shallow foxhole.  No, indeed, we had a grand plan, to create our own secret camouflaged underground hideout.  It took us weeks of grueling labor, but when completed it was over our heads in depth, and about four feet wide and six feet long.  Afterwards we found some old railroad ties and scrap sheet metal to lay across the top, then covered it with dirt so it was invisible, except for a small opening with a ladder that led down inside.

On a previous occasion and a different vacant lot the two of us had built a clubhouse, using wood from an old dilapidated barn, again with permission from the respective property owners.  It also took us several weeks to complete, the end result being probably the ugliest structure ever on the face of the earth.  But complete it we did, fully functional, with a wooden floor, door, window, trapdoor on top, two camping stools as furniture, and even a picture hanging on the wall.

Both these projects were not undertaken without full parental support.  One of my favorite memories, in fact, was Steve’s mother showing up at our worksite one day, Steve’s red Radio Flyer wagon in tow, containing delicious homecooked food served on dinner plates, plus dessert and iced tea in mason jars, all for two starving young lads.

While sharing lunch with my old friend recently, as we occasionally do, I marveled how we had both — miraculously! — grown up to become men of good character, deep faith, and full of hope and joy.  It brought to mind the hole and the clubhouse, long ago filled in and torn down, the perseverance each required, and the character that developed from those experiences.  I have to believe our parents in their wisdom must surely have seen this as an opportunity for us to learn a great lesson . . . “that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”

“I wanted to see what was worthwhile for men to do under heaven during the few days of their lives.”  — Ecclesiastes 2:3 

Several years ago, our family became acquainted with a man named Max who resided in the same care facility where my mother lived out the last few weeks of her life.  Max, who had at one time been a prominent banker, rancher and successful businessman, had at some point suffered a devastating stroke that rendered him mostly paralyzed and in need of full time care.  Yet always cheerful and outgoing Max would station himself in his motorized wheelchair near the front door where he greeted visitors as they came and went.  That’s how we became friends with this man who we grew to love and admire.  But there was one special thing Max did that I will never forget.  His departing words were always the same, to encourage us to go out and live our lives to the fullest — and with haste.  “Remember,” he would add, “this is not dress rehearsal.”

It seems to me we have but two choices when it comes to trying to live life to its fullest, either take all we can from the world, or give all we can to it.  As an obvious omission in Max’s advice, I’ve always been curious which he was referring to.  Having known the man as I did, however, I prefer to believe it was the latter.  But then, perhaps his omission was intentional so that we would have to figure that part out for ourselves.

King Solomon struggled with this issue of how to live life to its fullest most of his life, taking it on as sort of a research project, the results of which he summed up in an essay known as the Book of Ecclesiastes.  As he put it, “I wanted to see what was worthwhile for men to do under heaven during the few days of their lives.”  His conclusion?  Indulging in the world’s pleasures is ultimately meaningless.  There’s only one thing that really matters, he said, “Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.”  Or as the great eighteenth century Anglican cleric and theologian John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, once said, “Do all you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as you can.”  But Max would insist that we also make haste in doing so.  “Remember,” as he so often reminded us, “this is not dress rehearsal.”

“For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.”  – Matthew 7:8 

A fellow was stuck on his rooftop in a flood.  He was praying to God for help.  Soon a man in a rowboat came by and shouted to the man on the roof.  “Jump in, I can save you.”  The stranded fellow shouted back, “No, it’s OK, I’m praying to God and he is going to save me.”  So the rowboat went on.  Then a motorboat came by and the man in that boat also shouted, “Jump in, I can save you.”  But again the stranded man responded, “No thanks, I’m praying to God and he is going to save me.  I have faith.”  Later a helicopter flew over and the pilot shouted down, “Grab this rope and I’ll lift you up to safety.”  “No thanks,” the stranded man replied, “I’m praying to God and he is going to save me.  I have faith.”  Soon the water rose above the rooftop and the man drowned.  He went to Heaven where he had a chance to confront God.  “I had faith in you but you didn’t save me, you let me down.  I don’t understand why!”  To this God replied, “I sent you a rowboat, a motorboat and a helicopter, what more did you expect?”

This story, which we’ve all probably heard many times, struck home with me recently.  It was during a lull in my business that I had been praying to God for more to do, when sure enough out of the blue an unexpected phone call arrived with a business opportunity.  But because it was not exactly what I had in mind I sort of blew it off.  Now I wonder, though much too late, if that wasn’t a rowboat that had shown up urging me to, “jump in, I’ve got work for you to do.”  To which I much too quickly and smugly responded, “No thanks, I’m praying to God and I’m sure he’s got something much better in mind.”

How often I have failed to recognize God’s miraculous, albeit sometimes subtle, answers to my prayers.  And, as with the poor guy stranded on his rooftop, it is not for lack of persistence in prayer or lack of faith.  My problem is that after offering my petitions to Almighty God I tend of have preconceived ideas how He should answer.  But His ways are not my ways, I must remind myself, lest His mighty works elude me even though right before my very eyes — like the ignored phone call or the fellow clinging to the rooftop.  Answer He does, nevertheless, just as promised: “For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.”

“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord . . .”  – Isaiah 11:3 

While on a hiking excursion in Big Bend National Park a couple of years ago, Tee and I decided to venture up Emory Peak, which at 7,832 feet is the highest elevation in Big Bend.  Equipped with an ample supply of water, sunscreen and granola bars we set out on the 9.3-mile roundtrip journey.  For the most part, the climb is a modest challenge, ascending along a comfortably wide switchback trail — “ that is, until near the pinnacle where it becomes a bit more treacherous as the path narrows considerably and is fraught with stretches of loose stones that could easily cause one to slip.  Being the oldest among the other hikers we encountered that day, we were also by far the slowest, but our perseverance, and humility, paid off when we finally got to experience that majestic view from the summit.

On another occasion, several years earlier while visiting Yellowstone National Park, we had started up the side of mountain along a trail that all too quickly led into some dense woods and a scarcely traveled single-file path.  Fearing a bear encounter as the trail grew darker, or worse, getting completely lost, we were about to give up and turn around when we spotted a clearing up ahead.  Suddenly we stepped out into the most breath-taking mountain meadow we had ever imagined where we could see for miles in every direction.

I find myself hypnotized by mountains, being drawn toward them like a siren’s song.  I look up and imagine the summit as a place where one can see forever, where life begins to make sense, and the presence of the Creator is nearby, a place that refreshes the soul. But as someone once said, if you don’t climb the mountain, you can’t see the view.  So, I climb as my age and ability allow.

We all have our places, I suspect, where life makes more sense, and we can feel the presence of the Creator nearby.  For me it is the mountains, but for you it may be the beach, the ocean, a flowing stream or river, the plains or a desert, a library or house of worship.  Whatever our respective “mountain” may be, that place that refreshes our soul, may we visit there from time to time, and experience its majestic view.  “Come,” the prophet Isaiah urges, “let us go to the mountain of the Lord.”

“He has showed you, O man, what is good.  And what does the Lord require of you?  To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” – Micah 6:8 

According to an acquaintance of mine, when he was thirteen years old his father insisted he memorize the twelfth chapter of the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Romans.  Here are a few nuggets of wisdom from that epistle: “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind . . . Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought . . . Hate what is evil; cling to what is good . . . Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves . . . Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.  Share with God’s people who are in need.  Practice hospitality.  Bless those who persecute you . . . Live in harmony with one another.  Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position . . . Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody . . . live at peace with everyone . . . Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”  What amazing wisdom, I have thought many times since hearing that story, for a parent to pass along to a child!

Recently I had the opportunity to read renowned author and historian, David McCullough’s newest book, The Spirit of America.  Of particular interest to me was a commencement address McCullough had delivered at Ohio University to the graduating class of 2004.  Here are a few nuggets of wisdom from that speech: “Never forget that one of the greatest of our freedoms is the freedom to think for yourself . . . Read.  Read poetry, read biography, read the great literature that has stood the test of time.  Read history . . . When bad news is riding high and despair in fashion, when loud mouths and corruption seem to own center stage, when some keep crying that the country is going to the dogs, remember it’s always been going to the dogs in the eyes of some, and that 90 percent, or more, of the people are good people, generous-hearted, law-abiding, good citizens who get to work on time, do a good job, love their country, pay their taxes, care about their neighbors, care about their children’s education, and believe rightly, as do you, in the ideals upon which our way of life is founded . . .”

The ancient principles for living are still the same.  Over two millennia before David McCullough and centuries before St. Paul, the Prophet Micah summed it up this way, “To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”  Amazing wisdom!