It's a Sawmill Evening

There is something about the quick glance at the red horizon in the NW, with the last remnants of the day peeking over the hills against the clear indigo skies and the stars beginning to break through behind me that carries me back. It is 1965. I’m just leaving my brother’s house and heading to work the graveyard shift at the saw mill. It’s been a hot day, but the cool of the evening is refreshing, and the last embers of the day redden the sky above the hills. I’m living in God’s provision for my education.

There is something about our recent visit to the Methow Valley that took me back to my childhood valley. The wet spring had left a tinge of green on the brown hills. I’m taken back to standing at the head of the Grand Ronde Valley, near one of my childhood homes, and looking toward the hills. There are only 2 weeks in June where they have a tinge of green. By the time the Elgin Roundup hit, the summer sun had baked them a nice golden brown. This summer, standing on the hills high above the Methow, I’m standing on the hill of my youth.

There are mornings when I’m up early, and the angle of the shadows from the sun shining through the neighbor’s trees, the chirp of the waking birds, and the stillness takes me back to heading to the bean fields as a child. Or, when it is drizzling a June drizzle, and the clouds are doing their ghost rider thing against the hills, I’m on my way to the berry patch. Or, perhaps the shadows take me to a stump in a grove of firs on British Columbia's Thetis Island…a stump in 1966. I was there, meeting with God for grace to handle another day with active First Nation Junior Highers.

This morning as I jogged by the golf course, my mind took me to Kennewick in ’69…when I lived on the Schlagel farm and worked as an intern youth pastor at a local church. The cool of the morning against the coming summer heat took me back to playing a round of par 3 golf beside the Columbia before even the groundskeepers were there …playing alone, because it was cheap (actually free if you started early enough).

Sounds, sunsets, green hills, all trigger memories in me…memories of past provision, past experiences. They make me thankful for those whose lives intersected with mine…parents, brothers, pastors, generous farmers, all God’s gifts to me.

The other day, after we had watched our grandson for several hours, our daughter texted us that she had asked her son to share something for which he was thankful before he went to bed. His little 22 month face looked up and immediately, unprompted, he said, “Nanna and Grampa!” That will melt a grandparent’s heart!

It’s nice to be God’s provision for someone! I’m thankful for those who were His provision for me.

Quieted by Singing!

Recently I had one of those grandparent moments that melted my heart. Our grandson had taken a really good nap…2 plus hours. However, when he awoke, he was just the opposite of how he had gone to sleep. How can you put down an angel and somehow they change character when they wake up?!! He was not a happy camper when he awoke. He cried inconsolably. Wailing!

So, I tried our normal routine. When he wakes up, I pick him up (getting more difficult now that he is nearly 22 months old), sit down in the rocker, take a blankee and rock him. Even this didn’t help. So, I tried my secret weapon. I started singing.

I am famous for my singing ability. Or, maybe it is infamous. I remember in my freshman year of high school when I suggested to the Bible Club leadership that I could sing a solo for club. They said, “Dave, you don’t sing!” I still have emotional bruises in my side where our son placed his elbows when he was a teenager in church and I was belting out one of the songs. And, our youngest once awoke in a fear-filled night, and I started singing “His sheep am I.” After a few bars, she said, “OK, Dad. You can go back to sleep!”

So, you can imagine my amazement as I launched into “Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, Lavender’s green” and the little guy in my arms instantly went quiet. At last, someone appreciates my singing! It can even calm a tearful grandchild. Or, maybe it was silent amazement on his part about what he was hearing. Maybe I scared the child into stillness?

Whichever, it does remind me that God sings to us… ZEP 3:17 The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing."

And, his song can quiet our grumpies…if we listen well.

On Moles, Trojan Horses, and Sleeper Cells

Sometimes we are put in a situation for one purpose. We are planted like a “mole” for a specific task. We go along through life uneventfully, doing our routine, being faithful to our task, and then, like a Trojan horse virus on a computer, God activates us for the task. This is not to say that what we do everyday is not significant. It is. Everything we do for God is potentially significant, impacting things beyond what we can see. But, sometimes, we find ourselves in places where we have the opportunity to save the day. This happened once to Paul’s nephew in Acts 23. We don’t even know his name. We don’t know what he was doing there. But, somehow, he became aware that 40 men who wanted Paul dead were planning to manipulate the system to get Paul on a path where they could overpower his guards and assassinate him. We don’t know how old Paul’s nephew was, but he was old enough to know that his uncle was in serious trouble. So, he went to the prison and told Paul. Paul sent him to the Centurion in command, who, aware of the danger, whisked Paul away to safety in Caesarea under heavy military guard.

This is the only mention of Paul’s nephew in the Bible. He was strategically placed and had one significant thing to do…and he did it faithfully. Like a “mole”, or a “sleeper cell”, when the time was right, when the opportunity came, he acted. It is not difficult to conclude that God has placed us as “moles” in the lives of those around us. We never know when our opportunity will come, we seldom know our strategic importance in someone’s life, but our word, our sentence, our hug, our action might just be significant for them. What we say or do might just make a difference for them.

This is why Carol always leaves a note to the maid along with the good news in written form in every motel room we use…along with a tip. You never know when it will make a difference in someone’s life. This is why some people smile at every clerk or waitress who serves them. You never know when your smile will encourage. This is why I like to carry my family story, THE FOUR STORMS in written form. You never know when it will be significant for someone you meet. While landing in Kansas City a few years ago on a ministry trip, I leaned across the empty seat beside me and re-engaged the man I had met earlier. He was just awakening from his nap. I offered him something I had written about a difficult experience in our family. Taking it, he put it in his briefcase. Then I asked him how I could pray for him (he knew I was a pastor, so it wasn’t too weird to follow God’s Spirit and ask this question). His answer made me realize why I was traveling to Chicago that day. His family was experiencing the same pain our family had experienced. I don’t know what significance my story had for him. But, when God pulled back the curtain and let me peak into his life, I realized that, even though we had self-selected our seating on that Southwest flight, Someone else had strategically planted me.

Be aware. You just might be a “mole” for Jesus!