Yesterday I played in the 15th Annual, Young Life Golf Marathon. Two things I’ll say about my golf game. First, I only play 3-4 times a year. Okay…no need for a second thing.

We were playing a “scramble” which basically means that the good players in the group carry the ones who play like I do. The only hiccup is that on the front nine and the back nine your team MUST use at least one tee shot from every player. We got a long way into the round before we could use one of mine.

However, on one of the holes I stepped up to the tee and one of the other guys in our group had already put a beautiful tee shot out in the fairway. So…someone said, “Just hit it as hard as you can.” (No further encouragement needed.) Well…to put it mildly, I crushed the ball. Now, I’ve done that before. I’ve just never been able to find any of the balls I’ve crushed. But this one went long – and it went straight. Such a strange feeling.

I would have been happy with simply hit a ball that well, but in a twist of fate I can only describe as a “miraculous act of God’s grace and mercy,” that hole happened to be the one where they were having a contest for the “longest drive.” I couldn’t believe it. I actually won something at golf…and NOT on a mini-golf course!

Here ends the gloating session.

The funeral was today. Fittingly, it was at a chapel on the cemetery grounds called the Celebration of Life Center. It was a celebration of life indeed. Quite a simple service actually. Opening reading of Psalm 139 (…You knit me together in my mother’s womb…). Amazing Grace sung by everyone. A slide show that had everyone laughing, crying, sighing, and remembering Mandy with a huge smile…just the way it should be. Then it was my turn…

What an honor to share. Memories of the birth of her son Sage (when she was just 16). Laughing about youth group pranks. Talking in the Hospice House about the Bible, heaven, fear, fighting, and peace. I shared two Scriptures that Mandy and I talked about the day before she died. The first was from I John 5:13:

“My purpose in writing is simply this: that you who believe in God's Son will know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you have eternal life, the reality and not the illusion.” (from the Message)

We talked about “knowing.” We talked about fear. She talked about her fear turning to peace. Beautiful.

Then I asked her what she was most looking forward to about heaven. She said, “Not hurting anymore. And the streets of gold.” That led to a conversation about Philippians 3:20-21

“But our citizenship is in heaven, and we eagerly await a Savior from there – the Lord Jesus Christ – who, by the power that enables Him to bring everything under His control will transform our lowly bodies, so that they will be like His glorious body.” (NIV)

When Jason (my friend and Mandy’s brother) called me a week ago Tuesday to tell me that she had gone Home, the first picture in my head was of a pain-free Mandy, dancing with her Savior on streets of gold. And that’s exactly what she’s doing. Unless, of course, she’s eating dessert at the banquet feast…or going for a swim in the crystal sea…or running through a field of flowers…or exploring the heavens with the angels…or laughing in the presence of the Author of Joy…or…

Mandy, you are loved and deeply missed here. But I know your smile is back, bigger than ever, for you are finally in the presence of the One who knows you best…and loves you most. Welcome Home Mandy. Welcome Home.

It was 15 years ago today that I met this beautiful blond with great legs who loved Jesus and who – 23 months later – would become my bride. And if you can believe it, there is an even greater reason why I’m celebrating today.

One hour ago, we were all upstairs in Sarah’s room, finished reading the story of the resurrection and started walking through what “believing in Jesus” means. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Do you know why Jesus died on the cross?
Caleb: For our sins.
Me: Do you understand what “sin” is?
Caleb: Um…no.
Me: Do you think you ever do, say, or think things that make God not happy?
Caleb: No.
Me: Really?!? Like when you hurt your sisters or say things that are mean or not true…Does that make God happy or unhappy?
Caleb: Oh yeah…unhappy.
Me: Well, God is perfect. He wants to be with us, but since we’re all not perfect, something had to happen to take our sin away. The only way that could happen was for someone to die. Jesus said that He would die so that we wouldn’t have to. Then He rose from the tomb so that we could live with Him forever. Anyone who believes He did this for us can ask Jesus to live in their heart and we tell Him that we’ll live our lives to make Him happy.
Caleb: I want to do that!

And so he did. I prayed. He prayed.

Wahooo! His mother hooted and hugged him. I wish I had a picture of his face when Kari said, “Everyone in heaven is having a party right now because you asked Jesus into your heart.” He beamed. So excited.

Before being tucked into bed, Caleb asked, “What do you think our house is going to be like in heaven?” “I don’t know, Caleb. But I think it’s going to be better than you or I could ever imagine.”

Sort of like this day…

Have you ever seen the show LOST? I have got to admit, Kari and I are big fans. We’ve seen every episode. For those of you who haven’t seen it here’s the very short recap. Plane crashes on mysterious island. Some people survive. Strange things start to happen. Strange things continue to happen. Strange things are still happening.

The more I think about it, the more I have come to see that my life is quite a bit like LOST. Now…I know you’re thinking I’m going to make the easy “Sunday School” analogy of we-are-all-lost-and-need-to-be-found-by-Jesus. While true – that’s not what I’m talking about. There are many other reasons that LOST is like my life. One I’ve already mentioned…

Similarity 1: Strange things happen…and keep happening. In one of the early shows a polar bear appeared on this tropical island. Now – I haven’t seen a polar bear in Kirkland yet, but I have seen people do many things that I can’t explain. People meet Jesus and do strange things. Just met a man last week who has made a pact with eight men to take care of each other’s families if anything should happen to one of them. That may not sound strange, but they made this pact so that they could get rid of their life insurance policies and give all that money to the poor. Hmmm…

Similarity 2: Some people get miraculously healed by being on the island, others get worse, and others don’t change. Why is that? I don’t know. I don’t know why it happens on LOST and I don’t know why it happens in real life. One family adopts an HIV-positive baby, their church prays, and six months later the baby is tested and found to be HIV-negative. (True story.) Another family spends three years praying for their 34-year-old daughter who has a malignant tumor in her stomach only to have the doctors say “There’s nothing more we can do.” (Speaking at her funeral this Saturday.)

Similarity 3: Some “seasons” are better than others. Some are really exciting. Sometimes I can’t wait to see the next piece unfold. Sometimes I wish life would just “move on.” Some seasons are a blast. Others are a little slower – or even flat out frustrating.

Similarity 4: I’m not quite sure what’s going on. Every once in a while I think I’ve got it figured out. Then something happens and I’m confused again. I get answers to questions about some events and people. But more questions always pop up. To really enjoy LOST you have to be okay with a bit of uncertainty and confusion. In fact, I’d go so far as to say you have to embrace it! The same is true with life. If the only way you can be happy is to have all the answers and be in control…well…you’re in for a long, frustrating ride.

Similarity 5: There will come a day when we won’t be confused any more. The writers of LOST have done something that hasn’t been done before (at least not that I know of). They’ve announced the end. Next season (’09-’10) will be the last season. By the end of May 2010, they’ve promised to wrap it up. Answers will be given. We’ll know what the island was and why different things happened. The same is true for life. We don’t know when, but we do know that the Author of Life has promised to return. We won’t be confused any more. We will be able to ask any and every question, for on that day we will be in the presence of The Answer. And we will no longer be lost. Amen.

She’s home now. No more pain. No more tumor. No more fear. No more wondering when “the end” was coming. No more fading in and out of consciousness. No more. She’s home now.

Her brother called me a few hours after Mandy went home. His voice was surprisingly upbeat. But as we talked I realized that he was genuinely happy because his sister was finally his sister again. The person he had visited every day who was frequently incoherent because of the myriad of drugs she was on was not his sister. He knew where she was. He knew that she was finally healed – fully.

As our conversation wound down I said, “Jason, what can I do.” He response floored – and inspired – me.

“You can rejoice. I know I am.”

So that’s what I’m doing. Rejoicing. I guess that’s the difference between grieving with hope and grieving without hope.

Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. (I Thessalonians 4:13-14)

No more pain. Oh…and the streets of gold.

That was Mandy’s response when I asked her what she’s looking forward to about heaven. We talked about bodies that work, hanging out with Jesus, being able to ask all the questions we want. (“Why did God create mosquitoes?” came up on the list.)

She’s certainly getting weaker. She was in and out of sleep as we talked. But when she was awake, the conversation was really good. Her dad and his wife stopped by for another quick visit before heading back to there home in Idaho. There was a lot of hand holding, I love you’s, and kisses on the forward. As I watched them walk out of the room I could help but wonder if that was the last time he would see his daughter alive. I thought about Sarah, Caleb, and Hannah. And my heart broke a little bit.

Mandy said she was afraid. I asked what she was afraid of. She said that she was afraid she wouldn’t go to heaven. She had asked to take communion and be baptized on Saturday. We talked about Jesus. Who He was, who He claimed to be, and what she believed about Him. She said, “Oh…I believe Jesus is who He claimed to be and did what He said He did.”

So I picked up her copy of the The Message and read these words from I John 5:

My purpose in writing is simply this: that you who believe in God's Son will know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you have eternal life, the reality and not the illusion.

“Mandy, you can know beyond the shadow of a doubt. And Jesus said that He said what He said so that we would have peace instead of fear. He knew that we would have trouble. But He reminded his disciples – and He reminds us – that we don’t need to be afraid, because He has overcome the world.”

Her response? She laid her head back, grinned and said…

“I feel much better now.”

Oh Mandy…how much better you will feel very, very soon.

Our church is using a devotional for lent called The Sanctuary for Lent. Yesterday’s devo struck a chord. It’s based on the short story in Luke 21:1-4 of the poor woman putting two coins in the offering and Jesus honoring her for it. Here’s what Dr. John Harnish had to say:

“Preachers love to use this text during the fall stewardship campaign. We bring out the little lady with two coins, hold her up against the wealthy, and make everyone feel guilty for a Sunday or so until we make the budget. the we send her back to her quiet corner for another year. The story sounds different when you read it during Holy Week. Knowing that Jesus is about to give his life, knowing that it was the rich and powerful who were turning against him, knowing what we know about this week, her gift takes on new significance as a symbol of the giving of our lives to the one who will give his life for us. My act of faithful tithing is not just about meeting the church budget in October; it is about the sacrificial giving of my time, talents, and treasure under the encroaching shadow of the cross.

Jesus gave it all. So did she. So should we.”

The Sanctuary for Lent 2009, Dr. John E. Harnish, Abingdon Press, Used by Permission

What do you say to a 33-year-old single mother and her 17-year-old son as she sits in a Hospice House, knowing the end is near? She used to be in my youth group. In fact, when I started, she was 16 and a few weeks away from giving birth to that son.

We talked about her health. Tumor. Failed liver. Failing kidneys. Ugh.

We laughed about old youth group pranks. “Remember the time when…”

We read a bit of of the Bible. “But our citizenship is in heaven, and we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies, so that they will be like his glorious body.” (check out Philippians 3) Can’t wait for that body. No tumors. Everything works the way it should.

We prayed. Holding the shaking hand of a woman too young to die – and the hand of her son – takes all the trite-ness out of any prayer.

As I drove away, I wondered if I did, said, or prayed the right things. Then I pulled around the corner and there before me was Mount Rainier shooting up toward the heavens on a crystal clear spring day. I could almost hear God saying, “I created this majestic mountain. I painted this sky blue. Don’t worry about Mandy. I made her too…and I love her more.”

And in that moment, I rested and gave thanks to a loving, good Creator, who is present – for me and for Mandy.

I know you’ve heard that girls and boys are different. Some say “nature.” Others say “nurture.” I say “yep!”

Sarah and Caleb were playing with Legos and I was in another part of the room. The sweet voice of my daughter called out from the other room, “Daaaaadddy. Look at the house I just built.” Barely had the words left her lips when my son stands up and shouts, “Hey Dad. Look at my monster! Wanna make a monster so we can fight?”

And again I say…”Yep.”

I met her my first week as a youth pastor. She was 16 years old. She had a baby a month later. Our youth group embraced her and loved her through all those first days, weeks, months and years. Then – as often happens when kids graduate from high school – we didn’t keep in as good a touch as we all wanted to. Many, including me, don’t live in that city anymore.

I saw her a year and a half ago when someone told me they found a cantaloupe-sized tumor in her abdomen. She got a bit better, then worse, then better.

Today the news came first in an email. Then a phone call. Mandy has less than a month to live. And she’s asked to see me. I’m honored. And I’m heartbroken. I haven’t cried in a long time. I cried today.

I know most of you don’t know Mandy. But many of you know the God who created her, and loves her, and looks forward to seeing her soon. Please talk to Him about her. If He wants to miraculously heal her – I’d be thrilled. If He wants to take her home, how can I fault Him for that. She’s His. She’s not ours. She’s His. She’s His. She’s His.

What a hard journey this is sometimes…

Just got back from a family walk. Partway into the walk we came to a bench with one of the “In Loving Memory” signs. As we looked at the picture and read the plaque the tender moment took a quick detour when Sarah asked…

So…did that guy die under this bench?

Sentimentality squashed. On with the walk.

My friend Hilary sent me this story. Speaks to the importance of paying attention and being willing to enter in to the seemingly little moments.

The Taxi Ride I’ll Never Forget

The story was originally printed in Kent Nerburn’s book Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace. Thanks Hilary.

Yep…you read that correctly. I’m spending today and tomorrow at the Northwest Ministry Conference. Each morning they open up with different speakers, actors, singers, etc. in a 90-minute general session. The first 15 minutes is always worship music. We were halfway through the second song and I saw something that totally caught me off guard.

In the midst of the string section (by the way, strings with contemporary worship is sweet!) was a gal playing cello. Not only was she playing beautifully, but she was completely jamming! Feet were stomping. She was swaying back and forth. And she was singing at the top of her lungs. It was absolutely fabulous.

A jamming cellist. Who woulda thunk it?

This is an old quote, but I haven’t heard it in a long time and it’s a fabulous reminder.

“I simply argue that the cross be raised at the center of the marketplace as well as the steeple of the church. Jesus was not crucified in a cathedral between two candles, but on a cross between two thieves; on a town garbage dump; at a crossroads so cosmopolitan that they had to write his name in three languages…That is where the church ought to be and where the cross ought to be.”

It was spoken by George MacLeod, a 20th Century Scottish minister. I was reminded of it in the devotional The Sanctuary for Lent 2009 by pastor John Harnish. Thanks John.