Saturday, July 9, 2016

The Cure

It is happening again. Death. Division. Revenge. Misunderstanding. Anger. Literal violence in the streets.

Black. White. Blue.

And that is just this week. Two weeks ago, the focus was not on black/white but on gay/straight. Not long before that, it was on Muslim/non-Muslim.

People groups are targeted, whether based on their race, their color, their national origin, their politics, their sexuality, their religion, their occupation, or their association with people of a given race, sexuality, political persuasion, religion, or job.

Pastor Martin Niemöller famously wrote: "First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out— because I was not a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me."

One does not have to be black, Muslim, gay, Republican, Democrat, conservative, liberal, or employed as a police officer to stand with those who are targeted.

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.

This week, I have heard all sorts of so-called causes for our national (and international) crisis described and blamed. Those scapegoats have included gun laws, drug laws, the internet and social media, poor mental health care, tv violence, Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, President Obama, the professional media, the level of debate in the country, conservatism, liberalism, and others. I believe those may all contribute, but they are at most symptoms. As I have written before, our basic problem is that we do not love each other enough.

That simple statement - we don't love each other enough - is profound to some and laughable to others. When I posted that message on Facebook, I got "amen" and "100% agree" comments alongside "100% disagree" comments. Those who disagree are good people; I assume they disagree because they think my sentiment is too simple, even naïve. They believe that most of us love one another and that it is just some bad apples who are the problem.

Still, I sense that many agree, or are moving to agree, with me on the true cause. For years, we have addressed these types of issues with agendas and laws. We have poured money into social programs. We have assessed special additional penalties for "hate crimes." We have mandated sensitivity training. Now, when the president suggests that the answer is a new "task force," his suggestion is met with scoffing disbelief. More and more, people are realizing that curricula and action plans cannot address problems of the heart.

So, we have identified the cause: we do not love each other enough. Does that end the story?

Of course not. Because telling people to "go out and love each other more" is not going to work.

Loving one another is not something we can just decide to do with any chance of long-term solvency. We can sing "What the World Needs Now Is Love, Sweet Love" all we want to, but wishing and hoping will never make it so. We are fallen, sinful, puny human beings, tossed by the winds and subject to our own natural biases, prejudices, and basic failings. Left to our own devices, no matter how much we try, we will never love fully or perfectly or permanently. If the cause is the problem of the heart, and it is, then the solution requires curing the heart. Loving others requires first receiving the love of God.

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.... Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.... God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.

God is the source - the only source - of love. Jesus gave - and gives - His "new command" because Jesus is God in the flesh, showing us who God is and embodying the fullness of God so we can know what God is like.

It is incumbent on those of us who know God to demonstrate God's love to a violent and angry world, to love those who are not like us and do not look like us and do not act like we do and do not believe like we do.

But even demonstrating the love of God to everyone is not enough; it is incumbent on us to introduce others to God. We need to stop telling people how to act and how to love. In this matter, as in all things, expecting those who do not know God to act as if they did know God is fruitless and silly. We need instead to lead them to the One who can and will change their hearts and their souls. They need to know God, to experience God's love, to want to know what God has that can change their lives. That takes time and energy. Jesus did not just show up and demand that Peter and Matthew and the rest start loving their Roman oppressors. Jesus spent three intense years with his closest apostles before announcing, the night before His death, this "new command." So, we need to focus less on telling people how to act and more on introducing them to the One who can cure the heart. And along the way, we need to model that love and demonstrate clearly what it means to follow Christ.

We do not love each other enough because (1) not enough of us know God, who is love and (2) those of us who do know God are not demonstrating God's love clearly nearly often enough.

Your wound is incurable, your injury beyond healing... But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds.

We know the cause. And we know the cure.

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Of Orlando, Presidential Elections, Baylor, Hibiscus, and Lamentations

We have this bush outside our garage. I think it is a hibiscus, but I could be wrong. I am not much of a botanist.

Gena cuts it back to almost nothing every fall. It looks like a few dead branches for months and months. Then spring comes, and it bursts forth in green sprigs that go every which way, and I sometimes wonder why we have it at all. Just yesterday, it was not blooming. It was just a mess of green.

(OK, I will get back to that bush in a minute.)

The news is not pretty these days. This morning's senseless massacre of partiers in Orlando dominates the news, pushing to the next page the lingering fallout from the sexual assaults and following actions and inactions on the campus of my alma mater.

We face a presidential election characterized with a new set of rhetoric not seen in my lifetime. Not displaying just the vitriol that I have written about before and that has been all too commonplace, this election cycle has added a whole new level of negativism and bitter sky-is-falling wailing. I know very few people who are adamantly supporting their candidate of choice; I know many more who are adamantly opposed to the other candidate at almost any cost. And I know many, like me, who have no idea for whom they will vote in November.

Discouragement is the emotion of the day. Calamity and crisis are, according to my Facebook feed, around every corner. It appears that the sky really is falling.

And then, this morning, that annoying bush had burst forth with three bright red flowers, striking and beautiful and very much in my face. Suddenly, I see buds on it everywhere, and I know that tomorrow promises more and bigger and redder blooms. I start remembering something about new mercies every morning.


While accusations and finger-pointing have continued ad nauseam in political campaigns and in the news articles about Baylor, these tendrils have grown. Literally, while victims were dying in the early morning hours, these blooms were opening.

I don't know what you do with new-every-morning reminders that God is on the throne, but I offer this: God has not given up on His world. Rain is still falling, and flowers are still growing. Caterpillars are still spinning their cocoons, and butterflies will still emerge. Earth will continue to make its revolutions around the sun.

I do not mean to be simple. In fact, I mean just the opposite.

There is a lot to mourn, and God mourns with us. There is a lot to address and to fix, and God works with us. There is a lot to be ashamed of and to confess, and God hears us and forgives.

But try as we might, we cannot take over. We cannot affect the cycles of the world. That darn flower is going to bloom in spite of us.

In some very old-fashioned words, it is said this way: I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning: Great is Thy Faithfulness.

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Notes on Notes from Susie

(A version of this post - the actual letter I wrote to Mark, edited only slightly to remove a couple of very personal references - has already appeared on the website www.notesfromsusie.com. Here, I have edited that letter more carefully for my readers who do not know Mark, Susie, or the story of her last years.)

I have just had quite a weekend. The Susie Edwards Memorial Concert was Saturday night, held in conjunction with the release of the new book Notes from Susie. You can read about and order the book here.

Without rehashing the history that has led to the book, let me say briefly that it is a compilation, primarily, of a running diary kept by Mark and Susie Edwards during Susie's two-year bout with cancer that ended with her death in March of 2015. This diary took the form of almost nightly Facebook posts on a group site established by the Edwards' daughter Weslee Edwards Hill.

This blog is not really meant to be an advertisement for the book. They have a good marketing campaign already. Instead, I want to see if I can articulate my reaction to having read the book on the heals of having sung in the thrilling concert, which you can see here. There are some spoilers about how the book ends in this blog, but since I have already said in the previous paragraph that Susie died last year, I don't think any of the spoilers really matters.

I began reading the book the night of the concert. I sat up late reading, but I had to give up a little after midnight, 100 pages or so in. Rehearsals were long and the concert was intense, and I was exhausted.

I picked up reading again on the flight home. I expect the tattooed gentleman sitting next to me drinking his scotch on the rocks wondered why I was getting weepy reading a paperback, but he did not ask. The plane landed just as I reached the point where Susie chooses to forgo further treatment and Mark calls in hospice. We got our bags, drove home, and spent some time with my daughter, and then I came upstairs, turned on the video of the concert, and finished reading.

Reading the book with the concert playing in the background created what I would call coincidences... if I believed in coincidences. For instance, as I got to the page on which Mark records Susie's actual death, speaking of how she "turned and looked straight into the Light," I was listening to "Be Thou My Vision."

Having read most of the words in Notes from Susie the first time as they were posted on Facebook, I went into reading the book with an expectation of being reminded, and I suppose I was, but that is far and away not the primary experience ... or even in the Top 5, of what the book meant to me. Reading this book was not about reminders. Reading the book was an almost entirely new, and profound, event.

So, if being reminded was not the primary impact of the book, what was?

First, I heard Susie's voice so clearly. As I told Gena on the drive home from the airport, I do not know that I ever thought of Susie's speaking voice as being particularly unique, but it is distinct to me now. I read all the time, and I suppose I conjure up voices in my imagination for characters in books, but never before has it happened to me like this... where I read the words of someone and hear her particular voice enunciating every syllable as though she were sitting next to me carrying on a conversation. I don't really know what to make of that yet, except to say the book is entirely personal. I did not hear her voice in that same way when I was reading the posts on Facebook; this was different in kind. So perhaps there is something to the idea that Susie was somehow with me, sitting next to me, writing me a note and reading it out loud to make sure it was just right before she sealed the envelope, as I read. My theology does not entirely know what to do with that, but I know what I experienced.

Second, I am overwhelmed by the lists of things for which Susie is grateful as she walks through the shadow... even at times expressing thankfulness for her health.

Third, I found myself rooting for her as I read. Of course, I knew the ending. I knew that she is not going to make it. But as I turned pages, especially early on, I found myself hoping against hope that the next infusion will be the magic elixir that will kill the dreaded disease and mean decades more of life for her. Illogical? Yes, since I just sang in her memorial concert. And yet, the struggle is on, and as in any good book, I was fighting right along with the hero.

Fourth, I found myself asking hard questions, questions with painful answers. Since I knew the ending, and the timing of the ending, I reacted viscerally as the days wear on and the details become more and more painful. I started yelling (in my head - I did not want to disturb my seatmate's scotch) at Susie not to have that next infusion, not to put herself through another dose of poison that I knew is not going to work. I found myself asking, "Is it worth it?" And before that awful question was even fully formed, the answers came flooding in. Whether the medicine gave her another week or another month is not for me to know, but what I do know is the implausible, incredible, oh-so-real impact Susie's (and Mark's) experiences had and are having on hundreds, yea thousands, of people every single day. What God did with the choices, hurts, hopes, dealing with the ups and downs of a losing battle, and of course faith of Mark and Susie goes beyond the depths of comprehension, passing all understanding. As their daughter Weslee explains near the book's conclusion, Mark and Susie's story has had and continues to have a modern fish-and-loaves impact. As the diary progresses, Mark and Susie make every choice based on the best advice from doctors, taking each other's wishes into account, and grounded in faith in God; and the outcome is what the outcome is. In the meantime - in the middle of the journey - they each, individually and together, evidence what most people only sniff around the edges, if they have any real sense of it at all. I do not for a minute suggest that this two-year free-fall was "necessary" or was "God's plan;" but I know beyond all doubt that God did and is doing a marvelous thing with Susie's last two years. And just as God needed Antonio to build a Stradivarius violin, he needed Mark and Susie to pen these words. During the daily readings of the postings as they appeared on Facebook in 2013 and 2014 and 2015, I had no perspective to understand the importance of the project; at that point, I was simply praying and hoping and waiting for what would happen next. Now, in reading the book when I know the ending... and simultaneously regretting every pain and miserable moment Susie has and Mark shares... I cannot but rejoice.

Fifth, I am humbled by Mark's faith. I have known Mark a long time. I sang under his baton for years. We did shows together. We played softball together. Mark ministered to my wife in many personal and powerful ways. He and I were charter members of the Tuesday morning Bible study group he discusses in the book and still attends. I have always known Mark as a man of faith... but this dark night of the soul gave him a whole new way to follow, a demonstration of faith beyond the comfort of the podium and the notes-and-rests for which he is professionally and vocationally trained. And I suspect Mark would admit - and agree with me - that these struggles grew his faith. Mark Edwards - musician, minister, composer, arranger - discovered a new song in the night, a new hymn-tune to which to set words he had known for years. In concluding the book, Mark demonstrates vulnerability and questioning without once betraying a failing of faith, and for that he is a role model to me and to all who read this book. Like Jacob, Mark had to wrestle with God, and he emerges walking with a pronounced limp; but he leaves as Israel, the chosen of God.

I have other reactions to the book, but they are more personal, for Mark and his precious family are close to my heart. Some of my reactions remain between me and them.

And after all that... yes, I was reminded of the privilege I had - as countless others had - to share a little part of the journey with you both.

I thank my God in all my remembrance of Susie, and of Mark.

Sunday, May 1, 2016

The Loneliness of the Middle

Very few people who know me would describe me as being in "the middle."

My liberal friends will scoff at the very idea, for my politics and economics are, to them, very conservative. I am a member of a Baptist church. My personal ethics and morality are straight arrow.

My conservative friends, on the other hand, shake their heads that I do not join their causes. I do not boycott, retweet, or rally. I don't think that either President Obama or Secretary Clinton is evil. I don't think we are on the brink of socialism in America. I don't think most people in America even have much of a clue what socialism is.

It is well-documented that the extremes are controlling the political debate in our nation. That is also true in our churches. To say that I am in the Middle does not define me as classically "middle of the road" on any issue, nor does it mean that I do not hold strong and well thought-out convictions. It simply means that I do not identify with either extreme.

I entitle this blog "The Loneliness of the Middle" not because I think I am alone there. I fully believe that a vast majority of Americans, of the church, and of my friends are right there with me. The reason it is a Lonely Middle is that majority stays largely silent to avoid the barbs and arrows that will invariably rain down on them from both sides if they speak.

It is lonely when your friends on one side lead with fear, distrust, and suspicion. They do not, by and large, (and despite what my friends on the other extreme say) actually preach hatred. But they are loudly offended, and they believe that the end is near - whether because of economics, crime, immigration, blanket acceptance of behaviors that are unthinkable to them, or terrorism. In their response - often without their intent or even their understanding - they are offensive, narrow, and off-putting. Their language is foreign to much of the rest of the world, and so they are not understood as anything but reactionary.

It is lonely when your friends on the other extreme lead with open intolerance, mockery, and disdain. They preach broadminded acceptance but show no forbearance or patience with those on the other extreme, not simply disagreeing but labeling with brickbats and ostracism. In their response - often apparently intentionally - they are rude and dismissive. They appear uncaring and uninterested in other points of view, and so they are not understood as anything but high-handed and, ironically, bigoted. They cannot imagine that they are so viewed by anyone with any bit of discernment, but they are.

Freedom of course must mean that we allow what we do not like, what offends us, and that with which we do not agree. As we become freer and freer, more and more behaviors, attitudes, speech, and ideas become more and more prevalent. To want to squash what grows freely is no doubt contradictory, hypocritical, and wrong.

Having an opinion or a standard that says that any behavior is somehow wrong has become the equivalent, in the loudest circles, of small-minded hatred. "Love the sinner but hate the sin," a watchword for many of us growing up, has somehow become a byword, a badge of condescension and scorn. The idea of absolute truth knowable to human beings is, in our post-modern conceit, somewhere between an afterthought and a punchline.

I have friends on one side sermonizing with a message that sounds like anything but love for neighbor and faith that God will bring us through. I understand the reaction to what are believed to be dangerous actions, but expecting everyone to behave like you want them to, or like people used to, or like you imagine would be perfect is a fruitless - and, more importantly, dangerous - daydream. I understand concern that the Left is leading us down a path of no return - whether the issue is economic, political, religious, or behavioral; but understanding it does not mean that I agree with it. And while I understand the concern, I do not understand the lack of faith that truth and right and grace - and yes, God - will not only survive but overcome.

I have friends on the other side moralizing with a message that sounds like anything but love for neighbor and faith that God has brought us safe thus far. I understand the reaction to what is believed to be opinionated and unjustifiable prejudice, but expecting everyone to agree that anything goes and that long-held standards have become passé is a fool's errand. I understand concern that the Right is callous and dogmatic; but understanding it does not mean that I agree. And while I understand the concern, I do not understand the easy intolerance for those perceived to be intolerant. The prejudice against the (perceived to be) prejudiced is self-evident and paradoxical.

There may be no better example of what I am talking about than within the church, where there are those who condemn interpretations that vary from the approved and there are others who cannot abide the idea of doctrine. The fundamentalist's unwillingness to commune with those who disagree is outgunned only by the progressive's complete intolerance of the fundamentalist.

I also have many friends who profess to be "tired" of it all. That is scary, and it is unfortunate. When those on the extreme have worn down those who do not want to engage, or do not know how to engage, or simply find better things to do than engage on the extreme arguments, we are all poorer as a result.

I find myself in the Middle. I have strong beliefs about behaviors, economics, politics, and religion; in the right setting, I am happy to debate all of them. But I do not understand the need to announce them to the world in what can only - especially in this day and age - alienate and offend far more than it can ever hope to persuade. I do not understand subjugating love and grace to the blood sport that our political (and far too often our religious) colloquy has become.

I am ok being lonely in the middle. I am not writing this asking for like-minded folks to send me an attaboy and let me know you are there with me. But I do hope that my friends on both extremes can take a deep breath and think about what is ultimately important. On the Right, is sending a message that is heard by many (even if wrongly) that you are guided by anything less than love worth it? Does announcing fear do anything to demonstrate your faith in the Spirit of Christ? On the Left, does browbeating those who hold to standards you no longer hold do anything to make the freedom you cherish more palatable? Does loudly declaring that those who disagree with you are morons really demonstrate your superiority?

Do the ends justify these means?

I end by reminding myself that I am doubtless guilty of much of what I chastise. I have unquestionably spent my time on my high horse - perhaps even in this blog. I have criticized behavior, taught scripture in a way that I am sure made me sound narrow and intolerant, and arrogantly dismissed those who have disagreed with me. I need to read my own words.

The Middle is full of lonely people who hold all sorts of views. We are liberals, conservatives, pragmatists, dreamers, believers, non-believers, nationalists, universalists, free spirits, and sticks in the mud. We diverge on many issues. But however much we disagree with each other, we circle around principles of knowable truth, freedom, reasonableness, standards, toleration, hope, love, grace, and faith.

There is much that needs to be discussed and addressed. The Left has some good points to make about freedom and self-control and growth. The Right has some good points to make about what threatens us and what deserves preservation. Those of us in the Lonely Middle - whatever edge of the Middle may be our home - are fully engaged in debating and seeking those answers. I invite my friends on both extremes to join us. We welcome you.


Monday, January 25, 2016

Starting Over

I am three weeks into the new job. After twelve and a half years in a super position with a great corporation, working with what I told everyone was "the greatest job description in the world," I picked up stakes and left the company and started a brand new law firm. From an employer of 40,000 to a law firm of two partners, one full-time employee, one part-time employee, and my sixteen-year-old daughter and her friend cleaning the office. From a guaranteed check twice a month, with bonuses at the end of the year, to earning what I can from clients I don't have yet. From doing the work somebody gives me to finding my own.

I am starting over.

This is my fourth real job. I of course had some odd jobs before the "real" ones started. My first paying job (other than working for my grandparents or babysitting here and there) was working one summer in high school for a market research company. I spent a couple of weeks standing in a mall, stopping poor unsuspecting shoppers and trying to get them to answer pages of survey questions. In college, I spent my summers teaching at debate workshops for high schoolers.

My first real job was as the assistant debate coach at Baylor while I was in law school. My second job was as a lawyer at a firm in Nashville, and then I went to the aforementioned company as an in-house lawyer for my third job.

Now, I am starting over.

Starting over is not always good. I have had two friends lose parents over the last month. They are starting over in a very real way. I yesterday heard of yet another couple who are having trouble in their marriage. They may or may not be starting over.

For me, however, at least in this occupational endeavor, starting over is a good thing. That does not mean my last job was bad; to the contrary, it was in many ways a dream job. But now, I am following my heart, pursuing my true calling and being my own boss. My partner and I have done everything, from picking the office space and the firm name to designing the web site and buying the furniture. My wife has been in charge of decorating the office while I have been out seeking clients. My partner comes from an existing law practice and brought her business with her; as I am coming from an in-house position, I have no business (but a few promises) to bring with me; hence, I am out wooing the clients.

There is an interesting psychology to starting over at age 50. What do I want to be when I grow up? What do I truly love to do? Where do my passion, my talent, and a real need in the world meet? Will anybody pay me for it?

Beyond the economic, of course, is the spiritual. Starting over is the essence of what we all want, for we all fail to live up to the standard. Pinocchio wants another chance. We all miss the mark. To get a chance to start over, free and clear of the past, is the great gift. It is the gospel.

Thursday, December 24, 2015

Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day

Tomorrow is Christmas Day. Tomorrow, according to the lyrics of one of the less well-known carols, is Jesus's dancing day. If you have ever actually pondered what this carol might mean and have come up short, or if you have never thought about it at all, I want to share my take on these words.

Tomorrow shall be my dancing day;
I would my true love did so chance
To see the legend of my play,
To call my true love to my dance;
Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.



Do you remember school dances? Do you remember anticipating a dance? Men, do you remember working up your courage to take someone to the dance or to ask just the right person for just one dance? Ladies, do you remember hoping against hope to be asked to dance?

You were not thinking about the troubles that might come with the relationship. You were not counting the problems that he or she would cause. You did not worry about what would happen later. All you cared about was getting the chance to dance with just that right person.

And, if you were in love, or thought you were, the thought of the dance made you almost giddy. To dance with your true love when you had never done that before… well, nothing else was like that anticipation.

“Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day” is one of those carols that uses imagery that we do not readily embrace in our 21st century language. Like “I Saw Three Ships” or “Fum, Fum, Fum,” this carol may be unsettling to you as you try to make sense of the language.

I am going to take the liberty for a parenthetical. Let me depart from my assigned task for a moment to say that the only way “I Saw Three Ships” makes sense to me is if you attribute it to the old British tale that St. Joseph of Arimathea, who is rumored to have brought the Holy Grail to England after the crucifixion, made an earlier trip to the British Isles, bringing Jesus and Mary with him for a visit. Thus, Bethlehem, which is landlocked and certainly cannot have any ships sail in, is likely a euphemism for Winchester or Cornwall. They arrived on Jesus’s birthday, and there was great rejoicing. Anyway, back to the ranch…

“Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day” needs no such euphemism or historical fancy to be quite meaningful. A while back, I blogged here about the hymn-poem “Lord of the Dance.” In that blog, I said this about that text: “The idea of Christ’s actions with James and John, and with the Pharisees, and with those who came to Him for healing as part of a dance takes me theologically to places we seldom explore – how big a picture did Jesus see as He walked the earth? How much of the work of Christ was preordained as the Father and the Son planned this ministry? Which steps were improvised and which were carefully composed ahead of time in order to lead to the next event?”

“Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day,” which dates back to the 1700s or the Middle Ages (depending on which music history source you trust), uses the metaphor of the dance to symbolize Jesus’s life on earth long before “Lord of the Dance” was written. The idea here is that Jesus, who has existed since the beginning of time – remember, in the beginning was the Word – looked forward to His human birth with excitement and anticipation. He was finally going to get to put on some legs and feet and arms and hands, and He was going to get to dance.

Why so excited? After all, being God, He knew that this road only had one end. He was born to die. His dance would be cut short. He was heading to a cross. How many times does this text remind us of the great lengths to which Jesus went to get a chance to dance with us? Knit to man’s nature, birthed between an ox and a silly ass, He came to dance. If you hear a choir actually sing all eleven stanzas, you would remember so much more that Christ endured: temptation in the desert, betrayal by Judas for thirty pieces of silver, His own people crying out “crucify,” the kangaroo court before Pilate, the cross, the spear, the trip to Hell. Why would Jesus possible by gleeful in anticipation of this dance?

The answer to that question, my friends, is the key to this carol. Jesus was excited, giddy even, to enter our world because He loves us. He was getting the chance to touch us, to move with us, to be with us and next to us. He was getting ready to dance with us.

How many times does this text call us His true love? This carol speaks to me because it repeatedly says that Jesus looks at you and me – all of us – as His true love. He is not looking forward to His time on earth as drudgery, as a task, as a chore to carry out because His Father says so. Oh no, Jesus cannot wait, because tomorrow, He gets to dance with His true love.

This carol is Jesus’s exuberant song. Tomorrow, Christmas Day, is the day of the prom, the sock hop to end all sock hops, the royal ball. Jesus has His eyes on His true love, and He simply cannot wait.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Why I Have Not Been Blogging Lately

Those of you who follow Blogarithmic Expressions have noted that I have not blogged much lately. In fact, except for my two latest blogs, both of which are best categorized as obituaries for dear friends, I have not blogged at all since May. I owe you an explanation.

Not blogging is not a result of writer's block. In fact, the opposite is true. I have been writing every day, but that writing has been on my second book. I have poured myself into that effort, and I have simply not had the time or the energy to blog regularly. The book will be finished at the end of the year, and I hope to find a publisher soon. When the book is ready, I will let you know here. I also promise to start blogging again regularly in the new year.

In the meantime, if you are missing my writing, I encourage you to go to www.LynRobbins.com and order a copy of my first book, In the Court of the Master: An Ordinary Man's Walk with an Extraordinary God. You can even buy a few extra copies as Christmas presents!

Thanks for putting up with that commercial, and more importantly, thanks for waiting for me to return to the blogosphere. I appreciate those of you who read my words regularly, and I hope you will be ready to read again in the new year.

Have a great Thanksgiving.