Showing posts from April, 2014

100 Happy Days

Everyone is in search of happiness, aren't they? Isn't it one of our founding ideals as Americans: "The Pursuit of Happiness?" 
But it isn't as easy as the founding fathers made it sound. It would seem that the "pursuit of covetousness" or the "hunt for depression" or the "search for more" might be more appropriate titles for the so-called "American Dream." 
On Facebook about a week ago, I saw a friend state that she was going to take the "100 Happy Days Challenge." I thought it was a little silly and just one more thing that I didn't need to stress over. 
I would simply like to be content for 100 days in a row. Happiness is fleeting and not a thing easily grasped. I closed the web page and figured I would think nothing more of it.  Instead though, the next day, I decided I would try.
It seems that if anyone should be happy, it should be those who profess belief in Jesus as their Savior. Especially American Christ…


My grandfather would pick us up every Sunday morning in his Pontiac Grand Am, and we would drive from the city for 20 minutes or so through rolling hills and farm land into the southern end of Lancaster County to the church he pastored.  It didn't feel like 20 minutes.  Especially after church when you couldn't wait to get home to lunch after Pop's preaching went long.  But I liked the drive.  I liked the way the road meandered through farm country.  I liked how the creek twisted and turned beside us.  I like watching the way the fields would change through the seasons.  The fields were a patchwork quilt of colors and textures.  Up close, of course, all you could see was cut down corn and dirt, but from the top of the hill you could see one field was cut down while another was green.  You could see the pattern that the farmer had tilled the land and planted the seed.

Sometimes I think about my own life this way.  It is easy to get caught up in the moment, the very close p…

In the Waiting

When I was little, Easter Sunday was a favorite holiday because of candy and colored eggs and new dresses. When I got a little older, Good Friday became my favorite day of the Holy Week. Meditating on Jesus' sacrifice quieted the world around me and gave a different focus to suffering in general. 
Now, as an adult, it has become Holy Saturday...that day of bewilderment for Jesus' friends...that day that seems to reflect most accurately the world around me.
The quietness, the ordinariness of Saturday is perturbing, especially after a major loss. When you think of those men & women whose journey with Jesus had suddenly jerked to a stop with the unthinkable: a broken and dead body... Maybe they went together to mourn at first but eventually each found their own solitary brand of grief. Maybe they went to bed numb and confused, as we do in grief.
We know better though because we live post Resurrection. We know how the story ends, right? But we might really be in our own dark Satu…