The Last Enemy

Most of the time I like getting mail, both e- and the snail variety. I’m not talking about spam and its junk mail predecessor, both of which should be banished to the pit. It’s real mail that I like; it keeps me in touch, even the bills. But in the last couple of days my mail, both e- and snail varieties, have brought painful news.

It began with a simple hand-addressed envelope from the mother of a California acquaintance. The envelope contained the memorial folder from her daughter’s funeral. I found and reread my friend’s Christmas letter (these annual epistles were the extent of our conversation) sent just a few weeks ago; there was no hint that death was around the corner of the new year. Then came the emailed news of a relative of Joan’s who had died after a painful experience of bone cancer. Her death was welcomed release. The same day came news of a former parishioner whose body is slowly giving up and who will likely be in the presence of the Lord within a week or two. Hard on the heels of that news came word of a friend just diagnosed with cancer.

The losses of others scrape against the scars of my own grief. Death, however it comes, is not to be feared, but it is undeniably the enemy. Death and disease leave pain in their wake. It was Paul who described death as the last enemy to be destroyed (1 Cor 15:26). The good news is that death has been defeated, the victory sealed with Easter’s empty tomb. One day, death will be destroyed as well.

The mail just arrived. I wonder if I should open it.
Foot in Mouth
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Whatever and the Web

Having spent a good chunk of my life serving churches, I have a lot of church-involved friends who I am probably about to irritate. They may not like hearing me say that far too often, church technology stinks. (Have you looked at any church web sites recently?) There might be a nice way of saying that, but I’m not sure what it is. Sometimes the naked truth needs to be naked.

I suppose it has something to do with the reluctance with which many Christians approach the cutting edge of technology, fearful that it may cut them. I understand that. I consciously avoided texting for several years until it dawned on me that I was missing out on another way to tell my family I loved them. I continue to avoid jumping on the Twitter bandwagon. Blame it on my age if you want; I was born just before the baby boom, and as one who straddles two worlds, I sometimes embrace technology the way I would embrace a porcupine.

I was amused (but not surprised) to discover today that a church I know has a page on facebook, placed there, I would guess, by one of its members. However, nobody knows the page is there, and it contains no information at all beyond the church’s name. Worse yet, the page boldly declares “
0 people like this.” Not even the person who created the page? I’m pretty sure that’s not the message this group of believers wants to convey. (Okay, I know you want to go check to see if it’s YOUR church. Go ahead; I’ll wait....)

I am blessed when I come across a church web site that is thoughtfully designed and communicates clearly. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. I think the best church web site I have seen belongs to a little congregation of less than 50 people who don’t even have a building. But they know how to use contemporary technology to connect effectively. I used to wonder how (or if) Jesus would have used the web until I remembered that God created a web and called it the church.

Whatever you do - even technology? - do it all to the glory of God.
Happy

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Sort of New

Happy New Year (No, I’m not late. It’s still January, and when you’re retired, that’s close enough.) After a week and a half of mutual new year greetings, the analytical slice of my brain has started to examine those simple, oft-shared three words. My personal hope for 2011 is the same as my wish for Christmas: mellow. After the adventures of the last three years, I think mellow would be both happy and new. I’ll aim for mellow, but I can’t guarantee it; there is much that is beyond my ability to control.

I’ve noticed these past few days how easily the new can slip back into the old. I try to visit my friend the treadmill several times a week. The first Monday of the year, the gym was as crowded as I’ve seen it. Lots of people showed up to fulfill the newness of their resolution. Fast forward one week and the crowd has disappeared. Most of the cardio equipment sits unused, and I have my choice of treadmills. Could that many of my fellow new-year-exercisers have suddenly discovered the proverbial road to hell that is paved with good intentions?

The trouble with hanging on to the new is letting go of the old. Some old stuff is worth keeping. The changing of a year should not erase valued friendships or happy memories. Last week I came across a folder of Matt’s with old annual evaluations in it that had me laughing at his humor and weeping at his tenderness. Neither the journey of loss nor the journey of joy is interrupted by the edges of January.

How much of the old can I hang on to while still grasping the new? How much of the new can I grasp without letting go of the old? Perhaps January is a time for discernment.

Happy sort-of-new year.
Laugh
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