What Do You Want on Your Tombstone?

by Rev. Laura Barclay

"What do you want on your tombstone?" is not just a question for frozen pizza enthusiasts, but a real question for us to ponder. What would you want a complete stranger to know about you in a nutshell 10, 20, or 100 years from now?

A few weeks ago, my husband and I were walking through the famous Cave Hill Cemetery in Louisville, resting place of Colonel Sanders, George Rogers Clark, and the teacher who wrote the "Happy Birthday" song, Patty Hill, among others. It's also well known for its gorgeous and sometimes wacky monuments.

While the eye is drawn toward the showiness of Colonel Sanders' marble columns and stately bust, it's the understated tomb of his grandson, Harland Morrison Adams, that stuck with me. Harland's inscription states, "I HAD A GREAT TIME!" Of all the loving and touching inscriptions on various tombs, this one was my takeaway. What was this person's life like? What made this person live to the fullest? The only information I could find out about him was that he donated money to charity, loved his wife, was an avid skier, and had a ski slope named after him in Aspen.

What is holding you back detracting from your happiness? Are you not following through on your dreams because of your fears? One of my favorite quotes is from Eleanor Roosevelt who said, "Do one thing  every day that scares you." I can just see Harland flying down a ski slope shouting and afterward hugging his wife at the ski lodge.

I tend to weigh the negatives of a situation a lot. It's in my blood. I come from a line of worriers and my sister is an insurance defense attorney who can quote accidents and death rates like nobody's business. Yet, I'm compelled to board a roller coaster, zip line, or otherwise statistically stupid ride or experience to push me outside my comfort zone. If I don't, I tend to find that fear, routine, and complacency creep in. And, honestly, humans struggle with fear quite a lot. The Bible has quite a lot to say about fear, with various passages and authors imploring us not to fear because God is with us.

In addition to trying to love to the fullest, let us also live to the fullest. Let's push the boundaries, try repeatedly to assuage our fears, and remember that God is always with us.

No Magic in the Moving Van

Dr. Guy Sayles

Have you ever tried a geographical cure for your problems? Just move to a new city and leave your problems in the old one.  The difficulties you’ve had and the challenges you’ve faced in the past are the fault of the clueless employers and insensitive coworkers you’ve been cooped-up with for all these years. 

So, get a new job in a new place with new co-workers and everything will be different; you will be different. You’ll shed your pattern of procrastination. You’ll become a morning person who finds it easy to get to work on time—no more tying your tie or applying your makeup at stoplights. You’ll be proactive and positive.  

A geographical cure: a new place and a new you.  A few years ago, I read this tongue-in-cheek story in The Onion:

ATLANTA—All of area resident Brian Shepard's problems, including his fear of commitment, lack of personal direction, and inability to learn from past failures, will be instantly solved this week when the 29-year-old packs up his belongings and moves to a new city. "Moving to Portland is going to make all the difference in the world," said Shepard, who, just by putting 2,500 miles distance between himself and years of destructive behavior, will suddenly turn his life around. "It won't be anything like Chicago, or Boston, or San Francisco. This is exactly what I need right now." Shepard also plans to completely eliminate his dependence on self-denial by ignoring his dependence on self-denial.  (The Onion, December 5, 2008)

Speaking from my own experience, I can tell you that the promises of geographical cure are an illusion.  As I heard myself telling a friend: “Mike, here’s something I’ve learned: Hell is portable.  You take it with you wherever you go.”    

There might be good reasons for taking a new job or going to a new school or moving to a new town, but a new office, a new classroom, and new address don’t automatically make us new people.  There’s no magic in a moving van.  

We can’t, after all, move away from ourselves.  What we need is not a geographical cure, but transformation—a deep healing of the wounds and brokenness which drive the patterns which hurt us and other people; an infusion of confidence that God loves us fully and joyfully, no matter what and forever, and a  thoroughgoing renewal of our gifts and talents.  Geography doesn’t cure us, but God can change us.  

Guy Sayles is the pastor of First Baptist Church of Asheville. This article originally appeared on his blog, From the Intersection.

What to Do with the Time that Is Given to Us

by Dr. Guy Sayles

At a critical point in The Lord of the Rings, Frodo, the Hobbit whose burden it was to carry the Ring toward its destruction—the destruction that would save Middle Earth—has grown weary and disheartened. He’s afraid and uncertain. He says to the wise wizard, Gandalf the Grey, “I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened." Gandalf replies: "So do all who come to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

We don’t get to choose the times we live in, and we can’t completely control, no matter how strong and vigilant we are, what happens to us. None of us chose to live in the wake of terror attacks, a foreclosure crisis, and the collapse of real estate values. We didn’t choose an era of high unemployment, growing homelessness, and alarmingly expensive health care. We didn’t choose these times and conditions.

And, some things have happened to us that confuse, frustrate and disappoint us. They feel undeserved and unfair.

Disease intruded or disaster struck and dashed our dreams just as we were starting to live them.

Failure came and took away our confidence.

Or, we gave everything we had to give—our hardest work, highest hopes, and deepest yearnings—to people who did not, would not and, for that reason, could not know and love us.

There are times when we understand Frodo: “I wish this had never come to me. I wish this had never happened.” And we need Gandalf’s wisdom: “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

Life isn’t so much about what happens to us as it is about what happens in and with us as a result of what happens to us. What happens in us and with us can be hopeful and healing, joyful and renewing, if we make decisions that are consistent with who we are and what matters.

We are children of God, and what matters most is finally and always love. The overarching priority for any follower of Jesus is compassionate, creative and tenacious love for other people and devoted, growing and grateful love for God. The Great Commandment is also a constant invitation: keep learning how to love God with all you are and your neighbor as yourself."

So we ask, over and over again: what responses can I make that will help me to become more empathetic, understanding, open, and giving? More committed to the ways of peace, mercy, justice and joy? How might the circumstances I face stretch my heart, widen my mind, clarify my values, and strengthen my courage? How can the challenges and opportunities I face become my teachers in the ways of love?

Guy Sayles is the pastor of First Baptist Church of Asheville, NC. This article was originally posted on his blog, From the Intersection.

Facing Life's Challenges: Thoughts from Inside the MRI Machine

by Rev. Jayne Davis

All I could think about as I entered the tube of the stark white MRI machine was Toy Story 3 - Woody, Buzz Light Year, the Potato Heads – all grasping for metal objects so they would be sucked up by the powerful magnet and avoid the fiery furnace at the city dump. I was certain the myriad of fillings in my mouth would be ripped right from my teeth by the pull of the “strong magnetic field” that the ‘Caution’ poster in the dressing room warned me about. My morning had been frustrating enough already. I really didn’t need this kind of stress.

The MRI was for my shoulder – nothing life threatening. Just some eye watering pain when I reach too far into the refrigerator. I’ve put all of the high fat foods way in the back in a Pavlovian effort to train myself not to want them. It’s amazing how much pain a person can bear.

I didn’t want to be in the doctor’s office or dealing with my shoulder. Life’s challenges are always an interruption to the way we’d like things to be. Sometimes they’re an annoyance. Sometimes they shake the very foundation of our world. However serious, however sudden, however uncertain… some thoughts from inside the MRI machine may help you as you face the challenges in your life.

1. Don’t let the chaos drown out the music.

The technician gave me a pair of headphones and my choice of music stations – [80’s] - to drown out the loud noise of the machine. Between the screeching of what sounded like dental drills and the pounding of my heart in my chest, I had to strain at times to hear Twisted Sister on the radio.

In the midst of it all, there is music still playing in your world. Listen for it.

2. Open your eyes along the way – even when it’s scary.

Life is fascinating. There’s always something interesting to be seen, maybe even something inspiring. When I finally got up the courage to open my eyes during the MRI, I was amazed by … nothing. There’s nothing visible going on inside the tube. Smooth white walls. No zig-zaggy neon radio waves flashing across my body. Just like God at work in my life, so much was happening that I couldn’t see, but had to trust to be so.

This season of struggle is not an intermission until your real life begins again. This is the journey. Open your eyes. Live it.

3. Don’t over think it.

If I’d known ahead of time they were spinning the protons on my hydrogen molecules, I’d have been itchy the whole time. And dizzy, as they altered my magnetic field. If you have a renegade imagination, don’t allow it to dwell on the fact that the MRI machine looks like a giant blood pressure cuff that you’re precariously smack in the middle of.

We cannot control what thoughts come in to our minds, but God does give us the power to choose which ones we allow to take up residence there. Choose wisely.

4. Be grateful for the small things.

Sometimes God’s grace takes the form of a pillow under your knees, the kindness of a technician, the chance to close your eyes and rest in the middle of a Monday.
Notice these small graces and you recognize what abundant life feels like.

5. Take the blanket.

It’s cold in there. You’ll need it, even if you think you don’t need anything.

People want to help. Let them.

6. Focus on the important things.

Nothing culls down a prayer list like being strapped to a table to keep you from moving. God’s peace and presence. Family. Trust. The essentials.

Now is not the time to be carrying unnecessary baggage. Give it to God. He’ll dispose of it for you. If it’s really important, he’ll give it back to you when you’re ready.

7. Wiggle your toes every now and then.

Sometimes life’s challenges can keep you stuck in one position for a long time.

Wiggle your toes and remind yourself that you’re still there. Whatever helps you to feel alive… and keep your legs from going numb. You'll smile... and probably catch the technician off guard.

8. Sometimes you have to be still until it’s over.

We can’t fix everything. We can’t control everything. Sometimes we have to ride it out and trust that Jesus will guide us safely to shore.

“Be still and know that I am God."


Jayne Davis is the Minister of Spiritual Formation at First Baptist Church of Wilmington, and this article originally appeared in her blog.