“But as for me, I will always have hope . . .” – Psalm 71:14 

We have the good fortune of living in a neighborhood with an abundance of walking-jogging-biking trails nearby, our favorite of which leads into a deeply wooded nature area bordered by a series of small lakes, where a sunrise jog on a spring morning such as there have been recently is, to say the least, a spectacular experience with wild flowers in bloom, sightings of rabbits, squirrels, and an occasional armadillo or coyote – birds, of every sort singing in the trees, ducks and geese enjoying the lakes and ponds.

One point along the path requires crossing a low-water dam that typically has water trickling across separating one small lake from another. Recently we’ve been fascinated by a single goose that seems to always occupy the vicinity near the dam as if he had laid claim to it, that is until we looked across toward a peninsula that juts out about thirty yards up stream where, hunkered down in the tall grass was the female goose obviously nesting on some eggs. So, yes, the gander had laid claim to the territory in order to protect his mate and family-to-be. Then it happened. Just this past Friday there were the goose and gander together wing-to-wing, like young lovers, out for a morning stroll proudly herding their three newly hatched babies. What a sight!

Like many, I’m sure, the confinement of sheltering-in-place, the dark cloud of pandemic lingering above, the nonstop tragic news reports had all begun to take their toll on my usual positive outlook. So, a good dose of nature that spectacular early morning was exactly what the doctor ordered, as they say. I felt revived, renewed and hopeful.

In case you’re unable to escape to nature as I did, may I suggest a few excerpts from Wendell Berry’s poem “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front.” “So, friends, every day do something that won’t compute. Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be poor. Love someone who does not deserve it. . . Say that your main crop is the forest that you did not plant, that you will not live to harvest. Say that the leaves are harvested when they have rotted into the mold. . . Listen to carrion – put your ear close, and hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come. . . Practice resurrection.” My walk in the woods is what led me back to Wendell Berry’s poem, from which I am reminded, “But as for me, I will always have hope.”

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”

• Hebrews 11:1 

My friend – singer, song writer and renowned harmonica player – Buddy Greene tells a beautiful story about once attending a funeral service for a man named Charlie. So moved was he by what happened that day that it inspired him to compose and record a ballad describing it. The song lyrics tell the story best:

“Now the sky was cold and gray / at the funeral home that day / And the friends and family gathered from far and wide / And they all stood by Charlie’s grave / and they listened to the message the preacher gave / And thought it was over when up stood Charlie’s bride. / She said ‘I’m sure glad to see you all here / ‘cause Charlie held you all so dear / And he wants to see you all in heaven when it comes your time. / So if you want to die like Charlie died / you’ve gotta live like Charlie lived / Loving God and people and longing for the other side.’” 

It goes without saying that Charlie was a man of deep faith. But what does that mean? First of all, faith is not optimism, a “Pollyannaish” belief that a positive outcome is forthcoming. Neither is it a philosophy or religious system. Rather, faith is just as the scripture defines it, “being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see”, derived not from scientific proof or mathematical fact, but from an intimate relationship with God. It’s like when my mother who, after being told she only had a few months to live, proclaimed boldly to those of us gathered round these exact words. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Grieve because you miss me, that’s okay. But don’t worry about me. I know where I’m going!” She was as sure and certain as anyone I’ve ever seen and remained resolutely so up to her final breath.

The surety and certainty of our faith gives us the strength to overcome the difficulties we inevitably face in this life – including our current global health crisis – and provides the freedom to use our lives for good purposes. It is by faith that we are able to live like Charlie lived, and one-day die like Charlie died. For faith comes from being sure and certain of that empty tomb on Easter morning. As the witnesses cried out, “The Lord is risen!” Yes, He is risen indeed, and I am sure of that! Happy Easter!

“So God created man in his own image . . .” – Genesis 1:27 

“Disasters remind us that we depend on each other,” read the sub-headline of a recent newspaper article that caught my attention. “Disasters rip away the tidy fallacy of self-reliance and lay bare our utter dependence on each other,” the article went on to explain, “They shock us into seeing our shared fragility, which is also our shared humanity. That’s why, in times of crisis, we are usually eager to help strangers . . .”

I found this commentary especially refreshing on the heels of reading scores of other articles that cause me to shake my head and literally say out loud, “it’s grim out there.” Who would have imagined an uncontrolled contagious disease could attack our highly advanced world with such devastation. Not only is it potentially deadly to those who contract it, but it has essentially shut down the economy of the entire planet. Yes, things definitely are grim out there.

That article aroused an awareness in me of something I had failed to notice, and it’s going on right under my nose. Notwithstanding the much-deserved recognition of our healthcare workers and professionals and the many essential service employees laying their lives on the line, heroes in this coronavirus war, there exists an amazing underground movement of human goodness. That’s what I had failed to notice. Goodness abounds, but mostly beneath the radar. On my rare trips to the store to restock a few essentials, contrary to the images the media paints about hoarding, I’ve found my fellow shoppers to be helpful, generous, cheerful and polite. At takeout restaurants it is not unusual for customers to purchase meals for strangers, or to tip higher than normal. In one such story, a couple upon receiving delivery of their takeout lunch order, a tab of approximately $25, handed over to the delivery person a check for $1,500.

While it may be grim out there, goodness abounds. And why should that surprise us? We are, after all, created in the image of the Creator who is Good. So, if we are the image of the One who is Good, are we not created to imitate that goodness? Sometimes it takes a disaster to remind us of that, to “rip away the tidy fallacy of self-reliance and lay bare our utter dependence on each other . . . to shock us into seeing our shared fragility, which is also our shared humanity.”

“I have not come to abolish [the law] but to fulfill them.” – Matthew 5:17 

For thirty years I worked in a highly regulated industry, which often put me in the uncomfortable position of being an enforcer of rules, playing policeman at times, which among my duties was my least favorite. Fortunately, though, the vast majority of people are honest and fair-minded in their business dealings. It’s those few who are not who tested my wits and patience.

Upholding the “letter” of the law was seldom the issue. The challenge was dealing with the gray areas, and with laws, rules and regulations there inevitably exist gray areas. Thus, disputes arose not about the specific boundaries set by the rules; rather, within those boundaries what was fair in a particular circumstance, and determining fairness was a gray area. As I said, the vast majority not only comply with the letter of the law, but do so within the spirit of it, that is a spirit of fairness. Those few who tested my wits and patience, however, complied with the letter of the law because they had to, but had little regard for the spirit of it.

This is what Jesus was referring to when he said, “I have not come to abolish [the law] but to fulfill them.” This was at the core of his ongoing dispute with the Pharisees who were the lawyers of his day. The Pharisees were strict defenders of the letter of the law, so much so that they had lost sight of the spirit of it. That is why when Jesus was asked which is the greatest among the commandments, he replied it is to love God and love your neighbor. “All the Law and the Prophets,” he explained, “hang on these two commandments.” Jesus, in other words, did not diminish the letter of the law, but redirected the focus to a deeper meaning, that is the spirit for which it was written.

Now is a time like no other in our collective lifetimes, to experience this most important theme of Jesus’ teachings; for the laws being imposed and the sacrifices we are being asked to make during this coronavirus pandemic, if only temporary, are indeed onerous, extreme, and restrictive. But if we can redirect our focus toward their deeper purpose, that is the spirit for which they have been established, which is to love and honor God by loving our neighbors, keeping them safe and cared for – as well as ourselves – then we will have experienced obedience to the greatest among all the commandments.

“. . . we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” – Romans 5:4 

The air looms heavy with the threat of hard times, does it not? The fear is that if we are not able to quell the spread of the coronavirus quickly, to stop it in its tracks, our livelihoods will be in severe jeopardy, not to mention our health and safety. Individually, many of us have suffered difficult times, but few of us have experienced them universally on a national or global scale like that of, say, the Great Depression. And that is our fear, and perhaps a valid one. But since we’ve mostly never experienced it, neither are we able to predict what life will truly be like should such conditions occur.

Since I was born post the Great Depression and World War II and did not experience those dark years, except for hearing stories from my parents and their generation, I was always curious how people of that age managed. I recall once asking my mother what it was like. Her answer was simple, “we just lived one day at a time,” she said, and that was it. I don’t believe she was trying to be flippant in her response, but somehow her answer seemed incomplete. I felt she left something out, on purpose maybe, something I needed to experience or figure out for myself.

What I’ve come to believe she left out – and for me to figure out – is that when hard times do occur that is when the “better angels” of human character begin to emerge. I observe it happening even now from the phone calls we receive from friends just checking in, and the calls we find ourselves making doing the same. There are more emails and text messages floating around, staying in touch, offering encouragement, even jokes and humor to lift our spirits. It’s a strange thing, but when we face suffering it makes us more aware of the suffering of others, awakening our compassion.

As much as we all may fear the looming threat of hard times, the Apostle Paul reminds us that we should instead “rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” So, how are we to survive hard times should they occur? The same way as the generations before, by persevering one day at a time, joining in the band of those “better angels” of human character, then opening our eyes to the hope before us in the gift of God’s grace.