Oaks and winter fields

A glimpse of the Pennsylvania winter fields near one of my father's favorite hunting spots. Here is a classic study of sturdy oaks and snow-textured fields. Very cold! Very beautiful, too: The grey-blue of the sky, the sky-tinted snow, the russet oak leaves stubbornly holding on in the winter wind, browned grass and corn stubble, faithful evergreens on distant hill, snow-covered track leading into the waiting wonder... Enjoy!

In memoriam of G.L. Mershimer

Today is the anniversary of my father’s death, and in honor of a great man, I offer this poem. It distills the virtues that dad tried to instill. He loved this poem, and for good reason: it contains the essence of bracing, manly character – truths of personhood that truly caring fathers and mothers would love to have reflected in their sons… and yet lost seemingly lost virtues in a postmodern age of victims and identity politics.

Here’s the classic poem by Rudyard Kipling, in honor of G.L. Mershimer:

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run –
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And – which is more – you'll be a Man my son!

Thanks, Dad!

I can still hear your words, “Fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run!”

Love,

Loy

A letter to dad

Today is my father's birthday, and as a special remembrance gift, mom gave me a letter that she found recently -- a letter long forgotten, kept with family letters written long ago. Dad was holding a series of meetings away from the family, and we all wrote him a letter... this is the letter I wrote as a young boy, come back to me on his birthday, of all days!

It's funny-neat to me, that even as a boy I was loving nature and drawing little artwork on the sides of my letters, lol. And, I drew Dad with really big ears, which he must have appreciated! And, my pictures of cars seem to be crashing, lol... some things are prophetic! And enduring, lol...

Anyway, Happy Birthday, Dad! I'm sure the Lord can share this blog post with you, and you can smile! :-)

And, Happy Anniversary, Mom! You are a wonderful mother, and I am so grateful for you!

:-)

“Isaiah 35:6, Loy!”

Then shall the lame man leap like a deer,
and the silent shall sing for joy!
Springs will gush forth in the wilderness,
and streams will water the wasteland.

Isaiah 35:6

Isaiah 35: A meditation of life in the desert

Last week was the anniversary of my dad’s death. It’s always a tough time of the year, especially for mom… but it’s good to remember, and good to talk about love that never dies. We celebrated in low-key style: my mother, aunt and I shared a wonderful meal, giving thanks for the blessings of life and family, remembering in hope.

This meditation is a celebration of my dad’s faith – the conquering faith that framed his life and lives on even after his passing. May it encourage you to conquer too, today!

A spiritual reality of the desert

The prophecy of Isaiah faces us with the reality of the desert – and not just any desert, but the desert of spirit – the wasteland… the dry, barren places of the heart. The prophecy carries special meaning for those in exile, those facing the lonely stretches of life, perhaps with unanswered prayer or silence from God.

In a sense, the ancient people of Israel lived with one foot in the desert. They understood barrenness. Historically, their nation passed through 40 years of wilderness wandering before inheriting the land. And, even when entering the Promised Land, found that large portions of it were rocky and dry, with few naturally fertile areas, limited water and little planting soil.

They understood the physical desert, and faced it with irrigation and hard work. But today’s text references a far more fearsome desert: the desert of the soul, spiritual loneliness and apparent desertion by God: a desert beyond human resource.

Verses 3 and 4 hint at the emotional depression of this spiritual desert:

Strengthen the trembling hands, steady the weakened knees;
Say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear...”

There are some things in life that go far beyond what our human resources can handle. The times when prayers aren’t clearly answered, when medicine can’t seem to help, when doctors shake their heads, when counsel of friends just rings hollow… when the heart seems silent and cold.

Anyone who has walked the dry and barren places of life will understand the feeling of Israel in the spiritual desert. You will understand the cry of the faithful captives, “How long, O Lord how long?” [Psalm 89:46, et al].

Behind these verses of Isaiah is a picture of people in Exile. Can you see them there in a foreign land, with harps hung by the rivers of Babylon? Slaves in a far away land, they lived with only endless desert between them and home... an emptiness deep inside... silenced music of the heart.

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down
And there we wept, when we remembered Zion (Psalm 137:1).

The people of Israel faced the problem of the desert. It is our problem too.

The text offers two windows of desert resolution, and both are related to the character of God. The problem of the desert is countered with the presence and promise of God.

A holy presence in the desert

The presence of God is promised in verse 4:

Say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear;
Your God will come, He will come with vengeance;
With divine retribution He will come to save you.”

God will come with justice and salvation! These were the words they were waiting to hear!

Verses 5 through 7 flesh out this thought:

Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy.
Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert.
The burning sand will become a pool, and the thirsty ground a bubbling spring.

This is an incredible prophecy of God’s future presence, but for people in immediate distress, often these are only words.

Our Lord Jesus said “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” but sometimes it feels as if He has forsaken us. Honestly, don’t you sometimes feel as if you are alone in the journey? If so, realize that in the spiritual desert, this is often a normal feeling.

“My God, why have you forsaken me?” [Psalm 22:1].
“You said great things would happen, but I don’t see them in my life.”

Even John the Baptist felt this way. John was chosen by God to precede Christ, preaching repentance: “Prepare the way of the Lord!” John’s ministry reflected supernatural blessing. He was filled with the Holy Spirit from birth. Yet he was thrown in prison for faithfulness to the Gospel! Sitting there on death row, praying for intervention, he fell into depression. He had only done what was right, and now faced the price of his life. In desperation he sent two messengers to Jesus to ask, “Are you the One, or should we look for another?”

In other words, “If you are the Christ, what am I doing in prison?”

It is fascinating that Jesus answered this question with words from Isaiah:

Go and tell John the things you have seen and heard: that the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have the gospel preached to them [Luke 7:22, et al].

In other words, “The kingdom is among you, God has arrived, Messiah is here!” Even in prison, John, rejoice in the presence of God! The work of God is here, in Christ. Say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear...Your God will come...” (v. 4).

This is the prophecy of presence in the wastelands, God’s presence for those who believe... the first window of hope in the desert.

A promise of return

The second window of the text is a promise of return.

In the haunts where the jackals once lay, grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.
And a highway will be there; and it will be called the Way of Holiness.
The unclean will not journey on it; it will be for those who walk in the Way (v. 7b-8).
Therefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion, and everlasting joy shall be upon their heads.
Gladness and joy will overwhelm them, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away (v. 10).

This prophecy of Isaiah captures two time frames, two dimensions – human and cosmic.

The human dimension of this prophecy was fulfilled in part when the sons and daughters of Judah danced through the gates of Zion in return from Babylonian Exile, singing the song of God: “Therefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion!”

This human aspect was also partially fulfilled in 1948 when, against all odds, Israel once again became a nation, Jews returning to Jerusalem from the scattered corners of the earth.

A tension in desert promise

But today we live in the harsh reality of bombs and terrorists in the city of David. The haunt of jackals has not yet been replaced by flowering plants. Every bomb that explodes only proves that the cosmic reach of this prophecy is yet to be fulfilled.

The cosmic dimension promises a Highway of Holiness, purity of heart and conquered jackals.

But we aren’t there yet.

This is the striking tension of the kingdom: God’s presence is with us, yet at times we walk in silence; the promise of return is real, yet the desert has not fully blossomed.

The Highway of Holiness is not yet perfectly clear. We still walk the haunts of jackals. In a very real sense there is both now and not yet to the kingdom of God. Jesus said that the rule of God would be now in our hearts, yet it was to come over all the earth.

This is the exact vision that Job saw in darkness. In the midst of pain and doubt, he looked up and saw the truth: I know that my Redeemer liveth, and He shall stand upon the earth on the latter day (Job 19:25f). “My Redeemer lives – but there is coming a time He will stand upon the earth.” “In my flesh I shall see God!”

This is the tension of faith. It is the desert.

It is the interim between God’s revelation and final rule.

For people in Exile, the promise was ironclad: return would happen, the wilderness would once again blossom, the “years that the locust had eaten would be restored” (Joel 2:25). But they waited for that in hope.

They took the promise on a balance of faith and believed the outcome a foregone conclusion.

“Isaiah 35:6, Loy!”

My father understood this concept very well. He was crippled by polio at an early age, yet did not give up faith. At 11 years old he went from being the fastest kid in his class to the one who could not walk. He went from being a baseball prodigy to the one who could not throw a ball. But stricken in body he did not shrink in soul. He accepted partial healing of body and the vast inner wholeness that Scripture brought him. He would do what he could, and then say with a smile, “Isaiah 35:6, boys!” “Isaiah 35:6!” “The lame man will leap like a deer!”’

In one of my last conversations with him, I had to leave for Chicago, knowing he was at death’s door. In tears I told him that if I did not see him again, I’d see him over there, and we’d play ball like we were meant to – with him in a whole body: No more sitting on a wooden box trying to bat a ball with one hand! No more wishing he could run with us! He would run whole and free. He looked at me, smiled, and in his weak voice said,

“Isaiah 35:6, Loy!” “Isaiah 35:6!” “I’m going to run like a deer!”

For him the words were yet not yet fulfilled, but he lived in the promise as a reality.

Is the desert real? Is it a problem? Yes, it is... but not without the presence and promise of God!

Christ’s victory is assured. He stands as conqueror over the gathered forces of darkness! There is great power for the one who will see, even while walking the burning sand, the vision of the dew kissed rose. Even within the haunts of jackals, rich grass yet will grow.

The thirsty ground will be a bubbling spring!

Perhaps you’ve been waiting long for the desert to bloom like a rose. If so, dare to believe that He is present and working now. Can you see your desert blossoming with future life?

On the basis of these verses, can you ask, “What is God doing in the barren places of my life?”

This text gives the supernatural truth that those who experience exile in their lives, those who pass through the wilderness, those who are weak and hard pressed may shout for joy, for God can and will transform all things.

Say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear;
Your God will come...With divine retribution he will come to save you.”
Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy.
Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert.
The burning sand will become a pool, and the thirsty ground a bubbling spring!

Where you need it most, may it be so.

Selah.

Amber sunset on grass and oak

Walking out of the woods at sunset, I snapped this pic of a special spot -- a place that Dad loved, the last place he spent time in nature before he passed away. The beauty is still here!

Columbus Day respects

A salute to my father, and grandparents: you have run a good race!

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:1-2

Divine love in a bruised reed

A coke machine and a psychiatric hotline

My first trip to a mental hospital didn’t go all that well.

I was only 14. My pastor father went to visit a person in the local State hospital; however, with his polio condition, Dad needed someone to assist him in walking. So I went along to be his extra “crutch,” accompanied by my friend Kevin. And while Dad consulted with the patient, Kevin and I were free to roam around – within careful limits!

Down the hall from the consulting room was a snack area with a Coca Cola machine. And so, naturally, we gravitated there to grab a Coke. And I’ll never forget the trauma, lol. Oh, the emotional turmoil! :-) I put in the coins and pushed the Coke button. And voila! out came a Root Beer!

I stared at the can in my hand, and then at the button – can, button, can, button –; then I looked at Kevin and said, “If I wasn’t crazy before, I’m crazy now!” It was just one of those moments. We started laughing, gathered our change and tried more buttons: it was a “push one thing, get another” machine! Every different thing that came out we’d laugh all the more.

Truly, if a person was on the edge, wondering about his or her connection to reality, and tried that machine, it wouldn’t help matters in the slightest!

It was about as helpful as the infamous psychiatric hotline. Need help? Call 1-800-I MIND ME and this is what you’ll hear: “Hello! Welcome to the psychiatric hotline.”

• If you are obsessive-compulsive, please press 1 repeatedly.


• If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2.


• If you have multiple personality disorder, please press 3, 4, 5, and 6.


• If you are paranoid-delusional, we know who you are and what you want. Just stay on the line so we can trace the call.


• If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a little voice will tell you which number to press.


• If you are depressed, it doesn’t matter which number you press. No one will answer.


• If you are delusional and occasionally hallucinate, please be aware that the thing you are holding on the side of your head is alive and about to bite off your ear.

Some of you are probably thinking, “Loy, where’s the love?” “How can you laugh at a topic like this? How can you offer compassion to people needing emotional and mental health?” Well, just stay on the line, lol.

A man named Andy

I’ve learned that persons struggling with emotional and mental health are often the ones closest to God. “God’s power encamps on weakness,” Scripture says. And for those honest enough to be themselves before God, for those strong enough to actually admit their weakness and dependence on Him, God draws near to them. God reveals himself to them and through them. Some of the most brilliant shafts of divine light have come to me through people struggling with issues of wholeness.

Such was the case several years later at that same State hospital.

When I returned to my home area after college, I began taking youth over to this same hospital to use their gymnasiums and take part in volunteer programs. We’d play basketball or volleyball on Friday nights and then several of us would volunteer as assistants for special events.

It was the occasion for one of the most profound events of my life.

I volunteered the youth group for one of their hospital picnics – a picnic on the grounds on an idyllic September day. The patients well enough to participate were treated to hamburgers, chicken, fruits, salads, and an array of confectionary treats. A band played music and balloons floated on the breeze.

Our part in the event was to help with supervision and feeding. Some of the patients couldn’t feed themselves, others just needed someone to hold their hand or put an arm around them, or just to laugh and talk. So we mixed and mingled and shared love and laughter and a helping hand.

It was a powerful experience in itself, yet after the picnic they asked for volunteers to assist patients back to maximum-security wards. Against my ‘better judgment,’ I volunteered again! But this time I was on my own…the youth waited in the parking lot.

My task was to take patients from the transport vans and walk with them or wheel them to their secure areas. The building itself was secluded and the inner ward could only be reached through three sets of locked doors, each guarded by staff who would automatically open and then lock them behind us.

The first trip behind these doors chilled my soul…

Past the third set of doors I entered a common room – a room clouded with cigarette smoke and reeking of staleness. Listless inmates lounged around and watched blurry TVs, alternating between boredom and random questions, seemingly managing obsessions and passing time. These were the serious people who had not been allowed at the picnic…their eyes spoke of deep despair: hollow, lifeless and unfocused.

A heavy spirit of depression hung in the air. The atmosphere hit me like a physical force.

I immediately began crying out in my spirit: O God, how can anyone live like this? Where is grace? Where is hope?

Frankly, it staggered me. I continued to bring patients in, and greet other patients in the common room. But it ate at my soul. I tried to offer kindness and hope…yet the sense of despair overwhelmed me – it was contagious and undeniable.

In my mind I envisioned a flower wilting in an airless, sun-starved room. I couldn’t see how a human could be human in there…

However, the last person to be brought in was an elderly man in a wheelchair. I walked out to the van and the assistant said, ‘This is Andy.’ I looked down to see a grizzled face and hunched back, and a gray-haired man nodded at me from behind coke-bottle lenses. The van assistant winked at me: “Andy has a stash.” I looked, and sure enough, in the corners of his wheelchair and under the blanket covering his lap lurked boxes of cookies and candy bars and goodies he had stashed from the picnic. It was a pile of stuff! “Good for Andy!” I thought. “This guy has it together! He’s looking out for himself and saving stuff for a rainy day.” Something told me he probably wasn’t allowed to have all that contraband in the ward, but I wasn’t about to say anything to the nurses! My heart wouldn’t let me. I had already seen where he was going. He needed all the encouragement he could get…

Andy was quiet when I pushed his wheelchair back to the ward. He didn’t say much. I had mixed emotions: I was glad that Andy had scrounged some goodies, but I was half afraid that the nurses would see the huge stash and blame me. But we passed the first set of doors, the second, and then the third set of doors swung upon to his ward…and closed. We made it past the nurses!

And as I pushed Andy down the hall toward the common room, a cry went up from someone: “Andy’s coming!” Then another: “Andy’s coming!” Instantly, the cry echoed throughout the ward: ‘Andy’s coming, Andy’s coming!’

The room so listless and depressed now sprang to life. Smiles appeared on faces, and people stood up and cheered. They were actually smiling! Now I was doubly shocked: I’d have thought that only our Lord himself could have lifted that atmosphere. Yet here they were standing and cheering a hunched, gray-haired man in a wheelchair. “Andy! Andy’s here!”

Surprised isn’t the word.

My mind tried to process. But the information wouldn’t compute. “What is so special about this handicapped man?” I thought. Then, I saw. As I pushed him into the common area, Andy smiled a smile that would have won the world. He pulled back the blanket from his lap, and began handing out goodies, right and left. He gave away every single thing he brought back from the picnic.

These things weren’t for him at all.

He meant them for others. In his own way, he tried to bring back a bit of the picnic, a bit of the light and air and share it with them.

And he succeeded.

He touched them with a love that transcended time and space, brokenness and despair.

I walked back through those locked doors with a new perspective. A gentle, quiet Voice seemed to say, “Inasmuch as you have done it to the least of these…you have done it unto Me.” And then I realized that it was our Lord who had lifted that room. He had come in the hands and feet of one gray-haired man, a bent over, broken man who willfully chose to give of himself to meet the needs of others – even in a hopeless situation.

I had tears in my eyes when I walked out into the sunlight and air. The sunlight and air were gifts from Him, gifts in which I was free to move, to live and laugh and love. Yet how often had I not shared these gifts? How often had I kept them to myself?

How often had I not shared of my life, so rich and so blessed in the highest ways? How often had I let impossibility define me, instead of just giving away the gifts in loyal, self-giving love?

Andy reached me that day. He reached me with the love of the One I call my Lord. In living color he showed me the meaning of the words, “Greater love has no one than this, than that he lay down his life for a friend.”

And, you know, in this story, that act of love goes on. The memory of Andy is blessed.

Andy has reached out of those imprisoning walls, across the years, and touched you – you who read this story – with the love of Christ.

Will you look above your own impossible circumstances and receive this love? And will you dare to pass it on?

Selah.

Amy Carmichael: Have you no scar?

Have You No Scar?

by Amy Carmichael

Jesus speaks to us:

Have you no scar? No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
I hear you sung as mighty in the land.
I hear them hail your bright ascendant star.
Have you no scar?
Have you no wound?

Yet, I was wounded by the archers, spent, leaned me against the tree to die,
and rent -- by ravenous beasts that encompassed me
I swooned.
Have you no wound?
No wound? No scar?

Yes, as the master shall the servant be,
and pierced are the feet that follow Me,
but yours are whole.
Can he have followed far -- who has no wound? No scar?
Can she have followed far -- who has no wound? No scar?


[selah: silence]

[personal prayer]


Meditation on wounds

The Apostle James says that we are healed as we confess: Moral element to healing (5:16).

The Apostle John speaks of the one Christ told, ‘Take up your bed and walk!’ (John 5:1-9ff) Carry that which carried you: Emotional, vocational commitment to healing: Healing means that we accept God’s unknown over our comfortable [sick] known.

True healing: Willing to be weak where the world is strong; willing to be strong where the world is weak. Think about it…

God’s purposes for sickness: death (cf. 2 Kings 13:21), discipline (Heb. 12:5ff, Prov. 3:11f, et al), or the glory of God (John 9:3).

Not all who are physically ill are unhealed. Some are destined to receive healing through that illness…

Receiving healing: Accepting God's future over my past and present reality

My father, Rev. G. L. Mershimer contracted polio as a boy. He should have died, they said. But the disease left him without proper use of both legs, one arm and some other muscles. Dad often talked about his polio condition, and the part it played in bringing him to the ministry. He wondered if he’d have accepted God's calling on his life if polio hadn't entered. In his heart, he didn't believe he would have followed the call without the reverses of that illness, its deep struggle and pain. If that is true…then all of his subsequent life, his travelling across the country to attend school, his meeting mom...his marriage to her as he obeyed the call, his four children, his incredible, incarnational ministry -- all of this was due to a polio condition that God used to bring blessing through. If this is true, then my very existence is due to a wound. All of my actions that echo for good, every life I touch or prayer I pray, every word I say or write...this very blog...is a continuation of the healing that God brought through a wound: actions of a child that would not have been born without polio and the call. The Mershimer family is an entity called forth by God's healing power...still echoing in the world, through one polio condition.

What is your wound?

What healing does God want to bring to you and others through the condition you are currently in? What wholeness does God want to give as you hear the call in your scar? Open to His good purpose!

Open to His calling...

For it is good...there is trueness and wholeness. New life through the wound...

Alleluia!

Prayer: God, you can have all of me. I accept all of your purposes for me…even in my present condition, which is caught up in my past, I accept your future, your wholeness, and heed your call...in me, in this, in all. In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.