Life Lessons from the National Parks

March 8, 2010

Nebuchadnezzar said to them, “Is it true, Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego, that you do not serve my gods or worship the golden image that I have set up?…If you will not worship, you will immediately be cast into the midst of a furnace of blazing fire; and what god is there who can deliver you out of my hands? Daniel 3:14, 15

There are many adjectives used to describe Death Valley—largest (of the national parks in the mainland U.S.), hottest (temps run above 120 degrees in the summer), driest (with an average rainfall of only 2.5 inches annually), and lowest (Badwater Basin, at 282 feet below sea level, is the lowest elevation in North America). But don’t assume that the park is all desert and nothing else: you’ll also find bighorn sheep, cottonwood groves, canyons, wild horses and spring-fed waterfalls among the four mountain ranges that ring the valley.

One question most people have about Death Valley is, how did it get its name? As the story goes, a group of pioneers got lost in the valley during the winter of 1849-50 (on their way to California as part of the Gold Rush), and although only one among them lost his life, the others were afraid they would meet death there as well. After they finally climbed over the Panamint Mountains to safety, one of the men looked back and said, “Goodbye, Death Valley,” and the name stuck.

The “jewel” of the park, though, according to its website, is the Furnace Creek Inn, a Spanish-style hacienda with rates starting at $320 (fortunately, there are other, much cheaper accommodations, too!) The place sounds lovely—nestled against the Funeral (!) Mountains, with a spring-fed swimming pool, tennis courts, palm trees, massages, spa tubs, terry cloth robes, and even televisions with cable in every room (a rarity in national park lodgings). That’s enough to take your mind off the extreme conditions!

As I was reading about the inn, I reflected on how its name contrasted with the luxurious description, and I flipped my Bible open to the book of Daniel, to the tale of another furnace and the dramatic account of these three captive Israelites. Talk about extremes! They were presented with the choice of either bowing down to a graven image or being burned alive!

Their answer is almost beyond belief: “If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and He will rescue us from your hand, O king. But even if He does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up” (Daniel 3:17, 18). They made no conditions with God over the outcome; deliverance or martyrdom were equally possible, and they were okay with that.

What amazing faith and courage!

“Ah, but they were spared,” you might be thinking, “and so everything turned out okay. But what about the people who are faithful who aren’t rescued? And what about me and my circumstances? Where’s my deliverance?”

Believe me, I think the same things. Many aren’t spared grief and hardship—I see it in the Bible (Hebrews 11:35-38 and other verses), in history, in the newspaper and on television, in my church and neighborhood, and sometimes when I look in the mirror.

I’ll tell you right now I don’t have the answer to why some people endure more than others, and I never will. But I know who does. I’ll never fully figure out the purpose of all the world’s suffering, let alone mine. But I know who has it all under control. Simon Peter put it this way: “Lord, to whom shall we go?” he says to Jesus, when asked if he wants to stop being His disciple. “You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68). The key isn’t my mortal, faulty reasoning; it’s in a hard-fought and too-often faltering trust in the Son of God, who cares enough about you and me that He promises never to leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5).

You and I may not ever get to Death Valley, but we have and will continue to walk through other kinds of valleys, including the “valley of the shadow of death” (Psalm 23:4). Like you, I’d prefer to face these trials—especially the last one—as painlessly as possible.

But even if He does not grant our desire, I pray He’d give each of us the sure-fire faith of those three men.

Comments (1) Mar 08 2010

March 1, 2010

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Romans 8:1

Joe and I are at the age where we’re paying more attention to the obituaries. Actually, Joe reads them more than I do, always noting how our World War II vets are dying off at an alarming rate. So it wasn’t surprising last week when he pointed out a veteran’s death notice he thought might interest me.

“Don’t worry about it,” read the obit. “Those words, which he uttered on a peaceful Sunday morning in 1941 on the Hawaiian island of Oahu, would haunt Kermit A. Tyler for the rest of his life.

“Mr. Tyler was the Army Air Forces’ first lieutenant on temporary duty at Fort Shafter’s radar information center on the morning of Dec. 7, 1941,” the article goes on to say, “when a radar operator on the northern tip of the island reported that he and another private were seeing an unusually large ‘blip’ on their radar screen, indicating a large number of aircraft about 132 miles away and fast approaching.

“’Don’t worry about it,’ Tyler told the radar operator, thinking it was a flight of U.S. B-17 bombers that was due in from the mainland.”

As you might have guessed, that “blip” wasn’t from Americans—it was the first wave of Japanese planes sent to attack Pearl Harbor, sparking our country’s entry into the Second World War.

The newspaper piece noted that Mr. Tyler’s four-word sentence lived on in history books, articles, documentaries, and even the 1970 movie about the surprise assault, “Tora! Tora! Tora!” It mentions that he was often ridiculed and second-guessed, and even received angry letters reviling him for not taking action that infamous day.

But Daniel Martinez, chief historian for the National Park Service’s World War II Valor in the Pacific National Monument in Pearl Harbor, defends the young officer. “He was never trained for that job,” the AP quotes him as saying. “He had a walk-through the previous Wednesday but had never spent a full day there.”

Even Congressional committees and military inquiries did not find him at fault, Mr. Martinez says in the article.

And what about Mr. Tyler himself? Did he live in misery over these last 68 years, adversely affected by his actions and words? Apparently not. He flew combat missions in the Pacific during the war, retired from the Air Force as a lieutenant colonel, earned a business degree, and worked in real estate. He also married and had three children.

But did his past really haunt him the rest of his life, as the article claims? Not according to an interview he gave to New Jersey’s Star-Ledger in 2007. “I wake up at nights sometimes and think about it,” he said. “But I don’t feel guilty. I did all I could that morning.”

Wow.

I stand in awe of a man involved in such a momentous historic event, who was still able to achieve the proper perspective of his historic role, even when others maligned him. When I think of how I much I berate myself for my mistakes, omissions, and instances, like Mr. Tyler’s, where I did all I could yet things still turned out badly…well, they just can’t compare to what he went through.

And they pale in comparison to what Jesus did for me. By dying on the cross, He paid the price for all the right and wrong blame I put on myself, taking it away completely (“as far as the east is from the west,” as Psalm 103:12 puts it), leaving behind only forgiving grace. That grace is not just sufficient (2 Corinthians 12:9)—it’s piled up (John 1:16), abounding (2 Corinthians 9:8), full of hope (Romans 5:2) and ultimately, freeing (Romans 8:2).

The next time that old liar (John 8:44) and accuser (Revelation 12:10), the devil, haunts me with defeat and reproach, I’m going to tell him to take a hike.

Because my Jesus has already won that war for me.

Comments (2) Mar 01 2010

February 22, 2010

And he [an angel] carried me [John] away in the Spirit…and showed me the holy city, Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, having the glory of God. Her brilliance was like a very costly stone, as a stone of crystal-clear jasper… And the wall of the city had twelve foundation stones…And the material of the wall was jasper; and the city was pure gold, like clear glass. The foundation stones of the city wall were adorned with every kind of precious stone. The first foundation stone was jasper; the second, sapphire; the third, chalcedony; the fourth, emerald; the fifth, sardonyx; the sixth, sardius; the seventh, chrysolite; the eighth, beryl; the ninth, topaz; the tenth, chrysoprase; the eleventh, jacinth; the twelfth, amethyst. Revelation 21:9-12, 14, 18-20

The other day I read a National Geographic Adventure article about Yosemite National Park. The “must-do” hike it listed was to Vernal Fall, reached by trekking 1.5 miles up the Mist Trail, then climbing a steep granite stairway of over 600 steps.

I thought, I remember that trail! Joe and I were at Yosemite 25 years ago (!), and yet I vividly recall traipsing up those stairs, slick with the spray from the fall and filled with people coming and going.

Our final destination that June day in 1985 wasn’t the 317-foot fall, though, lovely as the plume is. We had to climb a bit higher to find what we’d really come for: Emerald Pool.

Now you must realize that green is my favorite color, emerald my jewel of choice. And this small lake is far and away the most wonderful shade I’ve ever seen. Its color comes from the algae on the rocks at the bottom of the water, and in the brilliant sunlight, Emerald Pool nearly took my breath away. That’s why I remember the hike so well: the sight of that sparkling water more than made up for the strenuous, crowded hike.

When I read the description of heaven in the final pages of Revelation, I can hardly take in how utterly gorgeous it will be. Not only will my preferred color by on full display, but also a host of other precious stones, the exact composition and color of some of them unknown to us. They will flash with startling luster along with the golden streets and the crystal clear river of life (Revelation 22:1), next to the perfect, milky pearls that make up the city gates (Revelation 21:21). And their radiance won’t come from the sun or the moon, but from God’s glory, seen at last in all its fullness (21:23, 22:5).

Weary traveler, keep your eyes on the end of the trail! We’ve got steep steps yet to climb, treacherous places to navigate and difficult situations to deal with, but at the end, all will be forgotten when we look into the shining face of the One who has already prepared it for us (Matthew 25:34, John 14:2).

“And let the one who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who wishes take the water of life without cost.” Revelation 22:17

Comments (2) Feb 25 2010

February 15, 2010

I have this against you, that you have left your first love. Revelation 2:4

Contrary to popular opinion, says the National Park Service, the Revolutionary war encampment at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania was not the epitome of suffering and misery it’s usually made out to be. Instead, it’s a testament to American perseverance.

Here’s the story in a nutshell: in 1777, Sir William Howe, the British commander in chief, landed nearly 17,000 men at the head of Chesapeake Bay, intent on capturing Philadelphia. General George Washington marched his 12,000-man army in from New Jersey to oppose them. The American soldiers were up against British professionals, and lost two key battles, but still felt confident they could defeat them in the future.

As winter set in, both armies often withdrew to fixed campsites, with Washington’s going to Valley Forge, twenty miles northwest of Philadelphia, close enough to keep pressure on the British yet far enough away to thwart a surprise attack. Although they were not well supplied, his troops were reportedly in good spirits. Disease, not cold or starvation, was what decimated them: influenza, typhus, typhoid and dysentery took two-thirds of the nearly 2,000 men who died there.

The arrival of former Prussian army officer Baron Friedrich Wilhelm Augustus von Steuben and implementation of his rigorous training program, along with the French troops who joined the American cause, proved to be the turning points in the standoff. The British evacuated Philadelphia in June, stopping one of their major offensives, and the Continental Army was able to regroup to fight to eventual victory.

Today, there’s another battle brewing at Valley Forge. This one concerns not the British, but white-tailed deer. Nearly 1,300 of them have taken up residence at the national historic park, posing a problem for the environment, vehicular traffic and surrounding suburban gardens. The park’s plan is to cull the herd by 80% with non-lethal and lethal methods, which include the use of silencer-equipped sharpshooters. Park officials say their mission is to preserve the historic and natural resources, restore the ecological balance (birds, butterflies and other wildlife have disappeared due to the deer overrun) and stem the spread of animal-borne diseases (you can read more about the park’s position here).

As you might imagine, this pits the park against animal-rights activists, who filed suit to try to block the kill. They doubt the plan is safe, given the homes, hotels and malls that surround the 3,500-acre space. They advocate deer contraception and fencing to protect vegetation instead.

But the park has prevailed. It expects to finish the hunt in March.

I mention this controversy not to make a statement about who’s right or wrong about the deer culling operation, but to focus on the concept of restoration. Both sides recognize the need to do something to bring back the park’s natural equilibrium of plants and wildlife. What they disagree on is how to achieve that goal.

Restoration—reestablishing our connection with God after we’ve gone our own way—is the entire thrust of Scripture, and Jesus neatly summarizes a common obstacle to this reconciliation in his letter to the church at Ephesus in Revelation 2:4. More than thirty years before, the Ephesian church had been commended for its love (Ephesians 1:15-16). But now, even though the church is known for its deeds, perseverance, endurance, and intolerance for evil and false teaching, the original spark had gone, rendering all that zeal meaningless.

His solution was equally succinct: “Remember from where you have fallen, and repent” (2:5).  No equivocation, no debate—there’s one way and one way only for believers to be restored to a right relationship with the One who knows all the thoughts and intentions of our hearts (1 Chronicles 28:9), and that is to have a change of mind, to do an about face from heading in the wrong direction to going the right way.

Real restoration of earthly relationships and environments may be next to impossible to achieve or sustain, but coming back to God is as swift and sure as a simple prayer. If you’ve left your first love—or are not even sure you had it to begin with—don’t let another moment go by before you’ve taken that recuperative step.

Turn around, the Savior pleads. I’m right here, waiting.

Comments (1) Feb 15 2010

February 8, 2010

Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize. 1 Corinthians 9:25-27

The Winter Olympics begin this week!

I don’t know about you, but I’ll be watching at least some of the competition. I usually try to see the opening and closing ceremonies, because they’re so spectacular, and I’ll try to catch some of my favorite sports, especially ice skating (spoken like a real girl, I know).

Competition and comparison have been on my mind constantly since I joined a gym in January. It’s been a while since I’ve been in an exercise class, and I’d forgotten how easily they draw me into the comparison trap. I tend to gravitate to a spot in the back of the room in these classes, which means I get to see all the people in front of me who seem to kick higher, have more endurance and better looking hair than me (yeah, I’m that shallow…). I always have to remind myself that I’m not competing with any of them—the only one I’m battling is me, to get myself stronger, build up my endurance and keep extra pounds off of me (I’ve just about given up on the hair…)

And just how does this relate to the national parks? The papers have been full of reports of the administration’s proposed 2011 budget, which freezes funding for most domestic programs–including the National Park Service, as specifically noted by The New York Times–at current levels for three years. Kurt Repanshek discusses this issue in another thoughtful National Park Traveler posting, as he wonders whether the momentum gained from Ken Burns’ national park television series and the subsequent leap in park attendance for 2009 will all be for nothing due to lack of money.

Then I read a Frommer’s newsletter with a quote from Mr. Burns, in answer to a question about whether each American should purchase a park pass every season. “I think it’s essential to the survival of the country that people use and exercise their parks,” he said. “Like anything that doesn’t get exercise, it has a tendency to atrophy. We want people to go out and see their property. You own the grandest canyon in the world. All you have to do is go out and visit it.”

I suspect Mr. Burns would agree that flat funding for the National Park Service is not a good thing. But I also think he feels that regardless of what Congress does, and despite what little control we individuals may have in setting our nation’s budget, citizens must act on their own. And that means visiting the parks. We’ve got to use ‘em or lose ‘em.

That’s the exact same message about the Christian life the apostle Paul is trying to get across in the above verse. We can’t control everything that goes on in the race of life.  What each one of us can do, however, is exercise our spiritual muscles, day in and day out, to enable us to reach the prize of eternal life.

At the end of the gospel of John, after His resurrection and before He goes back to heaven,  Jesus urges Peter to continue on in his ministry, hinting that his life might not have a real happy ending. Peter looks over at John (who sometimes describes himself as “the disciple whom Jesus loved”–John 21:20. What’s up with that??) and asks, “Lord, what about him?” (John 21:21). Meaning, “Hey, no suffering for him? Is he going to get off scot free?” (which he doesn’t, as we find out in Revelation 1:9). But Jesus will have none of that comparison nonsense: “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You follow Me!” (John 21:22).

That says to me that I can’t be sizing myself up in regard to other believers who know more Scripture, who seem to sail through crises with the greatest of ease and who God appears to favor perhaps a little more than me.  Just as comparing myself to fellow exercisers is no help at all to my physical development, so too matching up my spiritual life against everybody else’s gets me nowhere. I need to be about running my own race, and not so much checking out the position of the rest of the team.

I hope you’ll enjoy the Olympics. I urge you to do what you can to stay fit.  You know I also want you to think about spending your vacation in a national park. But above all, I pray that your first priority is keeping your soul in good shape.

Comments (2) Feb 08 2010

February 1, 2010

Be on the alert, for you do not know which day your Lord is coming. Matthew 24:42

I was in the airport when the first reports about the earthquake in Haiti were coming in. Then I hopped a plane to Egypt, where for nine days I didn’t have access to an English newspaper or broadcast.  It wasn’t until I got home that I learned the full scope of the tragedy.

(Don’t expect me to make some sort of pronouncement about God’s judgment or anything—there’s suffering and death on top of terrible poverty and years of corruption, and we need to be weeping along with Haiti (Romans 12:15), and helping, not wasting our time issuing verdicts).

Today I read a small item in the paper about recent seismic activity in Yellowstone. It seems that for the last couple of weeks, more than a hundred tiny tremors a day have rattled a section of the park about ten miles northwest of the Old Faithful geyser. Scientists monitoring the situation are on alert but not alarmed, and they don’t believe the tremors are indications of a larger event to come.

So much talk about earthquakes made me curious about where the word comes up in the Bible. I found several mentions. Amos 1:1 refers to one (a commentary says that earthquakes were so common that for the prophet to have noted it, it must have been unusually severe). Zechariah also cites this event (14:5), as does the historian Josephus, according to the commentary.

Then there is the earthquake that occurred when Jesus died on the cross (Matthew 27:50-54), which tore the veil separating the Holy of Holies from the rest of the temple (Exodus 26:37, 38:18; Hebrews 9:3), caused tombs to open and people to rise up out of them, and impressed a centurion so much that he believed in Jesus on the spot. I also read the account of Paul and Silas in the Philippian jail, praying and singing their hearts out when a temblor shook the foundations of the prison, flung open all the doors and unlocked the prisoners’ chains (Acts 16:25-34). Again, it made such an impact that the guard immediately became a Christian.

But perhaps the most compelling citations have to do with what is commonly called the end times, when Jesus returns to earth. When asked by His disciples what signs they should look for, Jesus mentions several things, including earthquakes, and gives further illustrations through several parables (Matthew 24 and 25). The book of Revelation alludes to many cosmic disturbances (6:12-14), and a series of tremors (8:5; 11:13, 19), including one that will be “such as there had not been since man came to be upon the earth” (16:18). Sobering stuff.

Now, I’m not going to start predicting the end of the world is near, because Scripture explicitly states that’s impossible (Matthew 24:36, 42 50; 25:13), and we can be easily misled by false teachers who try to set dates (Matthew 24:4, 5, 11, 23, 24). The two abiding principles I do get from all these passages are, 1) when Jesus comes, it will be unmistakable (Matthew 24:27-31) and, 2) we need to act as if it would happen any moment (Matthew 24:42-44, 25:13).

I imagine most Haitians had no idea a massive earthquake was on the way—they were too busy just trying to survive to give it much thought, if any at all. In that, they are not too much different from the rest of us, as we plod along day by day, dealing with Yellowstone-like rumblings and occasional scary upheavals that can leave us shaken and bereft. But there will come a day when we’ll be hit by The Big One, which will be way beyond anything the world has ever experienced.

The question I ask myself is: will I be ready?

Comments (2) Feb 01 2010

January 25, 2010

Do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matthew 6:34

I saw a photo of Mt. Rushmore the other day, and it got me thinking about our visit there several years ago.

There were many highlights of our trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota, but just seeing the immense figures of four presidents carved in stone, and walking up the path behind them was spectacular—and no, you don’t see their backsides, as some cartoons have depicted! We also enjoyed the on-going work on the Crazy Horse memorial in the area, and drove through nearby Custer State Park for up close and personal encounters with bison (they have HUGE heads and slobber a lot).

One caveat: don’t eat the mint ice cream at Mt. Rushmore. It’s a ghastly, off-putting  green color and tastes as fake as it looks, and it made Joe sick. Just mentioning the experience causes him to blanch. Maybe they’ve improved the flavor and appearance or even discontinued it by now, but consider this fair warning…

Anyway, when we got back to Mom’s house in Illinois, I suggested we rent North By Northwest, the terrific Hitchcock movie whose final climactic scene (spoiler alerts ahead!) is memorably set at Mt. Rushmore. As we settled in to watch, Mom mentioned that a friend of hers had said to look carefully at the cafeteria scene where Eva Marie Saint shoots Cary Grant. Apparently, off to the side yet still within the camera’s range, one of the extras, a young boy, screws up his face in anticipation of the prop gun’s loud bang, just before the actual shooting takes place.

Sure enough, there he was. Unless you’re specifically looking for it, you’ll miss that quick grimace, because your attention is usually where it should be, on the gunfight.

In many ways, I’m like that boy. Some people obsess about the past, but my specialty is fretting about the future. I spend way too much time worrying about what’s coming up. I somehow think that this advance “preparation” will enable me to deal better with the situation.

But I always discover the opposite is true. I can get myself so worked up that I’m a wreck by the time the event arrives. And my anxiety over the future often means I miss out on daily pleasures along the way.

The boy in the film wasn’t mature enough to enjoy the experience of being part of a remarkable movie with a stellar cast and renowned director. All he focused on was the noise.

Guess I still have some maturing of my own to do.

Lord, help me filter out the noise and the cares of tomorrow and the days, weeks and months after that, and just let me rest in the fact that the future comes one day at a time—and You hold it in Your hand, just as You do today.

Comments (2) Jan 28 2010

January 18, 2010

He who believes in Me [Jesus], as the Scripture said, ‘From his innermost being shall flow rivers of living water.’ John 7:38

I keep thinking about the Everglades, I guess because last year at this time Joe and I were there. It really is an incredible place.

Plus, I just read that the National Park Service has begun a long-awaited project there. Construction has started at the northern edge, near the Shark Valley (a great place to see tons of gators), where a one-mile bridge is to be built to replace part of Tamiami Trail. The Trail is a major thoroughfare in southern Florida, cutting an east-west swath across the state, adjacent to Everglades and partly through Big Cypress National Preserve (gators also like to hang out alongside the Trail, as do a variety of birds).

The problem is that Tamiami Trail acts as a barrier to the overland flow of water to the park. The bridge—which will be completed in 2013 and cost about $81 million—is only the initial phase of a much bigger plan. The Trail eventually will be raised to facilitate even greater movement of water underneath.

So what’s the big deal with the water, you may wonder? In a word, life: life for the plants and animals that depend on it. Everglades is not a swamp, as many imagine—swamps are stagnant, and Everglades water moves slowly but steadily out to Florida Bay. That liquid is a precious and much-thought about commodity in Everglades. The built-up Miami area siphons off quite a bit to meet its growing needs. Human intrusion, especially in the form of barriers like roadways, disrupts the water quantity and distribution. This project is one more effort to restore the park’s natural balance.

Jesus promises His “living water” will stream through us when we put our trust in Him; sometimes, though, you and I have got to do work to keep it moving. It’s way too easy to put up obstacles that impede the current of goodness and mercy He longs to pour over us. Often we need to put some heavy-duty plans into action to get us back in balance.

I find it’s sort of like physical exercise. I just joined a gym after years of working out at home with a treadmill and free weights, because I found that practice just wasn’t cutting it anymore. My body got too used to the same old routine: I was basically staying about the same weight (even gaining a wee bit—eeek!) and I was bored, bored, bored! I knew it was time to shake things up before I really started slacking off and piling on the pounds.

Perhaps like me with my change in workout, you need to make some adjustments to get your spiritual juices going again. I know I’m always looking for ways to keep my devotional and prayer time fresh. In fact, I’ve had to get into a different habit to fit it into my new exercise schedule. Any kind of change means time and attention and effort—I had to shell out money and now must leave the comfort of my house to stay in shape, and my whole morning had to be tweaked. Spiritual adjustment can be just as costly.

But like the terrific outcome I’m expecting because of my revamped training, and the good things that will come out of the Everglades project, it’s the results I’m looking forward to—a flood of God-centered water that keeps me coming back for more.

My prayer is that you find that life-giving surge just as refreshing.

Comments (0) Jan 18 2010

January 11, 2010

Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, O God, till I declare Your power to the next generation, Your might to all who are to come. Psalm 71:18

I’ve just learned about an exciting program for teachers in the national parks. Teacher to Ranger to Teacher allows educators to put on a uniform, receiving training and work for the National Park Service during the summer.

This nationwide endeavor is designed to let instructors from predominately Title 1 schools (where at least 30% of students receive free or reduced cost meals) share in the duties of the park education work force. Teachers will do a variety of jobs, depending on the needs of each park, including hosting nature walks, interpreting on park trails, and leading weekly programs for children and teens.

This is an attempt by the Park Service to provide access to cultural, natural and recreational opportunities to those school districts that struggle to connect with the parks, due to various social and economic factors. The goal is for the teachers to take their experience and what they’ve learned back to the schools, to supplement their lessons and encourage students and their families to take advantage of these places that are an integral part of our national heritage.

What a terrific idea! Students hopefully will be interested in what their instructor has to teach them about the parks—and perhaps be even more impressed to realize he or she gave up his or her summer to learn it first hand.

Oh, that we all would make the same effort to pass on an appreciation and awe of God’s power and might!

It’s not a new analogy, but this transfer of knowledge is like a team track event in which a baton must be conveyed to the next runner. This crucial maneuver has to be practiced constantly, because a fumbled baton often means the race is lost.

The battle over who or what will win the hearts and minds of those who are coming up behind us is too important to leave to chance.  In this new year, as I often feel like I’m getting older and grayer by the minute, I’m renewing my commitment to handle well this faith baton I’m holding out to my daughter, my nieces and nephews, and the other younger people with whom I regularly interact. No matter if the faith you have to pass on is as small as a mustard seed (and if you don’t have even that, ask God and He’ll happily supply it), I hope you’ll join me.

Because there’s always another generation to tell.

Comments (2) Jan 11 2010

January 4, 2010

Jesus said to them, My Father is always at His work to this very day, and I, too, am working. John 5:17

The Pa-hay-okee Overlook in Everglades National Park is an observation tower with a panoramic view of the “River of Grass” that makes up a large part of the park. It’s reached by a short boardwalk trail that loops through a bald cypress forest. While walking there last January, I thought the gray and lifeless-looking trees standing in the marshy ground were dead.

A nearby sign set me straight. The trees were very much alive—they were merely dormant. As the end of the year approaches, the needles of a bald cypress drop on to the limestone upon which the Everglades is built. The decaying leaves eat away at the sedimentary rock and create a hollow around the tree. Not only does this cavity allow the tree’s roots to grow deeper, but water collects in it to provide for the cypress through the dry season of winter. A tall, stripped bald cypress is in fact an extremely healthy tree just waiting for spring.

I know all about dormant phases. There have been days, weeks and years in which life looked bleak and my desperate prayers weren’t answered. I’ve been through infertility, financial woes, parenting worries, migraines, panic attacks and caring for a mother-in-law with dementia—and I’m quite sure I’ll add to that list in the future. In those seasons, often all I can cling to is the promise that God is alive and well and working in me and with me and through me, even when I don’t see, feel or understand what’s happening. Looking back, I see how the death of dreams and the hard times I thought were eating away at my foundation instead became the very things that God used to bring new growth.

If life is gray right now, hold on! You may be dormant, but God is not. The tears you shed, the prayers you continue to pray even when they seem to go nowhere and the faith you hang on to for dear life are creating a space for God to fill you up with what you need for this season of your life—and the next.

And spring will come…it always does.

Comments (4) Jan 05 2010