A celebration of family

Psalm 20:4-5 (NIV)

May he give you the desire of your heart
    and make all your plans succeed.
May we shout for joy over your victory
   and lift up our banners in the name of our God.

And so we come to the end of another August. This has been a particularly busy month for our family so long as I can remember, and with good reason. But of my dad’s brothers have birthdays in August. His parents were married in August. I was born in August, and five days shy of six years later, so were my brother and sister. And thirty-eight years ago today, my parents were married. So while we have all the regular back-to-school activity like any other family, we’ve also got plenty of reasons to celebrate — sending summer out in style.

As I reflected on the end of my grandmother’s life earlier this month, I focused a fair amount on the example she and my grandfather set in terms of the kind of marriage I hoped to emulate. In so doing, I may have failed to give sufficient credit to my actual parents, whom I have observed closely (some times more close than others) over the last three decades. Working with them and seeing them in that capacity on a daily basis over the last three-plus years had shed additional light on the matter.

My parents on their wedding day (Aug. 31, 1974) with my dad's family.

The divorce rate notwithstanding, I don’t find it especially rare to have grown up in a loving home with parents committed to a strong relationship. But I do have enough perspective to not take it for granted. And the older I get, and the more my own life begins to resemble the path they followed, the more I appreciate exactly what is involved in being happily married for 38 years. The more I understand about family history, and the more I simply watch and listen, the more I realize my parents are no accident. I can’t say is if there were any especially rough patches by the world’s standards — though my dad has had his share of boneheaded moments that might drive a less patient woman off the deep end (and guess in whose footsteps I follow?) — but I realize both of my parents have seriously considered what type of person, parent and partner they want to be, what they are called to be and what they are capable of becoming.

This is the lesson I take from them: to not just find someone and fall in love and aim blindly toward forever, but to continually focus on the partnership. It’s easy to say there must be give and take and compromise and sacrifice. But actually applying those principles, day after day, month after month and year after year, especially when children enter the picture, requires a significant degree of wanting to be and to stay involved.

I sometimes wish I had a specific story of a special moment when I witnessed my parents demonstrating their love and commitment to one another, or perhaps some worldly advice one of them bestowed that I carry on my heart to this day. But I don’t. I don’t have any such grand tales of my own marriage, either. Yet sometimes I feel the whole thing is even more special for its seeming blandness. We’re not trendsetters or larger-than-life personalities. We’re just people who found a partner who makes us happy and wake each day trying to give the family the best version of ourselves. And we know God sits at the head of the table. If we live lives worthy of God, we live lives worthy of each other. That’s the goal — yesterday, today and all our tomorrows.

I wrote a few paragraphs about my parents three years ago today, and rereading them now I find them as true today.

I hope my parents know how truly special they are and how much it has meant to me to have them be the ones who showed me, directly and indirectly, the way to be a good person, a good husband, a good father and a good son.

When I started out at Coe in 1997, I didn't know for sure what kind of job I wanted or even what classes I wanted to take. But I knew I wanted to get married (to a Kohawk, of course) and I wanted to have kids. I wanted to be the kind of parent I had as a child and, with the help of my lovely wife and the influence of her family as well, I like to think we're doing a pretty good job so far.

It will be another 28 years before Kristie and I get to our 35th anniversary. That's nearly twice the time we've both been alive so far. We aspire to be like our parents and grandparents — true life partners who are not so much a couple as two halves of a whole.

When I pray, I always start by offering thanks for my wife and my kids. I know she and they are what make me whole, and that's because I see that kind of love in my family everywhere I turn. I know it didn't start with my parents, and I know it won't end there. But today is a day to honor their relationship and consider all the good that has and will continue to come of it.

Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad. Thank you for everything. May you find something in each day that lets you know how important you are to all of us. And may you have many more happy years, filled with occasions big and small to smile the smiles of people who have found true happiness together.

For the two people who have given me everything, and whom I know will always love me more than they know how to explain, the best I can say is thank you. The best I can do is to love as I was loved, and to raise their grandchildren to understand the things I came to know because my parents first loved me, every day and in every way. They deserve nothing less.

A prayer for August 31:

Lord, I thank you for family. I have been blessed by so many people in so many ways, and my heart breaks for those whom I know struggle to find such comfort and support. Please open my eyes to opportunities to be an extension of your love to those in need, that I may in part repay the many blessings of my life by bringing your blessings to other people. Give me the wisdom to see where I might make a difference, and the strength and courage to follow through when you call me to action. Amen.

A Sunday evening rainbow

Revelation 4:1-3 (NIV)

After this I looked, and there before me was a door standing open in heaven. And the voice I had first heard speaking to me like a trumpet said, “Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.” At once I was in the Spirit, and there before me was a throne in heaven with someone sitting on it. And the one who sat there had the appearance of jasper and ruby. A rainbow that shone like an emerald encircled the throne.

We saw a rainbow this afternoon. It was not the strongest I’ve ever witnessed, but for a good while you could see the entire arc from one end to the other. It happened to be hanging above a beautiful little lake in a wonderfully landscaped yard complete with a waterfall bubbling into a pond with real frogs inside. Suffice it to say our children were enthralled.

The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if this might have been the first rainbow Jack had ever seen. Certainly it’s true for Charlie, and I don’t ever recall sharing the experience with Max, either. Jack is eight years old now, so it seems unlikely he’s never seen a rainbow before today. But to my memory he’s never seemed to care.

The occasion was a gathering at the home of one of our church’s pastors, a large collection of couples with young children who might want to get involved in some sort of small group during the next few months. Two of the other couples from our own small group were present, in part because we fit the demographic, in part because we might be able to get involved with a new group without leaving our original collection and in part because it takes very little prodding to get any of us to open up about the incredible benefits we reap from being involved with these people.

We first started meeting in the fall of 2009. There are four charter member couples, though nine or ten have come in and out over the last three years. Of all of those folks, if I am counting properly, there have been five babies born in just the last three years, and 15 children total. Our kids don’t have cousins, but I feel so blessed to have all of these other little people (and their parents!) in our lives — it’s groups like this that give credence to the adage friends are the family you choose.

I don’t know as if there’s any one story that explains why these people are so valuable to us, as a couple, as parents, as Christians — everything. Kristie has a good way of putting it when she expresses how good she feels knowing there are so many people who know us well enough and care about us enough that if anything serious should ever happen, they would immediately spring into action to create a safety net. When practical, we’ve listed each other as emergency contacts on our kids’ school paperwork. When we’re at church on Sunday, it’s not unusual for one of the younger kids to end up in my arms, or for an older one to tug on my pant leg and say, “Um, do you know where my mom is?”

When we moved away from Kristie’s hometown, off on our own for real for the first time, we didn’t know anyone. For all practical purposes, we had no neighbors. I made great, lifelong friends at the newspaper, but they were not family types with young children. We tried various churches with varying degrees of success, but we spent most of our time isolated or traveling to her parents’ house or mine.

When we moved here, close to my hometown, we quickly became involved in the church of my youth, where my parents have been members for three decades. And there were lots of folks there we knew well because they have been family friends for years and years. But they were all a generation removed. So while it is incredibly comforting to have so many experienced parents and grandparents keeping watch over our kids as they tear through the halls and go through Sunday school programs, it wasn’t until we found this small group that we actually made friends — our own friends who know us first and my parents second. Friends who use our Christmas cards to teach their kids how to say our boys’ names. Friends who loan us DVD players so we can drive to North Carolina for Thanksgiving with minimal tantrums. Friends who let us be open and honest and happy and sad and know what we like and what makes us worry and congratulate us when things go well and pray for us when the road is rough.

When we saw the rainbow tonight, I mentioned we should tell the other people in the house. Jack seized the opportunity. Emboldened with a task, he shed off the insecurities of being in a new place and the confusion of people who knew him well but whose names he never learned or could not recall and retrieved a few other adults to the porch to show off the majestic sight. Unprompted by me, they thanked him for sharing the rainbow with them. They said how glad they were he invited them to look. And his face, as it does in these moments, could not entirely mask his pride at having carried out such a thoughtful, mature task.

At the time, I was filled with some sort of emotion I can’t quite describe. It happens when I see something in my child that only very close family might detect, one of those indefinable, well, things that make Jack Jack, or make Max Max. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how there are these other people now, these other parents and a growing number of friends who genuinely know and love and understand our boys, not because they have to but because they want to, and how fulfilling it is to be able to, in a way, share my kids with them.

Obviously there remains something special between me and Kristie and our boys, and no one aside from the five of us will ever be able to replicate that kind of closeness. But having that inner circle, and watching it grow, is so unbelievably comforting it’s difficult for me to find the right words to fully explain. And while I would not take anything away from people who have close friends entirely outside a church or religious setting, I know for us these connections are as strong as they’ve become because they are built around our shared faith.

When I write, as I do often, about God as a source of comfort and strength, I am considering relationships like this in that sentiment. Our family and these friends are, for us, an extension of God’s love for all people. I can say “God will provide” because God already has. I see and experience God’s love with them and through them. When there are struggles, we go to them as a part of going to God. They’re just regular people, but we have found each other and, at least for me, it has become a source of inexplicable strength and community. Again, this is a difficult concept for me to illustrate with words; I can only hope other folks who have a similar experience will understand my intent.

I know what we’re supposed to think of when we see rainbows, and that’s always in the back of my mind. But from here on out, rainbows are going to also remind me of the way God is present for us in the people he allows and encourages us to be with in fellowship. And I’m also going to remember that look on Jack’s face, because it got right to the essence of what makes him so perfectly special to me.

A prayer for August 26:

Lord, you are worthy to have glory and honor and power. You created all things through your will. I continue to try to learn how I may live in tribute, how I might discern your will and be worthy of your majesty. I am so grateful for the wonderful family and friends you have placed in my life, that there are so many people who care about me and especially my family. I pray that I might give to these people what they have given to me, and I know I can do so because you will provide the strength and wisdom to make it possible. Thank you for this embodiment of your love. Amen.

Sage advice from an experienced parent

John 5:19-23 (NIV)

Jesus gave them this answer: “Very truly I tell you, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does. For the Father loves the Son and shows him all he does. Yes, and he will show him even greater works than these, so that you will be amazed. For just as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, even so the Son gives life to whom he is pleased to give it. Moreover, the Father judges no one, but has entrusted all judgment to the Son, that all may honor the Son just as they honor the Father. Whoever does not honor the Son does not honor the Father, who sent him.

I came across a few thought-provoking comments the other day regarding Christian parenting. The source is Scot McKnight, who among many other things authored “The Jesus Creed,” which our small group studied from roughly Labor Day 2011 to the start of Lent 2012. He also happens to have been a Little League coach the entire time I played youth baseball, including two seasons when I was on his team. He runs a very popular blog concurrent with his other writings and teachings. The link I followed Sunday said simply, “Great comment on parenting,” which was enough to draw me in.

What he shared was comments a blog reader, “Mickey,” identified as a pediatrician, made on a parenting post earlier in the week. The words interested me on their own, and tonight’s scripture brought me instantly back to review them again.

I am the father of six children that are aged 13-22.5 years. I am also a practicing pediatrician in the Midwest. My wife and I have home-educated our children all the way through their “formal education” years until they have reached college age. I guess I am about as conservative as you can get both from a scriptural and social perspective, although I would consider myself “generous” in my orthodoxy.

I have always approached the education of parents with a few perspectives in mind:

You cannot spoil a child during the first year of life. They are completely dependent on their parents for everything. The warning I give parents with the approach is that adolescence starts at 12 months not 12 years.

After the first year of life parents need to help them learn they are not God, like they think they are. I submit this is an application of the greatest commandment. The second principle they must learn is they are to be responsible for their actions, an application of the second greatest commandment. I have challenged parents to find ways to apply these two commandments in every aspect of parenting for the last twenty years.

There are three corollaries to these principles. First, remember that we parents are not gods either, so admit to your mistakes to your children when they are old enough understand your mistakes. Second, during the very earlier years of their training, when having a battle of wills with them, WIN; and when you cannot win make them believe that you won. Finally when training children, you only have 18-21 years to train them for the following 60 years of their lives. Be their parent these early years, be their friend later.

The reason these words spoke so clearly to me tonight is tied directly to my first reading of Jesus’ comments in John: “Very truly I tell you, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does. For the Father loves the Son and shows him all he does.”

My initial reaction was to write something along the lines of, “OK, I totally get Jesus is talking about the ‘God the father, God the son’ relationship, but it also makes me think about me being a dad, and I know I’m not God, but for the sake of this discussion…” But when I look back on Mickey’s comments, I see how dangerous this logic can be.

I do think there becoming a parent taught me good things about my relationship with God. For starters, I think about how much I love my children, then realize how much more God loves me (and them), and I am absolutely humbled. I remember the first time we were somewhere with a bunch of other kids, and yet I could distinguish Jack’s laughter and crying amid all the din. I imagined it to be just a taste of God’s ability to hear the concerns of each individual person, no matter how many people are coming to Him in prayer at any given moment.

When the kids got older and became willfully disobedient, I imagine how much harder it must be for God to observe my disobedience of him. After all, if a parent’s love pales in comparison to God’s love, isn’t every emotion similarly magnified? God has done so much for all his people, far more than I will ever be able to do for my children. And how do we repay Him?

But after a while, the similarities end. I pray for God to give me the ability to make the best choices when dealing with my kids, but I know I am imperfect. But God is not imperfect in his dealings with us. I make my kids apologize to each other and ask for forgiveness. But my emotions in response to their behavior are not in any way what I would call Godlike. I want my children to see evidence of my faith in the way I treat them and others, but I must never forget my obligation to tell them where my faith comes from and how it affects me — and admit freely what exactly I ask God to help me with, or, as Mickey puts it, to tell them about my mistakes as it relates to them.

I want my kids to look up to me. But first I need to make myself something worthy of their respect. And then I need to make sure they know I’m not better or worse than any other human, and that only God is worthy of their actual praise and worship. (I do not have any notions that my children worship me, specifically, but I know what it means to idolize something or someone that isn’t God, which is a topic I could explore via today’s passage from Judges and Psalms).

None of us are God, and the sooner we come to terms with our human limitations, the better off we’ll all be. Just because little ones look up to us by sheer instinct does not mean we should abuse that privilege. In fact, we shouldn’t see it as a privilege at all — it’s a responsibility, and an incredibly important one at that.

A prayer for August 20:

Lord, thank you for Jesus; for his birth, death and resurrection; for his impassioned teachings; for the example he set that we all might follow. Thank you for children, with whom we may share the story of your love and grace, and might so inspire them to live lives worthy of you. Grant me everything I will need to be a positive influence for my children, that I may glorify you by encouraging them to glorify you as well. May my triumphs be reason to praise you, may my failings be occasion to teach about humility and forgiveness, and may my family in your love all the days of our lives. Amen.

We are weak but he is strong

2 Corinthians 13:3b-4, 11

He is not weak in dealing with you, but is powerful among you. For to be sure, he was crucified in weakness, yet he lives by God’s power. Likewise, we are weak in him, yet by God’s power we will live with him in our dealing with you. … Finally, brothers and sisters, rejoice! Strive for full restoration, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace. And the God of love and peace will be with you.

“Little ones to Him belong; they are weak but he is strong…”

“I am weak, but thou art strong; Jesus, keep me from all wrong…”

Those familiar lines from familiar songs present humans as weak and reliant on the strength of Jesus. But the writings of Paul remind us that as Jesus was fully human, he was crucified in weakness and it was God’s strength that conquered death. And while we believe Jesus was both fully God and fully human, it is important to remember his physical act of human suffering. He endured because he knew the full extent of God’s power, and his story is all we should need to be endowed with the same knowledge.

Yes Jesus loves us — the Bible tells us so. I read a wonderful picture book of that song to Max tonight (all three verses) then had to sing it to him when he noticed the music on the last page. It has wonderful purpose as a children’s song, yet I think adults are far too quick to put the tune on the shelf as part of putting away childish things. Some years ago, perhaps more than once, a minister started singing the song during the adult sermon and invited the congregation to join. Such a sweet sound to hear hundreds of grown ups, softly singing, impromptu and a cappella, lyrics indelibly etched in their souls.

Certainly the other song I mentioned is not quite as well known — it’s very popular, sure, but “Jesus Loves Me” is ubiquitous. Yet consider these lyrics, even without the beautiful melody they function wonderfully as a simple prayer worth offering whenever no other words come to mind:

I am weak, but Thou art strong;
Jesus, keep me from all wrong;
I’ll be satisfied as long
As I walk, let me walk close to Thee.

Just a closer walk with Thee,
Grant it, Jesus, is my plea,
Daily walking close to Thee,
Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.

Through this world of toil and snares,
If I falter, Lord, who cares?
Who with me my burden shares?
None but Thee, dear Lord, none but Thee.

When my feeble life is o’er,
Time for me will be no more;
Guide me gently, safely o’er
To Thy kingdom shore, to Thy shore.

I often pray for strength, either in a specific moment or as a general character trait I’d like to develop. To me it’s important to remember my weakness as a way of making sure I don’t lose sight of how much I need God’s influence. While it is wonderful to feel I’ve been emboldened with strength through prayer, I can’t ever assume it is my own strength. When I refer to God as the giver of all good things, I am thinking not just of health and loving family, but also spiritual gifts that hopefully allow me to make the most of my time on Earth.

To paraphrase something a friend shared online tonight, we don’t go to church because we are good, we go precisely because we know we are not. We cling to the Lord because we know what we are (or would be) like without God’s presence and influence. We are weak but he is strong.

One of my favorite parts of the Bible is the last few verses of each of the letters in the New Testament. Many are used for well-known worship songs, and they make excellent benedictions. They also are the kind of things I would like to tell my kids when they are old enough to understand. “Strive for full restoration, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace. And the God of love and peace will be with you.” I’m not sure when in life it will be the right time for me to use those words, or something similar, when communicating with my boys, so until then I simply apply them to myself.

That closer walk with Jesus is all I’m striving for because of everything it entails. It is passages like this, songs like this, ideas like this, that convince me if I stick as close as I can to God and what God wants for me, everything else will fall into place accordingly.

A prayer for Aug. 19:

Lord, you have been a wonderful presence for me today, from the words I heard and sang during worship this morning to the way you communicated through Scripture tonight. Continue to be with me daily, let me see and respond to the world in a way that glorifies you. Grant me the strength I need to walk along the path you would have me follow. As I walk, let me walk close to you always. Amen.

Scott and Kristie: The early days

Judges 14:1-2 (NIV)

Samson went down to Timnah and saw there a young Philistine woman. When he returned, he said to his father and mother, “I have seen a Philistine woman in Timnah; now get her for me as my wife.”

I wrote about my relationship about my wife on the occasion of our tenth anniversary in June. I did not include many details about our courtship or engagement (in large part because the proposal itself was remarkably unspectacular), but I can assure you at no point did I look up my parents and demand them get Kristie for me as my wife. Even if I’d been so bold, I’m reasonably sure they wouldn’t have helped. I can recall, on more than one occasion, happening upon my parents in some sort of hug or other friendly situation and my dad saying something to the effect of, “I got mine, you go get your own.”

I culled these verses from a longer passage (through verse 19) about Samson’s betrothal and marriage to his first wife. The selection concludes with the cheerful tale of Samson — filled with the spirit of the Lord — slaughtering 30 men and stripping their clothes in order to make good on a wager he’d made with his rather large wedding party, all set in motion by his sneaky, plotting wife. It is not the Bible’s most romantic love story.

But the first two verses made me think about the very early days of my relationship with the woman who would become my wife. We met right at the beginning of her freshman year of college and started dating about a month later. I met her family shortly thereafter when a few of us actually stayed at her house during a college band tour that happened to run through her hometown. Sometimes it still boggles the mind that her brother was just four and a half years old then. Now Uncle Kyle is 18 and starting college, and Max is almost four and a half.

Coe College Homecoming, Oct. 24, 1998.
Earliest known photo of us as a couple.

Kristie did not meet my family until the end of February when my parents and siblings came out for the annual college jazz festival. When we were all together last week I heard her tell my sister she recognized them as Hollands from a distance simply because of how they walked. We had dinner, took in some great live music and, well, I don’t actually remember a lot of specifics about the rest of the weekend.

In the spring, my dad met Kristie’s mom for the first time. I assume her dad was around, I just can’t recall. Band members stayed on campus to play for graduation and moved out later that day. I believe we were left alone briefly to say what seemed an incredibly difficult goodbye (I visited on her birthday about three weeks later), and I imagine there was some brief cross parental conversation, though I doubt either could repeat any specifics. After all, it was a two-minute chat more than 13 years ago.

What I do remember is driving all the way back to the suburbs that day with my dad, about a four-and-a-half-hour trip. I’m not sure exactly how it came up, but I’ll never forget where we were (near the Mobil station on the west edge of Marengo, Ill.) when he somewhat awkwardly asked about the seriousness of my relationship with Kristie. If his question wasn’t awkward, my answer certainly was. I did not, for whatever reason, tip my hand. The truth is I was head over heels in love, utterly convinced she was the girl I would one day marry and not entirely sure how well I would function without seeing her every day. What I actually said was more along the lines of I expected we’d still be dating come Labor Day.

Now, I think about what it must have been like to be my dad in that situation. During the school year we only saw each other once every couple of months. I wasn’t great about calling home, and when I did I usually spent most of the time talking to my mom. I don’t recall Pops being a heavy email user in the late 1990s — though now we have desks ten feet away from each other and frequently use email or chat software to communicate — and so I imagine it was somewhat of a mental adventure for him to have all that uninterrupted time with me.

Spring 1999. A much better picture of us, except for my hair.

I am pretty sure I changed an awful lot from the day they dropped me off at Coe to the end of my sophomore year. A lot of that was on my own, but having Kristie enter my life and become the center of my world over the course of seven or eight months must have led to a noticeable evolution, especially to my parents. If we don’t talk about feelings much now we certainly didn’t dig deep then. I wonder how many dozens of questions must have been circling in his brain just waiting to spill from his mouth if only he could put them to words. Probably the same number as I was fearing he’d ask, for then I’d be the one who would need to turn thoughts into coherent sentences.

I could go on at great length about how Kristie and I developed relationships with each other’s families, as well as how the Hollands and Workmans interact with each other. I may be so inspired eventually, but for now it should be enough to say we both are incredibly lucky to have such strong in-law relationships and also that our parents consider each other good friends. I know enough folks who have not been so blessed, which helps me to not take my own situation for granted.

Watching as our boys some day fall in love and choose life partners and perhaps become parents is going to be an incredible experience. I am not in the habit of praying for their future spouses, but I do think that’s a very nice idea. Part of what makes Kristie and I work so well as a couple is the life experiences we had before we met and our ability to communicate about not just how we think but what shaped us into the people we’ve become, including our evolution over the last (almost) 14 years.

In that light, part of the reason I work hard at having a good marriage is so it may serve as a good foundation and example for our boys for when they mature and enter their own serious relationships, so they can understand what it takes to be good husbands and fathers. It’s almost like an investment for them, their future spouses and our future grandchildren.

Of course, I realize each boy may come up with their own idea of what makes for a fulfilling adulthood and it’s easy to see where none of them would choose to follow directly in our footsteps. I also realize I have years and years of other issues to confront before I worry about things of this nature. I just know how much my life has improved because of my relationship with Kristie and how much the experience of fatherhood has served to make me whole. I love my kids and I want them to be able to experience the wonderful things that enrich my existence.

I realize none of those things are in my power to control, so I do what I can and pray about the rest. So far, it’s working out all right.

A prayer for August 16:

Lord, I thank you for the blessings of a long and fruitful partnership with my wife. I am also grateful for the many ways I have been able to learn about positive relationships, and pray you give us the strength to do what it takes to keep our union strong. I want to be the best husband I can be, and I also want to set a good example for our children so they may one day be strong husbands and fathers. God, this family is both a blessing and a responsibility, and we could not continue to be what we have become without your constant influence. Please keep watch over us as we navigate life together. Amen.

'It is well with my soul'

Psalm 146:1-2 (NIV)

Praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord, my soul.

I will praise the Lord all my life
   I will sing praise to my god as long as I live.

I have mentioned at least once the popular hymn often published with Psalm 146:1 as a reference. I’m not sure the first time I heard this hymn, but I remember quite clearly the day it became one of my favorites. We were living in Clinton, Iowa, and worshiping at Second Reformed Church in Fulton, Ill. At the start of a Sunday morning service, the pastor began with the story of “It Is Well With My Soul.”

It is very likely I’d heard the song before, probably several times. But no one had ever told me the story of the composer. I wish I could repeat, word for word, how I heard it that Sunday morning, because it was hauntingly effective. But the best I can do is try to rehash the basic facts — thanks to my memory and some handy websites.

Horatio Spafford, born in North Troy, N.Y., in 1828, was in his late 30s and early 40s a wealthy Chicago lawyer with a thriving practice. He and his wife, Anna, had five children — four daughters and a son. Spafford was at the peak of his wealth and acclaim during a similarly robust period for his adopted hometown — the narrow window between the end of the Civil War and the great fire of October 1871.

The Spaffords were reportedly devout Christians, and counted as close friends gospel singer and composer Ira Sankey and famed evangelist Dwight L. Moody (founder of, among other entities, Moody Bible Institute). Their happy, prosperous life encountered tragedy in 1870 when their son died of scarlet fever. He was four years old.

The next year, the Spaffords’ wealth literally went up in smoke as nearly every real estate investment they’d made — prime Lake Michigan shorefront property — was destroyed in the fire.

Two years later, Horatio’s friendship with Moody aligned with his desire to give the family a break from the reality of all the loss they’d endured. Moody and Sankey were traveling throughout England evangelizing. The Spaffords traveled to New York in the fall of 1873 with plans to board the French steamer Ville de Havre for the trip to England, where they would join Moody and Sankey. When a last-minute business issue arose, Horatio encouraged Anna to take the girls on the trip herself; he would return to Chicago and join his family as soon as possible.

On Nov. 2, 1873, the Ville de Havre collided with the Loch Earn, an English ship. The French steamer sank in 12 minutes. Nine days after Horatio Spafford helped his family board the ship bound for Europe, he received a telegram from Anna in Wales containing only two words: “Saved alone.”

Some 226 people died in the wreck of the Ville de Havre, including the Spaffords’ four daughters, their only remaining children. According to various accounts of the wreck, Anna Spafford had stood bravely on the deck, with Annie, 11, Maggie, 9, Bessie, 5, and Tanetta, 2, clinging desperately to their mother. She said later her last memory was of Tanetta being torn violently from her arms by the force of the waters. Anna was saved by a plank that floated beneath her unconscious body and propped her up.

When the survivors were rescued, Anna Spafford's initial reaction was, understandably, complete despair. But, she reportedly said, a voice spoke to her, saying “You were spared for a purpose.” That prompted her to recall the words of a friend: “It’s easy to be grateful and good when you have so much, but take care that you are not a fair-weather friend to God.”

Horatio and Anna later had a three more children, including another son who died at age four, ten years after his brother. Their daughter, Bertha, wrote a book, “Our Jerusalem,” that included the now well-known account of her father’s trip to England to be reunited with Anna. During that journey, the ship’s captain called Horatio to the bridge.

“A careful reckoning has been made,” he said, “and I believe we are now passing the place where the de Havre was wrecked. The water is three miles deep.”

After that conversation, Spafford returned to his cabin and put pen to paper, trying to convey the scope of his emotions. This is what he wrote:

When peace like a river attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea-billows roll,
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to know;
"It is well, it is well with my soul."

Tho' Satan should buffet, tho' trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed his own blood for my soul.

My sin — oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin — not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to His cross and I bear it no more;
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, oh my soul.

And, Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll,
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend —
A song in the night, oh my soul!

Bertha’s book recounts a letter Spafford wrote to Bertha’s Aunt Rachel a few days after he wrote the poem, recalling his emotions as he sailed past the spot where his young daughters drowned.

“But I do not think of our dear ones there. They are safe, folded, the dear lambs, and there, before very long, shall we be too. In the meantime, thanks to God, we have an opportunity to serve and praise Him for His love and mercy to us and ours. I will praise Him while I have my being. May we each one arise, leave all, and follow Him.”

Sometime not long after, composer Philip Bliss penned a tune (and named it “Ville de Havre”), lightly altered Spafford’s poem, added a chorus and, with Sankey, published “It Is Well With My Soul” in 1876. Bertha was born in 1878, her sister Grace in 1881. Later that year the Spaffords, having split from the Presbyterian church, formed a Messianic sect and moved to Jerusalem as party of an entourage with 11 other adults and one other child. They helped establish the American Colony and engaged in philanthropy for all people, regardless of faith. Four days before turning 60, Horatio Spafford died of malaria and was buried in Jerusalem.

I cannot adequately convey the scope of my feelings as I heard this story the first time and revisited it again tonight. The hymn has found its way to my heart several times during periods of loss and tragedy, each time calming me when all my instincts run counter to serenity. Thinking about the Spaffords’ children, all close in age to my own, only enhances my understanding for the sense of loss they must have felt so many times.

When I read this Psalm, I think of this hymn. When I hear this hymn, I think of this story. And when I think of how blessed I have been with health and wealth and loving family — my life has been much more peace like a river than rolling sea billows — it is obvious how much I should be able to praise God. If while, as Bertha wrote, Spafford was passing through the valley of the shadow of death he yet could find it within himself to give thanks to God, surely I can do the same with every ounce of my being.

It is well, it is well with my soul. There is immeasurable power in those words.

A prayer for August 14:

Lord, every day is an opportunity to serve and praise you for your love and mercy. Please don’t ever let me forget the source of all good things. You have blessed me and my family so many times over, I will never be able to repay you in full. I want to make my life a testament to your goodness and to live in full knowledge and acceptance of your amazing grace. And I want to teach my children how lucky they are to be alive and to be surrounded by your love. Amen.

• • •

Sources:
I found information for this post on the following sites:

• Sharefaith
• Spaffordhymn.com
• Wikipedia (two articles)
• Bible Study Charts

Born again every day

John 3:1-8 (NIV)

Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus who was a member of the Jewish ruling council. He came to Jesus at night and said, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.”

Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.”

“How can someone be born when they are old?” Nicodemus asked. “Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother’s womb to be born!”

Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying, ‘You must be born again.’ The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”

Flesh did give birth to flesh 33 years ago on a Monday night when I entered the world. Today is a Monday, and as I write this shortly after 11 p.m., we’re not too far past the actual time of my arrival. And although I’m sure Pops has been asleep for a few hours, I can pretty reliably bank on K being awake at home, wrapped in nostalgia and placing herself exactly where she was in 1979.

That's me, not more than a month old, in a four-generation photo.

It was a month after her own 26th birthday and just a few weeks before her fifth wedding anniversary. About a year earlier they bought the house in Libertyville they still call home (though it’s been expanded and altered several times since July 1978). I can imagine her emotions to some degree, having been in the delivery room three times myself. It was on the occasion of Jack’s first birthday when I finally realized how important a child’s birthday is to the parent, no matter how old. My kids’ three birthdays are far more meaningful to me than my own, and I imagine that will always be the case.

I did work myself into a decent lather as I turned 30, although I think a lot of that had to do with it being only a few months removed from my career change and our move to Gurnee. I’ll probably have some angst over turning 40, but I bet by then I’ll have far more anxiety over Jack being old enough for a learners’ permit. I did get a little hitch in my giddy-up about hitting 33 thanks to a “Jeopardy!” category earlier this year about things famous people accomplished at that age:

• $200: At 33, he drafted the Declaration of Independence.
• $400: He was 33 when he first exhibited his 32 “Campbell’s Soup Cans.”
• $600: He was 33 when he nailed his 95 theses to the door of the Wittenberg Castle Church.
• $800 (Daily Double): On May 29, 1953, he literally found himself on top of the world, along with his guide.
• $1,000: And to think he was 33 when he published his first book, “And to Think That I Saw it on Mulberry Street.”

I don’t have any plans to be Thomas Jefferson or Dr. Seuss, nor do I have an inferiority complex or any major life regrets, but it was impressive to see what they and others were doing at roughly the same age. Then there is the list of notable folks who died at age 33 — John Belushi, Chris Farley, Sam Cooke, Eva Perón, Bon Scott and dozens more. I generally live a far cleaner life than most people on the list, so I don’t lose a lot of sleep over the potential of joining their ranks.

And of course there is the very popular notion Jesus was 33 at the time of his crucifixion. But no matter how long I live I won’t be measuring up to Jesus, so I don’t exactly try to compare my life to his in that regard. I know some folks use that connection to try to do something of significance in their own 33rd year. I still have more than eight months to go in this project, which I consider a pretty serious undertaking, so maybe this is my contribution.

Thinking specifically of the passage above, I don’t think I’m alone in bristling when I hear people use the phrase “born-again Christian” as some sort of pejorative term to define a certain sort of believer. As someone who grew up in the church, devoid of any Road-to-Damascus-style conversion experience but also able to understand what Jesus is saying to Nicodemus, I’m happy to identify as born again — one physical birth and one spiritual birth, though in my case it was more of an awakening and accepting my faith as personal belief instead of instructed lessons.

Understanding what it means to have faith in God and acceptance of Jesus as savior is a life-changing experience, but it changes my life every day, not just once. Just because I do not have a Godless period in my past does not mean I can’t sense how different a person I would be without my faith, prayer and my church family. The colloquial notion of a “born-again Christian” is a person who adopts more of an “in your face” approach to evangelism, and in some cases people use the term interchangeably with the word fundamentalist, rarely invoking either in a positive light.

In the end, I feel as if all Christians are born again, because if they are not alive in the spirit, then what is there to set them apart as believers? To me being born again is not about how I express my faith externally, but about how my faith shapes me internally.

I’ll always be grateful to my parents for bringing me into the world physically, and for continuing to be wonderful parents and grandparents all these years later. But I also must thank them for introducing me to life as a follower of Jesus. They gave me the chance to be born into the spirit because they knew what God could give me beyond this physical life. I plan to repay them by giving their grandsons the same opportunity. We folks might not have “spiritual birthdays” circled on the calendar just like our regular natal anniversaries, but that’s no reason to be any less enthusiastic about what happened because God so loved the world.

A prayer for August 13:

Lord, I am thankful today for my human life and the blessings of a loving family with which to celebrate. And I strive to be thankful every day for my spiritual life, your never-ending presence with me as I navigate life’s paths, trying to be the person you call me to be. You sent Jesus not to condemn, but to save, and the gift of his redeeming sacrifice is far more precious than anything this world can offer. Thank you so much for everything, God. Your love is amazing. Amen.