C. S. Lewis wardrobe housed at The Wade Center of Wheaton College
A Wardrobe in Disguise
“It won’t be long now,” you said with a smile your emotions under control. And I marveled at your calm. But when you got that call that said all had been done (and all was not enough), didn’t it take a while for your ready smile to find your face again?
You are never quite ready for the end to come, are you? Even when you’ve had wind of the end for a while.
When you finally face that familiar face inside that greedy box, your resignation to what you thought you were prepared for quickly bolts out the door, leaving you alone with the lonely truth that life will never, ever, really be the same.
But as Paul Harvey was wont to say… “And now for the rest of the story!”
Death’s only glory is that overpriced coffin in which it thinks it’s sealed our fate (and that of those we loved). But Death forgets its box is but a wardrobe. through which the Risen Lion leads us (and all those with faith) into the Land of Narnia where Death (even if it could be remembered) would only be a bad dream.
Long live, Aslan! Deep be Your peace!
Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!
In “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,” the author invites us to enter the land of Narnia through an old-fashioned bedroom wardrobe. That standing wooden box is the means by a new world is experienced. Have you ever thought of a casket as a wardrobe? For the Christian, a simple pine box is a time-capsule to eternal life. If you have never read this classic story by C. S. Lewis, why not commit to reading it this year?
The above post is an excerpt from When God Speaks by Greg Asimakoupoulos. It was written for a friend whose father died after an extended illness.
The Winner of Best Picture at this year’s Academy Awards has a title worth pondering
Everything, everywhere, all at once is crashing in on me. My world is spinning out of control. I’ve lost my grasp. I’ve lost my confidence. Hope is slipping away.
To quote the psalmist (just like Jesus did), “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
In this chaotic universe, cursed by sin and broken by self-destructive choices, everything, everywhere, all at once derails my dreams, drains my energy and robs me of my faith.
Still I will cling to You. I will cast myself upon You. With what little faith I have left I will leap into arms I cannot see but trust are there.
Lord, You are my everything. You are everywhere all at once. There is nowhere where You are not. You are ever-present. You are all-knowing. Nothing escapes Your watchful eye. You are all-powerful. Nothing is too hard for You.
Because you are my everything, everywhere all at once, you know what I need. You know what I lack. You know what I long for.
Carry me, Father in Your everlasting arms. Hold me close to Your beating heart that I might hear the pulsating reminder of Your never-ending love.
Pastor Jack Hayford died on January 8, 2023 at the age of eighty-eight
Jack Hayford was a preacher. Just to hear him speak you’d think you were standing in the presence of a king. And when Jack would lead the hymns he wrote we’d stand with upraised hands and worship Christ the Savior as we’d sing.
Jack Hayford was an author. Truths he’d gleaned within The Book were planted first then watered on each page. Jack helped us see our kinship as the family of God regardless of our gender or our age.
Jack Hayford was the leader of the Foursquare Church at-large. To the church of Aimee Semple he brought cred. Jack helped show that Pentecostals weren’t just feelings focused folk. He was thoughtful in the things he wrote and read.
And Jack Hayford gave us Majesty. I love that worship song. In his lyrics he sees Christ upon the throne. As His subjects we give honor as we pay Him homage due for the glories of His grace He has made known.
A grave marker in a Chicago cemetery is a call to keep balance alive in our lives during this hectic holiday season
Earlier this fall I was attending a leadership summit in a suburb of Chicago. Following our sessions one afternoon, I went for a power walk before dinner. Adjacent to the conference center was a cemetery. Because reading old headstones in a graveyard is one of my favorite pastimes, my aspirations of getting my heartrate up gave in to my curiosity as I looked down at the markers.
One tombstone in particular captured my attention. It marked the final resting place for a family by the name of Balance. Balance? Really? I’d never seen that word as a name before. For one whose mind delights in word play and double entendres, I had to smile. Balance was dead.
Before me was living proof that balance had been a casualty of life. What was relationally true for this Chicago-area family, has been emotionally true for me at times in the past when my schedule was out of control. And I know I’m not alone. Balance is that easy-going, less-than-obvious, reality that doesn’t call attention to itself. We tend to take it for granted. We don’t realize how key it is to a happy life until it’s gone.
When balance bites the dust, panic thrives. Life becomes chaotic. A kind of grief sets in. Inner peace plays hide-and-seek. When balance has ceased to be a reality in our lives, the consequences are endless. They include debt, illness, depression, a short temper, drug use, alcohol abuse and over-eating.
If ever there is a time when taking urgent care of balance is critical, it’s now. This is the season of the year when maintaining a healthy balance between demands and desires is at-risk. Advent, Hanukkah and Christmas can easily find balance on life-support.
Just looking at my own schedule at work is enough to rob balance of its breath. There is a tree-lighting ceremony, a St. Lucia breakfast, a poetry reading tea, four holiday concerts, three Advent lectures, two staff parties and an all-campus carol sing-a-long. (Were you expecting a partridge in a pear tree?)
And then there’s my own personal calendar of writing the family Christmas letter, addressing the Christmas cards, shopping for family members and workmates, wrapping those gifts and helping my wife decorate the house.
Add to all of the above the fact that Christmas Day falls on Sunday this year. Bah! Humbug! Once again, a day meant to be spent with family is threatened by the demands of the church calendar. Without an infusion of creativity, balance is definitely headed for the intensive care unit.
Your schedule is likely just as complicated. The commitments on your calendar may be different than mine, but the outcome is equally as stressful. With apologies to Dr. Seuss, it’s not the Grinch we have to worry about. It’s the lack of balance that threatens to steal Christmas (and ultimately our health).
To that end may I suggest reflecting on the lyrics of one of my most-loved contemporary carols. In “Breath of Heaven” (written by Chris Eaton and recorded by Amy Grant) there is recognition of the weight waiting for Christmas finds us carrying as well as the pressures that cause us to stoop navigating life in a less-than-perfect world.
I am waiting in a silent prayer. I am frightened by the load I bear, In a world as cold as stone. Must I walk this path alone? Be with me now.
In silent prayer and honest reflection, we just might find guidance in how to reduce the activities that typically define our December. We just might discover that Immanuel (God-with-us) is with us providing us the means to keep balance alive.
In the case of Christmas Day being on Sunday, for me there is hope. Balance will not succumb this year to the life-threatening complications with which I have to contend every six years. With the concurrence of colleagues, we decided to pre-record our Christmas Day worship service and broadcast it on our closed-circuit television channel a few times on Sunday. A hack we discovered during COVID proves helpful once again.
My Rhymes and Reasons 