Do you ever get brain worms? You know, those pesky little musical ditties that play over and over in your head. No matter what you’re doing the song or musical rift won’t go away. In fact, the more you try to think of something else the more persistent the song becomes. Sometimes they’re simply the last song you hear on the radio and other times it comes out of nowhere. Sometimes they come from the most unlikely sources.
After an early freeze it’s been a string of beautiful Fall days here in North Texas. The sun was bright, trees have turned to true Fall colors, and the birds celebrate the morning in song. The coffee was fuller in flavor and I relished in the November morning in shorts and a t-shirt. Truly a blessed morning…
I was reading about Jesus’ first recorded miracle at a marriage feast in Cana: turning the water into wine. About halfway through I started humming a Kevin Fowler song, “The Lord Loves a Drinking Man”. Honestly, it isn’t the most spiritual thing to pop up during my prayer and meditation time. Click on the link and you’ll see what I mean.
Jesus turned the water to wine and “any man who can do that is a good friend of mine”. Yep…
John’s retelling of the miracle at Cana offers a brief glimpse into his kingdom. He says time and time again the kingdom of God is like a wedding feast and the Jews in Palestine knew how to throw a wedding feast. Family and friends came together from all over the region. The finest food was prepared, and the best wine was brought out first. The party was going to go on for a while so serve the best wine first and “after the guests have had their fill bring in the cheap stuff.” John 2.10 (The Message).
It was a big deal. Scholars say their wedding parties lasted for days. I got a taste of this when I was a groomsman in an Irish Catholic wedding. The reception was in the Coors Brewery Workers Union Hall if that offers you a clue. They prefer Irish whiskey to wine and that’s probably a story for another time, but I digress…
I’d like to think that God’s kingdom is a big celebration. The idea of sitting around singing angelic hymns for eternity sounds a bit boring. God’s kingdom is one of love, joy, and a heck-u-va party. I can’t think of anything better to celebrate.
Ironically, for people like me Jesus seemed to have worked His miracle in reverse. He changed the wine into water. For me this is the most amazing miracle of all. Trapped in a swirling whirlpool of cheap wine (among other things) and total self-obsession, He lifted me to a life I never dreamed possible. He invited me into the feast (an analogy He uses often). I know longer settle for scraps of life. I have a seat at Abba’s table: and what a party it is.
I can only imagine that if this party is so good now, then how much more so will the big feast be?
I’m unbelievably thrilled and amazed at just how much He loved this drinking (among other things!) man. I’m happy His miracles aren’t contingent on my false piety and spiritual correctness; that His love is unconditional. He always works the right miracle whether it’s wine into water, or water into wine. Whatever you’re drinking, come on in and join the feast…
I enjoyed the sunrise a tad more than usual today. The birdsongs were louder and more melodic today. Perhaps it’s in anticipation of another delightful autumn day in Cowtown knowing that by the time this is posted it will be a a couple of days of record-breaking arctic chill…
Most of you know that my wife, Margaret, broke her leg in one of the worst spots possible. The good news is surgery wasn’t required. It was a clean break and will heal without pins, plates, and various orthopedic hardware. The bad news is that Margaret can’t put any (as in none, zero, zilch) weight on her left leg for the next eight weeks or so.
That means that her already limited mobility is now reduced to sitting, standing, and pivoting on one foot to make it from the bed to the wheelchair. From there she can go to a living room chair and sit. She watches TV and works on one of her many artistic endeavors involving crotchet hooks and tatting needles. She’s presently working on a baby blanket for our grandson. She says she now has time to get it finished well before the projected due date in February.
It’s beyond difficult for Margaret to get around. We moved the kid’s bed into the living room since she can’t get in and out of our bed. A few inches in height make a huge difference these days. The kid’s sleeping in our room as a result. Our world, our more accurately, our routine, has been turned on its head.
I hate to admit just how much I’ve become a creature of habit. I catch myself falling into patterns reminding me of my father. Not that it’s a bad thing. My Dad was a loving, caring man so I intend no disrespect. It’s simply one more reminder I’m growing older. It’s just a part of life but I’m not quite ready to take on senior airs.
My routine has been completely broken and I’m a bit scattered as of late. The demands have increased as well. Margaret, the house upkeep, and the farm swallow each waking moment. Quite frankly, I get worn out by the end of the day. I’m far from clear-headed in the morning which significantly alters my “porch time” and writing time.
I become irritated and get “put out” with everyone at times. Then I feel guilty for feeling the way I do. It’s not a great place to be. I feel in conflict with my feelings and my values. I do what I do out of love right? Why do I feel this way?
The answer came as I prepared another cup of coffee for my wife.
Margaret and I knew each other for almost nine years before we ever dated. The night before our friend Stan’s memorial in 2012, we met several friends from out of town and all went out to dinner (IHOP may not be known for great food but it holds a special place in my heart). Afterward, Margaret and I went out front to smoke and ended up out there talking for four hours. That led to our first date a week later (and marriage three months after that!).
During our conversation, Margaret said she often felt like no one wanted to date a woman who they would have to push her in a wheelchair if they went downtown for coffee or dinner. I told her that I didn’t understand why anyone would feel that way. “It would be an honor and a privilege to push your wheelchair”, was my immediate response and I meant it.
I tell you this because it occurred to me this morning what an honor and a privilege it is to “push my wife’s wheelchair”, to serve the one I love. You see, I’d allowed all the flurry of activity to distract me from the truly important thing in my life – the honor to have Margaret as my wife.
My friend Jim once asked me if I knew what honor was. I responded with a flat, somewhat emotionless, dictionary definition. He said that’s not it and then drew in a short quick breath; the kind you have when you’re suddenly startled or awed by something. He smiled and said, “that’s honor”.
I was confused. “What’s honor?”
He drew another short, quick breath and again said, “that’s honor”.
Jim had a way of using metaphors in a way that often irritated me. “What in the world do you mean?” and I imitated the breath he’d taken.
He said that honor was like that breath. Honor was seeing your wife come into a crowded room and seeing her takes your breath away. Honor was about keeping that breathtaking moment in your memory. I began to see the dictionary definition in a whole new light.
Used as a noun, honor means “high respect; great esteem”. It also is “adherence to what is right”. Thus, honor is an attitude whereby I hold my Margaret in “high respect” and “great esteem”. It’s about my perception of my wife.
Honor, as a noun, is my intention. Unfortunately, we are never judged on our intentions, only our actions. To honor someone is to “regard with great respect” and to “fulfill (an obligation) or keep (an agreement).
As I was going to get Margaret another cup of coffee this morning it dawned on me – the occasional frustrations, and yes, even selfishness I felt on occasion was simply an opportunity to learn to love, cherish, and honor my wife better. Suddenly, serving didn’t feel like a chore, an obligation. I remembered March 2nd, 2013 when I said those vows to love, honor, and cherish the woman I married.
The words of the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Ephesians came to life:
Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the church – a love marked by giving, not getting. Christ’s love makes the church whole. His words evoke her beauty. Everything he does and says is designed to bring out the best in her, dressing her in dazzling white silk, radiant with holiness. And that is how husbands ought to love their wives. They’re really doing themselves a favor – since they’re already ‘one’ in marriage.” (Ephesians 5:25-28 – The Message)
I’ve yet to meet anyone who lives this out perfectly, but I have been privy to long, loving marriages that are an example of what to emulate so,
Margaret, if you’re reading this, know that today I will honor you in every way possible. It is my privilege to be your husband (and I still think you got the short end of the stick…). I cherish every moment with you, and I’m honored you allow me to be of service. I would gladly push you in a wheelchair or walk beside you and hold you up. And by the way, you still take my breath away every time you enter the room…
gregoryjoel.com 