Thanksgiving Weekend by Wil Triggs

What gain has the worker from his toil? I have seen the business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man. Eccl. 3:9-13

Leaves raked, blown, bagged or composted. Remember when we used to set them aflame. Looking back, it seemed more of a community act than what we do today. Remember the blue haze when we built fires in the curbside or makeshift firepit. This was the way leaves were handled.

Now we line up brown bags along the street. Or compost the lot into flowerbeds.

Think about other ways that things were done and are, for the most part, not done any longer. 

The hand-tied bow tie, ever so slightly askew, meant authentic.

The three-piece suit with with a special pocket in the vest for a pocket watch.

The pocket watch.

The suit measured and tailored in a downtown shop—Gaede’s or Horsley’s in Wheaton; Dean Olson’s in Glen Ellyn.

From percolate to drip to press to pour—things have a way of changing.

As you walk in the doors of Starbucks, remember this is where Sandberg’s used to be. 

Or when you choose which kind of pizza you’d like, think of the watercolor tubes or school supplies you used to pick up there. 

Maybe you’re enjoying a sit-down meal where you used to buy bakery cookies or a birthday cake. 

Today you can watch a play where people used to wait in line to deposit their paychecks on Friday.

And there’s coffee roasting where—I don’t know what was back in that alley before.

Where some cars used to get their oil changed, people enjoy burgers, fries and beer.

You can phone an old friend and discover a new bagel shop.

You can buy doughnuts where you used to get Chinese food.

Or Mexican food in what used to be a department store.

 You can still check out books where you used to check out books. 

You can still eat your lunch in the same parks.

You can still wait in line at the meat market.

You can still visit at visitations or grieve with those who grieve on the same corner.

 And you can still get popcorn where you used to get popcorn.

You can still get luminaria supplies at Ace.

You can still worship God where you used to worship God. 

You can still pray wherever you pray.

 One day a parking lot might become your bedroom.

One day your creperie might become a halal shop.

One day your bedroom might become a closet in a luxury condominium.

One day your place of work might turn into a dog-grooming salon.

 Change happens not just in buildings or towns.

We change too, summer yellows to autumn browns,

Spring bulb loves, summer families nest,

Autumn faith harvest, winter servant rest.

It could be that loving people and God—

A thing that always seems a little odd

Is the most normal and right thing we’ll ever do—

This is how you become the real you.

 Everything that was, is or will be

Speaks of more than just community—

The buildings are not what you really see

People are the buildings of eternity.

That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we looked upon and have touched with our hands, concerning the word of life—the life was made manifest, and we have seen it, and testify to it and proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and was made manifest to us—that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.
1 John 1:1-3

Treasuring My Treasures by Lorraine Triggs

I scroll through my online newspaper, and see a pop-up ad that asks, “Can you retire on five million dollars?” I start to panic. I don’t know if I can retire on five million dollars. I didn’t think I needed five million dollars to retire, but I do now, thanks to the marketers who know my age demographic.

As I stress about this hypothetical five million dollars, I wonder what happened to my wide-eyed innocent eighteen-year-old self—the one who, when asked how she planned on paying for her college education, replied cheerfully, “I don’t know, but I was accepted.”

The finance office was clueless to the treasure my widowed mother had given to my sisters and me: trust the heavenly Father and his care for birds, flowers, widows and the poor. The office, however, was looking for more tangible treasure from me when it came to paying my school bill at this fine Christian institution.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus is clear about treasure. If it were a pop-up ad, perhaps it would ask, “Is your treasure on earth moth-eaten and corroded? In danger of being stolen?” I can imagine anxious people clicking on the ad, but what would they do with Jesus’ reply: “Do not lay up for yourself treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure it, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21)

The word “treasure” is both a noun and a verb. The noun is the treasure chest overflowing with sparkling coins and possessions; the verb is what we hold as dear or cherished—relationships, children, grandchildren, status, country, achievements, ourselves.

Both reveal hearts still tethered to storing up treasures on earth, even though we know that stuff fades; cars die the first sub-zero day of winter; old oak trees fall on houses; relationships get messy; children wander as adults; achievements have a shelf life.

Instead of hoarding all our treasures, what if we emptied the treasure chest, singing as we did:

Riches I heed not, nor vain, empty praise;
Thou mine inheritance, now and always.
Thou and thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my treasure thou art.

And the next time a retirement pop-up ad asks me if I can retire on five million dollars? I will reply cheerfully, “No, and I don’t need to.”

So much for that five million dollars.

Specialization and the Soul by Wil Triggs

Lorraine closed the car door on her finger one morning this summer. She opened the door immediately to undo or at least stop what she had done. There was no undoing it. We drove to work, and she tried to soldier on. She took a painkiller and applied pressure but finally made her own appointment at the medical clinic and drove herself the three minutes it took to get there from work.

Our primary care doctor was not in, so another doctor saw her. He said it looked bad. I think she already knew that. He said to get stitches she would have to go to immediate care in the next town. They would x-ray it, too. Apparently that particular medical clinic didn’t do stitches.

Lorraine came back to work, and I drove her to the second clinic.

We found the right department: Urgent care.

The first person to see her finger, not sure if she was a nurse or an aide or an assistant, asked what happened. Lorraine explained and showed her the finger. She looked at the finger and said it looked bad.

The doctor came in and agreed that it looked bad. He said that they would be recording our time together to make reporting easier. He would do the stitches after an x-ray. The doctor expressed surprise that a car door could do such damage. He was pretty sure there was no fracture, but the tech escorted her down the hall and took the pictures. Lorraine came back and the doctor did the stitches—four on front and three back of the finger, her middle figure, what, we learned, some in the medical field call “the driver’s finger.”

That person who saw Lorraine agreed with the doctor that she would need to see an orthopedic doctor. She showed us how to wrap the finger and put a brace around it. They made an appointment for us at another clinic a little farther away, along with a follow-up appointment with them.

The day before the scheduled appointment with the orthopedist, his office called and said that he had to cancel because this doctor didn’t work on fingers.

When we went back for her follow-up appointment, the clinic people seemed upset with us that we had cancelled. We explained that the doctor didn’t work on fingers. “Why did you make the appointment with him?” they asked. We didn’t, we replied, you did.

They left the room.

When they came back, they explained that the appointment-making screen in their software allowed them to pick an orthopedic doctor, but it did not show their specialties or limitations. They made a new appointment with a different doctor who, they assured us, definitely would treat a finger—Lorraine’s in particular.

Lorraine had good sessions with the doctor and physical therapy for her finger, and I am happy to report that it’s as good as new.

Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing;

heal me, O Lord, for my bones are troubled. Psalm 6:2

In our fallen world, I think that we are prone to fall under the same specialization limitations with our souls as with our injured physical bodies.

We are adept at recognizing and handling certain sin injuries. We specialize in seeing the bad in others, offering counsel to them, praying with them. In the comfort of our narrowed perspective, we easily overlook the sin that is closer to us than any other person can ever be. In that private room where only we and God can go, we leave quickly, closing the door behind us and forgetting the treatment for our souls, only to go on dishing out wisdom and insight we think other sinners need. May each of us find our own Nathan, and may he be strong enough to say, “You are the man.”

We can often look at a person and see that something has happened and it’s bad. Or at first glance it doesn’t seem too bad, and then the x-ray comes back and there’s a fracture. Or maybe we see a problem but are not able to apply the sutures to stop the bleeding and help it begin to heal. We often think we know the answer and can ably treat the poor souls around us. But then there’s the problem of our own, you know, the S word. Sin. Or the D word. Death.

I want a doctor who specializes in everything, one who knows all my bones and muscles, one who knows every one of my organs, my blood and how my brain works, all my nerves and their ends. He makes house calls and when I have to go to his office, I find him there. And he doesn’t call what he does “practice.” There is no specialization needed. No trips to multiple locations. No insurance authorization. Jesus is more than enough. I want God!

Something has happened and it’s bad. But something else has happened that is good, and his good when applied to our bad wins every time. Let this good news go out to all. Praise him. Bless him. Live and walk today with him.

Let this be recorded for a generation to come,
    so that a people yet to be created may praise the Lord:
that he looked down from his holy height;
    from heaven the Lord looked at the earth,
to hear the groans of the prisoners,
    to set free those who were doomed to die,
that they may declare in Zion the name of the Lord,
    and in Jerusalem his praise,
when peoples gather together,
    and kingdoms, to worship the Lord.

Psalm 102:18-22

That Judgment Thing by Lorraine Triggs

No parenting book will ever prepare you for the sheer terror of sitting in the passenger seat of your car with your teenage son or daughter behind the wheel for the first time.

A few years before our son would sit in that enviable seat, he asked me why I sometimes waited for a car to go by before I turned, and other times I didn’t. I explained that the longer you drive the more you learn to judge the speed of the car, the road conditions—all that wise driving advice. Advice that came to fruition when he did have his learner’s permit and uttered what has now become a family classic, “You know, I’d be a good driver except for that judgment thing.”

And I’d be a good Christian except for that judgment thing.

The online dictionary defines judgment as an opinion or decision that is based on careful thought. All is well until I take a thoughtful and careful look at my heart, and see a mixed bag of judgments, with most of them being of the “snap” kind. A driver waits till the last minute to merge to one lane. “Can’t they read? Lane. Narrows. Merge. Left.”  A news notification pops up, and in the brief time that it’s on my screen, I pass judgment on the entire world. A neighbor’s yard is overgrown, and the trash bins sit in front of the garage. Fortunately, I don’t have to pass judgment on this one; I can call the Village of Winfield for this gross miscarriage of home ownership.

Just yesterday, the New York Times posted an article by Jancee Dunn, “How to Stop Being So Judgy.” Wrote Dunn, “We pass judgment all the time, and sometimes we don’t realize we’ve done it. Research suggests that when people see a new face, their brains decide whether that person is attractive and trustworthy within one-tenth of a second.”  That’s impressive timing for spotting a speck in someone’s eye.

Dunn turned to experts for advice on how to catch yourself from being overly judgmental. Their advice: Notice when you’re judging (one expert said it might require a “vigilant eye”); explore your reaction; and swap judgment for curiosity and empathy.

God’s Word has a different take on this expert advice.

In Matthew 7:1-5, Jesus painted a ludicrous picture of the vigilant eye. “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye?” (vv. 3-4)

Even the most vigilant eye has a hard time seeing beyond its own log, which makes it easy to justify self-focused reactions. In Matthew 7:5, Jesus spoke to the heart of the matter, “You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.”  

While experts advise swapping judgment for curiosity and empathy, God’s Word calls to a new way of judging and discerning that is infused with wisdom from above that is “first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.” (James 3:18)

This wisdom is shaped by gospel mercy and embedded in the Word that not only became flesh and was filled with grace and truth but also became sin for us so that we might become the righteousness of God, no longer under judgment but under mercy and grace.

In Defense of Words by Wil Triggs

Words communicate what’s really going on.

Our Kindergarteners tell us the truth. I might ask them what we have been studying about God, and they will answer truthfully with the things that are on their hearts.

“I went to a birthday party yesterday.”

“I lost a tooth.”

“Can I have water?”

A friend was in a panic in early summer. When we arrived at her home, she was frantically trying to find someone to substitute for her as a volunteer summer substitute in Bible school. “When I volunteered, I didn’t think they’d actually call,” she explained.

She wanted the appearance of service but in reality did not want to help.

Another friend told his wife he would help with the house and dinner when people came over for the evening, but then he just sat in his chair trying to relax although he had just said he would help her. Even though he had given his word, he sat reading a book, talking to a guest, relaxing and she was left to do it all herself.

The words spoken at a wedding are momentous. The bride and groom say things to each other in the sight of witnesses, before God, before a pastor, before family and friends. These moments, these words, are for the ages. It’s not the same as just saying the words of love to each other and then moving in together.

The words we say matter a great deal. We are married with words. We live by our words, or we live in war against them. 

Walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person. (Col. 4:5-6)

We find ourselves so easily distracted from words of faith, drawn to other longings or attractions or dreams. Ah, how we justify the attractions to idols of other loves, the success in the lyrical measures and praise of other people. It can be a siren song.

But how can we not speak of the light within us? How can we speak anything other than the wonder of Christ, our husband, shepherd, rescuer, innkeeper, brother, father, advocate. How can the words of Christ not steer the rudder and point our boats toward heaven?

It’s true we cannot just bring Jesus into any random conversation. We must be sensitive and circumspect, but we can talk ourselves out of uttering the most precious name of all at times when this name might be the beginning of something lifechanging.

God’s goodness shines. When it is opposed, the light doesn’t go out; it gets brighter. This is the reality that we are always forgetting. People can oppress us, but they cannot eliminate us even if they kill us. The light of the gospel lives in us. We must cultivate speaking its truths, living its love toward others, hearing the Spirit and the word, communicating the Word in our words and deeds.

Before anything there was word, there was voice. Things did not come into being until God spoke. The action of creation was consonant with the one who spoke it to life. Word even before creation.

The words we speak matter. We cannot trust our tongues, yet we cannot live as mute people, fearful of the words we speak. We have to find voice. God gave us the ability to speak for a reason.

But what do we say? 

The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart” (that is, the word of faith that we proclaim); because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved. (Romans 10:8-10)

In persecuted lands, a person has only to say that they repent of their repenting, that they no longer know Jesus, and the beating or arrest or death will be assuaged. People are given good jobs, high status in community, kept safely in the care of family. Just say the word.

We speak, but so does God. And perhaps we also face our own ridicule or embarrassment at giving voice to the One who changes everything and pursues us like a hunter its prey, a detective his criminal, a shepherd his wayward sheep, a groom his bride.

It is worth the price. Do we believe? Do we act on our beliefs? Do we use words?

But the centurion replied, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”  When Jesus heard this, he marveled and said to those who followed him, “Truly, I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith.  I tell you, many will come from east and west and recline at table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, while the sons of the kingdom will be thrown into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” And to the centurion Jesus said, “Go; let it be done for you as you have believed.” And the servant was healed at that very moment. (Matthew 8: 8-13)

Centurions all, may our words today find voice and refuge in Jesus.

A Passing Grade by Lorraine Triggs

As a kid, I was taught that God answers our prayers either yes, no or wait. For some reason, I translated this to rankings like grades on a report card. If an answer was yes, that meant my prayer was perfect and God rewarded me with my well-deserved A. Lorraine prays excellent prayers. The no answer wasn’t the worst answer, it was more like the needs-to-improve comment on a report card. Lorraine could do better if she prayed harder. The failing grade went to the wait answer. Lorraine is not trusting God enough; otherwise, he would listen to her prayers and answer them.

Waiting has never been an easy part of life for me. Whether it's lines at the airport, at the grocery store or even slow traffic--think road construction on Gary or that downtown Sandbergs-to-Starbucks reno, waiting often seems like a big waste of time. This does not help me to accept the waiting part of prayer with open arms.

However, waiting is a passing grade, especially when we pass through valleys where deadly shadows lurk or tread on paths brightly lit with fiery trials and learn that God—the eternally existent one, the creator of all that exists, the one whom myriads and myriads of angel worship—this God hears our prayers in the shadows and trials.

King David learned that and wrote in Psalm 31:21-22, “Blessed be the Lord, for he has wondrously shown his steadfast love to me when I was in a besieged city. I had said in my alarm, ‘I am cut off from your sight.’ But you heard the voice of my pleas for mercy when I cried to you for help.” God not only heard David’s fretful prayers but also showed up with his steadfast love in the besieged city—not just after the fact or after the answer to an A-quality prayer but during the attacks and alarm.

Like David, we learn lessons from waiting. As we wait for answers to our prayers, sometimes patiently, sometimes not, we learn to trust God when we are afraid (Psalm 57:1). In Psalm 31:24, David says, “Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord.” Take courage as we wait in silence and weariness through the unknowns of life, and learn that our only hope is in God and his salvation (Psalm 62:5; 69:3). There is one last lesson from the psalmist: It really isn’t about specific answers to specific prayers. It’s about God’s steadfast love, and waiting on his name for it is good (Psalm 52:8-9).

When we think about it, as followers of Christ, our entire lives are waiting. We’ve accepted the invitation to the wedding feast, but we aren’t seated at the table yet. We have tasted and seen the Lord's goodness, but it’s a sampling of the realities that await us when we see him face-to-face.

For now, let’s make it clear that through the valley and shadows, on the path with its fiery trial, we are seeking our homeland, because “we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” (1 John 3:2) 

Full Service by Wil Triggs

There was a time not so very long ago when someone’s job was to pump gasoline into the tank of your car. And that same person would wash the windows of the car and check your oil and the air pressure in your tires. I may be forgetting something else they did. These were full-service gas stations. Road maps. Directions if you got lost.

If there was a problem with the car, there was a garage right there with a mechanic to do repairs, change tires, replace belts,etc. The gas station on Main Street across from the Wheaton Meat Market still provides that kind of work I think. But that used to be the norm.

As a kid, I also used to delight in the giveaways at the gas station. My favorite was the little orange ball at the Union 76 station, but there was also a set of glasses, a different one each week, for the duration of the promotion. Scratch-off cards where you could win prizes. There were also trading stamps that you could put into a booklet and use them to buy things. My first visit to Disneyland was funded by in part by my Green Stamp books. There were also Christmas mugs, an appropriately branded toy truck and ashtrays with the logo of the gas company so a person could flick their ashes onto the logo. I didn’t smoke, but there was a time where I used for spare change with easier access than a piggybank.

The average price for a gallon of gas in 1976 was sixty-one cents. Things changed. People had to wait in line just to get gas. Prices rose. “Full service” gave way to “self-serve.” Nowadays it’s rare to find full-service gasoline stations. We all pump our own gas.

The consumer shift from full service to self-service saves us money and time, but I think it also says something about us as a culture and a people.

It would feel odd to me to just sit in my car and have a stranger fill my gas tank, wash the windshield and check to be sure my car was running properly in terms of air pressure, oils and fluids, etc. I could get used to it again, but it would take longer. I would become impatient. Usually, I’m in a rush when I stop to get gas. I try to pick the shortest line at Costco and am not always so patient when someone has a problem with the pump reading a card.

I think the same could be said for us when it comes to worship service. Too often we just want to help ourselves to the riches set before us. If we do that, we miss everything.

When we go to our church “service,” what do we think we’re doing? In what way is Sunday church a “service?” Do we fall into the thinking that we’re just here, in-person, zooming through to serve ourselves to some insights from the pastor, some music to help us feel good, a quick prayer, maybe a donation or not—and then we can get back to a tasty lunch and whatever else we might have planned for the rest of the day?

That would be the self-serve approach to church.

But Full-Service worship is unlike anything else in the world.

This is a time for us to stay seated and let the divinely human stranger do his work. Yes, we serve others, and we should, but in the right spirit of service we find something greater than self-serve—the Holy Spirit is doing a work, using our words and actions and prayers to do something that we cannot do alone. How can this be? We must stay seated in the driver’s seat and not jump out to loosen the gas tank and take a quick swipe at the windshields.

Full service means we give over the soul tasks to the ever-ready attendant, the One who is waiting to address every corner of the heart and soul, the corners of which we may or may not be aware. All of them. He serves us.

If only we just not try to do it ourselves. We must let him. We will pay more. It will take more time out of our day. It will seem strange to not do what we have grown used to doing on our own. But we cannot do for our souls anything close to what happens when we enter into full service and let the true keeper of our souls do his work as only he can.

But we impart a secret and hidden wisdom of God, which God decreed before the ages for our glory. None of the rulers of this age understood this, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory. But, as it is written,
“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard,
    nor the heart of man imagined,
what God has prepared for those who love him”—
these things God has revealed to us through the Spirit. For the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God. 
1 Corinthians 2:7-10

Sorry! By Lorraine Triggs

On my first trip to England, I observed that everywhere we went, people said, “Sorry.” For someone who habitually says “I’m sorry” for all things big and small, I loved being surrounded by a whole bunch of other people—78% of the country according to recent research—who habitually said sorry. “I could live here,” I declared to my husband, right before bumping into someone on the street. “Sorry,” I breathed out reverentially.

In the country where I do live, I occasionally say sorry instead of excuse me when I accidentally bump into someone or cut in from of them in the aisle at Jewel. And the response to my sorry is what I love about this country, “Oh, no, you’re fine. Don’t worry.” Apology accepted and grocery shopping continues.

Life doesn’t always imitate grocery store aisles. It’s hard to forgive when hurts run deep and wrongs haven’t been righted. It’s hard to say, “Forgive me. I was wrong,” without making excuses.

Dr. Fred Luskin, developer and director of the Stanford Forgiveness Project, pointed out that forgiveness doesn’t happen immediately—people need time to grieve and “sit in the muck of unhappiness and suffering.”  Sometimes a person can spend a long time, even a lifetime, in such a state, but there can be a sure way out.

Divine forgiveness transcends human forgiveness, and yet the divine chose to enter Adam’s race and sit in our muck of unhappiness and suffering—and to redeem and forgive this rebellious lot he created. We also need to sit in the muck and unhappiness of the sin of our own making because when we do, we are blessed, ready to receive God’s favor and mercy.

On his website, Tim Challies posted an article, “It Has To Be Dark Before We Can See.” (September 20, 2021, www.challies.com) In it, he wrote, “To know the hand of comfort we need to know the pain of sorrow. To know the bright light of God’s blessing we must first know the dark shadow of our own depravity. For it is only when we admit who we truly are that God reveals what he truly loves to do, only when we admit ourselves to be lost that he reveals himself as the one who saves.”

Think about the woman caught in adultery. Even to this day, we know her by her sin, but Jesus knew her heart and the hearts of her self-righteous accusers. They weren’t looking for forgiveness, and perhaps the woman wasn’t either. But who received grace? John 8:1-12 tells us. “Jesus stood up and said to her, ‘Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?’ She said, ‘No one, Lord.’ And Jesus said, ‘Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.’”

As those who have experienced God’s forgiveness, we are to forgive as he has forgiven us. It doesn’t mean that everything will be tidy and turn out the way we hope, but it does mean that we can exchange our hurting hearts for compassionate hearts.

When we tell God "Sorry," when we turn from our sins and embrace new life in Christ, we can replace bitterness with kindness, pride with humility, and anger with gentleness and patience, as we wait for the day Jesus returns, when all will be well and at rest.