Being Special Without Ever Trying

Iva Roxburgh would not approve of this essay.

She died last week at the age of 101.  If you've never lived in Arlington, Texas, you've probably never heard of her.  Yet she was one of those selfless people who is being remembered by literally thousands of people right now, as we mourn her loss.

Ironically, we all knew her despite her lack of self-promotion.  She simply lived the life God gave her.  It sounds like such a cliche, but Iva is special mostly because she never tried to be.

For several decades, generations of Arlington children have attended Camp Thurman, a weekday summer camp nestled along a dry gulch in a little town called Pantego, which Arlington has grown to envelop.  Older kids who've outgrown Camp Thurman as campers have returned year after year as counselors, and the facility has grown to the point where it's about to burst through the maze of subdivisions that sprang up around it.

When I was a kid, I didn't attend Camp Thurman, and even though I don't now have any kids, I know full well the legendary status of the Roxburgh gift to our little corner of the Dallas - Fort Worth Metroplex.  Thurman was Iva's husband of 50 years, and although they never had children of their own, the Roxburghs - early homesteaders in what was then barren prairie - donated 14 acres of their land to their church for use as a children's ministry.  That was "way back in the day," as we say 'round these parts, when the Roxburgh's roomy yet understated brick ranch home was on a rural dirt road.

Indeed, although she didn't have children of her own, as long as Camp Thurman is around, Iva will never be childless.  These days, Camp Thurman is a bona-fide youth services organization serving 7,000 kids every summer with a reputation for down-home, wholesome outdoor fun despite our modern generation's fixation on personal electronics.  Their program also now includes evening activities and teambuilding events for adults.

Iva long ago gave up her personal oversight of the camp, but not her love of children.  For decades, she volunteered in the Sunday School at Pantego Bible Church, of which she was a founding member.  In fact, it wasn't until last year that she finally gave up her Sunday morning duties - after she turned 100.

Iva loved her husband, always wearing his wedding band on her right ring finger after his passing.  And most of all, she loved her Savior, Whom she worshiped with just about everything she did and said.  Pantego Bible Church was the congregation to which Iva and Thurman donated their land for the camp all those years ago, and despite many changes in the church, Iva never left... even though a lot of what changed didn't please her.

Iva worked secretarial jobs in a variety of offices throughout her career, until she retired - in 1980.  I got to know her when I worked in the financial office at Pantego Bible Church, where she'd already been a long-time volunteer on Monday mornings, overseeing the counting and posting of the previous day's contributions.

My boss, Linda, was officially in charge of counting those contributions, but Iva was in control of the process.  She faithfully managed a team of volunteers who counted the money, cross-checked amounts, bundled cash for depositing at the bank, tabulated checks, and then created a grand total after adding everything up.  After lunch, Iva would then set to work at a computer, posting every recordable contribution into our finance software for IRS compliance.  I don't know how many software programs Iva learned during her 80's and 90's, but it was two or three at least.  Not bad for an old lady, huh?

Me greeting Iva at my father's memorial service last year.

Not that Iva was ever actually old.  As long as I knew her, she sported a luxurious dollop of pure-white hair, neatly arranged and always stylish.  Still, even into her 90's, Iva never really looked old.  She certainly never looked her age, even at 100.  And she didn't act it, either.  I never knew her use a cane, or be ill.  Her mind stayed sharp up until this year.  She attended my father's memorial service a year ago, not just because she was my friend, but because she remembered Dad from the Bible studies at Pantego Bible Church that he used to attend with me back in the 1990's.

Yes, Iva was my friend, but that wasn't because we were especially close; it was because I doubt Iva ever had a single enemy.  She never had a negative comment about anybody, which is something nobody, unfortunately, can say about me.

Nevertheless, she wasn't a pushover.  Years ago, some young men from the singles group at Pantego Bible Church tried to start an outreach to widows in the congregation.  Since the church had undergone so many changes many of its older people hadn't embraced, there weren't a lot of widows left.  But Iva was one of them, and she didn't live with family, like some of the other widows did, or a retirement home.  So these guys decided that they needed to start doing Iva's lawn.

Even though most of her property had long been deeded to Camp Thurman, Iva still had a sizable lawn.  And flower beds, and shrubs.  Nothing extravagant, of course, which would have been extremely un-Iva-like.  But there was a lot of it, and Iva kept it all very neat and tidy.

Another friend who knew several of our church's older people warned the guys that of all the folks who needed help, Iva wasn't one of them.  "But she's in her 80's," they protested.  "She's got so much to maintain.  The Bible says we need to help her."

So they tried.  They contacted Iva and asked if she needed help with her yard.  No, she did not.

They tried again.  Are you sure there's nothing we can do?  Yes, she was sure; no, there wasn't.

Eventually, Iva relented, seeing how these young men were genuinely trying to show her some respect and Christian affection, so she agreed for them to come over one Saturday morning.

And on the appointed day, several single guys from church arrived with all the tools they thought they'd need.  Iva met them in her front yard with instructions, and some apprehension on her part.  As the young men began to labor over her lawn, Iva didn't go back inside, but stayed outside with them, supervising.  She wasn't crazy about how they were mowing her grass, but she didn't begin to express her concern until they started on her hedges.  By the time somebody began pulling plants that weren't weeds in one of her flower gardens, however, Iva was reaching the limits of her patience and diplomacy.

"I really appreciate y'all trying to help me like this," Iva told the men, "but I think I'd better take care of the rest."

That true story was relayed to me by a couple of the fellows who'd been there.  I hadn't bothered to show up, since I was one of the guys who knew Iva was mighty self-reliant.  But she was a good sport, as were the guys who, sheepishly, agreed that Iva really didn't need their help after all.  Even in our brutal Texas summers, for example, Iva had honed her lawnmowing ritual to avoid the worst of the heat, and she'd soak herself with the garden hose every little while.  Who cared what passers-by thought if she looked a little silly all drenched with water?  It wasn't that Iva needed to be a fashion plate, or keep the yard up for appearances sake.  It was work to be done, and Iva could do it, so one did what one needed to do to get it done.

I don't know a lot of people who have the pluck and fortitude that Iva had.  She was one of those people who simply kept on going, no matter what happened.  She never seemed to get rattled, or especially tired.  She kept her house tidy and clean, but she never updated it.  Her cars were purely utilitarian - plain models that she drove until they wore out.  It wasn't for lack of money, or even indifference.  She simply never saw the need to fuss about much of anything.

Except, perhaps, how somebody else manicured her yard.

"Miss Iva," as generations of kids who've grown up at both Camp Thurman and Pantego Bible Church call her, was one of the most widely-known yet uniquely genuine people we'll probably ever meet.  With her passing, the history of Pantego - both the town, and the church - becomes not only a memory of what used to be, but a celebration of what one person, unburdened by conceit while being quietly faithful to her God, can achieve.

Not because she was out to achieve anything.  But because she was content to let Christ live through her.

"Well done, good and faithful servant: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.” - Matthew 25:23

Let's Live Beyond Politics

What do you let shine?

Often, I let my fear shine.  Or my jealousy, or my cynicism.  But God wants His followers to let His holy light shine in us, and radiate from us.

What shines from Donald Trump?  It's stuff that makes evangelicals like me dismayed by his candidacy.  Even more than Hillary Clinton, Trump lives his sins through his temperament, in full view of anybody and everybody.  Trump's particular temperament is well-documented as a pattern of unBiblical behavior from which he's made no concerted demonstration of repentance.  Indeed, he delights in it and considers it part of his identity.

Yes, we all sin, but most of us don't delight in it.  Hillary has made many crude comments both publicly and privately, but at least she tries to backtrack and apologize.  And up until Trump hit the magic metric and became a Republican nominee, most Christ-followers didn't find any urgency in defending his temperament. 

So what's different now, but politics?  Yet doesn't God wants us to live beyond politics?

Most of us closet our sins.  We hide them from others, we're embarrassed by them, or we're afraid of the repercussions if other people knew what we secretly think, or those after whom we privately lust.

Trump, meanwhile, doesn't really care.  He says what he thinks and pursues whatever he lusts after.  And a lot of folks find that refreshing, as if public decorum and deportment have suddenly become old-fashioned.  At least when politics is concerned.

And yes, frankly, considering how deceitful many politicians are, an open-mouthed, cavalierly vulgar candidate like Trump can seem like a breath of fresh air.  He says what the "common man" is thinking, no matter how politically incorrect it is.  But just because something may be politically correct, should we automatically scorn it?  Sometimes, political correctness is genuine, deserved propriety and respect in disguise.

Sometimes, loving our neighbor as ourselves means loving others - despite their warts - as much as we love ourselves with all our warts.  Sometimes, acting properly means forcing ourselves to act in ways, and say things, that minimize the fury in our heart so we don't needlessly offend others, or come across as uncaring.  Sometimes, it's not that we create a public facade of the Fruit of the Spirit that is lacking in our soul, as much as it is keeping quiet and being still until we've allowed the Holy Spirit to grow His Fruit within us.

And I say that not as somebody who has mastered it, but is simply trying to practice it, however imperfectly.

For Christ-followers, this is part of our "sanctification", which is a process that culminates when we die.  Since it is a process, there are progress markers along the way for us to acknowledge and recognize, both in ourselves and others.  We need to have a repentant nature, and a willingness to concede our own errors.  We need to be striving not for personal success, but for God's glory, even at our own personal expense.  We need to appreciate the Biblical reality that if we say we belong to God, we actually do belong to God - and that means being willing to let Him control our lives, even if that control runs contrary to the template of our culture.

It's not easy, or popular, or fun.  It may not make us wealthy, or healthy.  But it will help make us wise.  Indeed, most of us can acquire intelligence simply by reading something, but wisdom is a process that cannot be acquired.  It is built, cultivated, nurtured, and often painful.  Pick any despot the world has ever known, and how many of them were wise?  Most have been smart, and exceptionally cunning.  But that's not wisdom.

On the one hand, perhaps it would be nice - or easy - to simply let our sins all hang out, so we can roll through life flippantly and casually, saying whatever we wanted to say, however we wanted to say it.  Doing whatever we wanted to do, however we wanted to do it.  But is that "authenticity"?  Is that "being real"?  Is that "refreshing"?  Maybe to yourself, but is it to others?  How much respect does it show others?  How good of a testimony is it of God's holiness?

Actually, isn't such a lifestyle a distortion of Godly living?  You see, it's not that God wants us to pridefully hide our sins, and bear the agony of deception.  Instead, God wants us to flee from sin in the first place.  He wants to free us from bondage to the attitudes and actions that cause us to feel like hiding them, and not being "authentic".

Displaying our sins isn't freedom if we're not trying to flee from them.

Indeed, our lack of comfort with our sins should be a good thing, right?  It should indicate that the Holy Spirit is convicting us, and that's part of the Holy Spirit's job.  But our goal shouldn't be to simply ignore the conviction, or only apologetic of our sinful behaviors.  Our goal should be God's honor and glory through our mortification of our sinful dispositions.

Not that we're hiding our sins to make ourselves appear better than we really are.  Instead, we control our display of personal sins in the process of confession, repentance, and regeneration towards the Christ-follower we should desire to be.  Remember, God is the One Who looks at our heart.  And in the meantime, as others look at us outwardly, they should recognize us as a person after God's own heart.

Perhaps if we stopped concentrating on our horizontal perspective between presidential candidates, and began to give greater attention to our lateral perspective between ourselves and God, the choices we have before us could become clearer, and far less acrimonious.  Yet of all the arenas in our lives, politics has become a main stage for relativism and accommodation, even for Christ-followers.

We let government become more powerful than God.  Ironic, huh; since many Christ-followers claim to be politically conservative, and believers in limited government?

So why don't we let loose of politics, and live beyond it?

Funeral or Farewell Party?

Have you already planned your funeral?

Not that I know some big secret about how much time you still have left here on Earth.  I'm not suggesting there's any urgency for your funeral planning.  So, as my aunt Helena used to say, "not to worry."

She passed away this past summer, by the way, and was remembered with two memorial services.

Nevertheless, since we're on the subject... how much have you thought about your funeral?  Have you already lined up the person (or people) you want to give your eulogy?  Do you have the music picked out for your final fifteen minutes of fame?  Favorite scripture passages you’d like to have read at your memorial?  Maybe the style of your coffin - if you’ve already decided you don’t want to be cremated?  And if you’re getting cremated, have you chosen the urn in which you wish your ashes to be placed?  Some of them can get pretty pricey.

Or maybe you’re doing one of those flashy signature funerals, like being buried in your car, or having your funeral on your favorite hole at your treasured country club?  Maybe you want to have a theme funeral, where all the guests have to wear green, or 1920’s costumes?  You can plan it all online these days, right down to the menu for your guests and gift bags for them to take home.

Have you created a list of charities to which your mourners can donate, in lieu of flowers?  Or do you want fresh flowers splashed about the funeral home, and you’ve already listed out the types of bouquets, sprays and plants you like?

Time was, a funeral was obligatory when somebody died.  And practically since the beginning of time, humans have used graves - whether in the ground, in caves, or in mounds of dirt above the ground - to bury their dead.  Different cultures have different ceremonial elements to mark a person's death, but generally speaking, despite differences in how corpses are treated and the loss of loved ones is mourned, death has been a special time of moral dignity across the human experience.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Lately, however, with the rise of funeral costs and the efficiency of cremation, particularly among Western societies, some folks have begun asking if the conventional funeral might be heading towards relic status?  We Americans, in particular, have gotten commonly casual in our religious observances, what with church attendance being in decline, as well as marriage rates.  Even how we dress at weddings and funerals - not to mention weekly church services - has become far less stuffy than in the past.

From some corners of evangelicalism, cremation has come under fire, if you'll pardon the pun.  Some evangelicals have preached sermons or written articles for Christian magazines fretting about whether burial is more holy than cremation.  Apparently there's something more dignified about burying a corpse than burning it, especially since the Bible uses the imagery of fire when referencing Hell.

Then there's the recent trend of forgoing a funeral altogether.  At least, a funeral in the traditional sense of the term.  Although there are no hard numbers, end-of-life professionals have recognized that a small percentage of people are now requesting no funeral at all.  This may be for economic reasons, or for a lack of family, or simply as part of a fad, since celebrities like David Bowie sought privacy by not even allowing his cremation to be publicized.  This funeral-less concept alarms some professional Christians, who fret that since funerals are for the living, not the dead, denying loved ones a chance to grieve is not helpful to the grief process, and could be considered a form of selfishness.

Of course, if too many people opt out of having a funeral, such a decline in the number of funerals professional Christians perform - and for which they are generally remunerated by the deceased's family - could begin to affects them in their pocketbooks.  My aunt's two services were informal affairs in Texas and Florida, with no ordained clergy or funeral home directors in charge.  Years ago, my father conducted two funerals himself for neighbors who believed in Jesus Christ but didn't attend church.

I've come to learn that a will is not as powerful a legal document as it probably used to be, but for whatever weight it still conveys, mine stipulates that I want no funeral.  I understand that funerals are for those left behind, not for the deceased.  And I myself attend many funerals, at least compared with the number of weddings to which I'm invited.

It's not that I have anything against funerals, although they're hardly enjoyable events.  I can appreciate our society's general use of the funeral ceremony to convey respect and acknowledgement of life's mysterious importance.

And believe me:  My love of classical corporate worship would lend itself quite effectively towards crafting quite the magnificent funeral service, if I were so inclined.  Think "O Love of God, How Strong and True," which is an epic hymn; or "For All the Saints," a glorious funeral anthem; plus "Be Still, My Soul," the tear-jerker sung to Finlandia, a must for any Finnish believer's funeral.

But, as the kids today say... "Meh..."

Iva Roxburgh and me
at my father's memorial service,
just about a year ago.
Iva passed away yesterday
at age 101.

Part of my indifference about having a funeral for myself likely stems from my being unmarried, and having no children.  If I live long enough and eventually managed to encounter a woman grounded enough to tolerate me full-time, I suppose one's spousal unit generally gets the last word when it comes to things like funerals.  But in the meantime, I'm not holding my breath.  Or planning my funeral.

Today is the one-year anniversary of my father's death from Alzheimer's.  Yesterday, a 101-year-old friend of mine passed away.  A close friend of our family's is battling stage four cancer.  Indeed, as they say, death is a part of life.

And it's not that I'm afraid of dying.  I'm not looking forward to the process of dying, especially if takes an arduous course like my Dad's did.  But I believe that "to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord" (2 Corinthians 5:8).  So, at least as I discuss it theoretically like this, and not while I know I'm staring it in the face, death "holds no sting" for me.  And I say that honestly and truthfully.

Of course, if any of y'all still want to have a party after I'm gone, I won't be around to stop you.  But if you do, just try not to celebrate too heartily over my passing and absence.

A little decorum, please!