Steadfastness in Times of Change

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Sometimes it takes a radical event to open our eyes to the obvious… to see what has been in front of us all along. Like a tree that blends into a summer landscape until it explodes with color in the autumn… or a small white candle that goes unnoticed on a windowsill until the power goes out and it becomes the only light in the house… some lessons from God only become visible to us when He allows something unexpected or life-altering to reshape our perspective or shift our focus. It might be the sudden absence of someone or the removal of something we depended on, but in any season of change, there will always be an element of surprise. No matter how much we attempt to plan, prepare, or anticipate, the one factor we can always count on is being surprised as a result of a change in our relationships, environment, or resources.

While most of us — given the choice — would decline the option to be surprised as a result of life changes, virtually every lesson in life is sparked by some element of surprise. After all, why would we ever be prompted to learn or pushed to grow if we aren’t jolted in some way out of the current status quo? Somehow we get this as kids. Just as we’re getting comfortable with our third-grade material, we are pushed awkwardly into the brave new world of fourth grade. But as adults, we’re often shocked when life pushes us into that next phase, the new job, the empty nest, the smaller home, or the funeral procession. We may have sensed it coming, but we’re blindsided regardless.

And when it arrives — whatever the change is — it brings with it a life lesson. It creates a series of defining moments and always presents us with a choice: we can pivot in trust toward hope or turn in fear toward bitterness. Trust will teach us the lesson and usher us into a new level of strength. Fear will blind us to the truth and force us to repeat the lesson again and again.

This past week, my family has been enduring the hardest change of them all — the passing of a loved one. And while our struggles, grief, and pain in the loss of my father have not come as a surprise, some of the lessons we are learning from his quiet, well-lived life have been unexpected. There was no doubt in any of our minds that he was a caring and tender man of integrity with a big heart. But the nature and extent of his consistent character and positive impact on so many came as a surprise in the kind of way that forces anyone who knew him to take stock of their own lives.

While I could fill pages and pages with good things about Dad, one overarching lesson from his life keeps coming to my mind over and over as I ponder all the things that were said by people who attended either the visitation or the funeral service: he had a dramatic impact on many lives without creating any fanfare, ruffling others’ feathers, or receiving grandiose notoriety. Yet everything he stood for in his quiet manner of living, loving, and serving was counter-cultural because it was all clothed in humility, delivered with a joyful spirit, and done out of love for others.

Here are just a few of the many lessons emerging from Dad’s life, most of which fly in the face of how we live today in modern society. And I think I’m just seeing the tip of the iceberg of all that he will be continuing to teach me for years to come.

• Companionship is a means of healing and restoration. My Dad loved a good conversation, but he also knew that taking the time to just be with someone could often heal deep wounds far better than words. I heard stories from people of how my father invited them to go to a baseball game or play cribbage at their greatest time of need or pain. Even with people he didn’t know that well. He didn’t try to tell them how to heal, recommend any self-help books, or encourage them to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. Instead, he simply spent time with them, and gently walked alongside them over weeks or months, knowing that sometimes the best way to progress through the healing process is with a friend who has no agenda, no artificial limits, and no ulterior motives.
• Everything. Is. Personal. In Dad’s world, every conversation and interaction with someone was personal, even in business. He talked with someone like he or she was the only person in the room, even at a crowded party. He asked meaningful questions that revealed people’s passions for life, happiest moments, or most cherished relationships. He was never the life of the party, but he was always the guy you’d end up talking to all night because he made you feel so good about yourself. A note written with intention on a carefully chosen greeting card was very important to him to provide encouragement at just the right time or commemorate a special moment. Dad had a special way of giving people his full attention, even when his schedule or stress load was already full.
• A contented heart focuses on others; a complaining heart erodes the soul. To the final end, Dad never complained about anything. Really. No matter how he felt or what he was going through, he squeezed out joy in every opportunity he had with others by focusing on them and what was going on in their lives, versus himself. No discomfort he had or disappointment he faced seemed to deter him from receiving all the good that life had to offer in that moment, no matter how small or inconsequential it would seem to you or me. He simply didn’t see any value in complaining. To fall back on one of my favorite childhood stories that he used to read to me at bedtime, in a world of Eeyores, Dad remained steadfastly a Winnie the Pooh. As a result, he created great joy for everyone who spent time with him. Even toward the end when he couldn’t say much at all, he somehow emanated joy. His caregivers wanted to serve him, his friends continued to be drawn to him, and his family looked forward to seeing the undaunted twinkle in his eyes.

In a world that is becoming more and more time-starved, high-pressured, and completely impersonal, Dad embodied a steadfast, but gentle resistance against the cultural grain. Our society usually puts people on pedestals who stand up for what they believe in with booming voices, shocking behavior, or attention-getting stunts. But Dad’s unwavering and consistent behavior was proof that true heroes don’t have to be seen on a grand stage to be known and loved deeply in the heart. His memorial service had standing room only on a dreary, cold day. Friends of mine who had never met him told me over and over, “Wow. After all I’ve heard, I really wish I could’ve met him. What an incredible person he must’ve been.” Yes, many lives will be different now, but Dad would’ve wanted us all to continue bravely, squeezing out any possibility of joy in every moment that is to come. I have no doubt that changes shook my Dad, and he was certainly known to worry about them coming. But once changes arrived, he rode them out like a champ.

Changes of any kind can come like an earthquake turning everything upside down at once. Or, they can come in like waves before a storm, rising and rising until one day we feel engulfed. The biggest struggle for most people with the changes of life is the worrisome belief that the surprises will all be negative, scary, or damaging in nature. When in reality, God has known about them all along and has established a plan before we were even born to walk with us in times of change and hardship, strengthening our faith, and eventually correcting our vision so that we see life’s events through the eyes of faith and not by sight. Little by little, as we lean into Him, He whispers to our souls and encourages us to look beyond our immediate human perspective through the lens of trust. As we learn to see life this way, the path before us may not always be obvious, but our next step will always be illuminated by hope and not fear. That’s because we can place our trust in a God who does not change (Malachi 3:6, James 1:17). Scripture describes Him as a rock, a fortress, an ever-present help in times of trouble. Deuteronomy 31:8 says, “It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; He will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” Trusting this way takes time to cultivate, but as Dad’s life demonstrated, each change we endure offers ample opportunities to rehearse this principle over and over. Like players on the field of life, we get better every time we swing the bat and run the bases. And while he wasn’t perfect, Dad’s life clearly demonstrates that he never missed a practice.

Questions for Further Reflection

• What kinds of changes do you fear the most? Why do you suppose that is? Do you find yourself assuming that surprises will always be negative?
• In what areas of your life are you most likely to experience discontentment or worry? Is there a link between those areas and the kinds of changes you fear?
• Explore the roots of your fears and lack of contentment with God in prayer and search the Scriptures for a passage that specifically addresses it. Once you find a verse that speaks to you, commit to memorizing it and praying it back to God.
• To explore more about cultivating a contented heart, you may be interested in this blog post: 10 Rules to Live By for a Contented Heart.

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