Monuments and Altars

I have to chuckle every time I round the corner at Hollywood and James Road, near our house, because I always notice what has come to be known in our family as "Uncle Buddy's fireplug." The stalwart hydrant remains steadfastly in place, albeit now slightly at a strange angle, while the car our son Tommy drove into it, ripping its side open like a stubborn tin can on a camping trip, has long ago been consigned to the scrap heap. We laugh now, but we didn't then. Even on that blessed "someday" when our family will eventually move from this town, I envision us making Uncle Buddy's hydrant a part of our tour down memory lane on return pilgrimages.

We have other memorable spots, as well: What is now the Memphis Hilton was where my husband and I spent our honeymoon, and we affectionately refer to it as "the scene of the crime" when we pass it on I-240. The old Shelby County Courthouse downtown, which once housed sequestered juries, brings back memories of my Dad, who was serving that particular civic duty when I was about 4 or 5, waving at us "from behind bars" when we brought him fresh laundry. The cobblestones on the Mississippi River bank are a memorial to my sweet Grandaddy, who fell and broke both his legs there on an icy night after leaving his job at Lowenstein's Department Store. The corner of McLean and North Parkway, across the street from Snowden Elementary School, is the site of our daughter Kari's famous Sunday comment, "There goes the zoo," to which we of course HAD to respond, "Where is it going?" And it never gets old. The interstate entrance ramp at Missouri Street in West Memphis is the scene of a wreck Ray and I had - me driving - right after had spent a wonderful weekend at a marriage enrichment retreat, learning about how to communicate more effectively as a couple. The concrete barbecue pits in Georgian Hills Park still stand as a memorial to many afternoons wasted learning to smoke Marlboros (which were then 50 cents a pack), then going home to creatively cover the smell so my mother wouldn't know. I still like to convince myself that I was so clever ... as a mom with a few years under her belt, I know now there was no way she couldn't have known.

You have them, too. We all do. Things we pass, or remember, which cause us to take that inevitable stroll down memory lane, prompting stories that make our children's eyes roll uncontrollably ... here we go again!

Some families visit cemeteries faithfully to honor family members who are no longer with us. Traditions are passed down which may include cleaning away of underbrush, placement of fresh flowers, even scrubbing of headstones - to make that memorial shine and reflect that the person for whom it stands is still remembered, loved, and honored.

The idea of monuments was instituted, actually, in ancient times, and we read about some of those in the Old Testament as we follow the journey of the Children of Israel back and forth between various captivities and the Promised Land. The first one I find in Genesis was built by Noah after the waters of the Great Flood had receded, and was surely an overflow of the thankfulness of his heart upon realizing he had been spared judgment and delivered through a cataclysmic event that had resulted in the death of all other living things on the planet except the ones God had instructed him to take with him and his family on the ark. I can only imagine Noah surveying his surroundings there on Mt. Ararat and thinking, "I will NEVER forget this place," as they left the vessel behind to begin their lives anew. More importantly, though, I believe Noah was more likely to have said, "I will NEVER forget what GOD has done for me." Ironically, the place on Mt. Ararat has been lost, but the story of what God did through Noah is still told and retold. We read that Noah built an altar immediately and worshipped God, offering as sacrifices some of the animals and birds who had survived with them on the ark. When the aroma of those burned sacrifices reached God, His great heart was moved with love and compassion, and in return He vowed never again to destroy the earth by flood - and then He gave US a memorial in return. Each time we see a rainbow, we are reminded of God's precious promise to us. Scientists can explain it away as a refraction of the sun's rays by rain, but our Creator chose that particular phenomenon to remind us, as in the powerful lyrics of one of my favorite Cynthia Clawson songs (written by Bill and Gloria Gaither), that "it won't rain always ... the clouds will soon be gone; the sun that they've been hiding has been there all along ..." (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNXn-yAmxao)

Others built altars, or monuments to the Lord, on a regular basis ... Abram (Abraham), Isaac and Jacob built altars, sometimes of their own accord, but sometimes at the direction of God: "Then God said to Jacob, 'Go up to Bethel and settle there, and build an altar there to God, who appeared to you when you were fleeing from your brother Esau'" (Genesis 35:1). And Jacob obeyed: "Then come, let us go up to Bethel, where I will build an altar to God, who answered me in the day of my distress and who has been with me wherever I have gone" (v. 3) and "There he built an altar, and he called the place El Bethel, because it was there that God revealed Himself to him when he was fleeing from his brother" (v. 7). The point of these altars was not to simply mark milestones on a life journey, but to celebrate the presence and work of God in the lives of those who built them, who had trusted in Him.

Moses and Joshua built altars. Aaron did, too, but not just altars to the God of Israel; he corrupted the process and led the Hebrew nation in building an altar to a false god, a golden calf, resulting in sin and separation from God that had widespread disastrous consequences. Sometimes the monuments we see when we look back on our lives are just that: monuments to the couldas-wouldas-shouldas in our experience, memorials to things we wish we had never done, paths down which we wish we had never started. A monument that stands as a testimony of our willful disobedience is merely a pile of stones - and it must, instead, be counterbalanced by the building of an altar that commemorates God's greater grace and forgiveness.

Altars are holy places, and Levitical law imposed so many rules and regulations on their use that they became more and more burdensome for the Israelites to maintain. Eventually, God brought back the simplicity of the building of such monuments, and Joshua 4 is not just a fascinating historical read, but a clear depiction of the intent of God's precious heart for His children. After He had parted the Jordan to allow the Ark of the Covenant to pass safely to the other side, He instructed Joshua to erect a stone monument and to commemorate the event for those who had witnessed it, and for their descendants. As God instructed Joshua, Joshua then instructed the leaders of the 12 tribes of Israel: "Go over before the ark of the LORD your God into the middle of the Jordan. Each of you is to take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, to serve as a sign among you." Then came the why, which remains the crux of the importance of such commemorations to this day: "In the future, when your children ask you, 'What do these stones mean?' tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever."

Twenty-first century people of faith no longer build physical altars - but that doesn't mean we shouldn't have them. There should be "holy places" where we are never in doubt that we are standing on Holy Ground - called to remembrance and reverence at what God has done for us and Who He is in our lives. These are not so much physical places, but "places in our hearts" - where those memories are stirred and we find ourselves simply on our faces, in awe of Him.

Several years ago, the old Baptist Central Hospital downtown - a monument for many of us who were either born there, treated there, lost precious loved ones there, or even worked or trained there - was imploded. In a matter of seconds, that physical monument was destroyed and very little remains where it once stood but a pile of meaningless, overgrown rubble. Someday, we are told, a new building, dedicated to medical research, will stand in its place - but for now, it is a simple gaping void.

Yet for me, so many memories remain. When I think of Baptist Central, I think of the fact that I drew my first breath there ... I think of God's precious comfort as I lost my mother on 6-Madison when I was oh so young (and so was she) ... I think of walking those halls as part of the medical team, finding what would prove to be God's calling on my professional life for many years ... and I think of precious Christian friends who ministered to my family, being the hands and feet of Jesus at times when we needed a "God with skin on." The physical building does not have to be there for me to remember what God did in my life in that place, over and over again.

Currently, I am tasked with the onerous assignment of writing a timeline of the first 7 years of my life, a project whose purpose is to help unravel many years of self-destructive eating behaviors and running from strong and damaging emotions in a multiplex of unhealthy ways. Fortunately, "trauma" seems to be indelibly inked into the fibers of our being in such a way that once I start writing, I have no trouble at all recalling those problematic and catalytic events from my childhood. If I'm not careful, though, I find myself creating not just a timeline, but a series of monuments that may not need to stand for very long - maybe just long enough to untangle this mess that my life has become so I can move forward to the place of wholeness to which God wants to lead me.

You see, if I look at my life as a set of scales, with trauma on one side and God's goodness on the other, I could NEVER recall enough bad stuff to outweigh His presence in my life or His goodness and faithfulness to me. His promises are true, His mercies new every morning. Whether I look at it through the eyes of a 6-year-old growing up in a home marked by horrific domestic violence, or a teenager rebelliously thrusting out her chin and telling Him, "I WILL do it MY way!" or as a young and inexperienced single mom struggling with bills and trying to raise 2 kids while constantly teetering on the brink of anger and depression - no matter what my perspective, GOD remained the same. He was always there, always providing, always waiting, and always right on time. Knowing that, looking back on my life with all its trauma and always seeing HIM is the very thing that gives me the courage to write that timeline and finally DEAL with the issues that have driven me, unseen, for so very long.

So today, I build an altar, and I am doing it publicly on this little corner of the internet, for all who wish to see it and join me in worshipping my God, Who is the same yesterday, today, tomorrow, and forever. His love is from everlasting to everlasting, and by His grace we can walk in freedom, wholeness, and peace.

I weep as I transcribe here the words of what has become the theme song of my strange little life, but I know of no other lyrics that convey so clearly what I want to say. From Carol Cymbala's creative and inspired genius, to the recesses of my being, and through my lips (and fingers) to the heart of God, THIS is my testimony and worship:

"In my moments of fear, through every pain, every tear,
There's a God Who's been faithful to me;
When my strength was all gone, when my heart had no song,
Still in love, He's proved faithful to me.

Every word He's promised is true!
What I thought was impossible, I've seen my God do -

He's been faithful, faithful to me,
Looking back, His love and mercy I see!
Though in my heart I have questioned, even failed to believe,
Yet He's been faithful, faithful to me!

When my heart looked away, the many times I could not pray,
Still my God, He was faithful to me;
The days I spent so selfishly, reaching out for what pleased me,
Even then, God was faithful to me ...

Every time I come back to Him,
He is waiting with open arms, and I see, once again -

He's been faithful, faithful to me,
Looking back, His love and mercy I see!
Though in my heart I have questioned, even failed to believe,
Yet He's been faithful, faithful to me."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wdO2cRXVHII

As an unexpected P.S. to this post, as I was watching the last few seconds of this video, Vera "materialized" at my elbow, as she is so inclined to do first thing in the morning, and said, "Mama ... you're crying ..." Following the injunction of the Lord from Joshua 4 ("In the future, when your children ask you, 'What do these stones mean?'"), I passed the headphones to her and hit replay. And so goes that beautiful process of passing on our faith to the next generation of believers in our family, the establishment of memorials in the hearts of God's people to His great, unending faithfulness ... forever.

Greetings, blogworld, from one late to the pool party,

Thanks to the encouragement of friends and family, I find myself standing on the high board at the edge of the deep end, my knees knocking uncontrollably as I dive headfirst into the world of blogging. At the risk of sounding overly ambitious, I will set a goal of posting once a week on a variety of topics which may or may not interest anyone but me. However, I will enable comments for those who wish to pursue further dialogue.

From the edge of the board, I anticipate a deep pool of varied topics, from medical transcription (my profession), to excellence and quality concerns (my passion), to Vera and Ray (my personal favorite pasttime). I hope you will hold me accountable for my character and my convictions. Measure my words against your own experience, if you will, but ultimately measure them against the Word of God. If I come up short, call me on it.

Thanks for the chance to jump in - here we go!