Time on My Hands

Posted on September 11, 2025 by Mark

Just when you think you are past all the temptations to live a fleshly life, you get old. It is not sensual pleasure, but rather the love of comfort that entices you. All the aches and pains make comfort paramount. And worse, retirement has given me the freedom to do whatever I feel like when I want.

While teaching, my life was structured by a drive to and from work, office hours, classes, meetings, and stacks of papers to grade. Work dictated when I went to bed and when I got up. I had gotten in the habit of reading my Bible and praying for about 20 minutes in the morning. I did not have to make many decisions about how to spend my time.

I tried to be a good a steward of the little time that was my own. Throughout the day, I tried to stay tuned to God’s voice and lean on His love and wisdom while teaching or interacting with other teachers. Imperfectly and sporadically, I would try to practice God’s presence.

I thought being retired would make staying tuned to God’s presence easier, but having no demands on my time makes it more difficult. All day long I must decide how I should spend my time, what will please God, what will bless others, what is wise, and what will bear fruit. More time on my hands means more temptations to just do what I feel like doing when I feel like doing it.

I don’t think I have this much free time since junior high and maybe in high school. (I would have had less free time if I had ever done homework.) It is humbling to admit that old folks like me can be as moody and sullen as teenagers. We may be more likely to take a nap than throw a tantrum, but we are still tempted to walk in the flesh instead of the Spirit.

These are not temptations to do evil things but to simply walk according to my own compass and moods. Our culture often justifies this self-centeredness. Retirees are often told it is now time for them to do what we want. We have earned this “me time”. I can’t, however, find anything in the Scripture to justify this. We now have greater freedom in how we can serve God, but we are not free to serve ourselves. We must resist the temptation to do good things instead of the best things.

My solution has been to pray carefully about how my day should be ordered. Little by little God and I are adding habits and routines that make it easier to walk in the Spirit instead of my decrepit and aching flesh. More habits means fewer decisions, and fewer decisions means I am less likely to obey my feelings instead of God.

Of course there are always decisions to make. The goal is relational. I want my habits and routines to tune my heart to hear God’s voice. I want to co-labor with God and live in communion with the Father and Son. Odd as it may seem, letting God structure my day frees me to hear and obey the voice of the Spirit. Routines make me more flexible and spontaneous.

For instance, yesterday Teckla and I abruptly took off into the woods at Big Bull County Park and hunted for pawpaw trees. Before we left, I did my little routine of praying, inviting God to speak to me, and actively listening to God. I do all this in a journal I keep. It is habit I keep with difficult because I always afraid God won’t speak or that I will just hear my own thoughts.

The only words I wrote down after listening to God were: “Go look for pawpaws.” I honestly wasn’t in the mood. My allergies were bad, the ragweed was blooming everywhere, and in all my hiking I had never seen ripe pawpaws. Nonetheless, Teckla and went on a three-hour hike, shook pawpaw trees, and came home laden with fruit. I got a delicious lesson in seasons, obedience, and fruitfulness. Turns out that my allergies had kept me out of the woods during the season the fruit ripens.

I would not have had this spontaneous and instructive adventure had I not stuck to my routine of praying and listening. Yes, I should already know this. It is embarrassing and humbling to be 71 years old and again learning that abundant life comes from staying connected to God in prayer and obedience.

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Walking Home

Posted on August 15, 2025 by Mark

The sun was setting behind the warehouses as Teckla and I walked home after getting hugs and saying goodnight to the grandchildren. We live only a few blocks away, but sometimes I like to ask Teckla to lead us home. When we got to the corner, I asked Teckla whether we should go to the left or right.

She was baffled but not distraught. I simply waited as she looked up and down Popular Street. Her blue eyes lit up and she exclaimed, “Mark!” Almost immediately her face fell as she mumbled, “That isn’t a direction, is it?”

“No,” I said, “but that’s okay.” I humbly realized that for Teckla, in the fog of dementia, “Mark” was the right direction. Whether we had gone left or right, I would have gotten her home. She trusted me.

Who she went with was more important than which direction we walked. Of course, my heart toward Teckla melted, but at the same time I realized how often I have not known the right direction. In our polarized society, there is a lot of pressure to choose between left and right.

When forced to choose, I often say, “Jesus.” I am sure we will make it home.

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Holy Ruts

Posted on August 13, 2025 by Mark

In my love of spontaneity, and abhorrence of routines, I am probably a child of the Sixties and Seventies. I have, until recently, viewed routines as recipes for boredom. “Getting in a rut” meant the same old thing, worn out and pointless. Not only were ruts dull, but they were often, I thought, mindless.

People at church sang the same old hymns each Sunday—first, second, and last verse. We often prayed the same old prayers each Wednesday. Folks stood up and gave the same testimonies each Sunday night. At school I knew Catholic kids who walked in the tighter and older ruts of Mass. For most of them, as far as I could tell, all the traditions had no impact on how they lived.

In recent years, however, I have discovered the beauty and value of ruts, especially those that open our lives to God’s voice and grace. This may seem obvious to many, but I grew up in the evangelical tradition that emphasized crisis experiences as the key to spiritual growth.  I have also sojourned in the charismatic tradition that values walking in response to the voice of the Holy Spirit. I have, wrongly I now think, assumed that routines get in the way of moment-by-moment obedience to God’s voice.

Ruts keep our wheels on the road even when the road is slippery and treacherous. During the trauma-filled years we were struggling to keep Peter alive, I wrote out a verse on  3/5 cards every morning. I wrote the verse and a blessing on the cards and gave one to Teckla and one to Ari. I carried mine throughout the day as I was teaching. I would discover it or older ones smashed in my pocket or in a book. But I would read it several times during the day.

The rut of writing verses on cards saved my life—or at least my faith. Not only had Peter been in and out of ICU’s, often near death, but Teckla had a bilateral partial mastectomy to remove breast cancer. I had my cancerous prostate out. Teckla had a malfunctioning gall bladder yanked. And then Teckla was diagnosed with dementia. I would lay all this before God but hear nothing but “Trust me.” I did not sense God’s presence or feel His comfort, but each day I carried His Word in my pocket. His Word carried me through a time when my despair and pain was too loud for me to hear His voice. Holy ruts kept me on the road and out of the ditch.

A second rut was the men’s Bible study at the Presbyterian church. I often did not want to get up extra early to make to the seven o’clock Bible Study. It was low-key. We often had breakfast sandwiches from McKay’s Market. We took turns reading verses from a book of the Bible. We shared prayer requests, but usually not our feelings—which was oddly comforting. Yet, Carl, John, Jack, Tom and Marc were Jesus to me during a terrible time. The Bible study was a simple and holy rut that kept me on the road in the storm.  

The more holy ruts we have, the fewer decisions we have to make each day. This matters because every decision opens the door to distractions or simply doing what we “feel” like doing. These days Teckla and I begin each day by reading Scripture aloud, singing hymns together, and praying together. I don’t always feel doing this, but this rut has turned out to be a blessing. We invite God into our day. We begin the day more alert to His presence and tuned to His voice.

Making fewer decisions may seem less spiritual. However, the point is to choose habits that turn our hearts toward God and toward His will. We are probably not choosing whether to get into a rut—just whether the rut will be one made by our flesh and our feelings, or one made by God’s wisdom and truth. Doing only what we feel like doing is a rut that takes us in circles. Holy ruts move us closer to God.

Of course, ruts are only as good as the road’s destination. We need ruts that take us to transformation. Holy ruts make more like Jesus and teach us to walk by the Spirit and not the flesh. Refusing to be tossed around by our feelings anchors us and strengthens us as followers of Jesus.

A few days ago, I planted iris bulbs in the flower bed along the house. My childhood friend, Kirby, sent them to me from Oregon. I have watered them every day, but I don’t see any signs of life. But I will keep at it. We are often too quick to abandon a holy habit because we don’t immediately detect spiritual growth or benefits. My irises won’t bloom until next spring, but I will be patient.

It is nearly impossible to evaluate where we are at spiritually, but examining our habits is good place to begin. We can aspire to be intimate with God, to hear his voice and walk in careful obedience, but fail simply because we don’t habitually do anything to give more of ourselves to God. It is like aspiring to run a marathon but never getting out of bed and actually running.

In the fields around here (Gardner KS) there are still many ruts. The Oregon, Santa Fe, and California wagon trails converge here. In places the ruts, not covered in grass, are several feet deep. It is easy to imagine how important the ruts were during the thunderstorms that wash over this part of Kansas. It would be nearly impossible for a wagon slip-off the road even in a storm. Our nation was settled and built by people who got in a rut. Perhaps the kingdom of God needs more people moving in holy ruts.  

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Teckla’s Double Portion

Posted on July 20, 2025 by Mark

For a second Sunday in a roll, Teckla has given me a double portion of the Lord. Where I go to church, Vineyard Community Church, communion is done by people walking to the front and taking the bread and juice and then returning to their seats. Teckla and I walk up together and have communion together at our seats while the worship team sings softly. It is not very liturgical but works well. It has become a moment I treasure each week.

The last two Sundays, however, there has been an awkward moment when we get back to our seats and I see Teckla has taken two cups and two pieces of bread. She always hands me the extra one. Rather than trying to explain that I already have both, I simply take communion twice with a grateful and broken heart.

My heart is broken because Teckla’s dementia has made such a simple thing difficult. Sometimes she holds the little cup and doesn’t remember what to do. I whisper, “This body of Christ broken for you. This the blood of Christ shed for you” We muddle through communion together in our seats. And are blessed.

I am grateful because all these years I have been married to a godly wife whose heart is to give. If a good wife is a gift from God, in Teckla I have received a double portion of goodness. Her sweetness shines through her clouds of cognitive impairment. Again and again, like this morning, God’s grace has flowed from Teckla to me.

I may have been playing the role of priest to Teckla this morning, but the love and grace of Christ flowed from Teckla to me. Dementia is terrible and hard in many ways, but not beyond the beauty and love of Christ. It is just like Jesus to make flowers of grace bloom in the compost of our pain and loss.  

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The God of Now

Posted on July 17, 2025 by Mark

Both the young and the old are tempted to live in the future. As a college writing instructor, I have spent much of my life helping young people prepare for the future. Especially in recent years, college freshmen entered my classes with a lot of anxiety. Even those with a strong faith in God had a hard time focusing on what God might be saying and doing in their lives in the now.

Christian young people sometimes had a call to some kind of ministry as pastors or worship leaders. Those from more charismatic backgrounds had prophetic words spoken about how God would someday use them. Too often, however, their concern for the future left them unengaged with God in the present. Honestly, I was much the same when I was religion major at a Christian college. I believed, someday, God would use me.

Much of my life, rightly or wrongly, I have prayed for a revival or visitation that would set the hearts of God’s people on fire with a holy passion for God and evangelism. Not only have I prayed for that day, I have tried to be ready to catch that wave. But in all this longing and interceding for a visitation from God, I have sometimes postponed joy and failed to celebrate God now. I sometimes lost the rhythm of mourning and celebrating, fasting and feasting.

I am seventy-one. Like Maple Street in Myrtle Point, my street here in Gardner takes me to a cemetery. When Teckla and stroll under its huge maples and oaks, I wonder if it is time to buy a plot. The cemetery is wedged between train tracks. Day and night, the dead are shaken and perhaps sadly mistaken when Gabriel’s trumpet turns out to be the horn of a passing train. Even at my age, it is easy to let the future eclipse the present.

I look at the past too. I miss friends left behind in Oregon. I miss my son, Peter, who he was and who he was meant to be. If I think of what should have, could have, might have been, I despair. There are so many “if only’s”. Past missteps and tragedies can create present paralysis. It is tempting to hunker down and prepare for the next heartbreak, the next loss. As minds and bodies age and fail, it is easy to cringe and whimper.

I miss the forests, beaches, and mountains of Oregon. Kansas is different, and it is easy to let the difference blind me to the beauty of the hardwood forests, windswept prairies, and clouds racing across blue skies. In missing Oregon I am not just missing the beauty, but also the memories made in these places: beaches, trails, rivers, and even specific trees that are woven into my life with those I love.

We can, however, connect to the future and past in ways that nourish our present experience with God. I have chosen to relate to the past with thanksgiving. I thank God for all the footprints Teckla and I have left in the sand of Oregon beaches. I thank him for the wildflowers at Euphoria Ridge. I thank God for the faithfulness of God’s people who have loved and helped us through our many losses. I am also nearer and more certain about the hope of glory: of being raised again in Christ and made like him. This hope explodes despair. Our gratitude for God’s past blessings and our hope for glory should free us from the tyranny of past regrets and future fears. We are free to ask God, “What now?”

Whether you are 17 or 71, (or dyslexic) God’s answer is always, “Me”. We are to walk in relationship with God. Be filled with His Spirit and led by His voice moment by moment. We can practice the presence of God and let God move through us now even as we prepare to be used by God in the future.

I have been breathing this prayer, “Lord, bless me and make me blessing today.” I pray this with the expectation God will answer me. I invite the Holy Spirit to tell me who to pray for and how to pray for them. Sometimes I declare blessings over those I love. Sometimes I am led to write a note, reach out to a friend, or do something for someone. Living in the moment means letting God be with us in the small things and small places of our daily life.

As a teacher and student, a present tense walk with God means inviting the Holy Spirit to read books with me and give me His thoughts. I invite him to help write things that are both honest and true. Often some emotion, image, or idea rings true, but is like a piece of a puzzle that only God can fit into the Truth, His Son.

Practicing God’s presence will be different for everyone. One of my sons, who is a carpenter, had a dream of Jesus showing him how to start a cut without the saw jumping around. Recently, while counseling someone, I found myself asking God to change their OS and download new drivers. God speaks our language. God is with us in our us in all things that make us who we are. The glorious paradox is that the more we are surrendered to Christ and become like Him, the more we are uniquely ourselves as created  by God.

Maybe at every age, we must resist the tyranny of future fears and past regrets. People my age feel the approach of death in their joints and bones. But young people face many other challenges—finding a career, finding a spouse, navigating all the financial challenges that lie ahead. But whether young or old, we serve a risen Savior, who is Emanuel—God with us now.

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The Many Masks of Sloth

Posted on June 27, 2025 by Mark

There are three reasons that the deadly sin of sloth is ignored in most churches and by most pastors. First, pastors tend to teach about sins and weaknesses that they have overcome, but most pastors are highly motivated Type-A people full of ambition. They may have to overcome self-reliance, pride, and misplaced priorities, but sloth is often not the sin they battle. It is, therefore, rare for pastors to preach much about the devastating effects of sloth or the best ways to overcome it.

Second, our culture celebrates achievement, greed, success, pride, and personal ambition. The challenge for many of us is to slow-down, rest in the love of God, and recognize that what is important is what God does in us, not what we do for him. Because we are such a driven society, it is easy to be blind to the snare of sloth.

The third reason is that sloth is a master of disguise. Often, sloth looks harmless or even virtuous. Consider the Proverbs 26:13: “The slothful man saith, ‘There is a lion in the way; a lion is in the streets’” (KJV). Obviously, it is wisdom, not sloth, to stay in doors when a lion is out and about. In light of all the possible things that could happen, isn’t it wiser to do nothing? Because we have 24/7 news about every terrible thing happening everywhere, it is easy for sloth to disguise itself as wisdom or prudence. There is, after all, probably a lion in the street somewhere.

Sloth can also disguise itself as humility. It is easy to slide out of work or avoid challenging tasks by humbly citing our lack of qualifications and gifts. It can seem that we are following the biblical admonition not to think too highly of ourselves (Romans 12). In the name of being true to our gifting and calling, we can avoid work that is tedious or “beneath us.”

Sloth can also look like patience or even generosity. Our secret hope, beneath the disguise of patience, is that if we wait long enough someone else will do it. This patience can make us look gentle and easy going. Any pastor can tell you how frequently people say, “Someone ought to do something about that.” The work, if we are honest, done at most small churches is done by the women. It is a testimony to my generous heart that I leave them so much work to do so that they can feel good about themselves and their service to the Lord.

Sloth can also present itself as high standards, a passion for excellence. It is easy to refuse work we can’t do perfectly. Often, we demand the perfect tools to do the job. Or we wait until we are in the perfect setting or situation. The things we can’t do become an excuse for not doing the things we can. Often it is our pride, not excellence, that nourishes this crippling perfectionism.

Sloth can even disguise itself as diligence! It is easy for us to stay so busy doing what we enjoy, that we ignore the work God has set before us. For instance, I like reading and researching more than writing. It is always a temptation to spend hours researching instead of writing. And, as you may have noticed, I hate profreading. I would rather, I confess, study Greek tenses than write this post. Even scholarship can mask sloth.

Sloth can claim to be “waiting on the Lord.” It is true that Scripture exhorts us to wait on the Lord, but a slothful person refuses to discern when we are waiting on God and God is waiting on us.For instance, in Ephesians believers are told to “put on” the full armor of God.” In Colossians Paul urges us to“put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” In Romans Paul urges believers to “put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh in regard to its lusts.” All these commands are in the aorist imperative middle of Greek. In other words, they are commands to do something to ourselves—not commands to wait for God to do these things for us. The command rests upon the grace and power already given to us in Christ Jesus. We have been given a robe of righteousness that is the very character of Christ—his love, light, kindness, goodness, and power. We, however, must daily put on what grace has freely given.   

What do we see when we tear off the masks of sloth?  An ugly self-centered failure to love. Sloth invites is a passive rebellion against discipleship and sacrificial love. Sloth avoids the fist-in-the-face kind of rebellion against God—it is rebellion slathered in excuses and hidden by disguises.

Passionate love of God and others is the cure for spiritual passivity. Real love for God obeys. Love for others serves and gives. When the reign of sloth is overthrown, the center of gravity shifts away from our comfort, taste, and desires. Our life and decisions center on hearing and obeying God.

How does a slothful person find the motivation for change? The first step is honesty. All the disguises, even ones not mentioned here, must be torn off. We must see and hate sloth for the sin it is. We must repent of the sloth’s passive rebellion against God and our refusal to be a disciple of Jesus. We can then receive the forgiveness and cleansing God gives.

But because of the nature of sloth, it is important to not passively wait for God to change us. While daily inviting the Holy Spirit to transform our hearts, little by little we need to order our days toward serving God and others. Especially important is listening to God concerning our work and the stewardship of our time. This can mean more discipline in daily Bible reading and prayer—but also practical things like exercise, study, and time serving others. Lasting freedom comes from God changing us from inside-out as we do little things to change from the outside-in.

Sliding back into sloth because of disappointment in ourselves and our efforts is common. What has helped me the most is to recognize that I am working with God—not for Him. I am working because of my gratitude for the free and undeserved grace lavished on me in Christ Jesus. I am working because He loves me, not to get him to love me. I am, forever, a child of God asking His father, “Can I help?” I am a boy giving his loaves and fishes to Jesus and asking Him to bless them. I do not work alone.

Gradually, the delight of obedience becomes stronger than the comforts of sloth. Habit by habit, the reign of Jesus spreads over our life and the barrenness of sloth is replaced with a fruitful garden of grace and the beauty of holiness.

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It’s All About You

Posted on June 18, 2025 by Mark

As heretical as it may sound, hearing God say, “It’s all about you” was liberating. For Christians, there are probably a dozen different ways that God’s relationship with us is not “all about us.” But in one profound way, it is. Let me explain.

A number of troubling, even tragic, things have blown apart my life. In April someone set our Oregon house on fire—a few weeks before we could sell it. After Teckla and I battling cancer, Peter dying, and doctors diagnosing Teckla with dementia, the fire seemed too much like something right out of the Book of Job. The arson was like fireworks on top of the cake of misery we had been given.

I have not asked God, “Why me?” Worse things have happened to better people. But I have been troubled by “Why them?” I have seen prayers for those I love go unanswered. And then there is confusion of how much of the crap that happens is God’s discipline, Satan’s attack, or bad luck in a fallen world. Should we be looking for God’s purpose behind these events? Is there really a difference between God’s active and passive will?

It is here that God seems to say, “It is all about you.” Without giving any answers to my questions, God declared that what is important is me becoming more like His son, Jesus. What response from me (surrender, humility, honesty) will allow the character of Jesus to form in me? This, I have come to believe, is central purpose in all God’s dealings with us.

As important as church growth is for a pastor, more important is that the pastor day by day becomes more like Jesus. Success as a pastor in terms of numbers and growth may or may not come. But nothing can stop God from making us more like His son. Nothing can stop God from giving us the mind and the heart of Christ.

I do not know why God has allowed Teckla to suffer dementia. On every level this seems unjust—cruel to her and to me. It certainly isn’t suffering that Teckla needed to become more godly. God has not answered the why question, but His answer to the what question is the formation Christ’s character in me.

Too often we ask God why when our question should be, “What now, Lord?” Regarding Teckla,God has said, “Love and serve Teckla with joy and tenderness, redeeming each moment.” Even though God’s purpose is all about Christ’s character being formed in us, the result is selfless love.

The kingdom of God is not about how much we have done; it is about who we have become. We cannot guarantee what happens to the seed we have sown, but we can faithfully sow good seed wherever we go. Many circumstances can determine whether a congregation grows or not, but a pastor surrendered to God can grow more like Christ in every circumstance. Parents can not guarantee that their kids won’t wander away from Christ, but they can live a life that embodies and radiates the character of Christ.

This truth is rooted in the paradox at the heart of the gospel: we lose our life to find it. God’s purpose is for us to become like his Son, and for even our bodies to become like his on the day we see Him face to face. The paradox is that the more we recognize it is all about us, the less it becomes about us: our success, our knowledge, and our goals.

All this matters because there are so many shipwrecked dreams, unfulfilled callings, unanswered prayers, and vexing and perplexing situations. But nothing can stop God from making us like his Son. Glory!

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Slow Train Coming

Posted on May 29, 2025 by Mark

I was up at 3:00 the other night. Powerful thunderstorms shook the walls and turned window panes into drum heads. Jagged lightning wired the whole sky with light. The wind bent trees and tore off leaves. For a long time, I stood at our glass door watching the rage of the storm.

Through the storm came the throbbing murmur of a train and then the bright blast of its horn. We live near the tracks and a major rail hub, so we are accustomed to the trains. This night I was instructed and finally comforted by its power to push through the wind, thunder, and lightning. Through the storm it rolled down the tracks, unworried, on time, and unstoppable.

Bob Dylan famously compared the judgment day and return of Jesus to a slow train coming.  We are taught by Jesus to pray “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done”, but the kingdom seems slow in coming. Sometimes everything is darkness and storm. The storm feels louder and stronger than anything—God’s promises, God’s power, and God’s kingdom.

I know so many Christian families that have been ravaged by sin, death, sickness, and broken relationships. I just got the news of a friend, a pastor, whose adult son died. He struggled with alcoholism and all the physical destruction it brought. We all pray for the kingdom of light to advance, but it often seems like the darkness is winning the fight.

Almost every Christian friend my age has seen death, sin, or Satan steal someone from their family.  The tomb may be empty but there does not seem to be much resurrection going on in our families or among our friends. Children cry and parents divorce. And the darkness wins.

Yet, in the midst of the storm we hear the heartbeat of God as His kingdom rolls down the tracks. The trumpet of his kingdom rings through the whistle of the wind and rumble of the thunder. Every tear shed, prayer prayed, and command obeyed brings His kingdom closer. It is unstoppable and always on time. The king is coming and, through His Spirit, here now.

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Listening to God (and Teckla)

Posted on May 20, 2025 by Mark

I have, at my pastor’s suggestion, been keeping an Immanuel Journal that emphasizes abiding in God’s presence and listening for his voice. Each day I pour out thanksgiving for who God is and all he has done. I write down the concerns of my heart. I then celebrate that I am God’s child, and a joint heir with Christ who will reign with Him in the coming kingdom. Next, I write down anything I think God is saying to me.

This last part is hard. My mind gets noisy, some voice nags away that I am just a ventriloquist putting words in God’s mouth. It is not much like a conversation. But sometimes out of nowhere comes a thought as fresh and clean as a mountain breeze. It is unexpected and yet obviously true.

For instance, the other day I was explaining to God how hard it is to live with Teckla’s memory loss. God, as often the case, changed the subject and simply said, “Listen to Teckla, she has much to teach you.” God seemed unconcerned with my complaint.

Everyday Teckla forgets who she is, who I am, and how we are related. Daily I explain that I am Mark, her husband, and that she is Teckla, my wife. Sometimes I recite the names of our sons, the places we have lived, the things we have done, and explain that we have been married 46 years. I recite the narrative of our wedding day.

This week in a rush of humbling insight, I realized God, more than anyone, has experience caring for people with memory loss. Every day, sometimes twice a day, God must remind me that he is my father, that I am his child, and that all my life he has faithfully loved me. Patiently, God reminds of the time I knelt and asked him to save me, and all the times he has drawn close through the Holy Spirit.

I am not alone in my dementia; much of the Old Testament is a history of people who suffer memory loss. Again and again, Israel forgot who God is, who they are, and how they are related by God’s covenant. So much of the temple worship and festivals of Israel were designed to help them remember all God has done and who they are as God’s people. Again and again God pleads with them to remember; again and again they forget.

So what can Teckla teach me? First, before God we are all suffering dementia when we forget who He is—his love, power, beauty, and goodness. We all need to reaffirm our identity and relationship every day. Second, the truth about our identity should be embraced the way Teckla does.

On our walks, I often review things with Teckla. After I explain who we are and that we have faithfully loved each other for a long time, she says nothing. She simply holds my hand a little tighter. Sometimes she stops and turns toward me, searching my face, and says tenderly, “I missed you” even though I had gone nowhere. We then walk on together.

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Sidewalks

Posted on May 13, 2025 by Mark

Teckla and I walk a lot. We walk on the sidewalks and on the hiking trails in the local parks. Although falling is a risk for people with dementia, Teckla has almost never fallen when hiking off the paved trails. Over rocks and roots she has proved sure-footed. Yesterday, the trail we hiked was wet and especially slippery under the canopy of oak and hickory. Teckla’s left foot slid down a wet rock, but she kept the right one anchored on the trail. With a little help, she pulled herself up.

Unexpectedly, we have found the sidewalks far more treacherous. Many years ago while visiting Dylan and Vanessa in Portland, Teckla tripped on the sidewalk along Burnside Street. She lunged and stumbled forward about twenty yards, desperately trying to get her legs under her. Finally, she fell hard and rolled into the street. It was terrible, but she had no serious injuries—except our jokes about being a Burnside bum. 

But as we age, both Teckla and I must be wary. The sidewalks will be perfectly clear sailing for blocks, but suddenly a root will have pushed up the cement or one section will have sunk down into the clay. Our walking is the opposite of powerwalking; we saunter along without lifting our feet very high. Next thing we know, we are tripping over the uneven cement and staggering to stay on our feet.

Unlike the trails, the sidewalks allow us to walk side by side, so we hold hands. Time after time, we have steadied each other. Occasionally, we trip at the same place and time, holding each other tightly as we stumble forward and balance each other.

Christian writers have long warned against the dangers of the easy path. We carefully pick our way through the forest trails along the river edges. However, it is easy to cruise down the sidewalk, lulled to near sleep by the ease of the way. But it is here, on the sidewalk, where we most need to hold each other hands and occasionally call out warnings about broken cement.

Believers need to seek fellowship not on just the difficult trails and during difficult times. We need help seeing the things that trip us up when everything is rolling along just fine. In the glare of the Kansas sun it is hard to see raised edges of the cement, but together we can stumble without falling.  

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