I sit at study now as is custom the day before a preaching Sunday. This time is sacred for me and so many others who do what we do. Quite literally these moments are some of my most favorite. When it’s time to study and sit in the Word I get excited even about the crispness of the pages when I turn them. Most of the time anyways. I get excited about practicing the sermon out loud asking myself, “How will this demographic hear that part?…Maybe I should say it differently?” “Don’t use the word simulacrum. I don’t care if it’s perfect for that sentence. You’ll sound like a fallutin’ moron.” Oh it goes on and on. May God meet me whilst I sit with Him and bask in the treasure of His presence and truth.
Sermons are important. But not as important as family and quality time with them. My heart is full of joy and reflection as I look back to what was an exceptional day for team Jenkins. We’ve fought hard to steal away to each other for memory making days. Now we were immersed with these moments in Chicago. No pastoring. Not too much preaching. Not too many friends–but boy the ones we had were the world’s best–and they made our cups full. But in that rhythm we were together every day. Jenkins Family Brunch every Saturday morning. Dinner time at the table every night. Walks around the park every evening. Sweet sweet times establishing our rhythms and getting to know one another. But the last 7 months of living in Memphis, our new-again home, has been full of transition and busy times. Our church family–the greatest in the whole wide world–has welcomed us with open arms. One of the most fulfilling joys in this life is having a church home. I mean that. They’ve been good to us. Memphis has been good to us. God has been (and always will) good to us. Today was over 100 degrees but I’ll take this blistering, sweet heat over 50 below windchill (that was the worst it got during our Chicago season) ANY day. Yet the truth is, with me serving the local church again and April busy with her work it’s been tough for us to enjoy as many sweet days like we did in Chicago. We make it happen here and there but it’s hard work as any family will attest.
It was a good week. This time of year is challenging in that it’s time for my annual physical exams. It’s when my doctors test everything from the roota to the toota to make sure cancer has not returned. I enjoyed more peace than I have last year. And the year before that. You get the picture. I’m grateful to a wife who remains constant in faithfulness and encourages me on weak and fearful days. I’m grateful to my best brother friends who let me know they got my back. So grateful to a team of about 10 men who’ve been my prayer partners now for years. Just shooting over a text to ask them to pray calms many nerves. So the doctors take your blood. They x-ray ya. They put you through the CT scan. And you wait. Boy you just wait. Then the other day the Dr.’s office called. I was fine. I had peace. God was with me. He’s faithful that way. But to hear the nurse’s news, “Everything looks fine”…it still wakes up something in you. As soon as she said that, I broke out in tears. Tears of relief. Tears of thankfulness. But also tears of assurance. And I mean this now more than ever I think. Tears of assurance that the same God who was with me for the good news He allowed would be the same God who’d be with me should He have allowed bad news. For Job reminds me that whether His hand is giving blessing or challenge–His is a GOOD hand.
Truth is, after good news like that–or if it had been bad news–your sense of appreciation for what you have gets finely tuned and honed. Your wife becomes not just a really good wife in your estimation–but a precious, unbelievable gift. Your son becomes not just a cute little cutie, but a joyous little wonder. And all you want to do is be with them and smell the fresh air of life. Sure there were the continued laments of the trouble of this world. A #Brexit here and a random act of violence there. We’ve got a ways to go. Yet the kinda phone call I received from that nurse reminds you that we’re still here. And there’s still much good in life. And your only thought is to live it up. For moments like these are precious.
Today was my Camden’s first haircut. If you know him you know his hair is much like a lion’s mane…only curly and Richard Simmons like. Ha! We just love it! But it was that time. Plus we decided we’d take him to see his first move–Finding Dory (Spoiler alert below…but who are we kidding? We already know how Disney movies end). Now my boy is biracial. So I just wasn’t ready to take HIS hair to MY barbershop. Naw. That wasn’t happening. I looked up a salon. Yes a salon. And of course, I thoroughly researched it to read a dozen message boards to learn exactly WHICH salons do biracial, curly haired kids the best. Ha! So we were there. With my wife holding Cam in her lap. We assured his compliance with the stylist by suckering him with lollipops (see how I did that?) and as many Paw-Patrol videos that he wanted to see. And just like that your little 2-yr old baby loses about 8 inches of hair and now he’s your 2-yr old little man. I looked at his Mom and said, “Before we know it this kid will be driving off to college.” What a sweet day. We jetted off afterwards to Tops for some cheeseburger action to stuff into Cam’s baby-bag to watch Finding Dory (wait. Did I just admit that? #hood). To see Cam’s eyes walking into the big, dark theater was a moment I won’t forget. It was the look of awe and fear mixed together. You could just read his mind saying, “This room looks dark, loud, scary, and big. But there’s a cartoon preview on so no way I’m turning around.” And we watched the movie while enjoying him sinking into our arms not taking one look off of the screen.
The story of Finding Dory is the story of a search for her long lost parents. The thing about Dory though is that she forgets everything. And miraculously, she remembers that she once had parents who loved her. And as you can imagine Dory, Nemo, and his Dad jump through 1,000 hoops to find them. The end of the movie is full of sweetness. Dory’s parents actually end up finding her. And Dory learns that not one day did they ever stop looking. Yeah. That’s the gospel. Miraculously, God has allowed us to ‘realize’ that something is wrong…or more so…someone is missing. And our hearts go looking for something or someone to fill that gap. And by grace, eventually we ‘find’ Jesus. But those who have ‘found’ him understand it better in that, truly, Jesus is the one who has found us.
My eyes welled up a bit. Watching my little boy sit there. Watching my wife relax. Watching a Memphis day go by. One. Sweet. Day.