Adult children joke about the parental cautions of their childhoods:

1. Stop crying, or I’ll give you something to cry about!
2. You’re going to poke your eye out with that thing!
3. Don’t run with the scissors in your hand!
4. Stop that before somebody gets hurt!
5. You don’t know how good you have it!

Our parents didn’t use those exact words, but their ideas were the same. Dad cautioned us far more than Mom, lecturing us frequently on all things dangerous. One life and death issue he harped on during our childhood was not climbing the mounds of ice along Lake Michigan’s winter shoreline.

“Even when its frozen, there’s moving water underneath, making all of it unstable.” He was correct, of course, but we all knew if the right circumstances came along, we’d be on those ice mounds in a flash.

This weekend the right circumstances came along. Mary and I took our dogs to the beach where they love to run up and down the snow-covered dunes side by side like a team of miniature horses. Climbing up over the dune ourselves, we gasped at our first glimpse of the lake.

There were three rows of ice-mountains running the length of the shoreline, stretching for miles in both directions. These consecutive hills rose eight to ten feet with icy valleys in between, a frozen roller coaster toward frigid water, each peak less reliable than the one before.

Mary and I agreed the whole scene was calling us to its beauty. With difficulty because of glare ice hidden beneath the snow, we scaled the first ridge, crawling on hands and knees to avoid falling.

Vowing to go no further as we repeated Dad’s ancient lecture to each other, the draw of the second ridge drowned out his cautions and coaxed us to come. We had to sit on the ice to scoot down into the valley and then climbed up the middle ridge, teetering on its narrow peak while we took in a 360 degree postcard-perfect view. Looking back at the distant dunes, however, we calculated we were well “out to sea” over the swirling water Dad had assured us was beneath the ice.

“Only the dogs will witness our drownings,” Mary said.

“They’ll probably drown along with us,” I added.

From what we could see, the frozen water beyond the third ridge was clear and blue, a wonder we yearned to get close to. We slid into the second valley and as the wind whipped sideways at our parkas, talked at length about inching up the last mound for one quick look over the top. But the weather had been above freezing that day, and Dad hadn’t told us whether top-ice or under-ice would melt first. In the end, his warnings terminated our battle with temptation. We didn’t climb the third peak but turned back toward solid ground, two old ladies having had two-thirds of an adventure.

It’s good to know when to stop. All of us have gotten into trouble pushing the limits on risky behavior, which forced us to pay the piper when it was over. Taking chances for a valid reason is one thing, but taking chances just for fun is not good.

Some people risk the one thing that matters most, life after death. They’re sure death ends everything, then find out it isn’t true. By then it’s too late to do anything about it.

A second risky possibility is to postpone thoughts of spiritual matters with a self-promise to think about it in old age, but then to die young. Both scenarios are tantamount to walking on thin ice.

As Mary and I turned toward the dune, we watched Jack and Sydney race ahead in tandem. Sydney ran across the frozen creek but suddenly dropped through the ice up to her chest, quickly climbing out with a surprised look on her face. Jack’s path across had stayed solid. We were still laughing when I got my own chilly surprise. Despite following Jack’s solid paw prints, I went through the ice up to my knee anyway. Brrr! It would have been better to follow someone heavier than I was.

“I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.” (Isaiah 46:9-10)

After writing last night’s blog about Nate’s crisis of faith, this morning I dug out my old prayer journal from those same dates in mid-January, 2005, to see what other details might surface about that turbulent time. In the process, right there in the basement, I was the recipient of a water-in-the-face moment from God.

One of my prayers written when Nate was away on his three day “retreat” leaped off the page at me. I’d been praying for a day when his doubts or anxieties would leave him, freeing him up to follow the Lord with abandon, “his heart, soul, mind and strength.”

I wrote, “Draw him powerfully to you, Lord. Make it all sensible to him. If there are any misunderstandings, apply this verse to them: ‘If any man be in Christ, he is a new creation; old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.’ (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Continuing, I prayed, “In an instant make all things new for Nate. Clear his head of his earthly woes. Bring him to look at you full-face and to see who you really are. Please release him from the bondage of earthly pressures, 100%.”

My water-in-the-face was realizing how specifically God has answered every request:

• Nate is a new creation.
• Old things have passed away.
• All things have become new
• It all happened in one instant.
• His head has been cleared of earthly woes.
• He is looking at Jesus full-face.
• He sees Jesus Christ for who he really is.
• He’s been released from earthly pressures 100%.

DONE!

I was especially impacted today when I realized I’d asked for Nate to see Jesus full-face. In my prayer I meant for this to happen figuratively, which is the only way it can happen here on earth. Amazingly, God answered that prayer beyond my expectation by doing it literally. And it all happened in an instant on November 3, 2009. No more looking through a glass darkly. Everything is clear.

I wrote out ten pages of prayer over Nate on that weekend he was away, longing to see him soar in what was an increasingly cluttered relationship with the Lord. The cares of this world can clog a person’s spiritual outlook (Mark 4:19), and Nate’s many pressures seemed to be doing that. Toward the end of those prayer pages I wrote, “If things have to get worse before they get better… please show yourself, Lord, in that process.”

Things certainly worsened in terms of back pain and cancer but also with increased strain in work related issues. But God showed us repeatedly he was in the process every step of the way. Today, though, Nate is a “new creation” with a clear, uncluttered perspective. If we could have 30 seconds with him, he’d grin ear-to-ear with literally not a care in that world and say, “It was all worth it!”

So here the rest of us are, human beings doing the best we can to pace through life with our feet on the earth and our eyes on Jesus (figuratively), slogging through some tough stuff but trying not to get weighed down by the worries of this world. We wonder what’s just around the bend but recognize that at the end of all our tomorrows, today’s concerns will be swept away like so much debris on a floor. In their place will be a life so happy-go-lucky, we’ll all join with Nate in saying, “It was all worth it!” But wouldn’t it be spectacular if we could actually say that … today?

“Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with… the anxieties of life.” (Luke 21:34a)

Nate was not a naturally peaceful person. He was a firstborn, a Type A, high strung, always planning, making lists and setting new goals. Despite his efforts, his last few years were especially difficult. As he approached 65 without having met some of his business and financial goals, he worried more and slept less. Then the arrival of severe back pain in early 2009 seemed to squeeze out the last of his energy. Although there was an operation that would remedy his pain, just when it was within reach, pancreatic cancer came between him and his surgeon.

Nate was always a hard worker. His goal was to continue full-steam-ahead into his seventies, but debilitating back problems and deadly cancer forced him to the sidelines of life, a place he’d never been and didn’t like. As the six weeks went by, he became uncharacteristically introspective, keeping many of his thoughts to himself. I believe God had him doing difficult work during those days. Life as Nate had known it had come to a screeching halt, and suddenly there was time to think, not just about business, money and goals but about life, death and eternity.

Recently I found a journal Nate had written in 2005. Since he didn’t usually write anything longer than a Post-it note could hold, I was surprised to find it. I remembered the dates on its pages, though, having journaled my own thoughts about him during those days. He’d gone through a distressful period of restlessness, and I’d encouraged him to step out of his routine and get recharged by seeking God’s direction.

He went away for three days to think, read and pray. Later he told me he’d fasted during those days, too, allowing himself only coffee and water. His goal had been to answer this question: Am I worthy to be a Christian?

As I prayed for him at home while he was gone, not knowing what was on his mind, God brought Matthew 11:28 to my attention: “Come to me, all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” So I prayed for his rest, both physically and spiritually.

Nate was agitated, edgy and without contentment during those days, probably in a crisis of personal faith. He needed to learn how to rest in the love of the Lord, separate and apart from performance, but such resting doesn’t come easily to a Type A. He wrote in his journal, “Ingratitude undermines the goodness of life by always feeling entitled to more and better.”

From the sound of things, there was a battle raging within him. Then last year, when his back pain escalated to unmanageable levels, I believe it was God asking him to stop laboring and accept his rest, but Nate couldn’t. He pushed himself harder than ever, determined to function at the same pace he always had, despite the pain.

Eventually God said, “Nate, I’m not giving up on you. Instead I’m going to let cancer come, because you’ve struggled long enough and need your rest.” But even with cancer, Nate did more questing than resting.

God is love, though, and so he put Nate in bed. I believe it was during those final days that Nate saw things God’s way. At long last he became willing to accept outward rest and inner peace. With all his back pain and then cancer, he’d finally given in.

Charles Spurgeon said, “Jesus gives a rest which develops into heaven.” That’s exactly what happened to Nate. God imposed his rest on him, and as Nate surrendered, he was ushered into heaven.

“God’s rest is there for people to enter, but those who first heard this good news failed to enter because they disobeyed God. So God set another time for entering his rest, and that time is today. For all who have entered into God’s rest have rested from their labors, just as God did after creating the world. So let us do our best to enter that rest. But if we disobey God… we will fall.” (Hebrews 4:6-7, 10-11)