breathe

I’ve been reading a lot recently. Sitting in the comfortable old upholstered chair by the front window, I’ve leaned back, lost in the wonder and peril, and the hours have flown before I knew it.

I realized something the other night while reading, though. I’ve talked about it with the Lovely Lady and she’s not sure she agrees, but since she doesn’t disagree, I could be right.

I could be. Perhaps.

The world outside my window is a living, breathing organism. And somehow, we can choke it to death or lend it our breath.

Stick with me now.

What happened is this: Often, I don’t listen well when reading (just ask her about that), but I gradually became aware of the sound. As first, I thought someone in the next room was breathing rather loudly, but as I stopped to listen, it became clear. The world outside was actually breathing! It sounded like an asthmatic old man, but it was breathing.

Heee. Hooo.

Well, I said it became clear, but it wasn’t long before I realized the sound I was hearing was actually the tree frogs in the trees around our house. A chorus would start nearby—Heee—and the chorus up the road a bit would answer, the distance separating them making it seem as if there was a different pitch—Hooo.

Inhale, exhale.

The world is breathing.

I still think I could be right. Stick with me a little longer.

The Apostle told the amateur philosophers in Athens that everything in the earth had life and breath because of our Creator. (Acts 17:25)

To this day, we continue to live and move—and exist at all—because He sustains us. (Acts 17:28)

But I suppose it’s not the tree frogs that are evidence of the inhale and exhale of the world that lives around us. Not really.

Still, I contend that we have the power to choke or to replenish the breath of life to the world given us by our Creator.

I don’t just mean nature, either. Many have written and spoken about our responsibilities there and I don’t disagree. But, I have a more human aspect in mind.

On the Sunday afternoon just past, I heard the breathing again. I’m sure I did.

An invitation had come a week or so ago, suggesting that we might like to celebrate the ninetieth birthday of a friend with him and his family.

We thought we would, and so it was that we found ourselves in the social hall of a retirement village in a neighboring town. We had waited until the early arrivals cleared out a bit, so there wasn’t such a crush around our old friend.

I sat beside him and the memories came back with a rush. Forty years—give or take a couple of years—it has been that I’ve known him (much longer for the Lovely Lady, who grew up with his children).

All those years ago, he taught me how to breathe. Well, not really, but it seems so now.

In my teen years, I had developed a kind of stage fright that guaranteed I would never stand in front of a crowd and do anything by myself. Every time I attempted it, I could feel the heat rise from my neck, up into my face, as I turned a bright crimson red and became unable to continue. It had happened too many times. I would never—never— attempt it again.

He was patient. A little.

Planting the seed and encouraging me for a few weeks, he convinced me that all it would take to lead the singing in our little church was for me to stand there and sing along with the people. The only talking I needed to do was to call out a hymn number.

I was terrified and refused. Again and again.

He wouldn’t give up on me. Again and again, he asked. Just one more time than I refused, he asked.

I didn’t turn red. I didn’t freeze up. The people sang. I sang. I couldn’t believe it.

Since that time, I’ve been able to lead music many times. I’ve even preached numerous times.

Not once has the old fear returned. Not once.

Someone breathed encouragement into my lack of confidence, courage into my fear. He taught me how to breathe on my own.

I sat, last Sunday afternoon, remembering his kindness and was lost in the past for a moment or two before realizing that he was talking again.

I’ve written numerous times about the house the Lovely Lady and I moved into last year, the house in which she grew up. Her uncle built the structure, back in the nineteen-forties, and her family—first another aunt and uncle, then her mother and father—has lived here since.

I didn’t know that my old friend had helped to build the house, too.

“Oh yes, I helped to work on the foundation of that house. I remember taking the wire from the forms around the cement.”

I had no idea.

He laid the foundation to the house in which I live today.

I know now.

Need I go on? Would it be possible to miss a truth so obvious?

We breathe our life into the world around us, laying the foundation for a living breathing body which, in the next generation—or in the one after that, or the ten after that—will breathe its life into the world around it.

We breathe our life into the world around us, laying a foundation for a living breathing body which will breathe its life into the world around it. Click To Tweet

What if we refuse?

Selfish, rude, ignorant kids! What a waste of space!

I was all of that and more. And still, they breathed into my life.

What if they hadn’t?

What if we won’t?

Outside, the frog chorus has begun again.

Inhale. Exhale.

Breathe.

It’s Your breath in our lungs
So we pour out our praise
We pour out our praise
It’s Your breath in our lungs
So we pour out our praise to You only

And all the earth will shout Your praise
Our hearts will cry, these bones will sing
Great are You, Lord
(from Great Are You, Lord ~ Leonard/Ingram/Jordan ~ © Essential Music Publishing, Capitol Christian Music Group)

Then he said to me, “Speak a prophetic message to the winds, son of man. Speak a prophetic message and say, ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come, O breath, from the four winds! Breathe into these dead bodies so they may live again.'”
(Ezekiel 37:9 ~ NLT ~ New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.)

“Aw, save your breath! They’re not listening to you anyway.”

The inexperienced freshmen in the marching band were gathered around their squad leader, a seasoned senior, all of three years older than they. As the other senior in the group glanced around the group, he noticed the expressions on their faces and realized they were far too confused to follow the instructions the leader was droning on about.

The leader, cut off short in her spiel about lifting the knees waist-high and pointing the toes to the ground, looked as if she wanted to kick him hard with one of those pointy toes at that moment. Nonetheless, she asked the question.

“Well? What do you suggest? They have to learn this stuff.”

The other upperclassman looked frustrated and then blurted out, “Stop talking and just show them what you want.”

Imagine! What a concept. Show them.

It worked. Within minutes, the entire group was lifting their knees in front of their bodies, toes pointed to the ground, and moving forward, exactly eight steps to every five yards. Well, perhaps it wasn’t as skillful as all that, but they had the general idea and were well on their way.

The bossy senior saved her breath–for the moment. There would be more yelling, but the process went much easier if there was a demonstration instead of a lecture. She would remember that.

I remember it.

I was one of those freshmen who couldn’t quite grasp the verbal instructions, but I could look at the action and figure out how to duplicate it. It was a lesson I would remember for many years.

I haven’t always heeded the lesson, much preferring talking to action. However, with a few more timely reminders to save my breath, I think I’ve got the concept firmly in mind now.

My old friend, the Bible professor, made the point years ago, with these words: If you don’t strike oil in the first half-hour, quit boring.

I won’t tell you he lived by the words, but I am finally beginning to learn to do just that. But, I’m wondering. . .

What are we saving it for, if we actually are saving it? Our breath, I mean.

Oh, I’m aware that many aren’t. I read page upon page of arguments and diatribes in social media. Everywhere I go today, I hear people shouting–either into the phones glued to their faces, or into the thin air using head-worn devices digitally connected to the phones in their pockets.

Restaurants are so loud, quiet conversations can’t be heard. Talk radio and television are filled with non-stop breath-wasting.

When everyone is talking, no one can listen. No one will listen.

But more and more, I’m beginning to notice that not everyone is shouting. I saw a bunch of folks get together a few weeks ago and plant a garden for the community. It’s a place where people who can’t afford groceries will be able to get fresh vegetables to put on their empty tables.

Those folks weren’t shouting.

I see the local preacher who builds ramps up to handicapped and aging folks’ houses at no cost to them. He’s the same one who visits the shut-in folks at the nursing care centers. Every day, he visits them.

Not much shouting going on there.

Then, there are the volunteers who run the food pantry, along with the ones who keep the crisis pregnancy center going strong. And yes, I see the ladies who bake bread and arrange flowers for their hurting friends, along with the men who do odd-jobs for widows in their spare hours. The list is expanding.

None of them are shouting.

What’s the old saw? Actions speak louder than words.

What a concept! Don’t just talk about it. Do it.

Funny thing, though. As a general rule, when we do what we’re intended to do, people start listening to the words we have to say.

I’ve heard many people quote the witty saying: Preach the gospel always. If necessary, use words. It’s a little silly, actually. Obviously, for the gospel to be communicated accurately, words must be used. That said, if there is a clear change in one’s life and actions, the words will have more impact.

I’m just now realizing that the breath utilized will be as much for exertion as it will be for explanation.

Walk the walk and talk the talk.

Oh, I’m just full of adages today, aren’t I? But, they make the point adequately this time. If we want folks to hear what we are saying, they must see that we believe it so much, we will live it out. Even if they never stop to listen to the words, we’ll live out the truth we know.

Even if they never listen.

The thought almost takes my breath away. A lifetime, spent in living out the love and grace God has placed in our heart. In our interactions with neighbors and strangers–failures, dead ends, rejection–each one must be overlooked as we walk the narrow road we have claimed as our pathway.

We need to be reminded the breath within us isn’t ours. Job knew it. How did he put it? Oh yes–The breath of the Almighty gives me life.

Somehow, I don’t think it was given us to hoard.

Exertion. Explanation. Repeat.

Ad infinitum.

What are we saving it for?

“Action is eloquence.”
(William Shakespeare ~ English poet/playwright ~ 1564-1616)

“Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.”
(Hebrews 13:16 ~ ESV)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

Breathing is Good

What Are We Saving It For?