Amen

I sat tonight, prepared to write. Pages, I thought. Thanksgiving Day is upon us. The year has been brutal. And emotional. Sad—yet, filled with joy.

I had verses to quote.

Let the peace of Christ overwhelm all else in your heart…And, be thankful. (Colossians 3:15 ~ my paraphrase)

I will praise the name of God with a song, and will magnify him with thanksgiving. (Psalm 69:30 ~ KJV)

I have wisdom to share.

But, I can’t get past that voice I hear in my head. No, it’s not THE voices; it’s just a voice from the past.

You see, Mr. Kohler won’t let me write what I want to write tonight.

Many of my friends have already been posting the verses on social media. Some have even been sharing the wisdom in messages sent to my phone.

In the midst of this brutal, emotional, excruciatingly drawn-out year, they are grateful—giving thanks to a gracious God who has blessed us far beyond anything we deserve.

It’s all been said befo. . .What’s that?

Who’s Mr. Kohler?

I really don’t remember much about him. He’s been dead for nearly forty years by now. But, I can tell you the few things about him I do remember.

He didn’t sing. Well, no more than the usual church-goer would. Hymns on Sunday. Perhaps, a bit in the shower. Perhaps. I never heard him sing in a choir. Never knew him to sing a solo.

He didn’t preach. He and his wife sat in a pew every Sunday—morning and evening—like clockwork. Still, he never preached that I knew.

But, Mr. Kohler was the best amen-er I ever heard.

I’ve never been a member of one of those churches that was really vocal. We didn’t have an amen corner, didn’t have many folks who called out encouragement to the pastor as he preached—well, not much anyway.

But, Mr. Kohler now—he didn’t care if we weren’t that kind of church. When he agreed with something, he called out a hearty “Amen!”. Not quietly. Not timidly. Everyone in the sanctuary heard him.

The Lovely Young Lady and I sang together in the youth choir before we were married. She was the singer; I was just there to be close to her. No matter. We sang in the cantata (a choral presentation) the young folks put together that year.

The young choir director thought it would be nice if we had a recording of the performance. She called in a local band director who had a reel-to-reel tape recorder with microphones he was willing to set up and operate for the project. We were excited. This was about as uptown as we were ever going to get!

I don’t remember the songs. I don’t remember if I came in at the right places, or even if the Lovely Young Lady did. What I do remember is Mr. Kohler.

At the end of every piece (before the instruments ended), and sometimes in the middle—if the Spirit moved him—he called out an exuberant “Amen!”.

Well, of course, it was loud enough for the microphones to pick up!

What did you expect?

The band director/sound engineer was horrified as he listened to the recording later that week. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get rid of the amens without also losing some of the music. He called the choir director to ask her what to do.

“What? Do? Why, leave them exactly as they are! They’re part of the performance!”

She was adamant. The amens stayed. If any recording still survives of that performance, I’m sure you can hear every single one Mr. Kohler uttered.

Every single one.

Mr. Kohler didn’t sing. He didn’t preach. But his joyous declaration to all affirming his agreement with the truth and beauty of our worship rings in my memory still.

Over forty years later, the music has long faded into the mists, but his Amen booms out loudly and clearly.

So, I hope my friends won’t mind if others hear my response to their exclamations of gratitude on this day. I know I’ve gone the long way around Robin Hood’s barn (as my dear mother-in-law would have put it) to say I have nothing to add to their declaration. But, there it is.

I have nothing to add.

Only this.

Amen.

And, again I’ll say it.

Amen.

For everything comes from him and exists by his power and is intended for his glory. All glory to him forever! Amen.
(Romans 11:36 ~ NLT)

We sat down to dinner with the table almost creaking under the weight of the food. As is our habit, we prayed before we began to eat, realizing that all the blessings we enjoy are really gifts from a loving Creator. We held hands around the table, a chain of family and friends, from very young children all the way up to Great Grandma, showing our love for each other and thankfulness for the gifts.

Grandpa prayed, as usual.

By long experience, I have learned the attention span of the children is short. Dinnertime is not the time to engage in long-winded prayers, remembering all the sick and troubled, all those who have traveled afar, and those in the world less fortunate than we.

No, we are simply thankful for the food and a few other blessings, asking that we will be faithful stewards of the gifts. Short prayers are the best at the dinner table. My grandchildren would agree.

Some time ago, they learned that the words, in Jesus’ name, usually preceded Amen, which was the signal to eat. Accordingly, the older girl would begin saying Amen as soon as those other words were heard.

I’m not sure if I have gotten longer-winded with time, or if the girl has just learned the process can be hurried a bit, but recently, she has taken to saying the word earlier in my prayer, long before I’m ready to invoke our Savior’s name.

Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen, is what I heard at the table today as I started to wind up my prayer.

I hurried a bit faster to the real Amen! which echoed from several different points of the table. We all laughed and Grandma hugged the beautiful girl as the abbreviated prayer was ended.

These times are precious and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

It did make me think a bit, though. I wonder if deep down inside, we’re all still little children at heart. We are in such a hurry to get to the next part that we forget to enjoy where we are right now, today.

For some reason, we keep looking to the future and its promise, forgetting that the reality of the present is actually a gift given for us to savor and to carry us into that future.

I know I am often guilty. Just get me through this day—this job—this crisis, and I’ll be okay.

Then I get to the future and it’s not much different—simply more wishing for whatever comes next.

I’m not a lover of country music, but I can’t get the words of this song from the seventies out of my head: I…I’m driving my life away, looking for a better way, for me. I’m driving my life away, looking for a sunny day…

It’s not so much that we’re driving it away as we are working and eating and sleeping it away, but little by little it is speeding past, while we look for that time when we’re satisfied with where we are.

I’m pretty sure that time never arrives unless we learn to be satisfied with today, here and now.

As children, we learn to wait (and long) for future events—class bells to ring—big yellow buses to come—summer vacation to parole us. Back then, it seemed that those things took forever to arrive. From today’s perspective, they came and went with lightning speed.

But, still we wait for future events and thus waste today and its joy.

I hear a little voice out there saying, Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen, and realize that it’s time to stop blabbering on now.

I will oblige.

But I will say this before I stop: This is the day which the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it!

Take time to live, really live, on this spectacular day.

Today.

It is indeed a lavish gift not to be ignored, nor scorned.

Amen!

Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping into the future.
(from Fly Like An Eagle ~ Steve Miller Band ~ 1976)

Godliness with contentment is great gain.
(I Timothy 6:6 ~ NIV)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

A Thanksgiving Amen

The Present