I’m smiling today.
For about a dozen years, I wrote and recorded a weekly radio commentary. It ran on a local Christian station, and made me a (very) minor celebrity in Duluth; I remember checking out at K-Mart—remember them?—and my kids thought it was SO cool when someone in line behind us recognized me by my voice.
It was gratifying for more than recognition. I sought to be a positive voice, and a witness. I would challenge, lament, encourage, critique, advocate, and simply muse, out of love for my city and a desire to frame its life through the lens of the Gospel’s message of faith, hope, and love.
Also: it let me pursue the honor and privilege of writing for the enrichment of others.
But a dozen years of commentaries produced some very bloated files. So I’ve been thinning my archives; keeping some I’m proud of, discarding others–those addressing long-past concerns…and some cringe-worthy 1980s thinking that is best forgotten.
It was good to see: some things that matter to me almost four decades later were already emerging, in these now-ancient essays—a written legacy of growth as I continue to write from my heart.
One essay, dated 1987, was a eulogy, remembering Mr. Walter Eldot following his passing. He was the local newspaper’s religion editor. He was also Jewish, rare in Duluth, but he held a generous, respectful view of all the city’s faiths, mine included. When my ministry in the business community began, his summary was fair and accurate. When my work reached city and county workers, he challenged me to respect church-state boundaries. He even wrote a delightful piece picturing this minister and his son enjoying model railroading. He served the city and its faith communities well.
I still mourn his passing, and I miss the insightful conversations we shared. His special breed of journalism is all but gone too. But we shared a common bond, each of us loving our own faiths, honoring each other’s, serving our shared city.
We can become absorbed it today’s details and tomorrow’s deadlines. We can also be so obsessed with the future that we alienate ourselves from the gifts of the past. We should meet deadlines, I suppose (though they should not consume us). The future deserves attention too, it can be exciting (or terrifying, if we’re not prepared). But the past, especially our own, can give witness to how we’ve been guided, nurtured, and renewed along the way. For me, that means guided, nurtured, and renewed, by the stealthy hand of a patient God. And revisiting those essays this week has traced often overlooked moments in my journey, both as a person of faith, and as a writer. It’s also given me hints as to what my future path may be.
And for all that, I am thankful.
