This Is Us & Phil Wickham

Like many Florida Gulf Coast residents, I left home yesterday. If you took the time to pause when you locked the door, an extraordinary number of thoughts slammed your mind, body, and soul. These thoughts, built on a mix of emotions, will rise to the surface sooner or later, so it’s good to welcome them now, within reason.

Earlier I wrote this phrase in a message, “Not sure what comes next.” I wasn’t expecting the hit to my chest, the jolt to my brain that came with those words. So I paused to sit with them rather than stuffed them.

Two things followed.

One, I was reminded of a This Is Us scene where Randall and Beth played a game they called Worse Case Scenario. In this clip, Randall shares it with their three girls.

Two, I opened my 2024 playlist based on the word courage. This Phil Wickham song is at the top of the list.

Even in the worse case scenario, the Lord is my Shepherd. His goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. I don’t have to fear; I know He is with me. The table is prepared; the right direction is ahead. All is well is my soul.

Deeper, Stronger Love

About this time last Saturday, I was sitting in the stands of Washington-Grizzly Stadium on the campus of the University of Montana in Missoula waiting for the Zootown Challenge 5k to start. Not too sure how the race would go due to fighting off altitude sickness the last 18 hours, I was anxious to get moving.

When they separated the competitors based on expected pace, I ended up standing by this guy, one of several competitors wearing the same shirt.

I asked, “Tell me about the shirt so many of you are wearing. Are you part of a team?”

“No,” he smiled. “We’re just all here to remember my brother, the guy on our shirts. He died last year. He ran this race the first two years it was put on, so we’re all here to honor him.”

“That’s really amazing. There are a lot of you. How many are there?”

“54. And he’s laughing right now. This is something I never do.”

We chuckled at that thought and ended the short chat with encouragement. Basically, no matter what, we’re going to get this done. The line started moving, and we eventually separated. I passed him once on the course with a nod to keep moving.

Nothing was said about how his brother died. A year later, that wasn’t important to share in a random conversation with a stranger. What was most clear was the brother left behind loved his lost brother and was doing things now because of what he saw and remembers. I’m guessing being in that stadium and running the course was a way for him to say, “I haven’t forgotten you. Odd to say, but I love you probably now more than ever.”

This was fresh in my mind as I had just read these words from Henri Nouwen’s book Life of the Beloved:

I am called to trust that life is a preparation for death as a final act of giving…If love is, indeed, stronger than death, then death has the potential to deepen and strengthen the bonds of love. It was only after Jesus had left his disciples that they were able to grasp what he truly meant to them. But isn’t that true for all who die in love? (Chapter 8, “Given”)

May your loves deepen and strengthen.