Today, Mark’s dad Jerry, would have turned 103. I spent some time reflecting on the legacy he left his family and friends. We miss him a lot, especially on his birthday. We somehow believed he would live forever. (Well, the truth is, he is living forever, but you know what I mean.)
Last year on this day, when our family exchanged texts about him, our daughter Kelli shared this quote from Dane Ortlund’s book, Gentle and Lowly:
“When you look at the glorious older saints in your church, how do you think they got there? Sound doctrine, yes. Resolute obedience, without a doubt. Suffering without becoming cynical, for sure. But maybe another reason, maybe the deepest reason, is that they have, over time, been won over in their deepest affections to a gentle Savior. Perhaps they have simply tasted, over many years, the surprise of a Christ for whom their very sins draw him in rather than push him away. Maybe they have not only known that Jesus loved them but felt it.”
That quote adequately described my father-in-law. He was so swept away by the Holy Spirit’s presence that, in times of trouble, he allowed his present suffering to shape his perspective and enlarge his heart. As a result, he often responded with the phrase “Tra La”!
Mark and I found all kinds of poetry and prose when we cleared out his house. One day, as I was going through a box full of papers, I discovered the meaning behind the phrase “Tra La” that Jerry used almost daily. Once again, it was like finding a precious pearl. Many of the rhymes found on the paper were crossed out, as if they just didn’t fully capture the essence of what he wanted to say. Because his eyesight was diminished in his later years, some of his handwriting was difficult to understand . The only rhyme I could truly decipher went like this:
“A simple Tra La seems to fill in the gap
When a bundle of trouble is dumped in your lap
If God doesn’t answer in a timely way
Tra La is the very best thing to say.”
As Jerry became more acquainted with his physical infirmities, he became more gracious and accepting of his lot. His heart became more pliable as “Tra La” rolled from his lips.
I continue to long for this kind of perspective; one which lovingly accepts limitations and relinquishes the need to be relevant or spectacular. The more this kind of transformation takes place, the more at peace we become. Wouldn’t it be great to be known as a “glorious, older saint, one who has been won over in their deepest affections to a gentle Savior”? One who truly accepts God’s love wholeheartedly?
As I reflect on Passion Week, especially the Gospel narrative found in Matthew 22 and beyond, I can’t help but wonder why Jesus kept on healing, teaching, and calling out hypocrisy and injustice. The plot against him kept getting worse and worse, yet he kept doing the Father’s will. The phrase “Tra La” doesn’t negate the deep grief and reality of pain in this life (Read the Psalms in case you doubt this- they are true “songs in the night”); it doesn’t deny our personal inadequacies, failures and disappointments. It simply acknowledges that, in this mixed bag we call life, in this tension between the now and the not yet, in this unfinished and unpolished life, Jesus longs to be our Counselor, Comforter, Advocate, and Loving Presence.
Jerry discovered a secret that Jesus knew during the worst week of his earthly life.
Tra La and AMEN!
Beautiful thoughts!
Thank you!