Isn’t it strange how we do what we do as humans, and still the earth just continues to spin, doing what nature does?

I live in Michigan where it can get pretty cold in the winter. But just a few days ago, the wind chill was registering at -35 degrees, and because so many were forced to run their furnaces non-stop, the entire state was facing a natural gas crisis of catastrophic proportion. The whole scene reminded me of a line in one of my favorite movies as a kid, Red Dawn. During a brief moment of quiet from what has already been a long and exhausting war to take back their home soil from invading forces, the character Matt says to his older brother Jed:

“It’s kind of strange, isn’t it, how the mountains pay us no attention at all? You laugh or you cry, and the wind just keeps on blowing.”

The wind just keeps on blowing.

During those very cold days, while I managed to make it out and around to visit a few folks, I found it necessary to be home with my family to help tend to their needs. During the quiet times, I took the opportunity to do something I’ve been meaning to do for a very long time.

I tackled the ever-piling messages in my email inbox.

I spent an entire afternoon reading through countless email notes, many new and just as many old. I saved some. I deleted most. To be honest, across three accounts, I deleted no less than six hundred or so.

There was one older message I discovered that I decided not to delete—and I don’t think I ever will.

The message I saved was from a dear friend, Lorraine Haas. She sent it on January 26 of 2017, and it was in response to the eNews she’d received the day before. Little did I know that a few weeks later I’d be preaching and presiding at her funeral.

The thing is, Lorraine responded to almost every single eNews message she ever received from me. Had I kept all of her messages throughout the years, I’d have hundreds. And what was common to them all (at least the ones related to what I would initially send to her) is that, firstly, she commented on this or that news item, making sure that I knew that she’d read the entire email; and secondly, by her words, she was sure to have a brightness of commendation for all the great things the Lord was allowing her home congregation to do. She was a perpetual encourager of the Gospel. She knew all of the volunteers and staff were working as hard as they could to accomplish the mission, and with that, she never spoke a negatively critical word.

Well, I should probably rephrase that. She never spoke a negatively critical word by way of an email. In private, face to face, and with a little bit of whisky in our glasses, she more than shared her mind on things. I always knew what mattered to Lorraine. But still, the written word remains for far longer than the spoken word. I’m pretty sure Lorraine knew that, and so whatever she put into print, you could be assured that it would always be an uplifting bit of phraseology meant to make your day better and not worse.

This particular (and unfortunately only remaining) email I kept from Lorraine was very short. I share it with you exactly as I received it. Visiting with it, I know why I’ve kept it sitting in my inbox for so long. It’s only a few sentences long, but it’s a tome of God’s grace.

And the Lord be with You also dear Pastor. May God Bless and Keep You, with Courage and Strength in the coming Day. He loves You, and Me and our Church. His Church! Blessings dear Pastor, and to your dear Family! Lorraine

It’s kind of strange, isn’t it, how the mountains pay us no attention at all? You laugh or you cry, and the wind just keeps on blowing.

Actually, no. The mountains, as sturdy as they are, will pass away. The winds of this world will eventually cease. The laughing and crying of this life will one day be left to the archives of what once was. But the Word of the Lord stands forever. Even now, by way of an email sent by a friend who died years ago, that Word of the Gospel alive in her continues to breathe life into a guy like me—and now into you, too.

It’s as if it reaches to us from the sphere of the divine. In a sense, it does.

Analyzing her sentences, I sometimes wonder if she capitalized words for the same reason I capitalize certain words. I do it in sermons all the time. I tend to capitalize words that are either incredibly important or are in some way an extension of God’s divine work. For example, in a sermon, I always capitalize the letters “d” and “s” in the words “death” and “sin.” I capitalize them because they’re no small thing to us. They’re dreadful powers in this world. If they weren’t, then Jesus’ work on the cross would be less needful to any of us. Equally, I’ll sometimes capitalize words like “redeem” or “love” or “salvation,” especially when they are connected to the person or work of Jesus.

I could be overanalyzing Lorraine’s note, but I wonder if she did the same thing for similar reasons. For example, she capitalized words like “bless” and “keep.” She also emphasized the first letters of “courage” and “strength.” Most interestingly, she capitalized the words “day,” “you,” “me,” and “church.” Why? Well, as peculiar as it may seem, I’d say that each of those words is an offshoot of the vine of Christ. He blesses and keeps us. The courage and strength we need from day to day come from Him alone. And with that, each one of those days belongs to Him. Each one holds the promise of His great love that is carrying you, me, and the whole Church to the Last Day.

With this perspective, go back and read Lorraine’s message one more time. Take it in carefully. I’m sure you’ll get a sense of the ever-living faith that surpasses all understanding, a faith built upon and strengthened for eternal resonation by the powerful Word of God that keeps hearts and minds in Christ Jesus; a Word so powerful that, in fact, not even death can silence it.

Yes, the wind just keeps on blowing. But the war will eventually end. And when it does, when the wind rustles its last leaf, we’ll be gathered into the nearer presence of Christ. In that place, we’ll see all those who’ve died in the faith—all those for whom we’ve shed a tear while the mountains looked on with disinterest and the breezes continued to blow.

I’ll see Lorraine again.

Most importantly, we’ll all see our Lord, the Giver of Life, and it’ll be a face-to-face encounter. Until then, as long as I can help it, I’m never going to delete that email from Lorraine. I’m going to store it away with a few others that are like it that I’ve received from another dearly departed friend, Reverend Dr. Jakob Heckert. As Gospel-driven notes, these messages are far too valuable as divine sources of encouragement to end up in the virtual trash bin.