Month: December 2024

Sunday Morning Telephone Call

At the end of every Sunday service, our community gathers into a circle-ish shape, holding hands for a closing prayer. Last week, at this precise moment, my phone rang. (Of all people to have a ringing phone on Sunday morning, right?) I silenced the noise and after making a short obvious joke (“who calls me on a Sunday morning???”), said, “I wish I could tell you who that was.”

Now I can.

I began journals for my boys on the day we found out they were alive. That is, the day we were blessed with a positive pregnancy test. Each began with, “Today is _____, and at ____pm, we found out you were here.” I continued these journals for the 9 months, then through the first year of their lives on the outside. They are an account of their growth (“you are probably the size of a cashew by now”), current events (war, terrorism, political elections, etc), personal events (my dad passed during Samuel’s first year, etc), advice (just in case I’m not there to pass it along face-to-face), and very much more. Essentially, it is an account of who we were. As they grew and transformed, so did I. So did I.

I had to wait to give them. There are content issues not fit for a 7 year old, for example. But more importantly, I had to be ok with the possibility that they may not read them. Just because they’re so overwhelmingly significant to me doesn’t mean they’ll mean the same to them, at least now. And that has been terrifying, it would have broken my heart and I would’ve been, in my unspeakable hurt, angry. It had to be a gift that I could offer, completely unconditionally. They had to be free to casually cast them aside for the next gift.

An interesting fact is that these journals (along with 2 novels I wrote in college) are the only things I wrote that we saved in the flood. Everything else (crates FULL of notebooks) went under and were unable to be salvaged. The Angel knew the importance of these and rescued them before she left that night.

Anyway. This was the year to give them. The book for the youngest was handwritten, but the oldest’s was a stack of printed papers that needed to be bound. Staples is a chain office supply store that offers this service. I took all 3 in (his book and the 2 novels) and, as I handed them across the desk (they would take 1 day), the weight of the paper and distance of the desk become clear. What if something happened? There were no extra copies, no back-ups, no possible replacements. I held them tightly, said, “they are very meaningful to me,” and this sweet young man behind the desk replied, “I will take care of them.”

But that didn’t make the night go much easier. So, when Staples came up on my phone during our prayer circle, it was a thrilling relief. (Of course, it could have been a message saying, “sorry, we lost your work,” but I was convinced that sort of message wouldn’t come during worship.) He DID take care of them.

I gave my sons their books, their love letters, their written illustration of my heart, their account of how much they are loved by their daddy, on Christmas morning. I may have abstractly mentioned them in passing through the years, so there were rumors of their existence, but to see them in their hands was extraordinary. They didn’t cry, but I sure did. To see the young men I wrote these words to so many years ago, holding them in their hands, is… well, it’s a big deal. It’s an honor, responsibility, joy to be a dad, their dad. (In a colossal understatement,) It’s just the best.

The most important decision we make is to say Yes to Jesus, then we participate with the Spirit to create these beautiful, faithful, dedicated lives. These books are simply a way that love, His love, comes out of me. Our lives are our greatest artwork. And My life (of which these books – and my marriage, the Bridge, my work, relationships, everything – are a part) is mine; my offering, my response, the way I say Thank You to My Savior, Who has given me everything and more.

So, that was the phone call. It was a very welcome interruption.

Play

The site prompt today is “what was the last thing you did for play or fun?” And probably this is it for me. I like to write, it’s super fun. But I was also thinking about you this morning and opened my computer to post. This question is in the same ballpark.

So first, what was the last thing you did for play or fun? Do you love to sing, or play the guitar? Paint? Work out, make or eat a great meal, reorganize your closet? Meet a friend for lunch? Binge watch tv shows or go to the movie theater? Play board games, read novels, listen to Morrissey albums, watch high school basketball games? Sleep? Kiss your wife? What are the things that make you come alive, refresh you, or give you rest? What are the things that are like revival to your tired soul? What are the things that, when you do them, you lose time & think, “I was born to do this, and could do it forever?”

I sat down to write this because I’m neck deep in reflection, evaluation, and anticipation – of the last year, the last several years, the upcoming days, months, years, who I was, who I am, who I am becoming. And this path always leads me to the Bible passage in the gospels where a blind man reaches out to Jesus, who asks him, “What do you want Me to do for you?”

If Jesus were to ask us that same question, how would we answer? Do we know? Have we ever even considered it? Who, what, do we love? What do we dream of, when we allow our imaginations off the least of routine and responsibility? What do we want Jesus to do in our lives? Do we believe He wants to, do we believe He can? Who is our God (or god)? Where are we blind and desperately need sight?

Speaking of doing something for play and fun, these questions are really fun, right? Do you remember sitting in elementary school letting our minds run wild, anywhere they wanted. The exhilaration of the lives we’d have. We wanted to be superheroes or artists, or moms or dads, or rock stars, and at some point, life and grown ups told us that it was impossible, to be realistic, to lower our expectations for our lives, that it is what it is.

But they were wrong. We are superheroes to someone, it isn’t just what it is, and we are all artists. Our greatest work of art are these lives we have been given…the problem is, we stopped seeing them as art. In lowering our expectations, we forgot who we were, who we were made to be, and settled for unfulfilling jobs, buying stuff we don’t need, emotionally distant from our spouses and children, believing the lie that what we do doesn’t matter, that we can’t change, that it can’t change. We became blind to the Divine, to the Holy Spirit (THE SAME Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead) living in us. We are the blind men alongside the road, reaching out to Jesus. He’s asking us the same question…

What are we going to tell Him, the One who set those talents, gifts, dreams, passions, blessings in our hearts? I, for one, want to see. That’s what I want for Christmas, from the Giver of all of our best presents.

Warmth

The site prompt for today is, “Is your life today what you pictured a year ago?’ It’s a pretty good question, but the answer really isn’t the point. What is so significant about this question is only that we ask it. A life without any reflection is one that is lived mindlessly out of habit,just getting through each day. And a life like that hardly ever leads to growth or, to use a word from the Scriptures, transformation. Instead, we stay stuck in our loops simply because we never pause long enough to recognize that it is a loop and to question it’s health or usefulness.

Maybe that job or relationship or budget or schedule or expense or whatever isn’t for us. Maybe it never was. Maybe it stopped being a positive influence months ago, or yesterday. Maybe something else is now a much better fit, and there isn’t any room because we’re still hanging on to the old. Or maybe we have the perfect thing for us already in our lives, but we can’t give it the attention it deserves because of the other distractions (sometimes, what was once so valuable becomes little more than filler now) that we haven’t gotten around to leaving behind.

And maybe some people or things need to return. Maybe the old has been unnecessarily and unintentionally excised.

This month, leading to the new year, is a natural time to empty out our lives onto the floor and take a good, long, hard look at what’s actually in there. Maybe we don’t even know what is taking our time, or energy, or money, and maybe (probably) we have even less idea why.

So, let’s begin to do that. We can do that in our room by ourselves (well, you know what I mean. Not by ourselves. When we are in our room, or anywhere, we are with Him, with the Holy Spirit, always with.) or with trusted friends and mentors. They might be able to ask some difficult questions in blind spots, like, “why do you spend your money there?” “What do you do after work?” What do you actually want?” “Why do you want that person/thing?”

It’s simple presence. We are totally present participants in our own lives.

Here’s what I notice around this time of year. We get so busy doing all of the things, ordering the presents, shopping, wrapping, sending the cards, baking the cookies. We do all of these wonderful things for other people that we forget the other people!! Martha chose to spend the time with Jesus making the hors d’oeuvres, vacuuming the floor, clearing the table, and doing the dishes to serve Jesus and the other guests, that she almost missed Jesus altogether. It can be the same in our lives. We get so busy chopping wood, we end up less than grateful, oblivious to the warmth it provides.

This season, let’s show up with all of us, wide awake, and ask the questions, see each other, listen, notice, pay attention, love somebody, love somebody else, and say thanks with out lives for the warmth He provides.

How Do We?

The BIG question from Sunday’s message is: How do we bring the Gospel into this world, here & now? It’s especially charged because we are less than 3 weeks away from Christmas Day, when we celebrate the birth of Jesus the Christ. He was the Gospel, that is how He brought the Gospel into this world. But as He left, after His resurrection, He gave us a Great Commission. “Go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Teach them to obey all the commands I have given you.” And ends with my favorite part: “And be sure that I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Essentially, take this Gospel into this world.

So, again, how do we intend to do that?

Do we do it with our theology? With our fancy commemorative, personally embossed Bibles that are specially made for left-handers or racecar drivers or pilots or Libertarians or whatever group we happen to be a part of? With our bumper stickers or decals? With our exemplary church attendance? With our perfect hair and shoes?

Or do we do it with our love? With our hands and feet? Our hearts and words?

Of course, theology is important. If we put our faith in a grocery store chain or a football team to save us, they won’t. That isn’t the Gospel at all. And our Bibles are important, inside those fancy faux-leather covers and pandering marketing ploys is the inspired Word of God. Bumper stickers and decals can testify, and being a regular member of a local church is a really big deal. These things do matter. (Maybe perfect hair and shoes don’t matter too much, though.). But they are not the point, they are not the Gospel, they do not save on their own.

Jesus Christ does, and when He was asked what we’re supposed to do, He said, “Love God with all of your heart, soul, and mind. And love your neighbor as yourself.” Is that the answer? Can it be that simple? It sounds that way. (Simple. Not easy.)

We are the cover songs (a cover song is when an artist interprets a song that they haven’t written, that others have previously recorded, in their own perspective and style) playing the Gospel of Jesus Christ, however we play it. Maybe we love with our hands, our presence, our gifts. Maybe we love through our money or our brownies. Maybe we love with a phone call or a meal delivery or a present under a tree. That’s our own interpretation. The lyrics are the same. Jesus Christ’s life, death, resurrection, and in Him, our creation, forgiveness, and salvation.

I think we can make our faith so complicated waiting for someone to tell us exactly what to do. But no one can. The guy that asked Jesus what he was supposed to do wanted a checklist to follow, and instead he got a word: love. What does that mean? How do we do it? Love can look different from different people in different circumstances, right? But maybe the point isn’t a solid structured checklist. Maybe it moves, evolves, maybe it’s dynamic. Maybe it’s better characterized as a relationship. Maybe it’s not what we do as much as Who we’re WITH. Maybe we don’t get a list because He wants us to keep holding His hand, asking Him, growing with Him. Maybe the way we play the song when we’re 15 shouldn’t be the way we play it when we’re 40. Maybe we’re supposed to be transformed through our journey with Him, in thought, action, situation, in the street and with our in-laws. Maybe we’re supposed to fall in love with Him.

Maybe that’s why, when He came, He came as a baby. Maybe that’s why He came at all.

Girlfriend In A Coma

Today’s site prompt (the hosting website asks a question every day, to spur thought and encourage me to post every day) is “What’s one thing you would change about yourself?” On one hand, I don’t like this question. It sounds like a wish in a well, like ‘I’d like to be taller,’ or to be able to fly, or whatever. But on the other, maybe this is a doorway into something deeper. In a mass email I received last week, a man named Mark asked if we were becoming the sorts of people we want to become, and that sounds like a variation of the variation of the same question I ask most Sundays. If our answer is a catalyst towards entering a new phase of growth, maybe it’s a good one. Instead of wishing to be a superhero, what if the one thing is to love our neighbor in ways they understand, or to show up to our spouses more often, and asking is the first step in actually doing it, that’s a different story, isn’t it?

This reminds me of a book I just read, Girlfriend In A Coma, by Douglas Coupland. It’s a good book that I read in college, because I have always liked Coupland (he wrote the impossibly important novel Generation X, where the term was first coined), AND because it’s titled after a fantastic Smiths song. A good book, but not life-changing, then. Now might be a different story.

The end has all of the main characters standing in an apocalyptic wasteland, they are the only survivors, and they have a decision. They can stay where they are (which isn’t at all as terrible as it sounds, for one HUGE reason that I won’t spoil) or go back to before the “apocalypse.” They choose to go back, deciding to use this new time, these new lives, to effect change.

Listen to this: “You guys just wait and see. We’ll stand taller than these mountains. We’ll bare open our hearts for the world to grab. We’ll see lights where before there was dimness. We’ll testify together to what we have seen and felt…Our hearts will shine brightly.”

“How can I give them a spark? He wonders. How can I hold their hands and pull them all through flames and rock walls and icebergs?…Every cell in our body explodes with the truth…We’ll be begging passersby to see the need to question and question and never stop questioning until the world stops spinning. We’ll be adults who smash the tired, exhausted system. We’ll crawl and chew and dig our way into a radical new world.“

Right??? I’m typing with tears in my eyes for 2 reasons. First, the thing they had to give up was so humongous, the cost was so high, it absolutely crushes my heart. But the second is the hope of their choice and their opportunity. Now, obviously, it sounds like they’re the ones who will “fix it,” who will “stand taller than mountains,” whose strength and significance is great enough to rewrite the future. I don’t believe that. Jesus fixes (fixed) it, Jesus stands taller than all mountains stacked up, His strength & significance is more than enough to rewrite the past, present, and future, forever and ever, amen.

However, I think this grandiosity isn’t always our problem. More often, we have far too little regard for our own participation. We simply don’t think we have a part to play in changing anything. We believe we’re a pebble thrown into the ocean.

This book (and all of the art that really moves us) presents a different narrative – that we can “testify to what we’ve seen and felt,” that we can let our hearts “shine brightly,” that we can give a spark, we can hold hands and pull, we can smash this tired, exhausted, hopeless system through our faith and hope in Our Savior, and in so doing, we can have a “radical new world.” What we do matters, and it matters a lot.

It doesn’t matter if the prompt is a good one. What’s important is that we keep asking, keep pushing, keep holding, keep crawling, keep shining, keep testifying. Every cell in our body explodes with the Truth, we just have to let that explosion out.