Month: February 2025

Fresh Eyes

Everybody needs a fresh word, sometimes.

Here are some of the lyrics from a song, “Fresh Eyes,” written and performed by Andy Grammer: I got these fresh eyes, never seen you before like this. My God, you’re beautiful. It’s like the first time when we opened the door, ‘Fore we got used to usual…So suddenly, I’m in love with a stranger. I can’t believe that she’s mine. Now all I see is you with fresh eyes, fresh eyes…

There isn’t really any subtlety here, as far as I can tell. He wrote this to his wife. How deep does the phrase “before we got used to usual” cut? We all can point to the things that, once, changed our lives, and now are just…ordinary. I can remember driving to the Angel’s apartment at college to pick her up for our first date, wondering what I’d do about the birds (much larger than butterflies) in my stomach, scared if I’d have to pull the car over to throw up. It’s now 25+ years later, I no longer drive to see her, I see her every day – she’s the first one I see in the morning, the last at night. I kissed her goodnight when I’d drop her off, when we were dating, now I kiss her goodbye at her car door in the morning, and hello at the front door after work, and every other time I can. Like Andy, I can’t believe she’s mine. She’s out of my league, but that’s her problem. When it comes to her, I am grateful to have never lost my fresh eyes.

So, this song is about our wives, but it’s also about everything else. I have these orange flowers next to the pond just outside of my back door that are so beautiful, they could probably knock you down, and I almost never go outside to see them, or even stop to notice them when I bring the groceries inside. They are “usual.” There is a song called “Brooklyn Bridge,” by Alex do Leo (the hook is “come on, won’t you kiss me on the Brooklyn Bridge,” and it’s consistently surprising anything could sound that good) that is absolutely perfect. I’ve heard it 5,000 times and can hear it anytime I want, and rarely do, anymore. It is usual. I could list many more. I wonder how many “usual” things are in our lives, “usual” simply because we forgot how extraordinary they actually are.

And what about the stories of our lives? We can forget how beautiful we are, how talented and full of promise we are. We get trapped in rote cycles of behavior, thinking/believing, and lose our hope & imagination. These lives (overwhelming gifts from a Loving God) become obstacles to be endured, instead of experienced with breathless joy and wonder. Why is that? When did we get so used to usual???

Last Sunday, I was sitting in the front pew at the Bridge before anyone else arrived, reflecting on what we’re building in our community. Do we ever forget? And treat it like it’s an obligation or “have-to?” Like it’s the usual that we’ve gotten used to?

Flowers, songs on the radio, church services, family meals, laughter, phone calls, basketball games…these explosions of the divine are everyday miracles, certainly not the mindless routines we so often take for granted. Just because we’ve held that hand for so long doesn’t make it any less awesome than the first time. If we’re totally honest, it really makes it more awesome.

Sometimes we need fresh words to see the truth of our reality, of our promise, of our story. And sometimes we need to speak those words, bringing new worlds into focus. And to speak them, we need to see them. We need fresh eyes. This may seem daunting, but if we learn anything from the resurrection and the redemption/renewal of all things, it’s that nothing is ever just ‘what it is,’ dead bones can live again, and everything can be new again. Then, “all we see” will be Jesus, the Gospel, you, me, us, them, all of this, with fresh eyes.

The Homework

Sunday morning was especially life-giving for me. We asked a million questions, and those sorts of messages are always my favorites. The idea that we will actually spend any time during the week to consider them is so hopeful, because it’s there, in the search & discovery, that our lives begin to take the shape they might become. The very best a church service can do is to send us into His presence. In the study, prayer, application, wrestling, praise, pain, relationship, and on and on through the beauty of The Church and the local church, there is the invitation into Who He is and who we are, in Him.

The verse in Titus that prompted the homework was this one: “To the pure, all things are pure,” and it’s opposite: to the impure, every one can be the vehicle for impurity. Vehicles like food, career, money, sex, desire, ambition, progress, study, knowledge can drive us to His feet, in worship and community, or down wide, smooth paths to the sad, lonely altars we’ve built to ourselves. Into His arms, or into temples for religions created for just 1, the high priest and only congregant is the same person: me. We drive these vehicles, they go where we steer them.

Where are we driving? That’s the choice before us. And like those road trips that require recalculation, u-turns, and backtracking over wrong turns, our lives are constantly asking for evaluation. Is this where we want to be? Is the destination still the same for us, or have we changed our minds and decided to go somewhere new? And my favorite question: NOW WHAT???

How do we chart a new course for these vehicles of ours? The simple truth is the same as most everything. We connect to Him. We ask, seek, knock. We hold His hand and follow where He leads. Yes, simple, but not at all easy. We’ll have to stop some things, start others. But it all starts with The Ask. Where have we allowed our vehicle to be driven by another, who might not have our best interests in mind, who wants to drive as fast as possible toward & into an inevitable crash?

So, we ask, and when we receive our answer, then there’s that next decision to make. Will we take the wheel back and give it to Him, so we can turn around, because as we do that, these things (food, career, etc) are recalibrated to see their inherent purity, and become, again, holy. We eat with purpose, with gratitude, and not mindlessly shovel down as much as we can while we’re driving to the next box to check. We work with character and integrity in beautiful service instead of to stack dollar bills, building bigger barns to store our ever-growing mountains of what some marketer has convinced us is the new solution for what ails us. When we ask, we get tingles and goose-bumps. That is possibility that we feel. We can take this world back, give it to the One Who made it, and us. All questions have the same answer, ultimately: Love. And in those 4 letters, there is eternity.

But it all starts with a question, on a Tuesday morning in February.

The Honesty of Authentic Presence

10ish years ago, my sister and I had a fight on the Ocean City boardwalk. I don’t have any idea what we were arguing about now, but it made everyone uncomfortable and the rest of the family all wished they were somewhere else. Or probably that we were somewhere else.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned, but last night, my youngest son had his last high school basketball game. I’m not going to go into details about that game, (or any other game, for that matter), or my feelings for/about him. But this is the sort of event that can make a man like me very sensitive, mushy even, for quite a while.

Studies show that human beings generally recognize 3 emotions: happy, sad, and mad. Of course, this isn’t anywhere close to enough, and it’s not that we don’t feel different emotions, we just lack the vocabulary to accurately communicate those emotions. Last night was bittersweet. I was proud, disappointed, joyful, overwhelmed. I was happy, sad, and mad, at different times. Sometimes at the same time. It would have taken 1,000 hands to hold everything I was feeling.

Several times during Sunday morning’s sermon, I realized & acknowledged (in my head) my tone and my turbulent spirit. As I taught about the second chapter of Titus, I realized how much of these moments were colored by this game, this program, church dynamics, politics, relationships, how I slept, what I ate, even what shoes I was wearing. Everything comes to the party, and it should, because everything matters.

Our services begin with a silent prayer, where we come as we are, bringing what we carry, to the feet of Jesus. It is embarrassingly misguided to pretend that we can come any other way, as if we are blank slates unaffected by the world around us. The prodigal son’s words to His Father land differently after you have children. The story of Israel is different from opposite sides of empire.

And I think that’s an absolutely intentional requirement of a life of faith. One of the most important observations I learned in seminary that totally changed my life is the honesty in every word of the Scriptures. Whether it’s in Lamentations, Habakkuk, Psalms, Titus, or any other book, God doesn’t want our sacrifices if they aren’t real. He has no use for fake plastic hypocrisy. He doesn’t want our pretense and our loud, grandiose assemblies if He doesn’t have our hearts.

He has mine. And so do you. Sunday morning, you get my awe, my reverence for the God Who rescued me, my study, prayer, interpretation, faith, AND my broken, confused, euphoric, sometimes wildly contradictory spirit. My careful conclusions and my dumb jokes. My cold, broken hallelujah.

Last night, I was disgusted at the basketball program while I wept for the people in it. I never want the season to end, and I’m so happy it’s over. I think there are lots of things that Jesus needs to transform in me, and I know He loves me in a way none of us can fathom, as I am. I get so many things wrong, and I am forgiven. I don’t want to stay this me, but I really like this me. Last summer, I told the baseball players I coached that I was finished, and I was relieved & thrilled to be done, and so sorry I thought I might crumble.

Being fully present, authentically ourselves, in true relationship with Our Creator and each other means all of this.

I chose a picture for this post. It’s last week’s senior night. I’m happy and sad, proud, hopeful, and he might be holding me up because I love him so much I might die. What it is, really, is a picture of gratitude. God gave us each other. And to stand next to for all of it, this God gave me the Angel.

I told you about Ocean City because, while everybody else wished to be somewhere else, I didn’t (and I bet my sister didn’t, either.) To be as close as we are requires us to bring everything we are to this amazing party. I’d love to go back to that night, when my boys were 5 and 7, and it was summer and the ground wasn’t covered with ice, but I don’t need to, I was there, then, fighting with my sister, loving every moment of this beautiful life I have been given. And if I could/would go back, I wouldn’t have been there last night, and I wouldn’t have missed that for the world.

Update

Good morning!

We ARE going to have church this morning, at the Bridge, at 10:30am. 

If you decide to be there, please be very careful. We are deciding to have church in person, but if you have concerns about the roads or any of the conditions, we will Livestream on YouTube, as usual.

Love. Peace. 

A Few Important Items

Good morning everyone!

It looks like the weather may present another problem, possibly for the next 2 Sundays. Anytime this becomes an issue, we will make a decision by 9am on Sunday morning. I send an email, post to the website and to Facebook. (I also try to send texts, as well, but I can’t promise those.) So, please check in at 9am on Sunday morning, And as always, don’t hesitate to reach out to me directly (not a ‘reply all’ please) with any questions. 

If we decide to cancel in-person service, I will check in, connect, & give the message online at 10:30am. We would livestream on YouTube, just like every other week. Just go to YouTube, search Bridge Faith Community, subscribe, and watch from anywhere. In addition, the messages then post to that channel and are there forever and ever, so you can watch anytime.

Tuesday looks like a problem, too, so Open Door next week will be on Zoomat 7pm.

I don’t remember being affected by this many weather events for the last few years, but this seems to be the year for disruption. That makes it especially important to make an extra effort to stay connected. Reach out to others, check on your neighbors and the rest of your tribe. Please don’t just stay home, isolated. And, as always, we can’t  take for granted the gift of meeting together, so let’s be grateful for this awesome community we are building together.

Having said all of that, I really hope I see you all Sunday morning!!

Have a great week, and be safe!

Love. Peace.

The Value of Things

In the 2nd chapter of Titus, the word sober-minded was used, and that doesn’t sound like too great of a catch phrase. No one is probably getting a “sober-minded” tattoo, or using it on their dating profile. We don’t throw it around easily in conversation, it seems like an adjective that was used often in the late 1800’s, and not much since. See? The Bible is hopelessly outdated, right?

But the term, as it was written, suggests a person that “knows the value of things,” and as I look around, live and breathe, I can’t think of a characteristic that is more necessary and less common.

Have you ever reached out to someone about something that is heavy, that is taking a toll on your heart, that is painful or wildly significant, that we aren’t meant to carry alone? It’s an unbearably vulnerable space, and we wait. Then, the person, obviously uncomfortable, makes a joke. Or answers their phone. Or changes the subject. Your authenticity is discarded and disrespected. That person, who made you so sorry you reached at all out and especially sorry you reached out to him/her, has no idea of the value of things.

Not only do they not know the value of the circumstance you entrusted to them, but they do not know the value of your open heart, not do they know the value of a human being. This last one is, sadly, the real loss. We treat each other as disposable, as means to ends, as items to be used, for what they can bring to us, instead of recognizing who they are for no other reason than who they are. We are, to each other, too often, tools.

We have things to do and boxes to check. We have been sold the idea that our productivity is more important than our relationships. We have lost the value of things.

When I see people show up to weddings in t-shirts (a more and more common occurrence), I always shake my head. I speak to my boys of “time and place,” and now I know that I actually mean, “sober-minded.” A wedding is different than a ball game is different than bedtime. When we go to the gym and go through the motions, we have forgotten how extraordinary it is that we have been made in such a fantastic way that we are able to do these amazing things with our bodies. Instead of worship, it is a torturous obligation. When we kiss our wives or hold another’s hand without thinking, as simply routine, we have missed the value of this shocking intimacy. What could be more wonderful than the soft, slow, unhurried kiss of your beloved? Or more loving and trusting than another person offering their hand to you, searching for care and closeness?

Right. We’re, of course, talking about Genesis 28:16, “Surely God was in this place, and I was unaware.” When we lose the value of things, we are consistently unaware.

Last night, we drove an hour to what is likely to be the very last away high school basketball game for my youngest son. Do you know how many away games we’ve traveled to? A lot. Do you know how many times they were a nuisance? If that answer is equal to or greater than 1, we were ignorant of the value of things.

I think the concept of “ordinary” is the language of a culture that does not know the value of things. Maybe Paul’s letter to Titus is exactly what we need. Maybe we need more “sober-minded” tattoos, so we can all remember kisses and away games, remember to be grateful, so we can remember to stay present and wake up to our lives and the overflowing blessings all around us.