Month: May 2025

1,000 Questions

Today is our wedding anniversary, and Friday is my son’s graduation. I’ll write about them both on my other blog, lovewithacapitall.com. Maybe next week will have the graduation reflection in both spaces. Who knows? But there is another website, if you happen to be interested. But today, here, is directly related to our Sunday morning service…

Since I began teaching at the bridge, there has been one recurring complaint. Not that there haven’t been others – there is usually a chorus of “you should have done it this way,” or, “I don’t like the way you did that” – it’s just that each one of those is specific and pointed. They don’t like my voice, my shoes, my perspective. There’s plenty to not like. But the most common, general criticism is that I rarely project verses, important words & concepts, and any of the 1,000 questions I ask every week, on the screen.

There are 2 kinds of negative feedback. One has absolutely nothing to do with me (and is way more common). The mouth that is speaking cuts on purpose, out of a well of pain or insecurity in them. I can see this now, when, as a younger man, I couldn’t differentiate and allowed everything in, as if it were all equally valid and good-hearted. It isn’t. This doesn’t mean they still can’t be right about me, with their attack, it just means I spend much less time evaluating.

About how I receive this “help:” I am not so arrogant to think I do everything perfectly, am always right, and I am not so fragile to think my imperfection means that I am always wrong or worthless. So, I can (mostly) receive it with humble gratitude. Sometimes, though, boundaries are required – what I’ve also learned is that not everyone can have unlimited access to you.

Anyway, the second is genuine and helpful, even if I ultimately choose not to change me, my opinion or my process. These are friends, they care about me, want me to be healthy, happy, effective. I take lots of time considering their words, suggestions, and if/how I would integrate it into a newer, better version of me. Then, I either do or do not. (And against Yoda’s wishes, I sometimes try, with varying success.)

This projection issue is easily in the second camp. The well-meaning people that make this suggestion are absolutely right, I should.

So, why don’t I?

I don’t really know. I see the value in it. And the “I don’t know” goes against one of the characteristics I find most important: mindfulness. We should know why we do what we do, be intentional about it. It’s actually why I ask the questions, in the first place, to introduce us to ourselves and invite us to show up and get to know us, from the inside out. My boys knew “I don’t know” is 100% unacceptable and only prolongs the lecture (ha!). And my house rule as a dad has always been, if I didn’t know why not, the answer has to be yes. So, why don’t I just put the questions on a PowerPoint? I don’t know.

Here they are, from this week: Why do we do what we do? (That’s an ironic first question, isn’t it?) Who is building the “house?” Are things in their proper place? Who/What delights our hearts?

Maybe I’ll start. I’m pretty embarrassed to admit that I’ve been sleeepwalking through this relatively innocuous issue. But if I act without intention or awareness in relatively small things, maybe I will with big ones, too. Maybe this isn’t about slides at all. Maybe it’s about the man I am constantly becoming.

Next week we’ll probably have slides.

These Next Two Weeks

In the next 2 weeks, my youngest son will graduate from high school, coaching youth baseball will be over, and my time in the high school weight room will be over, too. Also next week, the Angel & I will celebrate 24 years of marriage together. It’s a lot to process. Last Saturday, we held an event at the Bridge for a pair of extraordinarily talented musicians, and the HS baccalaureate was Sunday evening. Today was the dentist, and tomorrow is the awards assembly.

I’m not telling you any of this because I’m particularly unique. Everybody is busy, the grass keeps growing, the wheels on the bus go round and round and round and round and round. You have these moments that you are aware/awake to the fact that they hold tremendous significance, that maybe your life will change, marking a deeply etched line separating before/after. There are much too many things on your mind to keep them all straight, but it’s the weight on your heart that is exacting the true toll.

These things are hard to hold. They are wonderful, your heart feels like it might actually explode from the joy. You cry those tears of celebration, and then, at some point, somehow, they morph into sadness. Where does that come from?? Why are you so sad? Because your life is not what it was before. Maybe it’s better. Maybe not. Who can tell here, now? How does one define better or worse? But it is certainly different. And all change is, in fact, loss, and all loss has to be mourned, or it sits in the corner of your soul (sometimes it’s very noisy, sometimes it’s quiet, almost unnoticeable), taking up space, waiting to be addressed.

But we are asked to hold them. Instead of what we would prefer to do, which is avoid them, run from them, numb ourselves so we don’t have to look at them, or simply pretend they don’t exist.

One of my favorite passages in the Bible is the shortest, “Jesus wept.” There may be a million different interpretations, but to me, this is Our Savior climbing into our complexity and staying there. He does not say (as we surely would), “It’s ok, don’t cry, you’ll see Lazarus again, watch this!!!” He knew that. But He knew what we often don’t, these tears are an integral part of the human experience, they’re necessary, honest. In His actions, He is giving us permission to be exactly where we are – more than permission, He’s encouraging us to be exactly where we are. He’s telling us that holding this life that He has given takes more than 1 hand. He’s showing us the value in presence, that here and now is more than enough.

I feel like Mary and Martha right now, so full of emotion. Like He knows how this movie ends, but He also knows I don’t, so He is weeping with me. We start with the joy, moving into and through the crushing sadness of missing something and/or someone, (of course, this is all awe at the scope of His Creation, this is all in gratitude, as it pours out of us for the time and the moments He’s blessed us with) and then back into the joy and wonder and pleasure of breathing His air and living the life He has given. He knows my love for Him, as much as I am able, yet paling compared to His love for me. He holds me as I’m experiencing all of what He’s made us to experience. And I imagine His delight as He sees how deeply I love all of it.

I don’t know what we’ll do tomorrow, in 2 weeks, or what the future holds for you or me or any of us, but I do know how we’ll do it – with both hands and our whole hearts.

Trouble

Listen to this verse (28) in 1 Kings 12: So on the advice of his counselors, the king made 2 gold calves. He said to the people, “It is too much trouble for you to worship in Jerusalem. O Israel, these are the gods who brought you out of Egypt!”

The king, in this passage is Jeroboam. Israel had split into 2 (north and south), after Solomon’s death, due to Solomon’s unfaithfulness and increasing transgressions. Jeroboam and 10 of the tribes, became the northern kingdom, while Rehoboam, Solomon’s son, formed the southern kingdom with the 2 remaining tribes. (The fact that Rehoboam – and Solomon’s line – got anything is due only to the mercy of God and His loyalty and love for David.)

Jeroboam’s fear was that his people would go south, to Jerusalem, for worship, and stay there, I guess. Or leave him and pledge themselves to Rehoboam? It’s just “too much trouble” to worship God, in His way, the way He’s prescribed. This guy, right? You can see the writing on the wall a million miles away. He’s choosing comfort and ease over anything & everything else. Can you believe that???

The thing that is so maddening about these Israelites is their propensity to live such destructive loops. They cry out, lean into God, God rescues, they turn away from Him, make a mess because of this idolatry, then cry out, move towards God, God rescues, they turn away from him, make a mess because of this idolatry, cry out, lean towards, God rescues, turn away, make a mess, and on and on and on. We read this and tear our hair out, exasperated, screaming, “Again!??! How many times do they have to do this??!!??” We’re right to do this, it is frustrating. And it’s confusing – why do they keep doing it? Why don’t the ever remember? Why do they keep getting bitten by the same animal, banging their heads against the same wall?

On a completely unrelated note, what I am learning about me is that I can sometimes have an amazing lack of self-awareness. When Nathan confronted David about his Bathsheba situation, he painted a picture of a “man” that sent David into a rage. He ranted at the “man’s” transgression, only to be told, “You ARE that man!!” I am just like David, sometimes.

Anyway, back to Jeroboam and the 2 calves…

Can you believe that guy, choosing convenience and power, moving in fear and self-protection instead of faith, trust, and obedience??? He’s a perfect illustration of the idolatry of these Israelites, who continue to be seduced by their own pride and self-reliance, or just to simply follow easy, wide paths in service of their own selfish pleasure.

It’s too much trouble to get out of bed to travel all that way to to the Temple. It’s too much trouble to follow God, to put Him before us, to put others before us. It’s too much trouble to confront our bad decisions, reflect, and learn. Faithfulness is too much trouble. It’s too much trouble to delay gratification. It’s way too much trouble to take our hands off the wheel and give up our imaginary sense of control. It’s just too much trouble.

I’m happy we’re not like them.

Reputation Management

Mark Manson wrote this, in today’s mass email, “Your actions reflect who you really are. Your words are simply reputation management.” Reputation management?!!? That’s as perfect of a phrase as I have ever heard, and one I think I’ll use until everyone think is it’s mine, and mine alone. I’ll never give him credit again, after this post.

In Sunday’s message, we discussed honesty, authenticity, and the overwhelming temptation to create images of shiny, perfect people who have everything together. Social media is the only logical extension of this, it had to go this way. We finally made a place where we only show the parts of us we decide you can see. There are no missed shots on Instagram. There are no zits or awkward pauses, no bad lighting, no pictures where we aren’t looking. It’s awesome. When the aliens come, they’ll know that we have achieved the pinnacle of human evolution.

Of course, that conclusion will be as honest as we are. This has always been an obstacle of ours. We like to think the Bible isn’t too relevant, anymore, but it is. Solomon wrote to ancient people, and may have been writing to us, now, here, today. Actually, Genesis 3 is just as on-the-nose as it ever was. We will seek to find our worth in our work and/or relationships, to our own assured destruction.

Over and over, God addresses this, explicitly, in words, and implicitly. in which books were included in His collection of holy works. He doesn’t want empty ritual or mindless routine. He doesn’t want pretense or masquerade. He wants us. Me & you & your neighbor. He wants all of us, as we are, the worst parts as well as the ones we like. He wants the burned, ruined meals alongside the ones we post. I think He probably likes the hundred thousand missed shots even more than He celebrates the ones on Dude Perfect.

So, yes, it’s all over the Scriptures, and we still try to avoid looking out of control or imperfect. I wonder why??? We say things and do others. I want to lose weight, and this morning, I bought a box of Pop Tarts. Those things don’t live together in loving peace and harmony. When I tell you I want to lose weight, I think I am managing my reputation. I want you to think I do. I want you to think that is important to me. I think I want me to think that, too. But my actions say something else altogether.

Hm. I really love this discussion. I guess I now really love uncomfortable conversations, and I bet I know why. Uncomfortable conversations really only happen when we set aside our fears (at least a little), sit in our vulnerability, and begin to talk about who we really are and what that means. What do we really value? What do we really want? I often hear that word in my head, when I speak or write… really????

“I really love this discussion.” Really? You really like to think about the parts of us that hurt and make us want to run and hide? That make me want to run and hide? Really?

Maybe.

But that word reminds me of my other favorite question, “What now?” They both lead us into dimly lit rooms and dark paths where we have to trust that we might not actually be lost, at all. We might just have our eyes closed as we follow Our Creator, like it’s our birthday, and when we open them, we’ll have to deal with a whole new reality. What could be more exciting and hopeful and terrifying?

It’s very good we’ve been given each other to hold onto when we open our eyes, isn’t it?