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.