Month: July 2026

Stables

Sometimes, I reference the writing prompt that the hosting website suggests. They can be interesting and thought-provoking, they’ve even been so good that I abandon the initial reason I opened this computer to discuss the site’s question. Today, it’s “If you could bring back 1 dinosaur, which one would it be?” They are not all interesting.

In our service last Sunday, I brought up the many prayer requests in our circle. Our individual circles are huge, because we are all so cool. In a Venn diagram, the overlap is the Bridge, but the way I figure, that connects each of the circles to each of us. We are all ‘members’ of the Bridge family.

But some people drift closer to the shaded, shared section. Our close friends have close friends that become our friends, too. One of those friends, a super-sweet man we all knew from a yearly party, (it would have been impossible not to notice him, know him, remember him, and be affected by him, even seeing him on such an infrequent basis), passed away suddenly, at far too young an age, last week. It hurts and leaves a deep wound that will become an obvious scar that we carry forever.

There are many others, who sit near the overlap, who are in need of prayer, struggling through medical procedures, surgeries, distance, isolation, and on and on. For a small community, we have these beautifully massive pools in which we each, in which we all, swim. These pools carry great joy, fulfillment, celebration. But they also carry pain. We get to go to the best parties, and the most crushing funerals. We get the phone calls for very good – and very bad – news. The weight is heavy and seems overwhelming.

Proverbs 14:4 says, “An empty stable stays clean, but no income comes from an empty stable.”

In times like this, when our friend is gone, we might really like an empty stable. Or at least one that’s not quite so full. Right? A prayer list where I don’t have to turn the page to continue.

We’ve all thought it’s better to not have loved, than faced the devastation of love lost. In that moment, in this moment, we might make the trade.

There’s a BRILLIANT science-fiction movie where a man chooses to have his ex-girlfriend erased from his memory, the suffering is simply too painful for him to bear. Most of the film takes place in his mind, as she is being eliminated. It unfolds in reverse, the first memories to go were the ones from the end of the relationship, and they seem to be easy to bid farewell. But as we move backwards, the beauty, the intensity, the meaning, the love… they go, too, and he decides that the empty stable he thought he wanted has a cost that is way too high. He begins to fight to keep the memories, fights to keep her, in his mind and his life.

This makes me think about our friend, and the very good friend who brought him into our lives. She is awesome, and you can see his fingerprints all over her life. She is a better person in every way because he was there. The income that came from her dirty pen is impossible to calculate.

I was thinking of this friend this morning while I was thinking of my son. He goes back to college in about 3-ish weeks, and even now, I’m seeing my screen through watery eyes and a very real pain in my heart. He considered an internship which would have kept him away for the summer, but he was here, instead, and now I get to send him off to school again, for the 2nd time. Maybe it would have been easier if he had not come home for these 3 months. Maybe.

Maybe an empty stable is clean, with less texture, less laughter, less hugs and gallons less tears. But the income is what makes life so wonderful. An empty stable has infinitely less beauty, too. And less passion, less love, less of everything that matters. My summer has been really fantastic, I haven’t missed it, I am deeply deeply grateful we are here.

My friend’s tears – and mine and yours – from her circles are really offerings of gratitude. The income is a full, awesome life. As Vision says in the WandaVision series, “what is grief but love persevering.” The pain my friend feels is directly proportional to the love they grew and experienced. If we’re blessed, very very blessed, we can know this terrible, beautiful pain. This is the gift and the curse of the Church, of a present life. We will be connected and full. We will have purpose. We will have hearts that are so big and soft you can see them from 100 miles away. And yes, we will hurt, mourn, and suffer. There’s never a way around the pain, only “through.” The thing about that, though, is the promise that we’ll have hands to hold and arms to fall into, for the “through.” And that is more than enough.

A Lego Life

This week, we were discussing the ways to connect and grow at the Bridge, and it made me think of Lego’s. Very many things make me think of Lego’s, and at least a little of it is because, at any time anywhere in my home, I am surrounded by Lego’s. Where I sit to work, I see, in order, the house from Up, a mouse house & wheel, Eva & Wall-E, and then a mechanical rhino that looks menacing. I almost forgot Kevin, Russell and Mr Fredrickson (also from Up). I can see, in another room, a gigantic Millennium Falcon (from Star Wars) and a tower-type thing. My oldest son is what’s called an AFOL (Adult Fan Of Lego). This is something that is new to me. I thought Lego was a child’s toy, but of course I was wrong about that.

I do jigsaw puzzles. I love connecting small, seemingly unrelated pieces into a larger cohesive picture. It’s a way we can reduce the unrelenting noise and bring order & beauty to chaos. This is exactly what Legos do. Small, seemingly unrelated pieces into larger cohesive pictures. You know, this is also a pretty great description of The Church. We are all small, seemingly unrelated pieces who fit perfectly into a larger Divine design, a beautiful picture of harmony and peace.

Anyway. In a Lego build, there is a specific process. You begin with a foundation, whether it’s a flat square or a series of connected bricks, it’s the solid base of whatever we will create. Then, it grows with each piece, each level, color and size, into finally, a finished masterpiece. Finished, unless we choose to dismantle parts or a whole and transform the model, using our imaginations and interests.

Sunday, in that short talk about plans, programs, and practices, I realized we were simply talking about the bricks of our lives. The foundation is the same: Jesus. But from there, we use this creative spark we were born with, in the image of a wildly creative God, to build our own masterpieces. What kinds of bricks will we choose? Will they be Bible reading and/or car mechanics? Writing blog posts, long distance running, parenting, caring for pets, volunteering…As with all artwork, the only limits are our own self-imposed boundaries and the distraction that so often plots our course.

The world is big, fast, loud, and never stops demanding of us. Without any sort of direction, intentionally set, we will simply roll with the tide.

The Scriptures are a vast library of all different kinds of literature. There’s poetry, history, parable, song, prophesy, letter, and on and on, but each of them leaves us with one constant question. What now? This one leads us to so many more. What does this poem (or story or whatever) mean, and what does it mean for me now? What does a letter written to a church in Asia 2,000 years ago have anything to do with us in Pennsylvania today?

Those letters addressed the same issues we have. What does it mean to be human? What is a beautiful, meaningful life? And when we make it personal, what does it mean to be me, what does it look like for me to be human? What is my purpose? What am I really here for? Then, we build. What will our greatest work of art, this gift of our lives, be? Will we love?

Today is our day. We have all the bricks from which to choose, everything is possible. What now?

1’s & 2’s

Yesterday’s Bible In A Year New Testament reading was in Romans. Not that you asked, but I think, probably, Romans 2 is one of the most difficult and important passages in the Bible. And the consequence of continuing to ignore it is seen everywhere we look. It’s the cause of nearly all of the division we are experiencing and have experienced, from the garden to today.

Paul begins Romans like we would, like we do on Facebook. Look around, look at how bad these people are! They do this and this, they are like this and this. Can you believe how dumb, immoral, deceptive, how awful they are? There are Psalms that detail prayers asking God to destroy “the wicked.” Romans 1 reminds me of those prayers, the righteous passing their judgment on the wicked…“us” passing our judgment on “them.” It also reminds me of the Pharisee, who said of Jesus, “If this Man were a Prophet, He would know who was touching Him. He would know what kind of woman she is.” You can hear his condescension and disdain, she’s not even human. Neither are those “wicked” people. Nor the “others” of Romans 1. We stand here pointing…them…they’re the problem.

But then, in a brilliant twist, after we’re all on his side, feeling very superior talking about what’s wrong with the world, Paul says, “yeah, you ARE them!” (That’s my translation. Actually, he says, “You may think you can condemn such people, but you are just as bad, and you have no excuse! When you say they are wicked and should be punished, you are condemning yourself, for you who judge others do these very same things. 2 And we know that God, in his justice, will punish anyone who does such things. 3 Since you judge others for doing these things, why do you think you can avoid God’s judgment when you do the same things? 4 Don’t you see how wonderfully kind, tolerant, and patient God is with you? Does this mean nothing to you? Can’t you see that his kindness is intended to turn you from your sin? 5 But because you are stubborn and refuse to turn from your sin, you are storing up terrible punishment for yourself.”

Now, what if I make it a bit more personal, to reduce the narrative distance of reading something someone wrote to someone else 2,000 years ago? I’m just as bad, with no excuse. I condemn myself, with each cutting remark. I’m stubborn, refuse to turn from my sin, and am storing up terrible punishment for myself. God is kind and patient with me, and I do not extend those same qualities to others, it means nothing to me.

Ouch. We like Romans 1 much more than Romans 2. It makes us feel good, better than, it makes us feel right, but this is a delusion that we sometimes never expose. We like pointing. But this means we are also standing outside of the party.  

This is a reference to the Prodigal Son parable, where the King welcomes the son, who has been away squandering his inheritance, and throws a party. The older brother of the prodigal, who has always been there, is indignant at his brother’s welcome, and the parable ends with him standing outside with choices to make. The older brother likes to point at the “bad” brother, feeling like the “good” one, the one who listens and behaves. He is the one missing the party, too. He’s classic Romans 1, lying to himself while the King knows everybody is Romans 2 and has a great big eternal party for those 2’s.

If we think we’re so awesome, The King can’t really do too much for us, we won’t allow it. Step 1 is admitting we have a problem, admitting we’re the 2’s. We can’t accept the rescue as Romans 1 because Romans 1’s believe they can do it themselves, looking down incredulously on those pathetic 2’s inside at the party.

When Paul pulls that rug from under our feet, we are shaken into finally seeing that we are all 2’s. That is the reality we don’t want to face. But once we do, everything changes. There’s only 1 kind of woman/man: loved, forgiven, redeemed, accepted. There’s no one less than because there’s no one better than (well, there’s only One better than, and in Him, we live and move and have our being, in Him we find ourselves and our tremendous worth), so we can stop being so scared thinking we have to prove our value and earn the space we take up by knocking another down. We can just live into the divine economy of grace and love, and we can start to truly give the overflow of that grace and love to everybody else.

In other words, we can all come into the party.

Who Is Jabez?

Sometimes, the site prompt is unbelievably deep & searching, asking questions we might not want to explore. Today’s is: “What could you let go, for the sake of harmony?” Doesn’t this sound like so much of what we’ve been discussing in the epistles of Paul? When do the (perceived) slights and disrespect get so big that the relationship between us would be harmed? IS there a line, where it’s simply too much? Or is harmony to be defended at all costs, and we are to let everything go? This was not something I intended to think about today, it’s just a gift to lead us into ourselves, a place where we can consider what it is that we truly believe.

The prompt that got me to open my computer this morning did not come from the hosting website, it came from 1 Chronicles, chapter 4. Verses 9 & 10 read, “There was a man named Jabez who was more honorable than any of his brothers. His mother named him Jabez because his birth had been so painful. He was the one who prayed to the God of Israel, “Oh, that you would bless me and expand my territory! Please be with me in all that I do, and keep me from all trouble and pain!” And God granted his request.”

So, who is Jabez? An honorable man who too a risk and made a BIG ask of God – not only bless him, not only give him a lot of land, not only presence, but keep him from all trouble and pain!! ALL trouble and pain?! And, in an extraordinary move, God granted his request! What made Jabez so special? Did the fact that he was honorable ‘earn’ that unbelievable yes? Or was it the faith in a generous, loving God to ask? It seems like there should be more than 2 verses in a book no one really reads given to such a man, such a story. There have been many books written, many gospels based on 2 verses, surely there must be more to learn about this story.

Does God give us what we pray for? In Mark 11:22-24, Jesus says, Have faith in God…Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” If I believe that a mountain will throw itself into the sea, and it will because I said so, then maybe the prayer of Jabez isn’t that big of a deal at all.

But, then we have Matthew 11:2-6, “When John the Baptist was in prison, he heard what Jesus was doing. He sent his followers. They asked, “Are You the One Who was to come, or should we look for another?” Jesus said to them, “Go and tell John what you see and hear. The blind are made to see. Those who could not walk are walking. Those who have had bad skin diseases are healed. Those who could not hear are hearing. The dead are raised up to life and the Good News is preached to poor people. He is happy who is not ashamed of Me and does not turn away because of Me.”

John lived his entire life for Jesus, paving a way, devoted to the coming Messiah, and found himself in prison. We can forgive him for asking, “Um, are you the One?” Maybe he had Jabez in mind, thinking if we’re honorable & faithful, things will go very well for us. Jesus answers in an unusual way, essentially telling him he wasn’t getting out of that cell alive, but he shouldn’t turn away from Him. So, what’s up with this? All of the disciples had horribly tragic deaths (except John – a different John – who had probably only wished he died several times), the prophets didn’t exactly live cushy lives of material comfort. In fact, it seems like Jabez is the exception.

God’s blessing isn’t an exception. God’s generosity isn’t an exception. God’s grace & love aren’t exceptional. It’s only an exception that, in thsi case, His Divine Blessing looks so much like we want it to look, with easy living and loads of land and money.

What do we make of this? First, I can’t remember many prayers I’ve read or heard that sound like this. I wonder how many of us have prayed so boldly, so honestly, so un-self-consciously. I haven’t. Do we think it’s selfish or somehow wrong to ask for what we’d really like from the only One who could really give it to us. Maybe we don’t ask because, what if our answer is like John’s. Maybe our faith isn’t quite built to withstand a “No,” for whatever reason. Maybe we’re afraid to be so open with God, as if He doesn’t know what we’re holding back, leaving unsaid. What does this say about our perspective of God?

This morning, my sister told me a story about how she called a coworker to ask if she’d switch shifts with her. Now, I’m thinking about the vulnerability of that, but also the faith. My sister is likable and great at her job, she’s honorable. But she’s also perseverant, if that coworker says no, I bet she’ll be a little like the parable of the persistent neighbor, asking for bread at midnight over and over until she gets the bread. She asks for what she wants.

Maybe Jabez got what he wanted just because he knew the character of God enough to ask. Right now, if you ask me (and I suppose nobody actually has;), I think these 2 verses are about the heart posture of prayer, and our reverence and child-like belief in Our God. The act of asking says, 1. He loves me. 2. He wants to give me good gifts (even if I might not always know what He would call “good”). 3. I am human, He’s created me to be His child, He knows me, inside and out, so I’ll ask Him. But also, 4. I love Him, I’m grateful, I trust Him to know what I need, so my entire faith doesn’t hang on the thread of His giving me everything I want. I don’t need Him to be my vending machine to love and/or follow Him.

The Bible isn’t always easy to understand, and sometimes the deeper we get, the more mysterious it gets, but that doesn’t make it any less awesome.

A New Story

We are reading the Bible-In-A-Year (capitalized because it must surely be a trademarked property), and yesterday’s reading was fascinating. It felt almost frantic, hurried, urgent – the story as well as the way it was written. The monumental shift in direction happened in relatively few paragraphs, it is jarring, and set against the tone and content of the rest of the books of the Kings, almost shocking to read.

Earlier this week, I wrote about the seeming inability (or rather, unwillingness) of either of the split kingdoms of Israel and Judah to fully eliminate the idolatry of the pagan shrines and asherah poles. Even the most faithful of the kings stop short of total obedience.

In 2 Kings 22-23, the story of Josiah begins quietly, with the proper counting and allocation of the people’s offerings. Then, the record scratches as Hilkiah, the high priest, declares that he has “found” the Book of the Law. At that time, there weren’t Bibles in hotel room drawers (I guess that’s a dated reference because they aren’t there anymore, in our time, but you get the point). There weren’t Bibles for every niche, translated into all different languages, for all ages. There was one hand-written scroll, as far as we can tell. And it was lost. And judging by everyone’s actions & reactions, they had neither seen nor heard it. These spiritual leaders have no idea what they’re reading and what it means, so they seek out the guidance of the prophet Huldah (A WOMAN! Gasp! I wonder what many modern church denominations make of this passage. Anyway…)

Once they hear it and understand, they tear their clothes and weep. They can finally see their intended path, just how far they have strayed, and their hearts are loudly broken. Josiah has it read to the people and commits to actually doing what the Bible says. It’s extraordinary, isn’t it? He makes no excuses, even though he has a good one – he truly didn’t know what it said. But now he did, and was faced with the question with which we all are faced, in the Scriptures, “Now what?”

Josiah answered, quickly, decisively, with his actions. Immediately, he started the process of destroying any and all shrines, poles, and altars. He tore down all avenues of idolatry all over his kingdom, not stopping until all “detestable practices” were demolished. Until “finally, he returned to Jerusalem.”

“Never before had there been a king like Josiah, who turned to the Lord with all his heart and soul and strength, obeying all the laws of Moses. And there has never been a king like him since. (2 Kg 23:25)”

Now what? We all have excuses for living beneath our divine call to love, peace, patience, joy, self-control, righteousness, excuses for living beneath our divine call to really, truly, fully live. So, now what? The Bible tells us exactly who we are and what we’re worth, truths we too often seem to be bent on ignoring. Now what? Will we take our example from the kings of the divided kingdoms and do some, take some steps, move a little, just leave a couple of asherah poles behind? Or from 1 particular king of Judah and dive into becoming who we have been created to be?

[What it looks like for each of us is different, unique. Each of our asherah poles is different. And usually, tearing down the No means saying Yes to something else, something more fitting to our beautiful creation. That’s why relationship WITH God is so important, we hold His hand and He leads us into our own new story.]

Today is our country’s Independence Day, maybe it could be ours, too?