Author: The Bridge Faith Community
Mourning.
In my message on Sunday morning, I was overcome with sadness and I want to tell you why.
A few minutes after 10am, I discovered that a man who was my neighbor had passed away from a prolonged battle with pancreatic cancer. Immediately upon reading, I broke and could not contain the tears that flowed and the grief that racked my body.
To be honest, the pain was a little surprising. I loved him, but hadn’t seen him in many years, like more than 30. (I know not seeing someone for 30+ years makes me VERY old, but we’re not discussing my age. I still look 18 in just the right light from the right angle and distance, and while the running I did this morning makes me feel 144, I usually feel better than I did in college.) It just came so quickly, without time to think or process. I was just crying. Hard.
They were my neighbors when I was a young child, almost a mirror of my own family. The boy was my age, the girl was my sister’s age, their mom was my mom – and almost as awesome, which is high praise indeed – and their dad, my dad. Our dads didn’t hang out, they both liked their time in their own homes, but we all saw each other everyday.
He passed last Thursday during the COVID-19 global shutdown, which means that there will be no service and that this wonderful family will mourn together alone. Without lines of people waiting to love them and without eloquent eulogies and without Psalm 23. I know God is there with them, we’re loving them from here, and Psalm 23 is always there about 1/3 into the Bible. But it feels totally wrong and I hate COVID-19 for it right about now.
It’s a common thing to ask “why?” in this situation, and maybe I will, maybe they are, but I just want to wrap my arms around each of them and tell them how much he mattered to me, even though for 30 years I didn’t recognize it. And tell them how thankful I am that he was in my life.
So, why did he matter to me? After the choked up Sunday sermon on Ruth was over, I mostly just sat in a prayer without words, and when Gisy asked me later, “Do you know why you’re surprised? If it’s that painful, there must have been something special about him,” I had an answer. There WAS something special about him.
He was a man.
In a world where boys grow up into bigger boys, irresponsible, inconsistent, chasing something – who knows what??? Maybe past glory, addictions, pleasure, power, money, status. Maybe they chase to remember, maybe to forget. Maybe to feel or to numb. Who knows? What I know for a fact is that there is a disheartening lack of authentic masculinity. I was always looking to be inspired by the example and leadership of men.
Of course it’s an old-fashioned idea, but that doesn’t make it wrong. Incidentally, I was also looking to be inspired by the example and leadership of smart, strong, courageous women, but there were SO MANY more of those. I had 2 in my own home growing up. Men were much harder to come by, and as a boy, perhaps I couldn’t have named it, but I was looking for someone to show me how to do it; how to grow into one who loved Jesus, his wife and family well, who was consistently genuine, merciful, faithful, trustworthy, loyal, kind and strong, a peaceful warrior, open, safe, and passionate. How was I supposed to know?
He was a man, and there are too few of those in the world, and now that he’s gone, there are less. That was what I mourned, I think. I mourn for his wife and children and friends, that he is now gone and they are without him. But I really liked living in a world with him in it, there was something comforting to know he was here. I guess I mourn for all of us, that a beautiful man is gone and we are without him.
An Undeniable Truth
I just love documentary films. Right now, I am a few episodes into something called ‘Wild Wild Country.’
(On an article called “The 6 Best Documentaries About Cults To Watch On Netflix,” the subtitle was, “What to binge when you’ve finished ‘Wild Wild Country.’” And as I’ve never watched ‘Wild Wild Country,’ that was clearly the next choice. Now, is it weird that the artificial intelligence algorithm recommended an article about cults to me? I wonder what about my previous online history would suggest that cults would be my deal… Anyway, it’s not important to think about that too much; these algorithms are surprisingly on the nose. I would totally be interested in cult docs. So I’m a few episodes deep into ‘Wild Wild Country.’)
It’s about Bhagwan Rajneesh (who is called Osho, I don’t know why) and his gigantic group of followers. They began in India and moved to Oregon, outside of a tiny town called Antelope, and built a town called Rajneeshpuram. Eventually, it’s going to morph into something awful, but I’m not there yet. So far, it’s just setting the scene for that something awful.
I posted months ago about one called ‘Holy Hell’ that was absolutely fascinating. This is not that different. These cults are primarily about community. The members who are interviewed today, decades after the implosions, are still visibly moved, teary-eyed over their paradise lost.
People come in droves to find belonging and family, they give up everything for this pursuit. And they find it. They do. When these films/series begin, it’s easy to see the attraction. Now you ask “Why would they become a part of this????” But when you hear them reflect on their stories, you don’t ask anymore, you know why.
As far back as I can remember, I’ve learned our core virtues are independence and self-reliance. We worship the legend of the solitary hero. We pull ourselves up by our bootstraps. Asking for help is a sign of weakness that isn’t easily transgressed. We suffer in silence, thank you, and please mind your own business about it.
We tell stories about how we were in a big mess, how we were hurting, how we were depressed, how we were at rock bottom – NEVER how we are hurting or at rock bottom – because these stories are actually ones of our incredible capability. It appears and sounds like vulnerability, but is actually the opposite.
We believe we don’t need anyone.
My son will tell you he likes this time, likes being at home, likes not being around people (except Angel and I and sometimes Samuel). He doesn’t, though. He’s increasingly restless, aimless and grouchy. He doesn’t know this is because he has been created for community, because being alone is “not good,” and the other 3 who live in this house are simply not enough for months and months. He calls it “out of sorts.” Yesterday, he was on a Zoom call with 3 of his buddies for a birthday, and it doesn’t take the smartest man in the world to see the “sorts” he’s out of, that he’s missing, is them.
I think he’s like most of us. We’ve believed we’re islands and that we can do it (whatever it is) ourselves and we fill our lives up with anything to distract us from the fact that we are wrong. These cults abuse and manipulate in so many ways, but they always leave us with one undeniable truth. Maybe their power and attraction lies in our stubborn denial of that truth, leaving us empty, wanting and open to the lure of the group.
And if I am grateful to COVID-19, it’s because this virus is showing us, in vivid color, what we have been missing.
Last Dance
I hope we are all watching the 10-part ESPN documentary on the Chicago Bulls, The Last Dance. If you’re not yet, you can (and should) start now. Maybe you should watch the Catfish movie first, but then, for sure, The Last Dance.
What always stands out to me about Michael Jordan (besides his transcendent talent) is not that he always, always gave all he had in games. Anyone can do that, when the seats are full and the electricity is in the air. (I say “Anyone” but I suppose I don’t really mean that in a world where stars sit every few games in the service of “load management.” You understand, though.) Games count in the standings, count for measuring statistics, count for endorsement deals. Michael Jordan played all the games at 11 (on a scale of 1-10), but by all accounts, he played all practices there, too. He lifted weights with the same passionate drive as Game 7 of the Finals. Practice? Not a game. Practice? (That’s an obscure reference to Allen Iverson, who also had a transcendent talent but chose to see practice as an optional obstacle that was to be avoided at all costs. Michael Jordan has 6 championships and Iverson has 0. Jordan is a legend, Iverson is a cautionary tale.)
We aren’t all the most talented NBA players, not the greatest basketball player in history, not global icons. But the principle is the same in Cleona, as a husband, father, friend, neighbor, pastor, dancer, workout-er.
“I get to choose every day how I show up.” (I wrote this down immediately after I heard it, but I didn’t write down who said it. I’m pretty sure it was Hank Fortener. If it wasn’t, I’m super sorry I can’t give appropriate credit.)
I never know who I’ll see, talk to, touch and where they are in their heart, soul, and mind. If they are depressed or desperate, if they are hopeless and searching for the smallest nugget of light in a world that may have, for them, become increasingly dark. I have been them, and many of you have made the choice to show up and connect in a way that forced me to question if it would actually be dark forever. Those who show up speak the fresh words of Jesus, of possibility.
If this were a Sunday service, I’d ask how we’re showing up? Are we showing up too busy to pause, too self-obsessed to look and listen? Are we MJ (this doesn’t mean in our talent or giftedness, but in our commitment to presence) to our spouses and children?
But it’s not a Sunday service, so I’ll just tell you that even though I recognize how important it is, that I don’t always show up in a positive way. I don’t always show up at all. But I’m changing. I get to choose – and that is the first step in anything, to acknowledge our role. It all matters, everything matters. Sunday morning and Tuesday late afternoon. Friday lunch and Monday at 10am. Everything matters. Every interaction, every conversation. Of course, we can have “load management” days, but they must be intentional. We have to acknowledge our role, our ability to choose – and more importantly, we must wake up to the impact our presence can provide.
We so often believe the lie that what we do is of little consequence, that we are a tiny drop of water in the ocean. But we can be the drop that affects the surrounding drops, and when enough drops are moved, those drops can become a tidal wave, capable of rearranging even the most immovable structures. But that outdated, unimaginative, oppressive furniture is only uprooted if we show up.
Blood
In chapter 17 of our favorite book of the Bible, Leviticus, there is a long, detailed explanation/instruction dealing with how we are to handle blood. It’s long, detailed passages like this that give us problems with the Bible and, more specifically, Leviticus. So if we haven’t already skipped over Leviticus, like normal people, we’ll certainly skip over this passage. What does a long, detailed section on blood have to do with us, here, now, today?
Probably nothing.
We’re talking about it today, here, not because I particularly care about blood (as long as it stays on the inside), but maybe this long, detailed section has to do with much more than blood. (Just for knowing, the next 2 paragraphs owe in no small way to Rob Bell.)
First, blood was a way (a BIG way) to talk about life. Usually, if we had your blood on the inside, and not on the ground, you were alive. If not, you weren’t. So any talk about blood was really about life. The other understanding we would have, as readers of the Scriptures is that life is a sacred gift, not a random, senseless occurrence.
Leviticus is about living in a wholly intentional fashion, and Chapter 17 is no different. The blood is a vehicle to heighten our sensitivities to life & death. The people of the time – the people of any time – had a tendency to adopt a pretty cavalier attitude toward life. They/we take it too easily, willingly, as if it is theirs/ours to take. Leviticus is a proclamation, an absolutely revolutionary proclamation, that everything doesn’t exist for our mindless, unreflective consumption.
Maybe chapter 17 isn’t necessarily about blood at all. Maybe it’s about our relationship with each other, with our world, with all things. Chapter 18 is about sex, and there is an absolutely revolutionary proclamation there, too. In fact, it’s the same proclamation: Everything doesn’t exist for our mindless, unreflective consumption. So much of the Law concerns food, and our relationship with it, and includes an absolutely revolutionary proclamation, as well.
Life isn’t only about blood and breath, right? It’s relationships, sex, food, joy, mourning, brushing our teeth, music, pain, exercise, making tacos, laughter, art – and it’s all sacred. And we have a tendency to adopt a pretty cavalier attitude towards all of it.
This COVID-19 disruption in our lives is severe, unexpected, and has shown us just how much of our daily lives have been woefully taken for granted, how much has been mindless and unreflective. I miss my gym and the people there, especially my buddy Rick, and when I look back it’s shocking how little I appreciated my time there. I miss the hands I held and people I squeezed so deeply. I miss seeing people’s smiles at the grocery store. Small things, sure, but it’s the small things that create the texture for a life well lived. Like praying for another with a warm hand on a shoulder. Like the energy of a basketball game. Like a terrific meal in a crowded restaurant. Like breakfast together. Like a birthday party (or 2).
I think the Bible is the way it is because God knew us better than we know ourselves, knew that we would forget, knew that we would reduce each of these glorious blessings to tools, would reduce ourselves to consumers.
Hopefully, this reset is a gigantic reminder and when it’s over (and it will be over), we will take a bit more time to soak in the beauty of life. All of it. Hopefully, our time of mindlessness is already over and when we get to squeeze each other again (and we will get to squeeze each other again), we’ll squeeze each other with overwhelming gratitude for the God that made you, me, and the squeezing.
The problem of Ruth
Gisy’s song of the week: His Eye is on a sparrow
Mr. So-And-So
Gisy’s song of the week: Healer
Catfish, pt 2 (or 3 or 4)
COVID-19 is now a fully political issue. Of course, it has always been a political issue (alcohol- and smoking-related illnesses kill far more than this virus could in any worst-case scenario, but they have much better public relations, more effective lobbyists, so we’ve decided we don’t care too much) but now we have straight party-line protests and “Republicans are now pro-choice” memes. Ah yes, the meme, an ultra-modern genre that feeds on generalized oversimplifications. This particular meme obviously goes both ways but the point of politically generalized oversimplifications is to ignore all that doesn’t support the opinion of the writer. Our hopes that this was a human issue that would bring us together and not a left/right issue have been dashed on the rocks of partisanship, replaced with the usual political maneuvering and more of the same acid-tongued sniping. It’s super depressing and has driven me to posting Red Hot Chili Peppers and Billy Idol album covers on Facebook just to break up the vitriol – I am now that guy. I swore I’d never be that guy, yet here we are.
Everybody knows I loooove the tv show Catfish, about people employing fake profiles online. They do this for any number of reasons (from romance to revenge) and the hosts/detectives track them down and expose them. The show began as a movie, also called Catfish, where the soon-to-be host of the tv show was himself “catfished.” He had fallen in love with a woman that turned out to be a married, middle-aged mother of 3. She had created several fake profiles to interact with each other on Facebook to add depth and reality to the deception.
When you watch the movie (or the show), as the ruse begins to unravel, you’ll feel some level of indignance – “How could they do that????!!?” – decide they are “monsters” and wish for their just desserts. You will get angry at their inhumanity, their vicious callousness at breaking another’s heart. They are the villains in the story, and we along with the victims are the righteous innocent.
In the movie, the filmmakers show up at her door and she continues to lie, as my mom says, like a rug. Finally, she is forced to come clean and the narrative transforms, as do our easy characterizations.
Earlier, I wrote that they do this “for any number of reasons,” and that’s not really true. They mostly do it to find a personal connection that has been lacking.
That sounds familiar, doesn’t it? We’re created for personal connection – this is undeniable, especially now.
But why have they decided that who they are isn’t good enough for this connection?
Well, why have we? Think of all the ways we compromise or cultivate an image that might be more appealing to him or her…because we aren’t satisfied with who we are, because we have believed that we aren’t good enough.
This woman, the “monster,” is a talented artist, 2 of the 3 children are severely disabled. In fact, they are step-children, she chose to marry a man and care for those 2 boys for the rest of their lives. She is intelligent and soft, empathetic and funny. She is terrific. She made a very poor catfishing decision out of loneliness and disconnect that she will regret forever, but it is something she did and not who she is.
I think Catfish should be required viewing for every human being living on earth. We easily fall into the trap where we think those who believe differently are dumb, inhumane, ignorant, misinformed, heartless, but they’re not. (Well, maybe they are, but not always;) Usually, they are exactly like you and me, formed by experiences, wounds, mistakes, ideas, environment, education, suffering, and on and on.
Every Catfish follows pretty much the same arc. Fingers crossed that the person is actually the person we think it is. This wish melts into broken-hearted sadness that what was hoped for, isn’t the reality. Finally, we rebound into a deeper understanding, where we see the other as they are, not an idealized picture on a screen and not the 2dimensional generalization based on their behavior and our fear. This last space can also be called love, where it’s not about control or our wants and desires, not about us at all. Love because it is free of our fearful boxes and labels, free of The Other, free of the desperate need to win (and for someone else to lose.)
Maybe this COVID-19 crisis is like that, too. Maybe this IS a human issue, a global act of grace, but we first have to get past the fearful grasping for what we want, what we think, what we need, before we can discover the love that has been there all along, just waiting for us to arrive.
Guidance/Approval
I’ve been reading the book of Jeremiah for a while now. Usually, we only read Jeremiah in 1-verse increments where the verse is always 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” It’s SUPER famous and perfect for bumper stickers and tattoos. Of course, it follows a 70-year exile and continues with some instructions to seek God with our whole heart, but that doesn’t play as well in a sound bite. We prefer to think about all the ways we want God to “prosper” us, which don’t always include exile.
In chapters 42 and 43, a military officer named Johanan calls for Jeremiah and asks for guidance from God. He promises to do whatever He and his buddies say, “May the Lord be a true and faithful witness against us if we do not act in accordance with everything the Lord your God sends you to tell us. Whether it is favorable or unfavorable, we will obey the Lord our God, to whom we are sending you, so that it will go well with us, for we will obey the Lord our God.” I do that, too, sometimes when I pray. Just save me, heal me, take this (whatever) away and I’ll do anything You ask.
Apparently, Jeremiah has heard all of this before, (for at least 42 chapters,) so when he gives the message from God to “NOT GO TO EGPYT,” he follows it up with, “And today I have told you exactly what he said, but you will not obey the Lord your God any better now than you have in the past. So you can be sure that you will die from war, famine, and disease in Egypt, where you insist on going.”
And of course, they DO go to Egypt, and it doesn’t go that well for them there.
The Bible happened, and the Bible happens. I think this Johanan is an imbecile, obviously, and could’ve saved himself all the trouble if he had only listened! God had plans for him, plans to prosper him and not harm him, but nooo, he had to do things his own way. I shake my head until my neck is sore at this prideful ignorance. And then, after I sit with this for a moment or a day or 20 years, I remember how often I ask for advice, or guidance, or direction when what I really want is approval. I want to be told that yes, my plan is just right. If I’m not told exactly that, then I move on and go to Egypt anyway. I am Johanan more times than I’d ever admit to you.
I want God to prosper me (but maybe prosperity means something different in God’s economy), to bless MY plans, to give me a hope and future as long as they’re the hopes and futures for which I’ve been praying (but maybe His idea of a hope and a future is different from mine.)
I want the control, I want to be right, I want to know, I want to go to Egypt. I used to think I had all the answers. Probably Johanan did, too. Probably going to Egypt sounded like a smart plan.
29:11 begins, “For I know…” Maybe I don’t have to know. Maybe it’s just enough that He does. And maybe that’s the point.
Resurrection Sunday
Gisy’s Song of the week.
The Bridge Faith Community 