Audio Message

The Post Office

This morning I went to the post office to buy some stamps. I arrived at 8:58am (according to my watch) and found the door locked, so I sat on the steps to wait. 2 minutes later (and not a second before), I heard the door unlock behind me. I pretended the clerk greeted me and invited me in, so I followed him to the desk, where I stood for a few moments while he did something very pressing at the desk behind the counter.

I said, “Good morning,” and it appeared to startle him. He asked what is was I wanted, and I said I needed some stamps. I considered making a joke about being so old that I still used the mail, but thought better of it, and instead answered his, “a sheet or book or what?” with, “I guess a sheet, how many are in a sheet.” He may have answered, but I didn’t hear/understand, so I got a sheet, paid $13.20 (!! When I was young, that would have bought me a thousand stamps, so that must be how many are in a sheet) and left.

I came from the gym, where I had to do my workout in reverse. Today is Leg Day and I needed a rack to do my squats and dead lifts, but all 4 were taken. I did 5 sets of calf raises, 4 of abductions/adductions, 3 sets of leg extensions, and 3 of Romanian dead lifts – it’s not important to know what those things are, just that I did 19 sets, while watching the guy on the last rack do 1 set, choosing instead to sit on the bench and look at his phone. 1 set.

Then I went to a local butcher, which I call The Tapioca Shop in honor of the shockingly delicious creamed pearl tapioca. The cashier who checked me out was not new, I see her nearly every week, and that is no problem at all, because she is fantastic. She isn’t going to break your neck with her blinding speed, but that is hardly important. I often with she were even a little slower, so I could have more time with her.

She made me think of the young woman who works at the gym, always smiling and waving to everyone who is lucky enough to walk inside.

SO as I left The Tapioca Shop, a small passage in Colossians came to mind, chapter 3, verses 23 & 24: Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.

It’s not my intention to blast the postal clerk at all, I don’t mind blasting the phone guy from the gym, but it’s the 2 others that are interesting to me. Those 2 women give everything they have, they work with all their hearts, minds, and souls, as if serving the Lord. They aren’t cleaning workout equipment for me, not selling tapioca to me, they are truly serving the Lord.

I know they don’t always feel like it. Their lives aren’t perfect – no one’s are, though I hope theirs are fulfilling and all of their relationships are awesome, that they’re treated like somebody’s treasure. The older woman wears gloves, maybe she is in pain, maybe she didn’t sleep well, maybe the younger woman is fighting off a cold or has a headache.

I don’t always feel like it, either, and neither do you. But that’s not covered in the Scriptures.

We’re just called to serve God. We’re called to love each other. These women do, am I? Do I always show up, and give everything I have to give? If that answer is no, then I should probably recalibrate. I’m really grateful I have these women as such cool examples who help to show me how to do it.

Be Very Careful

I finished my book, Be Very Careful Who You Marry, this week. As you can imagine, it’s a book about marriage. But it’s also a detailed look at the first 3 chapters of Genesis, as well as the Rupert Holmes song, “Escape (The Pine Colada song).”

It’s finished, but hasn’t been printed yet. First, before it goes to the printer, I sent it to several people to read. Just because I like it doesn’t mean anyone else will. There are those who lie and say, “I don’t care what anyone else thinks.” Others actually mean it. I am neither. I care. This is not a vanity project. I didn’t sit in front of this computer typing and deleting away for years to satisfy my ravenous ego. The idea is that you would love it, that you would think it’s the best thing you’ve ever read and give it to everyone you know, but far more importantly, it is an invitation into a new depth in your own relationships, including your marriage (if you happen to be married. If you are not, it will still have much for you, it’s not only a marriage book.) As you already know, I believe loving each other is the way to repair the brokenness in this world. It’s a pyramid scheme that begins in our homes, then goes out to infect everybody else, which is only possible with the love of Jesus as The Engine that drives everything.

But this is not an advertisement. There will be one, but only when I have the book back in my hands and ready to hand out. This is another thing altogether, but the another thing altogether makes more sense if you know this is years in the making to arrive here.

So, I sent it out to finally allow eyes and hearts other than my own to see it, and that is an absolutely terrifying step to take.

When we ask questions, we give all of the power to the other person. They can say “no.” Or they can say “I hate your book. It’s a giant mess that makes no sense.” When we ask, we have to be prepared for all of the answers. When I proposed to The Angel in the peace garden at LVC, there was the distinct possibility that she would have broken my heart.

I did send it to my mom, so I was reasonably sure to have at least one big fan. She read the entire thing in one sitting and loved it, but she already thinks I’m the greatest. I wouldn’t have been prepared for all of the answers with her. But in my life, moms are the exception.

I hit send to share it, and paced around my house for an hour. I’m still sitting in that space of hope and anxiety, in TOTAL vulnerability. I am wide open.

And that is the point. Why would I do this? Why would any of us open ourselves up to be shattered – which, as we all are very well aware, happens? Why would we take shots if we might miss and become “the one who missed the last second shot?” And I am an awfully sensitive man, so I recognize the position into which I’ve put these people. Can you imagine if they do hate it? Now, they have to either lie to me, or worse, tell me the truth. Why why why???

We do this because we have been called into community and connection, neither of which is possible without an insane amount of vulnerability. Loving another person opens us up to unspeakable heartache. Giving carries the chance that the receiver will throw your gift straight into the trash can. But instead of giving some sweater you bought at Target, we’re giving ourselves. I’ve given years of work, and my heart on a platter.

It’s a risk-reward game where the reward doesn’t matter too much, honestly. The reward isn’t even what we think it is. We might never see them wear our sweater. We might never see them read our book and take one beautiful step towards their partner. And none of that matters, because everything matters. We give because Jesus gave, Jesus gives, and asks us to do the same. We forgive, serve, love because Jesus does and asks us to do the same.

So we do our version of “hitting send” over and over and over, we open ourselves, and in return, we get love or we get…well, not love. But we’re different afterwards, closer to Jesus and closer to who He’s created us to be.

We listen, participate, and offer it (whatever our IT is), and from there, it’s His. We follow, and of course it’s scary, but we haven’t ever been promised safety and comfort. In fact, we’re promised mostly the opposite. I guess in that sense, it really doesn’t matter what anyone thinks – there’s only really One sitting in the audience, and the gift is mostly what He cares about.

I still hope everybody likes it, anyway.

WAR

A very good friend asked me yesterday why we did not pray for Israel on Sunday morning. She thought it was something we should (and would) do, and she’s right. My embarrassing answer is that I simply did not know, had not heard. I read news email letters and blogs, but had not for days, and when I stood up to speak about the needs of the Church in Jerusalem in the early A.D.s, I did not know about the needs of the Jewish people in the early 2023.

The Church, and all local churches, have a duty to speak openly about everything – we can’t hide our heads from the intense glare of any subject, no matter how controversial or uncomfortable it makes us. This includes money, sex, homosexuality, politics, and on and on. This also includes war.

I prayerfully considered what to say, how to react to this heartbreaking reality. Last night I read a post on Instagram from a church in California called Mosaic, and it’s pastor Erwin McManus. Sometimes, the words of another capture our own perfectly. This is the post:

“We stand with Israel. We are all aware the conflict between Israel and Palestine is violent, tragic, and complicated. In war, innocent people die on both sides. However, the slaughter of innocent civilians including women, children and the elderly is not complicated. It is evil. Over 260 innocent Jewish people were killed by Hamas at a music festival. In comparison to the US population, it is the equivalent of murdering 9,000 citizens.

The actions of Hamas are not only tragic for the Jewish people, but they bring an inevitable escalation of violence that will result in the deaths of countless innocent Palestinians as well.

We extend empathy to the people in Palestine while condemning the actions of the Hamas terrorists who claim to act on their behalf.

We grieve with those who have lost loved ones and the comfort of feeling safe in their own homes. We stand with Israel and their right to not just exist, but to defend themselves.

We cannot believe the lie that peace between Israel and Palestine is impossible.

We stand in the gap with prayer. We pray for Israel. We pray for Palestine. We pray for peace. We pray for healing. We pray for the miraculous.”

We do stand with Israel. We stand with humanity. We stand against the horrors of violence, terror, and war. Period, full stop.

And now 2 things for us, thousands of miles away, to think about.

First, are our prayers enough? When someone is shivering outside on a cold January morning, do we walk by and say, “thoughts and prayers,” as we so often do? The Jewish people (and the innocent Palestinians, who are not part of Hamas) are shivering, freezing to death, what now? Is there anything for us to do, individually, corporately? Maybe. Maybe prayer is much, much more than enough.

Do we believe in the power of prayer to affect situations, in our lives, communities, or in conflicts halfway across the world? Do we really believe this?

That’s the 2nd – What exactly do we believe? Jesus says, “love your enemies,” what does that mean today? What does it look like to turn the other cheek, or to give them your cloak when they take your tunic? Jesus tells Peter to put his sword away, after he severs the ear of one of the Roman soldiers who had come to arrest Jesus, and ultimately lead Him to the cross. That is righteous violence, maybe the most righteous cause anyone has ever fought for, and Jesus tells him no, and then heals the soldier, who was actively participating in killing Him.

When McManus says, “the right…to defend themselves,” what does that mean? Of course, we are called to stand, to protect, to defend, but what do those words mean?

As long as we’re on the subject of words, what do forgiveness and grace mean? Do they apply? Who are we supposed to forgive “70 x 7 times?” Do we love? What does love look like in spaces like this? Does our forgiveness, grace, and love include Hamas?

They are still children of God, whether they know it, or whether they care, or whether they act like it – now what does that mean? What would Jesus do?

Is our theology realistic here, now, in 2023?

I might know what I think. I might know what I want to think. I might acknowledge that they are sometimes different. These are incredibly complex questions, with no easy answers, but it’s absolutely vital that we keep asking them.

We stand in the gap with prayer. We pray for Israel. We pray for Palestine. We pray for peace. We pray for healing. We pray for the miraculous.

“Amen. Come, Lord Jesus. The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God’s people. Amen.” (Rev. 22:20-21)

3 Jobs For The Site Prompt

I write another blog, too, called lovewithacapitall.com. It’s a space where I talk about songs and movies and anything else that interests me. It’s sometimes not as specifically about Jesus as this one is, but I would be lying if I said it wasn’t about Jesus at all. Everything is about Jesus.

This is the post I wrote last week. I wrote it here because it was sort of about my birthday, and if I had shared it then on the Bridge site, it was a little too much like fishing for Happy Birthday’s and expensive gifts. (I don’t personally know most of the people who read the love blog, so presents are unlikely.) I don’t want birthday presents anymore, I have already received all of the gifts I could ever want. But I do want to share this with you because we walk our paths together, and ostensibly, you care for me, so this is where & who I am, now at 48. Thank you for being here.

The site prompt is to list 3 jobs I’d pursue if money didn’t matter, which is a terrific door to enter, especially today. You see, it’s my birthday, and it’s interesting how things change over a lifetime.

When I was a younger man, birthdays were about celebrating me. (Now that I say it out loud, it seems like it should be a day to celebrate my mom – I was a 10lb baby – but maybe I was the best gift for her already, right? Ha. Anyway.) But now, pretty imperceptibly over the years, they have morphed into celebrating the people that are in my life. No longer celebrating me, but celebrating you for pouring into me in such wildly different and always beautiful ways. 

I try to be a pretty thoughtful person, authentic and self aware, which leads me into days and moments where I look backwards & forwards, but mostly, I look around. Where am I? Who am I, who have I become, and who am I becoming? A birthday, as my phone is busy with well wishes and funny gifs, is a good day for that sort of thing.

So, as for 3 jobs. 3. Lead singer in a rock band. I wish I could sing the songs I wish I could write. My sister and I are always grateful that we have been given the gift of feeling songs so deeply, we cry easily at chord changes and perfect lyrics. Given the choice, I would have written “I Can’t Help Myself,” by Gene or “Hey Jealousy,” by the Gin Blossoms, and been an awesome front man, doing high kicks like David Lee Roth and being cool, like Billy Idol.

2. Superhero. This kind of goes without saying, we’d all put superhero at #2. We’d rescue our love interests, catch bad guys, return purses, and just generally set things right. 

And at 1. Pastor of a local faith community, which, in a wonderful twist of fate, is the one I actually have. I used to say I have virtually no skills, certainly none with which I could ever make a living, but that turned out to be untrue. I’m not overflowing with cash or anything, but that never mattered too much to me. In every way that does mean anything, I am the wealthiest person I know. Falling in love with Jesus is the best thing that ever happened to me, for a million reasons. 

As I look at the 3, they’re very similar, aren’t they? I never connected that, until this very moment.

So. These 48 years that brought me here, with you, have been awesome – full of loss, pain, tears, heartbreak, laughter and unspeakable joy. I’m surrounded by the greatest people, doing the things I love to do; deadlifts, puzzles, watching dumb documentaries, listening, breathing, holding hands, kissing the Angel, loving God (and everybody else), and and and. That list could go on forever, I really love to do tons of things, but mostly I love to be here, now. So, how did I happen to get here? What did I do to deserve a life like this? Nothing. Nobody deserves a life like this. We just accept it, as the amazing grace that it is.

I am a very simple man, and I am overwhelmingly thankful. To paraphrase the best Dr. Seuss book, Horton Hatches The Egg: I am happy, 100 percent.

Influence

The Halloween season is here again, and there is almost nothing I like about it. I don’t like giant spiders and killer clowns, hate being scared, and generally don’t appreciate the pall of darkness. The last horror movie I saw was Saw the week Samuel was born, who is now 18 years old. I can’t imagine the circumstances where I’ll ever see another – I turn the channel or look away when trailers come on tv.

I don’t hate handing out ever-shrinking sizes of candy to cute neighborhood children dressed like Woody & Buzz walking with their parents. But sometimes they’re vampires or clowns, and the fun of Halloween is gone.

Now, if you know me at all, just because I’m not a Halloween person doesn’t mean you can’t be. I don’t want to make clown masks or scary yard cobwebs and skeletons illegal. Enjoy. Perhaps you don’t love everything I love, either. It’s the differences that add texture and color to our lives.

There is a family who lives in my town who, every Halloween season, creates a horrific hellscape of death in front of their house, complete with life-size bodies hanging by their necks from a gallows along main street. Again, I’m not suggesting the township legislate just how creepy or disturbing anybody’s house can be, but it does have me thinking about the verse in 1st Corinthians 15, “bad company corrupts good habits,” and the many ways we’re influenced.

When my boys were very young, the Angel and I noticed a peculiar causation. When they would watch extended periods of Tom & Jerry, they would become increasingly aggressive and violent. We would put Kipper or the Backyardigans (NEVER Caillou!!!!!!) on instead, and the peaceful sweetness would immediately return.

The things we put into our ears, eyes, heads and hearts matter, they have the power to subtly (or not so subtly) change us.

I know, I know, we are not the type to be swayed. We are the exceptions. We’re “mighty,” like Thor (in Age of Ultron), unable to be manipulated, right up until the point where he is manipulated. There is a reason bazillions of dollars are spent on advertising & marketing. So, even though we are very mighty, it’s still very important that we pay close attention to what, and to whom, we are giving our time and attention.

Spend time with The Complainers at work, and see if we don’t begin seeing half-empty glasses all over the place.

We can think our marriages are boring and broken because the carefully curated marriages we see for hours scrolling through Facebook are soooooo wonderful, everybody’s perfect and totally fulfilled. Except they’re usually not.

If we watched tons of pornography, we might start to think it’s real, that sex is actually like that, or that we are actually like that.

It matters what food we put into our bodies. If we ate nothing but candy bars, that would have an effect on how we feel, how we think, what we do, right? Why are the songs we listen to or books we read any different? Or the people we follow, on TikTok or in real life?

They’re not.

The good news is that it works both ways. There are people who bring out the best in us, movies that inspire us, Instagram feeds that engage & push us forward. I think Paul probably had in mind this family in my town and their Halloween decorations when he wrote (in Philippians 4:8), “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

Here’s what’s interesting: maybe Halloween is “lovely” and “excellent” to you. Maybe this nightmare-ish scene inspires you and helps you to see the boundless creativity that God gave to all of us. Maybe you see Jesus as she plays her version of the Gospel song. Just because I don’t understand that doesn’t make it impossible. Tom & Jerry didn’t make me want to punch anyone. But we need to ask the questions for ourselves, with the guidance of The Spirit, we need to step back and look at what is going into our souls, what all of that input is doing once it gets inside, and if the effect is really a positive one.

We’ll just stay away from Caillou and clowns, though, ok?

Questions…

“…as we contemplate how we spend our time and money, it’s important that we realize that being a healthy member of a healthy church will have a direct impact on those issues as well. There’s nothing we can do for our families that will have a greater positive impact than making sure we’re members of a healthy local church.

I’ve seen evidence of this firsthand as I’ve had conversation after conversation with fathers and mothers who are committed to family discipleship, but who are struggling tremendously as they either attend an unhealthy church or no church at all. These families don’t testify of overwhelming joy and fulfillment because “family is enough.” On the contrary, they testify to struggle, strain, loneliness, fear, isolation, and despair.

Family discipleship is absolutely critical, but there’s no substitute for healthy membership in a healthy local church.”

Voddie Baucham Jr wrote that in a book called Family Shepherds. It’s the perfect kind of book; it’s convicting, challenging, an absolute call up to me (and, honestly, probably all of us), but it is also a book with which I don’t always agree. These parts engage me, invite me to dive a bit more deeply into what I say I believe, what I truly believe, if they are the same, and why I believe those things. Then I am satisfied because I still disagree (based on solid teaching, learning, understanding, and/or practice) or, in a very uncomfortable twist, I am left untethered to my own ideas (either because they come from a faulty theology, a cultural hijacking of my spirituality, or from nowhere at all, simply because I’ve never examined them) and have a decision to make. Do I let go of the known past and step into the unknown abyss? Or do I continue to cling to old, wrong, misguided baggage?

You already know which I’d prefer to choose. You also know which I actually choose.

This is not why I included the earlier quote, it’s just why I care about the book, and why I like it so much.

I included the passage because it confronts all of us, on some level or another. Do we belong to a local church? Should we? Do we take it seriously? What exactly is family discipleship? What do we testify to, in our own lives and families? Is it joy and fulfillment? Or is our story one of struggle, strain, loneliness, fear, isolation, and despair? What does it mean to have a “healthy” membership? What is a “healthy” local church? Is the Bridge one of those?

3 small-ish paragraphs that beg soooo many questions. Are we asking them or just turning the page? Are we wrestling with these concepts or falling asleep as we try to finish the chapter?

Is there really “nothing we can do for our families that will have a greater positive impact than making sure we’re members of a healthy local church?” It feels like a conflict of interest for me to ask these questions, because I happen to know of a local church that would love to have you. But if I take my job seriously, my purpose isn’t to increase Sunday morning attendance (well, I suppose it is a purpose, or part of a purpose, but it’s nowhere close to THE main purpose, which is to share the Gospel, point everybody to Jesus, tell & show them He loves us here and now, loving in the way I do all along the way). My professional and my personal missions happen to be the same, so my call is to ask questions that will lead us to who we really are, which will always, always lead us to Him.

Maybe there isn’t a clever last line to this post. I usually like to do that;) But maybe we’re just asking questions and figuring out if we’ll answer them honestly, and then, if we’ll move based on those answers. Who knows? I just love that we can find out together.

A Short Post On Perspective

All 4 of us who live in this house eat dinner together nearly every night, and I dream it’s the best part of each of our days. It certainly is, for me. I am very grateful. So last night, the boys shared a cool story of 2 local brothers making music on SoundCloud (a music sharing website). I can’t tell you how much I love the idea of everyone having the opportunity and space to share their God-given creativity.

The internet has so many dangers and vicious traps, but it also overflows with beauty and connection. It is a place of possibility.

The boys who made the songs are what I would kindly label, or what we would’ve labeled when I was young, “at risk.” They are often in trouble, of various kinds and of various severity. I have a small relationship with one who comes into the weight room, (the other not so much), and have real concerns about both. Different, but equally serious, concerns for each.

But this SoundCloud situation elated me. I didn’t imagine the songs would be particularly good, not something I’d ‘like,’ but that’s hardly the point, is it? They were expressing themselves in a positive fashion and not in any one of the million negative ways that are open to them. Knowing them fairly well, we laughed at the prospect of what they would consider art. Art is subjective, but let’s be honest, not all is awesome. We found their page and clicked on the first track.

What was funny and wonderful turned on the first word. Smiles immediately disappeared, as our hearts wept together.

One of the best things about artistic expression is that we can learn the things we’d never say out loud. I knew these boys were broken, but had no idea how deeply.

The point is this. The one I know is mostly quiet and lonely, which can come across as surly and disrespectful. The other is surly and disrespectful. Neither is particularly likable, they can be quite nasty and stand-offish. And that can drive us all away. After all, we don’t seek out people who are distant and mean to us.

But these kids are severely broken. We know the ones who appear to like others the least like themselves least of all. And it’s not even close. As followers of the Living Christ, we are called to love everybody, so what does that look like, in this circumstance? It surely won’t look the same for each of us, but the first step is shifting our perspective. They aren’t punk kids, or freaks, or anything else.

They’re our kids, and they’re hurting. Now what?

Teleological

“Don, all relationships are teleological.”

I asked him what the word teleological means.

“It means they’re going somewhere,” Al said. “All relationships are living and alive and moving and becoming something. My question to you,” Al said seriously, “is, where is the relationship you’ve started with this woman going?”

This is a passage from a book called Scary Close, by Donald Miller (who wrote Blue Like Jazz, which happens to be the very first spiritual book I ever read.) It’s about plans and visions. He later writes, “I would never walk into my office without a plan. As the leader of my company, my team depends on me to know where we are going and how important each of them are to the journey. I can’t believe I almost went into my marriage, which is infinitely more important than my business, without a plan.”

He’s writing about a romantic relationship, and his point is deeply convicting to me. It’s making me consider where my marriage is going, and if it’s actually where we think it is, and if it encompasses the values we both hold. Sometimes, we can start with a plan (loosely held, of course – God has a way of changing the plans written in pen) and over time, for whatever reason (busyness, distraction, laziness, success, career, taking the other for granted, and on and on), we lose or ignore our initial vision. Then we’re just moving mindlessly, hoping to end somewhere good.

But that’s not exactly what I want to talk about here, together in this space. The word teleological is used here to describe relationships, and that might be the only proper usage, but I haven’t really cared about proper usage before, so I’m not going to start now. Our own interior lives – physically, emotionally, intellectually, and I would suggest most importantly, spiritually – are teleological, too. We are going somewhere, and to pretend that we’re not, or that we can move in a certain direction without a plan, is itself a plan, but it’s a dangerous one that will lead nowhere.

We have 5 year strategic plans at work, but none for our greatest work of art; our lives.

It is confusing (and sort of maddening, if I’m honest) that we would be so resistant to change, if we choose to be intentional with our lives. We notice there’s food between our teeth, so we decide to floss (and then floss). That sounds reasonably obvious. But when we notice red lights on our dashboard or food between the metaphorical teeth of our soul, we completely ignore it, and we justify that, in ourselves and others, as being our fear of change.

We’re going somewhere. So, where is it? Are we leaning into a new future, holding on to the past, or just sitting down in the aisle like I used to do in the toy section of the Hills department store, hoping eventually to get what I want.

A plan doesn’t mean it’ll be easy or smooth, it simply means we get to choose our pain. Will the inevitable pain be meaningful, as we are on the road to becoming who we have been created to be? Or will it be random and chaotic, just turbulence on the dark road where we happen to find ourselves, with no purpose or significance?

But it does require examination, honesty, vulnerability, and courage; 4 characteristics that have been phased out by comfort, immediate gratification, and convenience. It’s really time to take them back, to take us back. We are Resurrection people, who desperately need to engage our imaginations, invite them back into our lives and dream again about where this could all go, if we would only show up.

Saturday Afternoons

Last week in this space, I wrote that I sometimes get the overwhelming privilege of officiating weddings. I’ve always liked weddings, because I have always really loved marriage. Even before I fell in love with Jesus, I found this particular gift of His deeply significant. I’m certain I wouldn’t have used the word sacred, but that’s exactly what I felt. In the best of situations, the space is thin, God stands with them as they make their promises before Him to each other. It’s impossible to understate the weight of this moment that will affect the rest of their lives.

Last Saturday, at a cool old barn in the country, I had the opportunity to do it again. I can be found on an app (a story too long to explain here, maybe another time), which means I don’t often know the couple as well as I’d like. These 2 were lovely, I knew that, and I liked them a lot, but at the time, as I arrived for the wedding, I didn’t know how extraordinary they were. (I could write forever, with great detail, but I’ll try to do my best not to. Try.)

The ceremony was outside on a perfect day, and as the guests filed in, they were dressed peculiarly. I didn’t know what was going on, except to say it was wonderful. I’d later ask and discover the style was called “steampunk.” As a very old man, I try to stay up on things, knew the word, had heard it before, but was unfamiliar with it in the wild. If you Google “steampunk” and choose images, you’ll see exactly what I saw.

Culturally, we are moving towards a blurry, undifferentiated everything. Nothing is set apart, nothing is special. People regularly show up late for everything, and that’s a shame, but we also show up late for weddings, and that is much worse than a shame. That is heartbreaking in its disrespect – for the couple, the commitment, and the institution, as well as for themselves. But we also now arrive dressed in t-shirts and shorts, as well. The lines defining common and sacred are erased, and in these cases, it doesn’t make everything sacred, it does the opposite.

These steampunks had prepared for weeks or months, and looked like all the money in the world. They cared so much for their friends and the day to set it aside, to make it different from all others. We should all have ‘family’ like them. Each one was absolutely stunning, fit for the first day of a new marriage.

My message is usually about the kind of love called agape, which is a love that doesn’t care if we want to. We see love not as selfish, temporary feelings and emotions, but as vital decisions made every minute of every day. This couple chose a film quotation to be read, and that passage, with lines like, “when [love as a feeling] subsides, you have to make a decision…love is not breathlessness…not excitement…not eternal passion…love is what’s left over…an art.” This “left over” love are “roots that grow towards each other.”

Then, then!!! The vows they wrote for, and read to, each other left all of us awestruck. He is not an overly gushy, public orator, but he was eloquent and soft, kind, awake to the gift he had been given. She began and spoke of love as noun, how he made her want to believe in it, but she still did not. She believes in the noun as verb, as a choice. In the most gorgeous poetry you’d ever hear, she detailed a list of “I will choose you’s.” I will choose you when we do this. I will choose you when we do that, when we feel this, when we don’t feel that, over and over, each one more impactful than the last.

When she finished, this professional officiant had no words. The right words were “please put the ring on her finger and repeat after me,” words I had said a hundred times, words I could utter in my sleep, and words I started no less than 3 times before realizing I could not say them at that particular moment.

We had not planned anything together, didn’t share messages with each other, this was solely the work of the God that was there, then, celebrating in that moment, and is also here, now, present in this moment. He moved in each of us, in our solitude, in our individual preparation (which was obviously never individual at all), to craft a masterpiece of divine love and revelation. Of course, I was speechless, how could I be anything else?

This matters today, because there are many things I don’t understand and cannot fix, that are emotionally exacting a great toll. Just one specific example of too many is the local school district, which is in ruins, crumbling around our heads as we whistle through the debris. I ask why? What is happening? What good could possibly come from this wreckage? What now? Doesn’t anyone see?

And as I ask/scream those questions, I am reminded of Saturday afternoon. I am reminded of the many previous “Saturday afternoons,” where God spectacularly revealed the Hands we were in, and were always in. If He was there, He might be here, too. Maybe instead of crumbling down, instead of falling apart, maybe these things are falling into place. Maybe to build His new masterpiece, He (or we) have to tear down the old. I’m not sure, I don’t have any evidence of any of it, but that’s what trust is, right? To have faith that the same God who brought Rachel & Brandon together and has been creating their wedding day for who knows how many years is also working in the schools, relationships and offices we think are broken beyond repair. Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe if we have eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts that work, He’s going to take our breath away, like He has a million times before.

1’s & 2’s

Many years ago (far too many to think about for long), a very close friend said that she wished her daughter would find a man who looked at her like I look at the Angel. I can’t say I knew what that meant, then, I was simply looking at my special lady. It wasn’t calculated, like I was performing for an audience who would immediately decide that I was the most Wonderful Man on Earth, romantic and love struck. (Obviously I was, and am, none of those things, except probably love struck.)

Now I know what her comment means. (And the “love” I knew in the phrase “love struck” isn’t even close to the “love” that I know now, the old one was a child’s love, emotional, temperamental, and, sadly, selfish. My definition of love has sure changed, but I am still love struck;)

I get the amazing honor of officiating marriages, in addition to the even more amazing honor of being a pastor of a faith community. I meet lots of engaged couples, and walk alongside people in various states of relationship in the ministry in which I have been called and in which I have embraced. Sometimes, the relationships are rock solid and inspiring. But often, those relationships are hurting and/or broken, the engaged couples are shaky, and the love they are chasing to the altar and have based their marriages on is the teenage kind.

One of those couples, due to marry in September, is a beautiful exception. The man is kind and gentle and looks at his fiancé with such devotion it almost makes me cry. They have been together for years and the first several years were not easy. Not at all. There were challenges & trials that would have driven the majority of couples apart, but he remained. They remained. People that show up and stay are very remarkable. I left our recent meeting shortly after them and caught him opening the passenger door for her. He didn’t know I was there, the performance was for no one but her, which probably makes it no performance at all. It’s just what he does. Of course, this isn’t to say opening car doors is the main evidence of love, but it is context.

I asked if they were writing their own vows, and that is usually met with the answer, “I really want to, but he doesn’t.” I don’t think that answer is charming. This couple, though, she said, “I don’t think so,” and he tilted his head and asked why. After her answer, he said, “I’d like to, I’ve already been writing them.”

A few times, I’ve asked the bride-to-be, “Are you sure?” I will not ask this couple. Their love is deep and real, the agape kind. Hopefully, there’s a truckload of Eros and Philia, too, but I don’t care about those nearly as much. They are sure.

Almost every wedding, I leave and say prayers that their love will transform into agape and they will stay together and slow the trend in the marriage statistics that say more fail than ever before. I will pray for them, but I don’t need to hope for transformation. I will just pray they remember to choose each other every time.

I know how I look at the Angel, and how I feel about her, and how I choose her. I’m not special, not the basis of countless romance novels or rom-coms. I have more than my fair share of faults that you are well aware of by now. I am not such hot stuff. But even I can notice that the way we love each other is rare, indeed.

The way I’m writing it in this marriage book I’m working on (still!!!!) is in terms of 1’s and 2’s. First, the 1, always and all ways, is Jesus. But with that fundamental exception, the 1 should be our partner, significant other, spouse. If he/she is the 1, our selfish nature is quiet and the love will likely be an intentional, agape love. We will look at them (and treat them) with kindness, patience, forgiveness, with care, we will love them, even in those times we don’t particularly like them. Way too often, in our relationships, we are the 2, coming in behind anything: another person, work, sports, bowling, video games, cars, working out, etc. The secret here is that, what we think the 1 is never the actual 1. Instead, the 1 is always ME. This is not the healthy love/care for yourself, it’s grounded in What I want, What you can do for me, How you can make me feel. This sort of relationship ends with any uncomfortability for me, and I’d call it “falling out of love,” or my personal favorite nonsensical excuse, “I still love them, I’m just not in love with them.” Really, it’s just that they are no longer meeting my every need when and how I want. They are the 2 in this fragile union.

She is not his 2, and that is worthy of the greatest celebration.