Audio Message

Sunday Morning Telephone Call

At the end of every Sunday service, our community gathers into a circle-ish shape, holding hands for a closing prayer. Last week, at this precise moment, my phone rang. (Of all people to have a ringing phone on Sunday morning, right?) I silenced the noise and after making a short obvious joke (“who calls me on a Sunday morning???”), said, “I wish I could tell you who that was.”

Now I can.

I began journals for my boys on the day we found out they were alive. That is, the day we were blessed with a positive pregnancy test. Each began with, “Today is _____, and at ____pm, we found out you were here.” I continued these journals for the 9 months, then through the first year of their lives on the outside. They are an account of their growth (“you are probably the size of a cashew by now”), current events (war, terrorism, political elections, etc), personal events (my dad passed during Samuel’s first year, etc), advice (just in case I’m not there to pass it along face-to-face), and very much more. Essentially, it is an account of who we were. As they grew and transformed, so did I. So did I.

I had to wait to give them. There are content issues not fit for a 7 year old, for example. But more importantly, I had to be ok with the possibility that they may not read them. Just because they’re so overwhelmingly significant to me doesn’t mean they’ll mean the same to them, at least now. And that has been terrifying, it would have broken my heart and I would’ve been, in my unspeakable hurt, angry. It had to be a gift that I could offer, completely unconditionally. They had to be free to casually cast them aside for the next gift.

An interesting fact is that these journals (along with 2 novels I wrote in college) are the only things I wrote that we saved in the flood. Everything else (crates FULL of notebooks) went under and were unable to be salvaged. The Angel knew the importance of these and rescued them before she left that night.

Anyway. This was the year to give them. The book for the youngest was handwritten, but the oldest’s was a stack of printed papers that needed to be bound. Staples is a chain office supply store that offers this service. I took all 3 in (his book and the 2 novels) and, as I handed them across the desk (they would take 1 day), the weight of the paper and distance of the desk become clear. What if something happened? There were no extra copies, no back-ups, no possible replacements. I held them tightly, said, “they are very meaningful to me,” and this sweet young man behind the desk replied, “I will take care of them.”

But that didn’t make the night go much easier. So, when Staples came up on my phone during our prayer circle, it was a thrilling relief. (Of course, it could have been a message saying, “sorry, we lost your work,” but I was convinced that sort of message wouldn’t come during worship.) He DID take care of them.

I gave my sons their books, their love letters, their written illustration of my heart, their account of how much they are loved by their daddy, on Christmas morning. I may have abstractly mentioned them in passing through the years, so there were rumors of their existence, but to see them in their hands was extraordinary. They didn’t cry, but I sure did. To see the young men I wrote these words to so many years ago, holding them in their hands, is… well, it’s a big deal. It’s an honor, responsibility, joy to be a dad, their dad. (In a colossal understatement,) It’s just the best.

The most important decision we make is to say Yes to Jesus, then we participate with the Spirit to create these beautiful, faithful, dedicated lives. These books are simply a way that love, His love, comes out of me. Our lives are our greatest artwork. And My life (of which these books – and my marriage, the Bridge, my work, relationships, everything – are a part) is mine; my offering, my response, the way I say Thank You to My Savior, Who has given me everything and more.

So, that was the phone call. It was a very welcome interruption.

Play

The site prompt today is “what was the last thing you did for play or fun?” And probably this is it for me. I like to write, it’s super fun. But I was also thinking about you this morning and opened my computer to post. This question is in the same ballpark.

So first, what was the last thing you did for play or fun? Do you love to sing, or play the guitar? Paint? Work out, make or eat a great meal, reorganize your closet? Meet a friend for lunch? Binge watch tv shows or go to the movie theater? Play board games, read novels, listen to Morrissey albums, watch high school basketball games? Sleep? Kiss your wife? What are the things that make you come alive, refresh you, or give you rest? What are the things that are like revival to your tired soul? What are the things that, when you do them, you lose time & think, “I was born to do this, and could do it forever?”

I sat down to write this because I’m neck deep in reflection, evaluation, and anticipation – of the last year, the last several years, the upcoming days, months, years, who I was, who I am, who I am becoming. And this path always leads me to the Bible passage in the gospels where a blind man reaches out to Jesus, who asks him, “What do you want Me to do for you?”

If Jesus were to ask us that same question, how would we answer? Do we know? Have we ever even considered it? Who, what, do we love? What do we dream of, when we allow our imaginations off the least of routine and responsibility? What do we want Jesus to do in our lives? Do we believe He wants to, do we believe He can? Who is our God (or god)? Where are we blind and desperately need sight?

Speaking of doing something for play and fun, these questions are really fun, right? Do you remember sitting in elementary school letting our minds run wild, anywhere they wanted. The exhilaration of the lives we’d have. We wanted to be superheroes or artists, or moms or dads, or rock stars, and at some point, life and grown ups told us that it was impossible, to be realistic, to lower our expectations for our lives, that it is what it is.

But they were wrong. We are superheroes to someone, it isn’t just what it is, and we are all artists. Our greatest work of art are these lives we have been given…the problem is, we stopped seeing them as art. In lowering our expectations, we forgot who we were, who we were made to be, and settled for unfulfilling jobs, buying stuff we don’t need, emotionally distant from our spouses and children, believing the lie that what we do doesn’t matter, that we can’t change, that it can’t change. We became blind to the Divine, to the Holy Spirit (THE SAME Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead) living in us. We are the blind men alongside the road, reaching out to Jesus. He’s asking us the same question…

What are we going to tell Him, the One who set those talents, gifts, dreams, passions, blessings in our hearts? I, for one, want to see. That’s what I want for Christmas, from the Giver of all of our best presents.

Warmth

The site prompt for today is, “Is your life today what you pictured a year ago?’ It’s a pretty good question, but the answer really isn’t the point. What is so significant about this question is only that we ask it. A life without any reflection is one that is lived mindlessly out of habit,just getting through each day. And a life like that hardly ever leads to growth or, to use a word from the Scriptures, transformation. Instead, we stay stuck in our loops simply because we never pause long enough to recognize that it is a loop and to question it’s health or usefulness.

Maybe that job or relationship or budget or schedule or expense or whatever isn’t for us. Maybe it never was. Maybe it stopped being a positive influence months ago, or yesterday. Maybe something else is now a much better fit, and there isn’t any room because we’re still hanging on to the old. Or maybe we have the perfect thing for us already in our lives, but we can’t give it the attention it deserves because of the other distractions (sometimes, what was once so valuable becomes little more than filler now) that we haven’t gotten around to leaving behind.

And maybe some people or things need to return. Maybe the old has been unnecessarily and unintentionally excised.

This month, leading to the new year, is a natural time to empty out our lives onto the floor and take a good, long, hard look at what’s actually in there. Maybe we don’t even know what is taking our time, or energy, or money, and maybe (probably) we have even less idea why.

So, let’s begin to do that. We can do that in our room by ourselves (well, you know what I mean. Not by ourselves. When we are in our room, or anywhere, we are with Him, with the Holy Spirit, always with.) or with trusted friends and mentors. They might be able to ask some difficult questions in blind spots, like, “why do you spend your money there?” “What do you do after work?” What do you actually want?” “Why do you want that person/thing?”

It’s simple presence. We are totally present participants in our own lives.

Here’s what I notice around this time of year. We get so busy doing all of the things, ordering the presents, shopping, wrapping, sending the cards, baking the cookies. We do all of these wonderful things for other people that we forget the other people!! Martha chose to spend the time with Jesus making the hors d’oeuvres, vacuuming the floor, clearing the table, and doing the dishes to serve Jesus and the other guests, that she almost missed Jesus altogether. It can be the same in our lives. We get so busy chopping wood, we end up less than grateful, oblivious to the warmth it provides.

This season, let’s show up with all of us, wide awake, and ask the questions, see each other, listen, notice, pay attention, love somebody, love somebody else, and say thanks with out lives for the warmth He provides.

How Do We?

The BIG question from Sunday’s message is: How do we bring the Gospel into this world, here & now? It’s especially charged because we are less than 3 weeks away from Christmas Day, when we celebrate the birth of Jesus the Christ. He was the Gospel, that is how He brought the Gospel into this world. But as He left, after His resurrection, He gave us a Great Commission. “Go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Teach them to obey all the commands I have given you.” And ends with my favorite part: “And be sure that I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Essentially, take this Gospel into this world.

So, again, how do we intend to do that?

Do we do it with our theology? With our fancy commemorative, personally embossed Bibles that are specially made for left-handers or racecar drivers or pilots or Libertarians or whatever group we happen to be a part of? With our bumper stickers or decals? With our exemplary church attendance? With our perfect hair and shoes?

Or do we do it with our love? With our hands and feet? Our hearts and words?

Of course, theology is important. If we put our faith in a grocery store chain or a football team to save us, they won’t. That isn’t the Gospel at all. And our Bibles are important, inside those fancy faux-leather covers and pandering marketing ploys is the inspired Word of God. Bumper stickers and decals can testify, and being a regular member of a local church is a really big deal. These things do matter. (Maybe perfect hair and shoes don’t matter too much, though.). But they are not the point, they are not the Gospel, they do not save on their own.

Jesus Christ does, and when He was asked what we’re supposed to do, He said, “Love God with all of your heart, soul, and mind. And love your neighbor as yourself.” Is that the answer? Can it be that simple? It sounds that way. (Simple. Not easy.)

We are the cover songs (a cover song is when an artist interprets a song that they haven’t written, that others have previously recorded, in their own perspective and style) playing the Gospel of Jesus Christ, however we play it. Maybe we love with our hands, our presence, our gifts. Maybe we love through our money or our brownies. Maybe we love with a phone call or a meal delivery or a present under a tree. That’s our own interpretation. The lyrics are the same. Jesus Christ’s life, death, resurrection, and in Him, our creation, forgiveness, and salvation.

I think we can make our faith so complicated waiting for someone to tell us exactly what to do. But no one can. The guy that asked Jesus what he was supposed to do wanted a checklist to follow, and instead he got a word: love. What does that mean? How do we do it? Love can look different from different people in different circumstances, right? But maybe the point isn’t a solid structured checklist. Maybe it moves, evolves, maybe it’s dynamic. Maybe it’s better characterized as a relationship. Maybe it’s not what we do as much as Who we’re WITH. Maybe we don’t get a list because He wants us to keep holding His hand, asking Him, growing with Him. Maybe the way we play the song when we’re 15 shouldn’t be the way we play it when we’re 40. Maybe we’re supposed to be transformed through our journey with Him, in thought, action, situation, in the street and with our in-laws. Maybe we’re supposed to fall in love with Him.

Maybe that’s why, when He came, He came as a baby. Maybe that’s why He came at all.

Girlfriend In A Coma

Today’s site prompt (the hosting website asks a question every day, to spur thought and encourage me to post every day) is “What’s one thing you would change about yourself?” On one hand, I don’t like this question. It sounds like a wish in a well, like ‘I’d like to be taller,’ or to be able to fly, or whatever. But on the other, maybe this is a doorway into something deeper. In a mass email I received last week, a man named Mark asked if we were becoming the sorts of people we want to become, and that sounds like a variation of the variation of the same question I ask most Sundays. If our answer is a catalyst towards entering a new phase of growth, maybe it’s a good one. Instead of wishing to be a superhero, what if the one thing is to love our neighbor in ways they understand, or to show up to our spouses more often, and asking is the first step in actually doing it, that’s a different story, isn’t it?

This reminds me of a book I just read, Girlfriend In A Coma, by Douglas Coupland. It’s a good book that I read in college, because I have always liked Coupland (he wrote the impossibly important novel Generation X, where the term was first coined), AND because it’s titled after a fantastic Smiths song. A good book, but not life-changing, then. Now might be a different story.

The end has all of the main characters standing in an apocalyptic wasteland, they are the only survivors, and they have a decision. They can stay where they are (which isn’t at all as terrible as it sounds, for one HUGE reason that I won’t spoil) or go back to before the “apocalypse.” They choose to go back, deciding to use this new time, these new lives, to effect change.

Listen to this: “You guys just wait and see. We’ll stand taller than these mountains. We’ll bare open our hearts for the world to grab. We’ll see lights where before there was dimness. We’ll testify together to what we have seen and felt…Our hearts will shine brightly.”

“How can I give them a spark? He wonders. How can I hold their hands and pull them all through flames and rock walls and icebergs?…Every cell in our body explodes with the truth…We’ll be begging passersby to see the need to question and question and never stop questioning until the world stops spinning. We’ll be adults who smash the tired, exhausted system. We’ll crawl and chew and dig our way into a radical new world.“

Right??? I’m typing with tears in my eyes for 2 reasons. First, the thing they had to give up was so humongous, the cost was so high, it absolutely crushes my heart. But the second is the hope of their choice and their opportunity. Now, obviously, it sounds like they’re the ones who will “fix it,” who will “stand taller than mountains,” whose strength and significance is great enough to rewrite the future. I don’t believe that. Jesus fixes (fixed) it, Jesus stands taller than all mountains stacked up, His strength & significance is more than enough to rewrite the past, present, and future, forever and ever, amen.

However, I think this grandiosity isn’t always our problem. More often, we have far too little regard for our own participation. We simply don’t think we have a part to play in changing anything. We believe we’re a pebble thrown into the ocean.

This book (and all of the art that really moves us) presents a different narrative – that we can “testify to what we’ve seen and felt,” that we can let our hearts “shine brightly,” that we can give a spark, we can hold hands and pull, we can smash this tired, exhausted, hopeless system through our faith and hope in Our Savior, and in so doing, we can have a “radical new world.” What we do matters, and it matters a lot.

It doesn’t matter if the prompt is a good one. What’s important is that we keep asking, keep pushing, keep holding, keep crawling, keep shining, keep testifying. Every cell in our body explodes with the Truth, we just have to let that explosion out.

The Grateful

Gratitude Journals. Gratitude Breaths. Thank You Notes. Those are the first 3 in an email list of gratitude practices, as it is Thanksgiving this week. I think we’ve probably heard all of them before, We’ve been told to make lists and to slow down and breathe many times. Maybe we haven’t had thank-you notes suggested (when was the last time we passed a hand-written note at all??), but it certainly does make sense to acknowledge kindness and beauty.

The 4th requires an explanation. Flip The Script means, in difficult situations, we ask,”what is one thing I can be thankful for in this situation?” It’s a simple re-frame that can exchange one “O” word – obstacle – for another – opportunity. And it reminds me of a different email I received yesterday, that stated “the opposite of misery isn’t happiness, it’s gratitude,” and asked us to “Be grateful for your struggles, because within them is the opportunity for growth and meaning.”

In the movie I watched last night, after saving the multiverse (don’t ask), one character asked if the time variance agency (really, don’t ask) could change another character’s regrettable, awful past for rescuing the world. He was told that past, that deeply painful past, is what created the hero that could save us all. There was nothing to change.

By the way, it was yet another instance of a story where the hero sacrifices him- or her-self so everyone else can live. Sounds familiar. I point this pattern out to my boys every time we see it, and explain that it’s in so many stories because it’s The Best Story. Our Creator, Savior, and redemption are wired into our souls. We all know it, and so does Hollywood. (I was going to add “whether they admit it or not,” but that’s silly. They admit it with every re-telling.)

Anyway. I’m just spending the time this week reflecting on gratitude, in general, as a concept, and in my own life, specifically. We could make lists or flip all the scripts, but each of them, any/all of them, are designed to open our eyes and turn our heads. Paul writes that we are to be thankful in everything, and that’s unbelievably difficult sometimes.

But so was my first deadlift. A deadlift works nearly all of the muscles in your body. It’s hard and I struggled to do very light weights. However, I wanted to do it, I wanted to be a man who deadlifts. And guess what happened? I kept watching YouTube videos on correct, safe form. I asked questions and studied others in the gym. I deadlifted often, even when I didn’t want to, didn’t feeeeeel like it. The light weights increased as it became an integral part of my workout routine. It’s still hard, but it’s awesome. I am a man who deadlifts.

I think gratitude is probably the same idea. Being a grateful person requires all of us, asking muscles we don’t always use to grow and strengthen. And we pay attention, hand writing notes (maybe we should bring handwriting back) or reading mass emails or whatever, and keep gratituding. Even when we really don’t feeeeeel like it.

We have been given our very lives, each breath, each moment. We’ve been given each other, the beauty of the changing leaves and the Church. We’ve been given touch, smiles, kisses, tapioca pudding, and breakfast sausage. We have been made to deadlift, we’ve just seen the wind & forgotten. Way deep down, in all of the most authentic parts of us, under all of the rock in which we hide, we are The Grateful. So, how about, starting with this week, we begin chipping away at the rock and reveal this stunning true nature of ours.

Christmas Presents

Last week, I went to a Morrissey concert in Atlantic City. Morrissey is a pop singer, and he’s been my favorite artist since I was around 13 years old and heard a song called “Ask.” (I’ll talk about the actual show on my lovewithacapitall.com blog, if you’re dying to know more.)

I went with my sister to the show, and her husband (who, inexplicably, HATES Morrissey) and the Angel also came for the evening in the city. We stayed in a fancy hotel with a perfect view of the ocean, ate too much of a great meal and way too much, several times, from an interesting cafe.

Then, home for last minute preparations for Operation Christmas Child shoebox Sunday. I made the soup and the cake, she made the artichoke dip, and we eased our tired bodies (we’re older now and need more rest than we used to) into bed.

Sunday morning, the Bridge packed the boxes we delivered to the drop point a day later, and hopefully we all ate too much of the community meal. Together.

This was a beautiful weekend, full of meaning and significance. But Morrissey was the least of it. That’s strange to write, because for so many years, I would’ve said he was the most important figure in my life, singing the songs that detailed my (our) emotions and gave me 1 person who, I believed, understood. I would’ve told you he saved my life on more than one occasion, and that might be true.

But during the show, I looked at my sister and hugged her and told her how much I loved her, how I didn’t want to be with anyone else but her. The songs were great, but this relationship was so much better, deeper, with mountains of history between us. Morrissey didn’t know me, our history was a one-way street. Those songs just gave us another extraordinary reason to share the time.

The 4 of us had dinner and breakfast. The Angel and I watched the sun set and rise in our hotel window and on the beach. He’s the best brother in the world, and she’s just the best person. I’d rather kiss her once and share one meal of noodles than watch all of the Morrissey shows ever.

So, yes, of course, Morrissey doesn’t know me, but neither do the boys and girls half a world away who will open our presents, and packing their presents with love and prayer with my family opened me in wonderful ways for which I can never prepare.

This is more of a bullet point narrative post than a long thoughtful essay, but the point is that while Morrissey may have saved my life, it was just to bring me to the place where my life could actually be saved and redeemed. When I fell in love with Jesus (10+ years after I fell in love with Morrissey), it began a lifetime of restructuring my values.

The first time I saw Morrissey, I left my friend at the door to run to the stage to be in the front row. That’s where my values were then, I now forgive the boy that did it, but it isn’t me now. Morrissey connects us. Without the connection, without the relationships, they’re simply chords and lyrics (which are still miles better than most things).

Now, I prefer dinner with my sister and her husband. I prefer holding the Angel’s hand and watching the waves roll in. I prefer shoeboxes and pumpkin pie. I even prefer making a cake for others.

And all of those preferences ooze down into every area of my life from the One with the position at the top. I am so grateful that Morrissey moves me, grateful that he means so much to me, because it paints a picture (however inadequate) and packs a shoebox full of the love, belonging and fulfillment of the One who opens my eyes and heart and changes everything.

Everything & Everyone

On Sunday, we ended with verses that seemed fairly innocuous on the surface. But it sometimes goes like that, doesn’t it? When we’re reading the Bible and think the book or passage isn’t for us, or worse, if it’s for someone else instead (like, “I sure wish _____ was here to hear this! She needs it!”), it’s scalding hot water when we open our eyes to the truth. “Slaves, obey your masters…and masters, treat your slaves…” Not only does it have nothing to do with us, it’s pretty offensive. Why is the Bible giving us instruction on how to properly own other people or be owned people? This sounds like evidence for those that believe the Bible is outdated, at best, and horribly problematic, at worst.

(It’s not either of those, but we’re not going to get into that here, today.)

So, we all mostly checked out until the directive to do everything as if we were doing it for the Lord. I say “we” because, when I see some particular verses we’re studying for the first time, I wonder how in the world they are going to find some way in to our lives. But then we do, and the surprise only adds to the weight of the sledgehammer. Whatever I’m doing – singing, working on my Avengers puzzle, talking on the phone, deadlifting, dancing, writing this, cooking dinner, watching tv…whether I’m at work, home, the gym or grocery store, do it all as if I’m doing it for the Lord.

What if I’m tired, or sick, or irritable, or the job seems pointless, or my back hurts, or or or??? Still, as if it was for Him.

Taken a small, obvious yet scary, step further, if the things we are doing are for Him… Well, the rest of the passage is about how we treat each other, is it possible that… No, that can’t be possible.

Can it?

Jesus tells a parable where the sheep that got others a drink were getting Him a drink, and the goats that didn’t get others a drink were not getting one for Him. Taken together, are we to also treat everyone as if He/She were the Lord??? Everything & Everyone?

Tomorrow is Election Day in our country. What happens if we take these passages seriously, and do it as if we were doing it for the Lord? And (gasp!) treat everyone as if it were the Lord? If our Facebook posts and explicit flags/stickers had the beautiful Name of Jesus in the place of the people we hate most? What if we stopped thinking the monsters on the other side were stupid and uneducated and godless, and instead considered them made in the image of God, loved, accepted, holy? Would it become harder to treat others with our tongues dripping with venom if we woke up to the harsh truth that that nasty condescension was actually directed at Our Savior? What if we took seriously the command to love each other?

Do you think it would make a difference?

Something Everyone Should Know

The website that supports our Bridge website has a writing prompt. They want me to post everyday, I don’t know exactly why. I mean, I’m sure it has to do with advertising revenue, but how much are they getting from the Bridge Faith Community and it’s visitors? Maybe it’s significant. Who knows how these things are structured? Anyway, the site prompt for today is, “What’s something you believe everyone should know?” and that will go very nicely with what I opened this computer to write about today.

My youngest son recently committed to a college. It was a process that felt long, with lots of twists and turns (but as I have no reference point, maybe it was short and easy – this is a relative thing). One college, Drew University, took an early lead and mostly had him locked up. They had programs – 1 in particular – that he loved with wchich no other school could really compete. So, they had him. We bought some t-shirts with the Drew ranger on it, and assumed he’d go to northern New Jersey in the fall.

But in one month, their incompetence or indifference gave him pause enough to look closer at other schools and other, overlooked characteristics of Drew (none of which were terribly good). As they fell, Lycoming College grew. Then, one Friday and Saturday, we scheduled visits with admissions, 2nd tours, and basketball practice with each institution.

Lycoming was Friday, and as we pulled into the parking lot, the basketball coach was standing outside. He greeted us warmly and was our guide for the day. We ate together, attended meetings with the business professor and admissions counselor together, toured together, and attended practice together. Throughout the day, current basketball players met him with an obvious excitement, as did the administrative assistants, professors, and counselors not assigned to him. Everyone knew his name and pronounced it correctly. This is no small thing, the doctor’s office where he has been seen since birth still can’t work that out. Admissions gave him a folder with his acceptance and scholarship information, everyone stopped to congratulate him. The basketball presentation had his name & picture and where he’d fit in the program. We spent the whole day and, when we left, later than expected, the coach asked us to text him when we got home.

The next day, the Angel and my boy drove to Drew, for what we expected would be the same sort of treatment. I stayed home for a wedding and waited by the phone to hear the second half of the competition. Their admissions appointment began at 8:45am, and they called me before 9. He was given the same kind of folder and sent on his way. No tour, no personal meetings, no warmth. Just instructions to walk around and…whatever, until basketball practice began in the afternoon. Instead, they got in the car and came home, decision made.

If a man or woman treats you poorly before you are married, do you think it’ll get better afterwards???

Now, let’s return to the site prompt. The entire Lycoming College experience was designed to make my son feel valued. To them, he was worth their time, energy, and money. In the huddle as basketball practice began, the coach reminded them team that he was there, and to show him what they are about, their identity. Everyone in the entire school must have had the same meeting in the morning.

He called Drew to ask for a class list in his major and they did it, but gave him the information in the wrong major. It’s the little things that aren’t little at all.

What I believe everyone should know is that they are valued, accepted, and worth the time, energy, and money. I want them (us) to know they’re here for a reason, created in, by, and for love. I want us to know we’re not a mistake and certainly not the trash. Instead, we are wonderfully made and children of the Creator of the Universe.

Drew treated my son as if he were just another name, another number. As if he’d be lucky to be mistreated by them. They’re wrong. How many times have we settled for this sort of disrespect? How many times have we believed the lies – in words or actions – that we are expendable, ordinary (at best) and worthless (at worst)?

Everybody should feel how Lycoming made my son feel, should know they are wanted. And, I’m more and more convinced that it’s our business, wherever we are, to make sure they do.

2 Things For This Week

Last week, we spoke about honor – what it is and how we do it. Both of these were surprisingly difficult. Many times, we use words that we cant exactly define. I think religion is full of these kinds of words. We’ve seen them enough to be able to pronounce them and use them correctly in sentences. “Honor” is easy enough to write sermons around, but becomes substantially more difficult if you carry it out just one more question, the dreaded, “what does that actually mean?”

Love is another. What does it mean to love your neighbor, or your enemy, your friends, parents, other drivers? For that matter, what does it actually mean to love your spouse??? We don’t ask, because it exposes us and we don’t like to sound like we don’t have everything together, especially if we don’t. As it turns out, maybe we’d all be exposed, if one of us would simply give voice to our vulnerability.

Anyway. What does it mean to honor someone? Better yet, what does it look like? I think it looks like listening. Asking questions. Saying something wonderful. Encouraging. Speaking truth. Trusting. Going first. Letting them go first. (I know they are direct opposites, but that doesn’t bother me and it shouldn’t bother you. It depends on the time and place. Sometimes, you can go first. Sometimes, I should. Not everything is strictly black and white, it’s a beautiful exploding gray.) And what does it look like to honor ourselves?

I asked these same questions Sunday, and I’m asking again, because the answers are different for all of us, and the only way we can find out how we can honor each other is if we ask, seek, & knock. Of course, it’s hard, and we don’t want to. We want to be honored, but to do the honoring is a different story altogether. But it doesn’t really matter if we want to or not, our communities and our world depends on if we show up to each other with love, and with honor.

The second thing I want to talk about is our Very Cool Thing Saturday. We’ll have a, well, what is essentially a party, a big rad shin-dig. At 6:30 I’ll talk about my book (Be Very Careful Who You Marry), then Olivia Farabaugh (Oliviafarabaugh.com) will play us in, then I’ll talk about Star Wars and the Resurrection and how that can change everything around 7, then after that she’ll play her songs and give her story, and we’ll leave around 9ish. She’s really extraordinary, in all sorts of ways, and you’ll love her.

Now, as far as our community goes, this was the idea from the beginning. We would create a place for artists (of any discipline) to express themselves in public, and in doing that, we would go to any/all lengths to affirm their divine spark, their identity in the image of a wildly creative God. And we would show up, and in that, we would affirm our Genesis 1 & 2 bend to be together, according to our design. What that means is that we would be together because it’s how we’ve been designed to be.

We would show up and welcome guests and love them, without regard to any label or imaginary division, and without reserve. It would be an opportunity to show the love of Jesus because that’s what we’ve been designed to do.

So, my second thing here is to invite you to come out to love and be loved. To come out to welcome Olivia and to be welcomed by Olivia. To hear how Luke Skywalker’s training on Degobah relates to our marriages, and to buy my book (ha!!). To meet my nephew’s girlfriends. But mostly, it’s really a chance to lean into our wonderful creation and be grateful, and I think we could all use more chances for that.

It’s Saturday at 6:30 at the Bridge, and it’ll be Very Cool, but it would be even more so if you’re there.