Confirmation Classes
My dad took me to my confirmation classes every Sunday morning. There was a Lutheran church half a block from where we lived that we ‘belonged’ to, that confirmed me. (Who knows what I was confirmed as? I suppose I could look it up, but it makes a better point to not know, right? Maybe I was confirmed to be awesome. Or super-spiritual. Or something.) I don’t know how old I was, maybe 10 or 11, and I have absolutely no idea what they taught on those Sunday mornings. My dad told me it was important, and I’m sure it was to some of the other kids in my class. The problem, the reason it didn’t sink in, that I have totally forgotten it, that as soon as I was confirmed I left that church and never went back, was that even though he took me every week, even though he told me how valuable it was, he lied.
Now, that’s probably way too harsh. To say he lied implies some sort of intent, and I don’t think he meant to deceive me in the least. He probably thought he believed it was important.
He just didn’t.
This is nothing that is particularly unique to him, I’m the same way.
I tell my boys it’s important to eat lots of fruit and vegetables and stay away from sugar and other junk foods. And maybe someday they’ll write that I lied. I suppose I don’t really think it is too important, because any time I have the opportunity to eat a donut, I do. And I think most vegetables are punishment and to be avoided at all costs.
There’s a saying, attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, “Preach the Gospel at all times and if necessary use words.” This speaks to the simple fact that the most effective, honest way to communicate our beliefs is our actions. We are all teachers, even if we are completely unaware of this fact. And if, in our lessons, our actions don’t match our words, which one do you think wins?
If I am constantly drilling Samuel with the value of telling the truth, then he walks in the room to hear me call off “sick” from work so I can sleep in, which do you think makes the deeper impression?
If Elisha constantly hears me listing the virtues of exercise, yet never get off the couch…
My words might be 100% spot on, they’re just not part of the curriculum I’m teaching.
I remember that surprisingly powerful commercial when the boy, after being found with drugs, screams, “I learned it from watching you!!!!” Could that dad tell his kids how important it is to ‘just say no,’ while he was saying Yes?
Well, sure, he can. They’re just not listening.
So, the BIG question is, do I really believe the things I say I do? My dad didn’t think church was a big deal, never set foot in a church. (Maybe that’s not true – I do think I remember him being there for my special confirmation, but it’s fuzzy. Maybe he was.) I don’t know why he took me every week. Maybe it looked a certain kind of way and gave an impression he wanted to give, or maybe he just wanted his boy to have the base he didn’t. All I know was that I was paying very close attention.
Do we believe the things we say we do? It takes a focused examination and an honesty that requires a ridiculous amount of courage to find out. And then, once we find out that not every area is in line (because we will), then what do we do with that? Will we continue the heart- (and back-) breaking work and drop the hollow words, or worse, bring our lives into alignment with our values?
It’s hard, of course, it is. But no one ever said it would be easy, just that it would be worth it.
Restart
This morning I finished a book of Elisha’s called Restart, by his favorite author, Gordon Korman. It’s about an 8th grade boy who falls off his roof onto his head and remembers nothing; not his mother, not his friends, his room or anything at all about his life. On the back cover, it reads, “Pretty soon, it’s not only a question of who Chase is – it’s who he was… and who he’s going to be.” What a fascinating question this book is asking…
It turns out this Chase was a football star and a pretty terrible person, the worst bully in the school, awful and making life hell to everyone unlucky enough to cross his path. He didn’t know why – I suppose no one really knows why we do the awful things we do, and to whom. Sure, it’s obviously insecurity and fear, but why do we choose to turn it outward and why focus on that particular him or her?
Anyway, he wakes up with a do-over.
The principal says, “This is an awful thing that’s happened to you, but it’s also presenting you with a rare opportunity. You have the chance to rebuild yourself from the ground up, to make a completely fresh start. Don’t squander it! I’m sure you’re not feeling very lucky, but there are millions of people who’d give anything to stand where you stand right now – in front of a completely blank canvas.”
Last Sunday, the message was essentially the plot of this kids’ book. If I had read it earlier, I would have quoted it then. In fact, we also asked the question, “Who are we going to be?”
It’s New Years, and I love New Years! I always get squishy and reflective around New Years. Maybe more so this year, wondering who I am, who I’m going to become.
The message of the Gospel is that today is new, we are new. That today is not just an extension of yesterday.
But still we repeat lies like ‘it is what it is,’ ‘I’ll always be that way,’ ‘it’s just the way he/she is, the way I am, the way we are,’ or ‘they’ll never change,’ along with so many others that keep us stuck. So we stay in jobs we hate, unhealthy relationships, or unfulfilling lives believing these hopeless stories that cast us as helpless victims, chained to narratives that lack imagination and suck our souls dry.
We don’t usually get a cliched soap opera twist to provide us this opportunity, but we don’t need one. We already have a reason, an opportunity – we just don’t take it.
We are more open to the possibilities at New Years, right?
There’s a favorite story of mine in Genesis, where Jacob wakes up and says, “God was in this place, and I was unaware.” I think of that often, that I don’t want to wake up and say, “I was unaware.” What if we live our whole lives with the invitation to be new, to change (us, the world, anything and everything), to imagine, to find peace, to give/receive/experience Love… And we miss it? What if we leave that invitation unopened?
We probably don’t have to leave those jobs or relationships or lives, (maybe we do), we just have to transform the way we see them. We simply have to see them from a different angle with different eyes. What if we woke up with a blank canvas, free from the disappointment of unrealized expectations – of ourselves and of others? What if we had today to ask and to answer who we are going to become?
We don’t need amnesia, just a mustard seed of faith that things could be different.
The book was amazing, by the way. I bet Elisha would be happy to let you borrow it.
A New Year
Peace
We pray that this Christmas season, you are able to not only embrace the gift of Jesus, but also experience his amazing peace!
A Question of Trust
What Does It Mean?
I hope and pray that we all had the kind of Christmas that we wanted (and needed) – full of rest and gratitude and all the love we can handle.
This week is one of transition – Christmas has passed (the date, not the significance) and the New Year is around the corner. Maybe 2018 was the best year of you life… and maybe it wasn’t. Maybe you want to make some changes, and maybe you need to make some changes. Maybe you’ve endured more than you thought you could handle, maybe it’s been dark, lonely – or maybe the optimism you’ve chosen is coming out of your ears, and everything feels possible.
The truth is, no matter where you stand, where you’ve been, everything IS possible.
Every new year message I have ever given is based on this possibility. Where are we? Who are we? What do we want? Who have we been created to be? Who do we want to be? (And are the last 2 the same?) Are there things we need to pick up? Or put down? Start? Or stop? What about our relationships (with God and each other), are they healthy, life-giving? Or are we in desperate need of boundaries?
It’s exciting and terrifying, probably in equal parts. We’re standing on the edge of a precipice… It’s awesome, really, we can see for miles and miles in all directions.
The season following Christmas is called epiphany. It “commemorates both the revelation of Jesus Christ as God and his manifestation to the Gentiles,” “a moment of sudden and great revelation.” In other words, the baby has come, now what does it mean? To our world? And to us? What does it mean?
This is Sunday’s message, 10:30am at the Bridge. I invite you to come and we’ll walk into this together.
Love. Peace.
Mushy
As you know, this time of year, I get reflective and mushy – so I have some thoughts on church, God, grace and gratitude.
On Sunday, we had 2 extra events – a pancake and eggs breakfast in the morning and caroling at the VA hospital in the evening. I had virtually no part in either. In fact, I was unable to go to the caroling at all (and a special thanks to you for accepting that with grace and love). These events were well-planned and went off without a hitch. The men (Dan Boyer, Jeff Buvoltz, and Danny Dubble) served us all from beginning to end and it was wonderful. Later, the women (Joy Graeff, Muriah Pennycoff, and Althea Cirillo) took us into the VA and served those folks in presence and sweet, sweet song.
I had far more trouble with this than you’d imagine, as one who speaks every week on ‘you don’t have to’ theology. I don’t have to, but there is a common traditional model where everything that happens in a church is planned/led/at the very least attended by the pastor, and even though I don’t come from any common traditional models of church (in fact, I ran away from those models), I easily fall into the mindset where I ‘have to.’
Don’t misunderstand, there is almost nowhere I’d rather be than with you, being the hands and feet of Jesus, but like all of us, some days…
My body, soul, and spirit said absolutely not, but the part of me that is driven by obligation and the weight of should (and the draw of my brothers and sisters) made the evening increasingly difficult.
Grace is like that, I think. We have been so conditioned to believe we must fit into certain expectations/common traditional models – what we can earn/produce, how full our resumes are. We sometimes are governed by who we think we should be. And Jesus says, “no, right now, here, as you are.” No should’s, no expectations.
Of course, we have responsibilities – we won’t always want to, but we do anyway. Because we have decided there is value in a thing or practice. We might be tired, but come to church or work out or go to work or brush our teeth anyway, right? We have events (on weekdays, Saturday mornings, Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, etc) and sometimes they’re not always the most well-attended, and that can be pretty disappointing. But we couldn’t have it any other way. I imagine those of us that walk away from Jesus are terribly disappointing to Him, too. But the cost of turning it into a ‘have to’ instead of a ‘get to’ is waaaaay too high.
We are a home. We are just like your dinner table – a place where you meet/are encouraged/refreshed/can question/honestly express yourself/love and be loved freely, and the base from where you go out to change the world.
When days like Sunday go off without my direct involvement, it changes my heart and reinforces one of our first values of the Bridge – it is not yours or mine, it is OUR community. I’m so thankful to be a part of something as beautiful as this, and belong to someOne as beautiful as Jesus.
Love. Peace.
The Bridge Faith Community 