Good morning!
We ARE going to have church this morning, at the Bridge, at 10:30am.
If you decide to be there, please be very careful. We are deciding to have church in person, but if you have concerns about the roads or any of the conditions, we will Livestream on YouTube, as usual.
Love. Peace.
Good morning everyone!
It looks like the weather may present another problem, possibly for the next 2 Sundays. Anytime this becomes an issue, we will make a decision by 9am on Sunday morning. I send an email, post to the website and to Facebook. (I also try to send texts, as well, but I can’t promise those.) So, please check in at 9am on Sunday morning, And as always, don’t hesitate to reach out to me directly (not a ‘reply all’ please) with any questions.
If we decide to cancel in-person service, I will check in, connect, & give the message online at 10:30am. We would livestream on YouTube, just like every other week. Just go to YouTube, search Bridge Faith Community, subscribe, and watch from anywhere. In addition, the messages then post to that channel and are there forever and ever, so you can watch anytime.
Tuesday looks like a problem, too, so Open Door next week will be on Zoomat 7pm.
I don’t remember being affected by this many weather events for the last few years, but this seems to be the year for disruption. That makes it especially important to make an extra effort to stay connected. Reach out to others, check on your neighbors and the rest of your tribe. Please don’t just stay home, isolated. And, as always, we can’t take for granted the gift of meeting together, so let’s be grateful for this awesome community we are building together.
Having said all of that, I really hope I see you all Sunday morning!!
Have a great week, and be safe!
Love. Peace.
In the 2nd chapter of Titus, the word sober-minded was used, and that doesn’t sound like too great of a catch phrase. No one is probably getting a “sober-minded” tattoo, or using it on their dating profile. We don’t throw it around easily in conversation, it seems like an adjective that was used often in the late 1800’s, and not much since. See? The Bible is hopelessly outdated, right?
But the term, as it was written, suggests a person that “knows the value of things,” and as I look around, live and breathe, I can’t think of a characteristic that is more necessary and less common.
Have you ever reached out to someone about something that is heavy, that is taking a toll on your heart, that is painful or wildly significant, that we aren’t meant to carry alone? It’s an unbearably vulnerable space, and we wait. Then, the person, obviously uncomfortable, makes a joke. Or answers their phone. Or changes the subject. Your authenticity is discarded and disrespected. That person, who made you so sorry you reached at all out and especially sorry you reached out to him/her, has no idea of the value of things.
Not only do they not know the value of the circumstance you entrusted to them, but they do not know the value of your open heart, not do they know the value of a human being. This last one is, sadly, the real loss. We treat each other as disposable, as means to ends, as items to be used, for what they can bring to us, instead of recognizing who they are for no other reason than who they are. We are, to each other, too often, tools.
We have things to do and boxes to check. We have been sold the idea that our productivity is more important than our relationships. We have lost the value of things.
When I see people show up to weddings in t-shirts (a more and more common occurrence), I always shake my head. I speak to my boys of “time and place,” and now I know that I actually mean, “sober-minded.” A wedding is different than a ball game is different than bedtime. When we go to the gym and go through the motions, we have forgotten how extraordinary it is that we have been made in such a fantastic way that we are able to do these amazing things with our bodies. Instead of worship, it is a torturous obligation. When we kiss our wives or hold another’s hand without thinking, as simply routine, we have missed the value of this shocking intimacy. What could be more wonderful than the soft, slow, unhurried kiss of your beloved? Or more loving and trusting than another person offering their hand to you, searching for care and closeness?
Right. We’re, of course, talking about Genesis 28:16, “Surely God was in this place, and I was unaware.” When we lose the value of things, we are consistently unaware.
Last night, we drove an hour to what is likely to be the very last away high school basketball game for my youngest son. Do you know how many away games we’ve traveled to? A lot. Do you know how many times they were a nuisance? If that answer is equal to or greater than 1, we were ignorant of the value of things.
I think the concept of “ordinary” is the language of a culture that does not know the value of things. Maybe Paul’s letter to Titus is exactly what we need. Maybe we need more “sober-minded” tattoos, so we can all remember kisses and away games, remember to be grateful, so we can remember to stay present and wake up to our lives and the overflowing blessings all around us.
The site prompt is, “What would you do if you won the lottery?” And that makes me think of a line from the Marvel TV show The Falcon & The Winter Soldier. There’s a guy who is supposed to be the new Captain America, and he’s debating about whether or not he should take a super soldier serum (which sounds silly to write here, but it is a superhero show), and his buddy, Lamar, tells him, “power just makes you more of what you are.” That applies to money, too, obviously. I don’t necessarily ascribe to the theory that “absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
The full quote (from Lord Acton, the 13th Marquess of Groppoli – full disclosure, I don’t have any idea what a Marquess is or what/where/who Groppoli is, but I love that I could use it in real life) is, “Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men, even when they exercise influence and not authority; still more when you superadd the tendency of the certainty of corruption by authority.” Power does tend to corrupt, but I can’t go with ‘absolute/always’ of the rest. But again, speaking of words, I’m using “superadd” immediately and often.
And this makes me think of Sunday morning, and our discussion on character and judgment. We could talk forever about these 2 topics, right?
Character is the x-factor that disproves the 13th Marquess of Groppoli, and reinforces Lamar’s comments. If a man has the kind of character traits Paul is listing to Titus, maybe that’s exactly the kind of person who should have power, who would use it in service, to help, to build, to defend, to give, to love. Maybe that’s exactly the kind of person who should take a super soldier serum.
But what if we don’t have that kind of character? You know I wanted to add, “…kind of character now, today?” That’s why judgment is so linked in my mind to character. Christ makes us new, so this very moment is the perfect opportunity to begin to superadd this kind of integrity.
Judgment is making decisions about someone’s essence. For instance, to use our terms from the message, when that boy/girl that behaves violently, full of bitterness, with anger, rage and hatred, he/she IS, in the deepest parts of themselves, that kind of person, and worse, will always be that kind of person. We lock them in a box they can never escape. When Jesus says, “Do not judge,” I think He means to open that box. Whether they climb out of the box built from their own actions, or not, is up to them and Jesus Christ, certainly not me. I can hope & pray they do. And maybe that box involves the consequences of those actions or our boundaries. But we no longer hold the key to another’s cell.
And then Jesus brilliantly turns our spotlight into a mirror. “Take the plank out of your own eye.” So, we no longer have the key to another’s cell, but we do have the key to our own. We can leave. We can start anew, and write a beautiful new story. We can allow and encourage others to do the same. We can become the people who can take the super soldier serum or win the lottery and use it to bless everyone, everywhere.
I have 2 website where I write. There’s this one, and there’s another where I choose to discuss movies and music and terrible referees or whatever catches my eye. The hosting site gives a prompt every day, I’ll sometimes use that. That blog is always about Jesus, too, because everything is always about Jesus. I just might not use Bible verses there. Every now and then, a post happens and it fits into both spaces. This is one of those.
I’ve been meaning to write about a verse in 1st Kings, I started it 2 weeks ago, and it’ll be cool, but I keep getting sidetracked by basketball points or snow days or, in this case, dreaming. I assure you, I will get to that one, just not today. So, anyway, here it is:
This site is asking me what my dream job is…
There’s a story in the Bible I reference often. A blind man reaches out to Jesus, asking for help, and to this, Jesus responds, “What do you want me to do for you?” It sounds pretty simple and obvious, but I have found it’s anything but simple or easy. For an endless number of reasons, we don’t ask to see. We ask for a new can or sunglasses, or a better attitude to deal with the blindness, or enhanced hearing or taste. This man alongside the road understands the assignment, asks to see, and is immediately granted his sight.
So, like the site, I sit down with people and ask, “What do you want?” How they answer that is always fascinating. But the saddest reply (for both of us) is, “I don’t know.” We’ve gotten so used to blindness. Or we’ve lowered our hopes & expectations to the point where sight is impossible. Or, in the case of the site’s question, we’ve stopped dreaming a long time ago.
I had a job for 16 years. It changed my life for the first 10, then quickly deteriorated for the last 6. You’d think I would pray for a new job, new opportunities, an imagination that could hope for a new path. Just something new and wonderful. But my prayer was to endure in a more positive fashion. The site question wouldn’t have made sense. The question from Jesus would’ve been met with silence.
Probably, the most damage we can inflict on our children is to steal their imagination. The adults in the room talk about realistic expectations (which is just another way to open the door for them to join us in dark rooms of despair.) I want to be a superhero. Really? Why? To help people. Because I see injustice. To fix what is broken. Whatever the why, there are a million pathways for that. But I was told, over and over, that it was impossible, that I was wrong and had better craft a Plan B (or C or F) that was more reasonable. Go to college, make money, work in a nice office with a window and fancy title. Get a job and a new car. Wear a suit & tie. Pull your head out of the clouds and chain it to the plow of consumerism. Superheroes aren’t real life.
Except they are. I meet superheroes every day, I see people do extraordinary feats all around. It just takes eyes to see – maybe that’s the point of the interaction between that man and Jesus. We might have our sight, but we sure can’t see. They are (you are) ordinary men & women who haven’t had their dreams dashed on the rocks of ‘good sense,’ who still believe that we can make a difference and change the world, who still believe that every day is a chance to rewrite what is, and create what will be, who love without limit or abandon. Ordinary? No way, they are absolutely superheroes, they just don’t wear capes and cowls.
This is what I get to do. I get to ask those questions, re-frame the conversation, and try to inject some hope back into our lives. This is my dream job, and those grown-ups were wrong, I do get the chance to be a superhero.
Maybe the least surprising thing to you is that I’m writing today, about this. Last night, my youngest son, named after the prophet Elisha, scored his 1,000th point as a basketball player. It was on a great move, where he was fouled, and the bucket counted, on what’s called an “and-1.” The game stopped, while we all stood and cheered this significant achievement. The Angel, my oldest son, and I were able to go on the court to hug him and take pictures. I told you I’d be the one with the watery eyes, and I was. I think we all were.
Then, less than 5 minutes later, he blocked a shot and, as he came down, rolled his ankle and missed the rest of the game and probably the rest of the week (at least). I may have mentioned (a time or 2 million) that an authentic, fully present life is held with 2 hands, in this case, great celebration and pain, minutes apart.
We all looooved last night, and we went to bed, aching with disappointment. 2 hands.
This young man, my son, and I prayed in the training room. I asked him what hurt more, his heart or his ankle, to which he replied, “same.” His concern was over their hopes at playoffs. Then, later, after the game (a loss), he composed himself and graciously received the accolades and congratulations from those who showed up to love him, thanking every one. In those moments, I could so clearly see my boy becoming the man he will be. Sunday night, I told him that we would be talking so much about his athletic performance, which is considerable, but our love for him has absolutely nothing to do with points or wins. And when I told him last night how proud of him I am, that also had nothing to do with a ball or a hoop.
But as far as a ball and hoop go, these points and this celebration, he earned them. Almost no one sees the hours and hours, the buckets of sweat, the study, the focus he invests. 1,000 points don’t just happen, they are the product of much, much more than 4 – 8 minute quarters. He’s gifted, of course, but he has worked to explore the depth of those gifts, to see what might be possible. An evening in January looks/feels far off on empty courts in June, but they do come.
I wrote a post yesterday about the intense hypocrisy of the adults from Friday’s game (who may have been from Lancaster Mennonite;). Before the game last night, the head coach of our opponents last night found me in the hallway and congratulated me, and asked many questions about my boy. His job was to beat our team, but he was one of those who cared for the boys on both teams. It’s no surprise his son (who I had the privilege/pleasure to know and coach) is so classy and kind. The juxtaposition between the 2 people could not have been more stark, and made Friday’s coach and program look that much worse. I relayed our conversation to my son, and he said how that coach (whose name may have been Chris George, and whose team may have been Northern Lebanon) also spoke with him, and expressed his genuine sadness with the injury. It was a wonderful illustration of the best part of sports.
Now. The real reason I opened my computer to write today was not on the court. The stands were packed full of people who love this beautiful young man. Friends drove hours to be there, made plans, gave up their own valuable time to sit in a gym on a frigid Monday night. You know, we fall in love with Jesus, we intentionally create these lives together, trying to step into our call every day, each moment, choosing our values, deciding who we’ll be and what we believe, and time passes, and we rarely get the opportunity to stand back and see the divine blessings that God has bestowed. Then, you happen to look up from your seat in the stands, and see the people of these lives filing in to love your son, and it is then that you can truly see the love and grace of God.
My post yesterday was, a little, about the dangers of tying Jesus to the actions of His followers. My post today is about the upside of that relationship. As we posed for pictures on the court, teary eyed and full, I looked up into the stands and I saw the faces of our lives, the answers to our prayers, our hope manifest. God may not always give a paved road, full of gobs of money, comfort and ease, but He gives us each other, and that is so much more than enough, so much better.
I am overwhelmed. I am grateful. He has a thousand and three points and I have a ba-zillion thank you’s that I’ll try to give to Him, and to you, with my life.
In this documentary I’m in the process of watching, a girl named Natalia Grace is living with a family where the husband/father is a bishop in a denominational local church. As he was introduced, I said to the Angel, “Oh no, I hope he’s not the worst, and doesn’t do anything awful.” Maybe he will, but there was a scene where he got into an argument that nearly turned physical with Natalia Grace’s previous adoptive father. It began with the bishop’s stern scolding for this guy to watch his language, and that was enough. The scolded person raged like a child, tearing off his microphone and leaving. The bishop and the guy’s lawyer faced off, taking this all into the street, where they were nose to nose, all peacocks trying to assert their dominance in typical neanderthal behavior. Sigh.
And I thought of Paul’s letters.
Then, last week, we had a basketball game at a Christian high school (which may have been Lancaster Mennonite). Over the last many years, we have found religious schools to be at the bottom in terms of behavior and sportsmanship, this school (which may have been Lancaster Mennonite) consistently being the very most depressing.
As a matter of fact, I wrote my one and only heartbroken email to a school website after a particularly gross display. I almost wrote my second last week.
We had quite a few friends and family members there to watch my son’s game, some of whom aren’t Jesus followers, for the same reason most aren’t. If you ask people on any street to describe Christians, the first response isn’t usually “loving,” “kind,” or “patient,” it’s not sin or mistakes or anything related to what we actually do, it’s “hypocritical.” And if our call is the Great Commission, hypocrisy is the major obstacle. I am more and more convinced that it’s very nearly impossible to meet the real Jesus, and read the real Bible, and not fall in love with Him. But we don’t, and instead, we decide who He is, and what the Scriptures say, based on the people who follow Him and sit in pews on Sunday morning.
Now, we can recognize that we are all hypocritical sometimes, right? I am and you are, but we know each other, we have a close relationship with a lot of history and experience, so it’s fairly easy to accept each other’s flaws. It’s why it’s so much easier to call someone a monster from far away and rationalize the same actions in our home. BUT, if the first impression you had of me was me aggressively pretending to be one thing while I am clearly another, we might not have gotten to have that deep, rich history in our relationship.
The fact that this Christian school from last week (which may or may not have been Lancaster Mennonite) has chosen winning high school basketball games perhaps isn’t the main problem, it’s the corporate prayer over the loudspeaker before the game, and the circle of players at half court afterwards that is.
If you’re driving home today, and a monster truck, whose driver is yelling out the window, giving you 2 hands of birds, cuts you off, and as you’re veering from the road into the grass, you see that truck speeding away with a school of Jesus fish and Bible verse stickers papering the tailgate…well, I don’t imagine you’re going home looking for a local church to get to the bottom of that person’s faith.
Paul writes about tv documentary bishops and half court prayers in most of his letters, except he uses words & phrases like “live blameless lives,” “don’t drink so much, or “be faithful to your wife,” and lots of other timely examples. Not because if we’re not blameless or if we lie or want our neighbor’s donkey, God will be mad at us and rescind our rescue, revoke our salvation. After all, Paul also says, “everything is permissible,” and “I can do anything,” says that salvation (thankfully) isn’t based on our resume in the least. However, in the next breath, he says, “don’t do anything that causes another to fall.” So much of the list of behaviors are really about removing any obstacles that we build between ourselves and Jesus’ love. That’s our call and our mission. He knows if I am not faithful to my wife in my personal life while I am publicly teaching the texts that speak of honor and fidelity, it might be a bitter pill for you to swallow, and a pill that might push you far away. If I teach of purity, and you see me at a place I should not be, with people I should not be with, doing things I should not be doing, it could act as a wedge that keeps you away (whether that is fair or not.)
I’m writing this, not to disparage that bishop or that school (which may or may not be…you get the picture), but as a real life epistle from the Apostle Paul. The Bible happened, and it happens everyday since. The Great Commission is still our commission, just because we can doesn’t mean we should, and our call is, has always been, to build bridges. It is to get us to lower our arms so He can wrap His around us all. And sometimes prayers on the town square aren’t meant for Him at all.
You know the hosting website for this blog asks questions. Sometimes, they’re pretty dumb, but other times… Today’s site prompt is: What could you do differently?
That’s a terrific one, because the way we answer speaks volumes about who we really are. What if your answer is, “nothing at all?” Think about everything that level of arrogance says. Is it arrogance OR maybe contentment and acceptance. How about, “I’ve never thought about it before?” Or, “I could floss in the mornings?” “I’d like to tell my kids I love them.” “Maybe go a new way to work?” “Read a novel.” “Go to church (or the gym or the school board meeting.)” Great question, right?
Are we answering what we could do differently? That question is endless, we could literally do everything differently. Sleep on the other side of the bed, eat with our left hand, slide down handrails. Or are we answering what we should do differently? which is a totally different thing they’re asking. I wonder how the AI prompt generator meant it. Mostly, I wonder how we read it, but of course I would wonder that. It’s a variation of the topic of the last 2 Sunday mornings. What now? Who are you? Who do you want to be? How do we get there? How do we “prepare the horses,” or “build the house?” Are our relationships, jobs, whatever – are our lives what we want them to be, based on our own Divine creation? And what could we do differently?
Are we loving our neighbors? We could probably do that differently. Are we caring for our marriages & families in ways they understand and receive? We can always do that differently. Our answers are as unique as we are. After service on Sunday, a very good friend who is a brilliant woman was asking what kind of hose she is. (The message discussed being conduits, being hoses, for the love of God to travel through.) Was she a soaker? A sprinkler? Think about all the kinds of hoses and flows. Which one are we, today? Which one will we be tomorrow? Could we be a different kind of hose? Are we even a hose at all?
Questions are so much fun. Lives are so rarely transformed by a scolding, or even a directive. Do this. Do that. You know what you should do or what you should think or who you should vote for??? We usually unplug right about then, and start looking around for somewhere else to be. But a question, that’s an invitation that gives us the chance to consider, to hold the strong, lovely, wise hand of Jesus and walk into dark spaces we might not have gone otherwise.
Jesus asks a blind man, “What do you want Me to do for you?” I wonder what I want Him to do for me? Jesus, what do You want to do for me? What do I want? Is that what I really want? Is that what would bring me joy & peace? Jesus, what could I do differently? His question opens the door into all sorts of new questions, new opportunities to know ourselves, to know Him, to trust. To know what to do, and discover the courage to do it. To love.
And then, well, that’s the tricky part, we listen. Now that I think about it, it’s how I’d answer the site prompt: I would listen.
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.
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.
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