Bible

What About Self-Control?

We discussed self-control Sunday, the last of the fruits of the Spirit. I know what’s going through my head as I study, write, and give these messages, but what’s happening in the heads & hearts of those listening? That’s always an interesting thought to me.

Have we let ourselves down, when it comes to self-control, did the things that we knew weren’t healthy? We knew they weren’t healthy, sometimes even destructive, knew they were beneath us, they didn’t fit in who we are and/or who we are becoming, and yet we did them anyway. Then, we looked in the mirror and felt that familiar twinge (or tidal wave) of guilt or sorrow. I can see that some of us know that emotion very, very well. Maybe others have had it, once or twice, some quite recently. Maybe one or two of us are just beginning to discover our identity, whose eyes are only starting to see that there are things that aren’t healthy, things that would be beneath our standing as children of God. Some are thinking about loved ones who are engaging in things that are tearing them (and us) apart. And probably others are thinking about lunch. Or the World Cup. Or just watching the clock.

I think about the areas where I am disciplined, and then it doesn’t take long to drift into the ones that are less so. Sometimes, it’s jarring how fast that transition moves. And then I ask, “why?” Isn’t this quality, this fruit, just an across the board kind of thing? Like, either I am disciplined or I am not. You can’t be kind of pregnant, isn’t self-control like that? What does self-control look like, anyway? If I want to work out, how much would display self-control? What if I take too many days off? (And what’s too many????) Why can I do these things but not these? Why do I have blind spots?

And while we’re at it, why do I do the things I don’t want to, at all? If I don’t want to do them, it only stands to reason that I wouldn’t do them, right? Nope. And, then, why do I not do the things I DO want to do?

Of course, in a super-well known passage in the Bible (Romans 7:15-20), Paul writes about exactly this situation: “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.”

Have you ever read this closely? I do not understand what I do. That makes sense, I don’t understand. Then, we see that if I don’t want to eat those cookies and I do, I agree that the Law is good? No, I don’t. And sin still lives in me? I still have a sinful nature? I do have the desire, I sure do, I don’t want to do the things that make me feel like garbage in the mirror, and I want to do the good things, I really do. But when I don’t, it’s not me????

We could unpack this passage forever. But I think what I’m trying to say, at least today, is that whatever goes through our minds, whatever we feel when we look in the mirror, is that we are not alone. Wherever we are right now is a really great place for us to be right now. I know we all can easily start to think, “I SHOULD be so much further along, I SHOULD not have this trouble anymore, I SHOULD be perfect.” But what this Romans passage tells me today is that we’re all on a path. Even Paul, a superhero of the faith, writer of much of the New Testament, struggles, does what he doesn’t want to, doesn’t do what he does want to. Even Paul doesn’t understand what he does. And sin still lives in Paul.

When my boys were very small, each of them had trouble with their weight. They fell 2 lines on the sacred growth chart, and 2 lines make the doctors absolutely freak out, so for the oldest, we had endless appointments with specialist after specialist. Every meal was of massive importance. The stress hung like a thick blanket over each bite, on him and his parents. The tests were all good news, and the moment one recommended a feeding tube, we decided to step out of this hamster wheel and take a breath…he began to eat. When the youngest followed the same pattern, we did some tests (not the whole battery his brother faced), and opted out. Of course, then he ate, too.

Our anxiety over where we SHOULD be, who we SHOULD be, is really not helping us. We’ll gain our weight as soon as we give ourselves a break from the shame of the should’s. There is nowhere we should be, and there is nowhere we are where God’s grace can’t cover us. That’s comforting, right? And it just might free us up to start moving again.

The Kindness Manifesto

This week, I read a very long quote from a man about kindness, and I want to share it with you here, where you can read it slowly. When I first saw it, it was devastating. Then today, as I read it out loud in our faith community, surrounded by our family, it was even more so. It changed, mostly because I could see faces & hearts, see the commitment to following Jesus, and what could have been a completely overwhelming, impossible task now just seems inevitable.

Dr Barry Corey writes, “I’m willing to bet that if Christians leaned more into kindness and understood more its revolutionary power, the world would see a side of us that would cause many skeptical and irate folks on the other side to take notice. Our radical gestures of kindness may be rejected. They may be received. But they will not be forgotten.

By kindness, I’m not talking about when you buy a stranger coffee or when you bring in your neighbor’s trash cans or when you tell someone they have food in their teeth. These are nice random acts. But kindness is not a random act. It’s a radical life. Kindness is not limited to grandmothers or Boy Scouts. Never mistake kindness for niceness. Kindness is all over the Bible, plentiful in both Testaments. But you won’t find niceness in the Bible once—nor the word nice, for that matter. Kindness is fierce, brave and daring. It’s fearless and selfless, never to be mistaken for niceness. They’re not the same and never were. Kindness is neither timid nor frail. Niceness is kindness minus conviction. I think we should scrub “nice” from our vocabulary. We need to stop telling children to be nice and instead tell them to be kind, and then tell them the difference. The virtue of kindness is rooted in Scripture, forged on sound Christian theology and modeled over the centuries by followers of Jesus. Since the early church, disciples have walked the risky and sometimes dangerous road of kindness. Kindness is a radical way of living biblically. It’s a fruit of the Holy Spirit on Paul’s short list in Galatians 5. It’s not a duty or an act. It’s an imperative. It’s the natural outcome of the Holy Spirit’s presence in our lives. We exhale kindness after we inhale what’s been breathed into us by the Spirit. Kindness radiates when we’re earnest about living the way of Christ, the way of the Spirit. Kindness displays the wonder of Christ’s love through us…Kindness is a dimension of God’s common grace through us. It’s a civility grounded in gentleness and respect. At the same time, kindness is neither milquetoast nor weak. It is fierce and passionate. The God-authored spirit of kindness in us has the power to upend the enemy and season the world around us for the good. Kindness as Jesus lived it presents the highest hope for a renewal of Christian civility, a renewal needed now more than ever.”

The only thing left is the gigantic, loaded question the Scriptures always leave: Now what? Will we be fierce, brave, and daring, extending kindness and grace without condition? Will we “upend the enemy and season the world around us?” What will we do with this “revolutionary power” within us? I just can’t wait to find out.

Something Else About Judges

Yesterday, I wrote a very long post about an odd story in the Bible (called “It’s In The Bible”). The story is strange, but its inclusion in the Scriptures is even stranger. The point of the post was that I don’t get to decide what makes sense, what should happen, or how things are supposed to be, and that it’s wildly arrogant to think that I do.

But there is another layer to this, one that I didn’t mention yesterday. As the Micah account begins, verse 17:6 says, “In that day Israel had no king; all the people did whatever seemed right in their own eyes.” This verse is repeated, the last verse of the book, 21:25. Maybe that’s important.

The chapters immediately following the one on Micah are equally disturbing, I could’ve written yesterday’s post about them just as well. And twice, in 18:1 and 19:1, we find an abbreviated, “In that day Israel had no king.” Maybe that’s important, too.

What do these verses mean?

First, it’s just a fact, in those days Israel didn’t have a king. The people were decentralized, each tribe governed themselves. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but the next sentence (after a semi-colon) and these stories are clear clues as to what it meant then.

I say “then,” because “whatever seemed right in their own eyes” is kind of a cultural ideal today. My truth, your truth, follow your heart, do what feels good, and on and on. So, today, it is played as a positive direction. (Is it, really?) But then? These few stories in these few chapters are not at all what we’d consider awesome. The chapter following Micah’s is far more horrific, maybe one of the most shocking in the entire Bible. And the last is ugly and misogynistic.

But it’s the semi-colon that ties them. Even though “all the people did what was right in their own eyes” isn’t spelled out every time, the semi-colon of chapters 17 and 21 tells us it is still there, the continuation of an idea. They had no king, and this fact serves as a symbol of spiritual anarchy, chaotic and random, without vision or coherence.

These stories don’t make sense, and that’s probably the point. When we are left to our own devices, we choose what feels good, we choose pleasure, and we always choose comfort, always choose ourselves. There’s no right or wrong, up or down, so we’re always casting idols, selling out, and throwing our daughters to the mob to save ourselves (a reference to chapter 19.) Our lives begin to look like these chapters, messy, disturbing, and often horrific.

They sound objective, like journalism, but they most certainly are not. They’re charged and pointed lessons, teaching us what it is to be human. Of course, we haven’t learned, our news stories could carry the tagline, “In these days the people have no king, and do whatever seems right in their own eyes,” and we are drifting farther and farther away from our shared humanity. It’s a sad story, this history of us, but it’s one that can change the moment we open our eyes and get back to writing the Big Story that’s always been there, from the beginning.

It’s In The Bible

I am following the Bible-In-A-Year reading plan. Each day, there’s a section of the Old Testament, a section of the New Testament, a section of the Psalms, and a few verses from Proverbs. I like it a lot, and am mostly very faithful. When I am not, I never have an excuse. I missed yesterday. What was I doing? Nothing. I ate pizza, took a nap, watched the finale of a show called Extracted, and 2 game 7’s in the NBA playoffs. You can see how easy it was to forget, with all of this terribly important stuff going on. So, today I read 2 days worth, May 3 and May 4.

[Incidentally, today is May the 4th, which has been ridiculously christened Star Wars Day. I know this because 1. I love Star Wars, and 2. Because the man monitoring the self-check at my supermarket gave the super special greeting, “May the 4th be with you.”]

Yesterday’s Old Testament reading was from Judges, chapters 17 & 18, and was awfully strange…

A man named Micah stole a substantial amount of money from his mom. She didn’t know this, so she put a curse on whoever did it. When he became aware of this curse, he confessed and returned the money. She was happy, and, as you do, she took the money and had it cast into an idol (“in honor of [her] son” – it’s not stated what it looked like, but in my head, it was a silver bust of Micah. That sounds appropriate.) that Micah kept in his house. Then, a Levite (the Israelites tribe of priests) happened to be traveling by, and Micah asked him to live with him and become his personal priest, which he did. So, then, a group of Israelites from the tribe of Dan sent some scouts (who ended up at Micah’s house), who noticed the town of Laish (a fertile land inhabited by “peaceful and secure” people.) The Dan-ites took the advice of the scouts and decided to take that town. As they went, they passed by Micah’s house. These scouts told the rest of the idol & other valuable items, so they went into Micah’s house and took them. They also convinced the Levite to come with them and be their priest. The tribe of Dan took Laish with swords, burned the town to the ground, and renamed it Dan, where they set up Micahs idol to worship.

And there’s no more, chapter 19 just moves on to the next story. This is the entire story of Micah, Micah’s mom, their idol, Dan’s theft and subsequent destruction of “peaceful” Laish. I think there is value in every word of the Bible, even when we can’t immediately see it, that there’s layer after layer of wisdom to be discovered. I believe there is not a wasted word and nothing is in the Scriptures by accident or without purpose.

So, what about Judges 17 & 18? I think something should have gone wrong for Micah, who stole from his mother. But nothing did In fact, the opposite happened, there was blessing. They fashioned an idol? Why? Have you ever fashioned an idol? And, then something BIG and significant should have gone wrong for the Levite who monetized his priestly call to be someone’s personal priest, worshiping some random image, right? It should’ve gone wrong again, when the priest sold Micah out and moved on with the people who looted his house. But it sure didn’t. And Dan, one tribe of the 12 of God’s chosen people, who stole what may as well have been a golden calf, then destroyed a whole town of “peaceful” people, who didn’t do anything wrong except be peaceful – why wasn’t there consequence for them? This story isn’t supposed to end “happily ever after.”

This all makes me think of something my old pastor said. She asked the age-old question, if a tree falls in the forest and I’m not there to hear it, does it make a sound? “Of course it does!” The world doesn’t revolve around me, it continues to operate and trees continue to crash even if I’m not involved. She thought it was a terrific analogy to illustrate our limitless arrogance.

Does this passage truly not make sense simply because I can’t find sense in it? Of course not. Why would I get to decide what should be, or how things are supposed to go? Just because I’m selfish?

I really cannot find any meaning or purpose in it. It sounds all wrong to me. But I think I’m seeing what 1 word I’m missing: now. I can’t find meaning…now. It sounds wrong…now. How many passages and verses didn’t make sense to me the first time I read them? How many didn’t the 300th time? Jesus’ teaching on the “pearls to pigs” in the sermon on the mount is a perfect example. I thought it was impenetrable and silly, but it just turns out that I was. Now it’s thick with meaning and informs much of my behavior in relationships.

Maybe this story about Micah and his mom will be the same way. Or maybe it won’t. But today I had my eyes opened by this passage, and I didn’t so much like what I saw. I guess Micah isn’t the only one who struggles with idolatry.

What About Joshua?

We’re currently at the tail end of Joshua, following a Bible In A Year plan, and there are some things about this book that are surprising and others that are problematic. I wonder if everyone everywhere who has ever read the Scriptures have had these same immediate reactions, if they thought, “sheesh, there is an awful lot of killing, so much about totally destroying entire groups of people,” or “why do I care about the boundaries of each tribe’s land?” Probably.

We finished the earlier books, with all of the monotony of the sacrifices, measurements and laws, thought we were done, now we’re back into more super-specific details. What I think when I read it is not, “now, where exactly did Dan’s eastern border stretch?” Instead, it’s that there was a tribe that descended from Dan and it did stretch from one very concrete place to another. Sometimes, we can disconnect and think this all fell out of the sky. It’s easy to forget that this all happened, and it happened in this place at this time to these people. The fact that the book through which God chose to reveal Himself includes countless human beings is extraordinary, as if we’re the medium He chooses to create His masterpiece. So, now, I really like these loooong lists and details (honestly pretty meaningless in themselves, I don’t reference a map or anything, but heavy with significance at their inclusion at all.)

The genocide is another thing altogether. It hurts to read, especially to spend even an extra second in consideration. It’s a little like reading the story of Noah, not through the tiny prism of Noah & his family, but thinking of everyone else. All other people drowned. It’s a horrific story we tell to children. Or speaking of inappropriate kids’ stories, David separates Goliath’s body from his head at the end. I have a million more examples, and 1 question, in light of the last paragraph. If these are real people, in real places, at real times, then real flesh and blood people just like you and me are dying…I guess the question is: What??? If God created us all in His image, and loves us all, then what about the Amorites and Amalekites? What about Goliath?

I just Googled “Amalekites,” and here’s what it says: “The Amalekites were a nomadic, warlike tribe in the Negev desert who served as the first and most persistent enemies of Israel in the Bible. As descendants of Esau, they attacked the Israelites after the Exodus, leading to a divine mandate for their destruction. Amalekite symbolizes absolute evil in Jewish tradition, representing irrational hatred if the Jewish people.”

Ok. That sounds like the extermination of a group of people symbolizing absolute evil representing hatred of God’s chosen people by those chosen people is something we can understand, doesn’t it? It sounds reasonable, even.

Now, I don’t mean to be contrary, but there is a strange passage in chapter 5, before the battle of Jericho. Joshua meets a figure, and in his aggression, essentially asks, “are you with us or against us?” This figure, a “Commander of the army of the LORD” answers, “Neither.” Neither??Now what? What do we do with that? Also, a lot of scholars think this figure was a pre-incarnation appearance of Jesus, who would later famously say, “Love your enemies.” We can assume He meant “the first and most persistent enemies of Israel,” the Amalekites, too.

So now I’m wondering what part we don’t understand. It seems like we are very clear on the Old Testament narrative, we understand enemies and war. Good guys and bad guys, us vs them. We do understand and we honestly don’t seem to mind those parts. The complicated parts are the ones that are complicated by this Commander and Jesus Himself. Neither? Love your enemies? Their words bother us, not the book of Joshua.

And here’s what I’ll say to that: they should. We should be bothered, and we should stay bothered. The words and way of Jesus are revolutionary and radical, we have no frame of reference for the Kingdom of God. Unconditional love and grace is not what we do here, we do productivity and record-keeping. Vengeance above forgiveness.

It’s vital to stay bothered, to keep wrestling with these parts we don’t like, that confront us in the deepest parts of us. (Of course, we do have to be aware of what actually we’re wrestling with/about.) And hidden in the middle of this story is a command for how we’re called to interact with these parts. The Commander says “Neither,” then He says, “now take off your shoes because you’re on holy ground.” That’s so good. He reminds us that when we’re in relationship with Him, it’s all holy ground, and Joshua’s reaction is to fall facedown. When we read the Word, his is the only posture that will work, awe, reverence and total respect, trying to make our lives fit Him instead of twisting Him to fit us.

Joshua IS certainly a tough book, maybe not for the reasons we think it is, but we must not stop reading it.

Puzzle Pieces (extended)

[I wrote this yesterday for my other site, and I keep thinking about other implications & applications for my love of puzzles, so I’m adding to it here (minus the first paragraph about favorite restaurants, which was based on the site prompt and which you probably don’t care too much about).]

This post is a little late, I usually write on Mondays, but I was in the middle of a big, beautiful Star Wars puzzle. That shouldn’t matter, it shouldn’t be an obstacle to real life for a normal person. But I’m not a normal person. I have what’s called an addictive personality, so when I begin a puzzle, we can safely figure it will take nearly every second of my free (or writing/working) time until it’s done. And that’s what it did, for a couple of days, and now it’s finished and glorious.

I love puzzles, and I often used to wonder why. Now, I know. 

The world is more and more mixed up, confusing, frustrating, and I have almost no control over what happens on a macro level. Of course, I have lots and lots of control over how I treat my neighbors or what I buy at the grocery store, or how & when I brush my teeth. But I can’t stop any of the wars happening right now or make the sun come out. I can’t erase any of the President’s increasingly problematic posts on his personal social media site. I can’t bring gas prices down or help the Dallas Cowboys win the Super Bowl. 

So, it feels like our cultural, political, emotional, and economic environments are just big snarling masses of individual pieces, disconnected and random. It’s a dining room table of chaos. But in this Star Wars puzzle’s case, I can find 2 pieces that fit, then a third, and it starts to take shape. You hold one piece and think, how can this possibly make sense? And it really doesn’t, by itself, but there is a meta-narrative that recontextualizes everything, making one central ordered picture that’s full of meaning. 

I think that’s what the Bible is: our meta-narrative that gives the chaos order. It’s our big picture. Each piece is important to the whole, even if we can’t see it now, and it takes lots of patience and hope to continue. The pieces might be love, generosity, or kindness – each individual act or moment – and alone, don’t appear to make much of a difference. However, there is a masterpiece being created, and each of those “random,” “nonsensical” pieces are absolutely required for the final product. What does this mean for us? Well, it means we stay at it, persevering, moving the puzzle pieces, even when it doesn’t look like we’ll ever get done, like these pieces of ours will never matter, because we trust there is a giant Story being told and our pieces are integral. We keep showing up, even as the chaos rages and the temptation to quit rises. We keep showing up, loving The Creator of this Story and each other, in faith.

Puzzles work as a metaphor, a soothing intellectual exercise, a Gospel illustration, and they are super fun. Now that it’s done, I can just appreciate the beauty of cohesion and unity, and that’s just what I’ll do.

Everything I Need

The way that I usually read the Bible is very similar to the Bible In A Year plan. I read a few chapters of the New Testament and a few of the Old. For instance, I am currently in Galatians and Ezekiel, and I sit with my notebook and read until I don’t. It’s at least a chapter of each, but some of the chapters in, say, Isaiah or Ezekiel , are very short, so I might read several. Sometimes, the narrative makes me lose all sense of the big numbers, and in that case, it’s anyone’s guess how long I’ll read.

But lately, I’ve been taking the path specific to the “Bible In A Year,” and I find it quite similar to the Catholic Church, or mega churches, or my sister’s yoga community. When lots and lots of people are in a space, doing the same thing, at the same time, there is a certain energy, a connectedness. When Seinfeld was on, we all watched Thursdays at 9, together, separately, and then talked about it the next day. It’s powerful when thousands are all singing along with the greatest hit in an arena.

Today, the reading was in Luke, and the passage held this important proverb, from Jesus: “Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and He will give you everything you need. (Lk 12:31)”

If this were a Sunday morning, I imagine I’d spend the time discussing what “seeking” actually is. What does it mean to seek something “above all else?” And the Kingdom of God is a massive concept, which parts do we seek? All of it? What if we have different understandings of the Kingdom of God? Is the Kingdom I’m seeking the same as the Kingdom you’re seeking? Is that ok? Can we have different perspectives?

But today, I can’t seem to think about anything other than “everything you need.” What do I need? What do I need? What do I need? What do I need? What do I need?

We’d probably thing about food or or drink, first, but Jesus says not to worry or be concerned with those things. Or our clothes. He even says to sell our possessions. (Lk 12:22, 29, 33) So, what would He call needs? Because it seems like our understanding of what we need is the key to our search, doesn’t it? And I wonder if we’ve gotten that part wrong, and have been searching in the wrong places.

Then, He turns it up even further, in verse 34, “Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.” What is my treasure? Honestly? Is it what I think it is? Does my life show what I treasure? What does my heart truly desire?

Incidentally, I’m not going to answer any of these questions here. Maybe I can’t. But, there are so many places in the Scriptures, when people ask a bunch of questions, God answers with, “Go find some people.”I imagine He’d say that to these questions, too. That’s His gift. So, today, it’s enough to know that we’re all asking these questions at the same time. It’s much more than simply enough.

Jairus

In Sunday’s service, I stated a relatively simple but heavy truth that the Church almost always grows (in both width & depth) in times of oppression…but in prosperity, not so much. This has been played out and proven over history, and probably, our own lives.

In the book of Luke (8:41-42), “a man named Jairus, a leader of the local synagogue, came and fell at Jesus’ feet, pleading with Him to come home with him. His only daughter, who was about 12 years old, was dying.”

It’s not hard to vividly picture this scene in your head. He “came and fell,” “pleading.” His daughter is dying and he’s broken-hearted and broken, he’s poor in spirit. There’s nothing left to do, so he comes to a certain Rabbi, of whom he’s heard rumors. Who knows if they’re true, but he’s at the end of his rope. Imagine his face and footsteps. I don’t think he ran – maybe he did, but the word ‘fell’ brings images of heavy feet and slumped shoulders to me, of barely getting to Jesus before collapsing under the weight of such intense loss. He pleads, begs, cries, wails. “Help her, Rabbi, please help her!!” It’s 2 verses that are absolutely, totally devastating.

Now, maybe Jairus was always following Jesus, maybe he was one of the first followers. Maybe he knew Jesus, maybe he believed. But maybe not, and that’s what I imagine. If he knew him, believed, he would have come sooner. The Jairus in my head was skeptical, fell right into line with the Jewish teachers and Pharisees in his circle. Or maybe, even, he was decidedly not a believer. Instead, maybe he thought this Rabbi was a dangerous threat to his God and his religion.

But pain and suffering, oppression, lead us into some very uncomfortable spaces, right? We say & do things we might never say & do. We’re much more open minded, less likely to close any doors, more likely to open already closed doors. Jesus is a trouble-maker, but when her daughter is dying, what if it’s true??? What can it hurt?

Jairus asks. He seeks, He knocks. He cries out in his broken-ness. And God answers. When Israel is in Egypt and cries out, God answers.

When things are great, clicking along, the bills are paid, the sun is shining, we have a great tendency to forget. When we’re being promoted at work, we think we deserve it, we’ve earned it, we’re capable and strong. We know what to do. But when we’re fired, we’re lost, afraid, weak, and have no idea what to do or where to go. When we cry out for Help, God is far more apt to rescue us, than when we think we’re in control and so awesome we could never need/use any help from anyone.

To tell you the truth, as I’m thinking about it, Levi (Matthew) is a much more exceptional story. He was a guy who had a good job, power, lots of money, and when Jesus said, “Follow me,” he left that all behind. We’re probably way more Jairus than Levi.

Today is a gorgeous day, I slept great last night, and now I feel good and got a bunch done in the yard and my closet. I ate terrific pizza with my son for lunch. The Angel will be home in a minute. Today is a very good day. And I didn’t think of God too much, today. I said Thank You a few times, fleeting and quick. Sunday, I had a headache that woke me up out of sleep in the middle of the night, ibuprofen didn’t help, it was agony, and I spent hours in prayer.

The idea is that, whether we have everything or nothing, whether it’s sunny or sleeting, whether our bank accounts are overflowing or empty, whether our hearts are overflowing or empty, God is still God and loves us exactly the same. I bet this is the “secret” Paul talked about, except it’s not really a secret at all, it’s the secret practice of turning our hearts toward Jesus not only on Saturday, when it hurts, but also on Sunday, when we’re healed.

Weather???

What is my favorite kind of weather, the site wants to know. They’re not all great, right? You would be hard pressed to find a less interesting way to spend your writing/reading time. But then, this morning, one of the email lists I subscribe to sent these thoughts & questions (with the title “Do you wish life was different?”):

“Your life simply reflects what you’ve prioritized…What does your life tell you about your priorities? Do you wish it were different?”

We talk about values & the Biblical concept of weight (as in, what weighs more, observing the Sabbath or pulling your donkey out of a hole?) often. We discuss the foundations on which we build our lives. What do you believe about God, the world & yourself? And would your actions testify to those answers, or would they be a jarring contradiction?

This email doesn’t come from an espoused Christian, but it certainly asks a question that is inherently “Christian.” You have this wonderful gift of life, how will you spend it? What is important to you?

After I fell in love with Jesus, there were months where I didn’t open my Bible, where my fingers didn’t touch the spine, where it just sat on my bedside table collecting dust. But I would’ve absolutely told you that the Scriptures were very important to me. That’s just one of many hypocrisies that had to be addressed, before I could comfortably state that consistency was one of my core values. If it’s so important to me that you know what you’ll be getting from me, that I am authentically me all the time, that the principles I hold would be in the same room at a party, then I have to do quite a bit of work to honestly look at my thoughts, actions, motivations. I have to constantly examine myself in the harsh light of the mirror. It has been terribly frightening to confront the possibility that my boys and the Angel (the 3 who live in my house and know me the best) would not recognize the preacher at the Bridge. Would they hear me speak about the importance of the Bible and never have seen me read it? Would they hear me talk about honoring our spouses, while I am cutting and disrespectful to my own wife? Judgment, generosity, etc. I don’t know if you know, but we regularly read 1 Corinthians 13 on Sunday mornings, what if I am neither patient nor kind? What sort of example is that? Am I a Pharisee? I mean, yes, of course I am, but am I growing? Am I on the path, following Jesus? Is my life one marked by love?

We all have these spaces that confront – let’s call them invitations. That sounds much less aggressive, doesn’t it? Would we put family at number 1 but haven’t made it home for dinner in weeks, and haven’t spoken to my parents since last Christmas? Is eating right or exercise a “value” of ours, when we haven’t seen the gym lately and don’t remember the last time we’ve eaten a vegetable? Do we say we love our church community, while we don’t really go? Is giving an important discipline, but it’s often the first thing to get cut? Do we say we “love like Jesus,” but we really hate our enemies? It’s endless, and each example we give might hit a little too close to home. (Of course, the rub is: we would have to be willing to tell the truth, to and about ourselves. That’s where this can so easily break down.)

This emailer – Mark Manson – asks what our lives tell us about our priorities, and do we wish it was different? Do we wish we were more present? More faithful? More loving, caring, thoughtful? Do we wish our marriages were stronger, our families closer? Do we wish we were more responsible with our money, our time, our calories? Do we wish we were more mindfully enjoying the blessings in our lives?

I’ve been saying “more” and “better,” but that’s not the only thing we wish, right? Are we overwhelmed? Do we wish our calendars were less full? That we were less busy and distracted all the time?

What do all of these factors and characteristics say about our lives? Easter is such a great season to evaluate what goes into our hearts and lives. The resurrection is the best time to ask what we truly believe is possible. Where does the empty tomb fit into our priorities? If we answered yes to any of my own questions, do we trust that we can set a new course? That who we are right now might not be who we will be, that we just might not be done growing yet?

Easter is a time of intense hope… do we believe that? Does the way we live our lives affirm that theology? Probably not, but what better time could there possibly be to transform than right now???

Details

The site (in it’s daily prompt) is asking about my approach to budgeting. Maybe this is interesting, maybe you’d like to know, maybe right now you are considering a budget to get a handle on your finances and think the universe directed you here for THE answer. If the universe directed you here, it was for a different reason, not budgeting principles; I’m actually not going to write about my approach to budgeting. However, budgeting certainly fits into what I opened my computer to discuss.

In last week’s message, we studied the parable of the soils. In this story, Jesus explained how we all receive messages or information, advice, correction, and on and on. It could be anything, really. But in this case, it’s the Gospel. We might not receive it at all. We might like it now, but the second the path gets hard, we abandon it. We might like it now, but get distracted by/in our pursuit of pleasure or comfort. And we might like it now and soak it up and end up completely transformed. The obvious question is, what kind of soil are we??? How do we encounter new ideas, especially the ones that are critical or outside of our current understanding? Do we hold a growth or fixed mindset? Do we already know everything there is to know? Are we always right?

Our world is overflowing with this fixed perspective. We fight like crazy to defend our right-ness and ignore any conflicting evidence. I suppose this is pretty natural. We get lost and try to find our worth in all sorts of counterfeits, and that leads us to hold & rabidly defend our positions because we’ve tied our worth to our production. If we’re not right, if we don’t have the answers, then what are we? We’re hard, bad, unfriendly soil.

SO, what this has to do with budgeting is in the details we build into our lives to open us up to new pathways. How we show up on a Sunday morning is often influenced by Saturday night or last week or this coming week. And how we show up to ourselves & each other is always set by our heart posture towards the world. What matters? If nothing does, then nothing does. If only some specific items matter, then we can easily give much much less (if anything at all) in the other spaces. But if everything matters, then every moment is holy and cracking with significance. Each conversation, interaction, book, show, meal, has the potential to give life.

What are our own details?

Maybe there aren’t any, and probably in that case, our lives testify to that lack. We are reactionary and chase whatever is here, now, and shiny. Where does our money go? If we aren’t choosing to be intentional (i.e. budgeting), then we’ll find we’re choosing to be poor stewards of these gifts. This principle works for time, energy, for everything you can think of.

The parable is so important (much more than I ever guessed) because everything else depends on the quality of our own, personal soil. And tilling that soil (with The Spirit) requires an attention to details, intentionality, and discipline. Yes, of course, we don’t like that, but if we remain poor soil, nothing new gets in – we stay voices of screaming rage in political message boards, never listening, never empathetic, never connecting – and stay the same people that we’ve always been.

How do you prepare to read, to pray, to eat? How do you come to the table or the gym? What does your desk look like? Do you have a routine/plan when you go to bed? It would be great if those answers didn’t display, or assign, value, but they do. And this parable leaves us with my favorite question: now what?