decisions

Next Steps

I have been making some small, significant changes in my life (maybe not all so small), and it has me thinking about transformation. We discuss the art of becoming quite a bit: when it happens, how it happens, why it happens… What provides the impetus for real change in our lives?

Of course, nobody likes change. There’s that true cliche that says “Change only happens when the pain of staying the same outweighs the pain of change.” Maybe we’re there. Maybe our lives have become unmanageable and we’re suffering, or maybe we just have that nagging sense that there’s more, a new, next step we are being called into, like a splinter in our minds or an anvil on our shoulders. Pain can look very different for each of us.

It’s interesting, this transformation is not something someone else can do for us. Our people may see the reality, or the invitation, just as we might have in their lives, but the next steps (if they are to be authentic and lasting) are ones into which we can’t be coerced. Anakin Skywalker, before Darth Vader, speaking to his love, Padme, says, “Together, you and I can rule the galaxy. We can make things the way we want them to be!” This is the lie of control. Anakin believes he knows the right answers for everyone (we probably have made this assumption before, as well, right?) and should force them to make the “right” decisions. He believes he can and must decide their path, but our path is ours to take with the Spirit inside us, with Its prompting, courage, and strength.

So, what is our path? What are our next steps? Your next steps aren’t mine to take, or to direct, any more than mine are yours. Our only responsibilities are to have our eyes open, honestly, to recognize this call – both from and into – and then consider the step. (Today the step might only be to consider taking it, starting to think about starting to think about moving, or it might be to actually jump. Who knows?)

Sunday is Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week, and we’ll begin a conversation about the choice the people of Jerusalem had: Pilate and the Roman Empire, OR Jesus Christ & His New Kingdom? It’s the same choice we all have, in every moment. Do we want to continue walking the way it has been, the way it is, or are we willing to join the revolution of God and enter a new creation?

What better time could there be to imagine a new world? Easter, the celebration of new life. What could our new life in Him look like? Where is He calling us, who is He calling us to become?

And I bet, like me, you’re caught in an avalanche of distraction and disturbance. The alarm bells are ringing, the wheels are shaking, every side is clamoring for your attention. It’s like how the text message notifications ring the very moment you sit down to read, or how you remember the laundry when you sit down to pray. The enemy of our transformation is often preoccupation, for whatever Very Important Reason.

How about if, this Easter season, we try to notice where we are today (yes, I know it’s hard and it might sting), and imagine where the next steps might take us? They just might take us on the ancient road to an empty tomb, where we can finally find ourselves, and the life only He can give.

[And, as always, we do this together – as says the song lyric that often closes services, “Let’s take this one step at a a time, I’ll hold your hand if you hold mine.”]

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???

First Cousin Once Removed

At some point during many of the holidays my family and I celebrate together, the conversation will turn to 1st, 2nd, 3rd cousins, once or twice removed, and what any of those terms mean. We never remember, so we discuss it more often than you’d guess. Incidentally, I am ok with this, because it’s hilarious. We just wait for it to come up.

Anyway, last weekend, I went to my first dance competition. No, I wasn’t dancing (the way I worded that last sentence sounded like maybe I was). My first cousin once removed by marriage (The Angel’s cousin’s daughter) was dancing. She is 14 and has been dancing for most of her life. I had no idea what to expect, but I absolutely knew I’d write about whatever I experienced in this week’s post.

Not only did I not know what a dance competition looks like, I’d never seen her dance before, so I didn’t know what her particular dancing looks like, either.

The event was in a MASSIVE auditorium. Each competitor had a certain time (a minute or 2) to do whatever it was they would do, to music played at a pretty mind-numbing volume. (I’m not sure if you’re familiar, but there are lots of different styles of dance. I do know this, because I watched the TV show So You Think You Can Dance.) The kids in their very sparkly spandex outfits

[Actually, that’s not exactly true. They wore very sparkly tiny spandex super suits OR they wore white flowy sun dresses, with little in between. Anyway]

took the stage and performed, in numbered order. Some were awesome and some were good, none made me wish I wasn’t there. But my first cousin once removed by marriage was clearly the best. I would say by a mile, but there’s a chance that I am slightly biased, but only slightly. Objectively, she was clearly the best, maybe not by a mile, but for sure a good hundred yards. She was graceful, controlled, both subtle and overwhelming, and I found myself overcome with emotion. Beautiful things crack open my heart like eggs and flow all over, and her performances (1 jazz and 1 contemporary) were staggeringly beautiful. I thought about her life, her commitment and passion for this art/sport (it’s both, right? Elite athleticism combined with wild creativity and expression to create its own category), how so much of her resources – money, time, energy – and focus went into these few minutes. The hours and hours of physical practice are obvious, but what is staying with me are the countless hours of what is not so obvious. What she eats, how she works out, the many things she must have said no to, all in service of her one big yes, the foundation upon which she built the rest of her life.

[It might not be the foundation for her, she’s remarkably well rounded, maybe it’s not even what she would say is the most important thing to her…but you get the point.]

So, later, on the way home, I thought about me. I thought about my one big yes, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and my commitment to Him. She was willing to offer so much of her life to a discipline, to a love, have I? With everything she does, how she walks, carries herself, she looks to the entire world like a dancer… What do I look like? Do I look like a walking, talking, loving, follower of Christ? From head to toe, morning to night, the food I eat, what I listen to and watch, is it all in service of this identity? Am I offering the best of me? Am I offering all of me?

The truth is…well, maybe we can answer that another time. But last Saturday, that building was a church, and her dancing was a sermon, asking questions that aren’t so easily answered. I can’t tell if I’m more impressed by her dancing or her preaching, but I’ll tell you, it was an honor to sit under this 14 year old’s teaching & learn about life, love, faith, and devotion in a brand new way.

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?

Yesterdays

Today is Monday, and yesterday, we studied a passage in Ecclesiastes that carried some really massive ideas. And those ideas asked some questions that we usually try our hardest to avoid. Obviously, Great Big Ideas with questions like sledgehammers aren’t reserved for Sundays, or for just yesterday. They can come & break the door down any of our yesterdays, if only we are open to receive – or as the Bible says, if we only have “ears to hear.”

Maybe we can talk politics and what it means to respect the authorities…or maybe we can talk about the times to not do that…maybe we can wonder if it’s principle or rebellion that drives us, or what our hearts are overflowing with, flowing out into the world, getting all over everyone and everything… But I don’t really want to, not here, not today.

What I do want to talk about, here, today, is about the 2 Gospels/gospels that are constantly vying for those same hearts. Because, probably, the one we choose dictates what actually overflows, what we are giving, what frequency we are emitting.

The first is the Gospel of Jesus Christ. This is one of grace, forgiveness, kindness, goodness, gentleness, humility, faithfulness, that has one central tenet: love. Namaste means the image of the Divine in me sees and affirms and honors the image of the Divine in you. We see we are all made in the image of God, all fallen, all redeemed by His grace and love alone. (Of course, for as long as we need to, we can choose to not accept this gift.) We see each other as brothers and sisters, free of judgment and hate. We’re not all stepping on each other for a bigger piece of the pie – we recognize we don’t deserve any of the pie, and yet, His abundance is infinite, which means we can all have all the pie we want. Our winning isn’t based one another’s loss, we all win. We are grateful.

The gospel of me says that I am the center, I am better than you, my opinions, wants, & needs, are the primary concern for everyone. I demand assent. Maybe I will love you, if I want to, if there’s something in it for me. The divine in me sees you. The basic tenets are comfortability, pleasure, ease, temporal happiness (mine, not yours, unless yours happens to coincide with mine.) All of the -isms (racism, sexism, etc) exist here, because they all are based in the core belief: I am better than you. [We don’t acknowledge that this gospel is tied together with a dangerously thin line, because this arrogance is only superficial. It’s not grounded in confidence or esteem, it is insecure, fearful, overwhelmed with its own inadequacy. This is why, with this gospel’s worldview, I am so myopic – I worship a very small god. And I am mean & angry. I am very very angry.]

The very interesting thing about all of this, is that we have a choice. Deuteronomy says, “I set before you life or death, blessing or curse. Choose life.” Some see God as like the ocean we swim in, but I think this verse exposes the flaw in that metaphor. You see, the ocean doesn’t care if you drown, not even a little bit. It’s completely indifferent to your survival, much less your fulfillment or joy. With those 2 words: “Choose Life,” this God shows His heart. He wants us to swim. But we can, and do, choose…

We decide a million times a day, in every moment, which Gospel/gospel we choose – the Gospel of Jesus Christ or the gospel of me. The part that I don’t always like to admit is that we display that choice with our faces, words, posts, and lives, no matter what we might call it. Everybody can tell, usually the only one we’re fooling is ourselves.

So, what could it look like if we all swim? If we all chose to love each other, no matter what? If we chose to honor each other, and if we all just ate all the pie we ever wanted, at the same table, together? I’d really love to find out. I’ll go first.

A Romans 12 Season

My youngest son plays basketball in college, and they are in the early/middle parts of a complete culture change. For the last several years, the team has lost many more than they have won, and that can take a toll. They now believe that they will lose these games, that this is who they are. In 2 games last week, the team lost in the final minute to two of the top teams in the conference. In the sports world, this is what has historically been called “learning how to win.” It sounds like nonsense; a made-up concept bad teams invent to excuse a poor record.

But I don’t think it’s an excuse, and I don’t think it’s for bad teams.

I have a sometimes unhealthy relationship with food, and with my weight. I know the things to do, all of the principles of healthy eating, and I begin with the best intentions that can last for quite a while. Then, I make a poor decision or whatever, and the same tired, condescending voice rings in my ears (the same voice I’ve heard since junior high), telling me that this was bound to happen, this is who I am.

This happens in marriages (we try to reconnect, set a new focus), work (turn over a new leaf, change our mindset), in all areas of our personal lives (flossing, exercise, habits, reading, etc). We start to go to the gym – and we do…until we miss a day and are reminded by our own tired, condescending voices that we’re not that different, we’re still the same people we were yesterday. We believe we’ll lose these games.

It’s not that we can’t, it’s that we’ve lost our imagination to build new pathways in our minds.

Romans 12:2 says “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” I’m not sure what the pattern of the world was, when Paul wrote it, but I’m pretty sure it’s despair today. This pattern says today is just like last week and last year, you are the same and you’ll never change, this is just who you are. My boy’s college team is just going to lose these games, thats how it is and how it will always be. You will always fail in your diet, in your Bible In A Year reading, whatever it is for each of us.

We need to learn how to win, or how Romans puts it, “be transformed by the renewing of [our] minds.” I may make poor decisions in the kitchen today, but that does not define me – I can have a healthy relationship with food. No matter what that voice says, it’s not hopeless and I am not hopeless. I am new, my mind just needs to catch up.

This team is in the middle of a Romans 12 season – and maybe so are we. Mine is food, but everyone’s is different. Everyone’s mind is renewed to various things, in various spaces. The constant is His faithfulness in our transformation. We are becoming new creations, with new identities. This doesn’t happen overnight, and usually (sadly) not in great big leaps. Mostly, it happens in baby steps, replacing that voice with Our Creator’s Voice, with the Truth, one heartbreaking game at a time.  

Choices

Today is our website’s 11 year Anniversary. I know this because the hosting site just wished me a Happy Anniversary. How many words have I written here in 11 years? Most of the early ones are the audio recordings of Sunday messages – I didn’t write much, then. Maybe I’ll go back and read my first blog post…I did, it’s called New Year’s Revolution, and I liked it. The way I see things changes, but my style of writing really doesn’t. Anyway, Happy Anniversary to the Bridge website!

This faith community has existed for 13 years and 6 months, and I have not missed 1 Sunday. (I suppose it’s possible that I’m wrong about that – you know, when you write or speak in public, you have to be careful because there are quite a few who are happy to point out mistakes. I’m not lying. I truly don’t think I missed 1.) My vacations are during the week, I spoke when I was sick & without a voice, for the past 13 years, you know precisely where I am at 10:30 on a Sunday morning. As far as that goes, since I fell in love with Jesus 27ish years ago, I would guess that I haven’t missed more than 10 services. It’s very important to me (18 year old Chad would be shocked & horrified to hear this. He’d probably be shocked and horrified at a lot of who he is at 50.)

I am 64% sure I’ll not be there this coming Sunday. But this is not a decision I’ve arrived at easily.

If I miss, it’ll be for a basketball game. All of my youngest son’s weekend games are on a Saturday, except for 1, this one, which is on a Sunday at 1 in the afternoon. The school is a couple of hours away, so I couldn’t do both. We all have choices, right? I teach often on the concept of weight: what weighs more to us? To reference Jesus, do we rest on the Sabbath or pull our donkey out of a hole (which is NOT rest, as commanded in the Law) on the Sabbath? What weighs more?

[Actually, I’m almost 99% sure now, because I now know how this post is going to end.]

I have a humongous problem with Sunday morning activities, including (especially) sports. Do we really have so little regard for church services, and spirituality in general, that we can’t keep even one morning sacred?? Of course, that answer is yes, sort of. Collectively, as a nation, we don’t have “so little regard,” we have NO regard. That’s why I often refer to the true religions of our culture as sports and politics, because they are.

So, on principle, I do not want to go. It is my rebellion against a culture without a clue.

A bigger reason I don’t miss is, very simply, I love the people in my church family. (Maybe calling it my family sounds a little cult-y, but that’s not my problem. Family is more than blood relation. You are my family, and I look forward to seeing and wrapping my arms around you.) I miss you when you’re not there, and I would miss you if I wasn’t there. So I choose to come and, that way, I don’t have to miss you.

Ok, why would I go, then? My son doesn’t live at home, I miss him, and I want him to look in the stands and always see his dad. (I think I told you, I want to be a person who is taken for granted, because he’s always there, always shows up, consistently is the same safe place. I’m not, but it’s who I want to become.) We have been blessed beyond reason to have the time raising him, I don’t want to miss a moment of it. This is a season, he won’t play basketball, he won’t be in college, forever, I want to soak it up.

It’s also beautiful to illustrate that it is our community, full of leadership and responsibility.

So, what weighs more? It’s very, very hard. Either way, I will think of, and miss, the other. If only I could do both. But it’s at 99%, why? The scales are pretty much even, why 99%? I’ll tell you (even though I’m not thrilled to admit this… I have this policy of oversharing and vulnerability, even when it makes me look, well, not awesome. Oh well, honesty, authenticity in/about my own transformation, weighs more to me than superficiality, so this is what we get: a very long post;)

I keep referencing how I have never missed a Sunday. Some of that is me apologizing and making pre-emptive rationalizations. But there isn’t any way around it, the bigger piece is a mixture of pride & shame (which don’t sound compatible, but usually arrive together.) I am proud of this, and I must think it reinforces my resume, somehow helps to make me ‘enough’ to have the honor of being a pastor of a community like this, and a minister of the Gospel.

This happens, sometimes, and when it does, I go back to the beginning and dismantle all arguments & lies that lead me away from the Truth: that I am already enough, that if this honor was based on my performance, pride, and perfection, I would have already had the privilege, the call, revoked. My pride has always been super silly. All of this is His. All I am is His. And I remember that by taking a wrecking ball to each false, hollow structure I have created, as I encounter it. This is one.

I’ll be at the game. Maybe it doesn’t actually weigh more, but what does weigh more, to me, is exposing the lies in my head, and choosing His Truth, choosing to come home to who He says I am, instead. I’ll miss you like crazy.

Worth It

Last week, inclement weather pushed us to cancel the Sunday morning service. This is never a decision I particularly enjoy making. I’d really like it to be very, very clear, either a sunny day or a foot of snow. But an inch or 2 of snow is that blurry in between. Probably everybody’s ok, we will come if we’re comfortable, we won’t if we aren’t. But only probably… What if something terrible happens? Then what? That isn’t my fault, but it would absolutely feel like it forever. If someone falls and breaks a hip or a wrist, that is my broken hip or wrist. A car accident is my car accident.

Emotions aren’t always rational.

It was cold and windy and slippery, and we stayed home. Live-streaming is something we began, along with everybody else, during COVID. It is a fine supplement, but a terrible substitute. I don’t really like it. However, in ugly weather (or illness or vacation), it is a way to stay connected. On the stream, I said, “it just isn’t worth it,” and, as I was saying it, I didn’t like how it sounded at all. Meeting together is one of the most important practices, one of the most important parts of the week, and a vital component of our physical & mental (as well as spiritual) health, and too often, it falls into the category of “if we have time and nothing else to do.” Maybe saying “it isn’t worth it,” gives an impression I don’t intend. But when measured against our lives, we’ll stay home, right?

We could’ve met. The roads weren’t as dangerous as they could have been – the townships do a good job of cleaning up. This always leads me to second guess the decision, we totally should have met. Those kind of “should’s” stay with me for a while, as they might for everyone, on a loop in my head. But not this one, and I’ll tell you why.

Just before 12, I got a text from a very great friend, wondering if we could talk on the phone. I would have missed this text on any other Sunday, but this time, I was able to say yes. For the next hour, we poured our hearts out, both of us in various states of the pain & exhilaration of seeking and finding, falling and rising. We had both been searching for God in the previous weeks, and He had either delivered in spectacular fashion, or He had not yet (or at all). The conversation was 100% depth, we did not mention the snow or sports scores.

I didn’t like making the decision, and I missed the time with you, missed the hugs and crackling energy of our worship. It’s exponentially better giving messages to faces than the camera on my phone. We show up because we are a community, and this sort of beautifully close knit only happens in person, side by side, holding hands and intertwining lives.

This is a relatively small, momentary obstacle. Usually, any obstacles carry the question, “Why?” Why is this happening? This isn’t supposed to be like this, so why is it? And usually, we don’t get an immediate answer (if at all). But sometimes, we do. It’s that moment that is interesting to me. What do we do, then? When we can see this connection happen, in real time, in close enough proximity that we simply cannot miss, then what?

I was grateful to meet my friend in such a sacred space, but it didn’t take me long, upon reflection, that I began to think about trust. If there is purpose here, there is probably purpose everywhere, everywhen. Maybe when we can’t see it, that doesn’t mean that it isn’t there. Maybe we just can’t see it, for whatever reason. And maybe, when the obstacles or hiccups or nuisances or catastrophes happen (and they certainly will) instead of panic or control or worry, my first instinct could be to open my eyes and look around in anticipation of the movement of God. I wonder what I’ll find if I’m actually awake & aware.

So, no, I didn’t like it, but it was really worth it.

Cancelled!!

Good morning everyone!

I have some bad news. We’ve decided to cancel this morning’s service. I’ll miss you like crazy. If you have to be out, please be careful, it’s awfully cold and slippery.

We will still livestream the message from my home at 10:30am, this morning, so we can still stay connected (sort of) and continue our study of Ecclesiastes.

Next Sunday is the beginning of our Christmas celebration, please try to make every effort to be there Sunday and, especially, Christmas Eve (service at 7pm) – bring all of your friends to worship with us!!

Love. Peace.

chad.

Meaning

In this Sunday’s service, we discussed a few thoughts from theologians, and one of them had this short sentence: “We rejoice in the meaning God has given us with this life on earth.”

It was interesting to find this commentary regarding a book of the Bible, where the primary refrain is, “Meaningless!” Everything the writer mentions is all meaningless. Everywhere he looks is meaningless. Each of the paths we travel in our lives is always meaningless. Then why, in the middle of all of this despair, can our study lead us to “rejoice in the meaning God has given us?”

Of course, the Teacher (Solomon) doesn’t really think all of life is meaningless. His work is designed to lead us exactly here. So, here we are, and that leaves us wondering about the meaning in our lives. Do we rejoice in the beauty and crackling energy in & around our lives? And, if we’re not, why?

Maybe it’s because we’re distracted and sleepwalking through our lives, right? Maybe we don’t take a second to recognize this meaning/purpose, and be grateful in it. Maybe our lives seem disjointed and random, like they’re happening to us, instead of actually living them with intention and passion. Maybe maybe maybe.

I could continue to list possible reasons to explain our restlessness, our disconnect, but there sure isn’t a one size fits all. They’re as different as we are, mine isn’t yours isn’t The Angel’s.

We each have a story to our lives, inside of the BIG Story. It’s this story that gives us our purpose and/or meaning. And as coincidence would have it, in one of the weekly mass emails I receive, Mark Manson writes, “When people ask, “What is my life purpose?” What they’re actually asking without realizing it is: “How can I use my time in a way that feels meaningful.” … You don’t find your purpose. You build your purpose, experiment by experiment, mistake by mistake.” Then, he asks, “What do you spend your time on that feels meaningful? How can you do more if it?”

What do you think of that? Do we build our purpose? And what does that say about our passivity? What about if we’re waiting for our purpose to knock down the doors of our lives and sit down in the middle of the room, demanding to be addressed? Maybe it isn’t coming.

Yes, God gives each of us meaning – our lives are inherently meaningful. We are unbelievably important, and we don’t have to look for evidence – our existence, the fact that He has created us in, by, and for love, is proof enough. But from there…

How are we spending our time? If our purpose is something that must be built, how are we doing with that??

This email sent me down a new, different, unexpected path, but it’s certainly related. Maybe our joy comes from the pieces of our lives, chosen intentionally, and the way we order them, under Divine guidance. When you spend your time meaningfully, there is a natural joy in that, isn’t there? Maybe all of this, maybe all of creation, is inviting us into that, saying, “do more of that,” and asking us to really enjoy it.

I usually don’t end posts like this, but I am truly asking you, “what is that thing for you?” Tell me – call, email, text, comment, etc – just tell me. Nothing in this life was meant to be done alone (it is “not good”), and this is no different. Maybe meaning and purpose is something that is meant to be pursued and discovered (revealed?) in some dynamic combination of alone & together. So, how about we try that?