gratitude

Wedding Clothes (extended)

The site prompt for today is, “What brings you peace?” That is something fun to write about, but not today. Maybe later. Today, I want to share with you some of what I wrote for my other blog:

“I sometimes get the privilege of officiating weddings, of getting to say “dearly beloved, we are here today,” and “kiss your Bride,” and filling out legal paperwork that ties people together forever. I fully recognize the statistics that say we have about the same chance of forever as a quarter has of landing on heads, I just don’t care. I don’t have to acknowledge it, I can believe it’s forever.

This couple had been together since the 8th grade, through braces, high school graduations, college in different cities, injuries, long distances, COVID, and Trump, twice! Their book had the sweetest pictures you’ve ever seen of every awkward, beautiful step.

Their guests filed in, early and immaculate. 

I mention it, because this is not as usual as you’d like to think. Some are late (some significantly so), some come in jean shorts & cut off t-shirts, and some take the opportunity of someone else’s wedding to make a mess. I had one Bride’s mother show up late for an outdoor wedding in a park, and drive by slowly, uncomfortably close to the people, and through, never bothering to stop and attend. This isn’t only guests. Once, a Groom wore a tank top and gym shorts to his own wedding to a woman in a perfect white dress. 

I would tell you I mind, and I probably do. But that tank top wedding was awesome, some underdressed guests were wonderful surprises to the couple, and really, who cares how you are there, as long as you are there, right? I don’t necessarily like our casual culture, where every time & place is the same as any other. We “come as we are” everywhere we are. Of course, I’d like some separation. I’d like to set apart some moments. A wedding isn’t a ballgame. A first date isn’t video games with buddies. I’d like to bring back church clothes. But I’m the pastor and I wear shorts and untucked shirts all summer long, so there’s that. 

We can agree that some things are just more important, like heart postures. Clothes aren’t everything, are they? Nope. But they can certainly tell a story, (not the whole story, obviously), and give a window to the posture of the heart. They can speak volumes. The look of the guests at this wedding sure did. 

I imagine that the women bought new dresses and shoes (who cares where they bought them or how much they spent???) for this day, they started doing their hair and makeup in the morning. The men bought new ties, shaved, and wore fancy socks and pants that fit. They reflected on this couple, who they desperately love, as they did it all, and respected them, the day, the amount of money and time that was invested in the ceremony, and the grace of the God who made all of this possible. That’s what I imagine, and you can’t convince me otherwise. They came and gave their very best to this moment…because this moment deserved it. 

Now. That sort of implies that some moments don’t, and I don’t believe that, either. Maybe that’s the justification behind our super-casual, dressing down. And maybe that’s where I can argue. Maybe instead of bringing everything down to the level of picnics and McDonalds, maybe we can acknowledge the significance of every second, every place, every person. Maybe McDonald’s shouldn’t be eaten in the car and maybe we shouldn’t show up late to anything. Maybe we could eat on the fine china for sandwiches with our spouses? Maybe we should raise the consciousness and treat everything like the blessing it is? Maybe we can just start with this moment and go from there?

And that’s where that post ended. To tell you the truth, I still don’t like how I wrote the ending. I think it’s clumsy and confusing, to read. I could speak it, and my tone & pace would clear it up, but Kae Auhild (for example – I know that she is actually reading it, because she “liked” it when I posted it yesterday) is reading it, wherever Kae Auhild is reading it, and can’t hear my voice or see me at all. Anyway. What I meant was that, instead of choosing a sort-of least common denominator, where all things sink to the same at the bottom of the scale, we could try to bring them up, where everything is infused with the Divine energy. We would bring the same care and mindfulness to a spontaneous slice of pizza with a friend as we do for a funeral, instead of the other way around.

This is partly the first fruits idea, in practice. As Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters sings, “is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best, of you?” Is someone, is anyone, getting the best, the best, the best, the best, of us? What does get the best of us? Does a Tuesday evening family dinner? Or are our phones on the table with the tv on in the background?

The other part is the answer to the question, “what is sacred?” and maybe, to us, to Easter people, everything is. Or it can be.

We all know this world is hurting, and it probably feels so hopeless sometimes because we’ve chosen to disregard the sacred in the everyday (maybe even the sacred in the extraordinary, too) and in each other. We too often treat our lives, our world, and the people in it, as if we/they are disposable, as if we/they are anything less than miraculous. We watch (and participate) in the devaluation of all things.

If we treat others (and ourselves) as if they are actually made in the image of God, and wildly loved (as we are), then what is possible??? If we use the fine china for fast food, maybe it could carry new meaning, and if we can turn a gross McDonald’s hamburger on an “ordinary” evening after work into something deep and priceless, with gratitude and respect, then we can surely do that for everything else, too. Maybe it’s gone too far and there’s no turning back, but like the marriage statistics, I don’t have to acknowledge or accept it. And besides, faced with the bleak alternative, it’s sure worth a try, isn’t it?

No More Donkeys

Sunday’s message featured the age-old cage match between envy and gratitude. Envy confronts us, again, with the question of why we do what we do. Are we doing it to get that person’s whatever, or for another reason? Are we giving our time, money, or energy to get that better thing/model, or for more and more of what we have? Everything about envy is diametrically opposed to the tenets of gratitude, which says, this (person/thing/situation) is enough, I am enough. Then, there were lots and lots of ways to practice gratitude: presence, appreciation, focus, simply saying the words, “thanks.” The topic is as important as any we speak about, as far as it’s impact on our daily lives.

Our relationships dissolve because we take what we have for granted and allow our eyes and minds to wander elsewhere, to a new relationship we guess would be better. Our jobs are unsatisfying because we have lost interest in our own and would rather have theirs. Envy is a lifestyle of perpetual lack.

And a lifestyle of lack is a lifestyle of lack. It’s what we deserve, what we are supposed to have – it’s a selfish perspective, and that directly impacts our understanding of Jesus Christ, the Gospel, and the Bible. It was an important, and deeply personal message to give.

Now. The message had its roots in the 10th commandment, Do not covet your neighbor’s anything. I always use the “neighbor’s donkey” part, and it is used to describe anything of our neighbor’s that we want, whether it’s their car, house, new windows, or wife. Sunday, I carried the donkey metaphor over into our marriage relationships, referencing David & Bathsheba, even using the phrase, “the vows we made to our donkey.” This is a husband or wife. It just so happens I have a wife, and the metaphor spilled onto her. It was perceived that I was calling my wife a donkey. Many turned around to see her reaction. It was a little bit funny, and to be honest, I used the metaphor on purpose.

Metaphors are not usually meant to be realistic, they can make their greatest impact if they are absurd, wildly exaggerated, or shocking. Like using the word donkey in discussion about spouses and covetousness. Of course, it can also obscure the point. Maybe we all forgot how destructive envy is or how valuable gratitude is, because we were thinking about donkeys and the Angel. (*More on that in about a paragraph.) Maybe we were thinking about her and I instead of our own vows. Maybe we forgot to say thanks, about our own donkeys (whatever they are).

The joke was that I was in BIG trouble. I wasn’t. She understands metaphor and she understands the art form, and being with me requires a certain willingness to live fairly publicly (and have some stories told out loud in a room full of her friends). She lives her life with understanding and tons of grace.

AND, there is another thing…

The vast majority of the message contained many, many (too many, I was afraid as I began) examples of the things I loved, and continue to love, about her. The things I never take for granted about her. How I remember asking her out on our first date, and every second of that date and most after.

In speaking about searching for & reflecting on the beauty in our lives, I used a study about how the negative prints immediately on our souls and the positive takes 15 seconds. It’s why 100 likes & compliments are overshadowed by the 1 thumbs down or pointed jab. We rarely hear, and almost never remember, “that’s a nice shirt.” We ALWAYS carry “why would you wear that shirt?” sometimes for months, sometimes forever.

All you know of how I feel about being married to the Angel, over the years you know me, and the avalanche of appreciation and gratitude on Sunday were eclipsed by what sounded like an off handed comment (but wasn’t an off handed comment at all). I know, right?!!? Every week, it’s gross how I look at her with hearts in my eyes, open her doors, speak behind her back as if she’s the girl of my dreams (because she is), and lose my train of thought because she looks so rad. And one metaphor puts me in the metaphorical doghouse?

Sheesh. What does that mean about how we speak to each other, our children, the people online or at the store? What does that mean about our social media comments? It says, fair or not, it can be pretty easy to be a wrecking ball, crashing and undoing years and years of building.

I don’t want to be a wrecking ball, or an obstacle to anyone taking the terrifying honest journey of self-reflection. (This is so much of what Paul writes about – sure, you can, you have the right, but if it hinders one, it’s not even close to worth it.) We’re building something wonderful here, at the Bridge, in our relationships, and with our lives. And my intention was obviously, clearly misunderstood. I assure you I will take chances with examples and metaphors that stick, but I can also assure you I will not use that donkey metaphor again.

13 Years

13 years ago, this week, the Bridge was born out of the ruins of our previous church, which had closed its doors the previous week.

Including our flood-ravaged home, this was the 2nd home we’d lost in 10 months – I don’t know how much you can lose before you break forever… The cliché is that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle, and I don’t believe that, at all. I think we get more than we can handle all the time. I have a very great friend who has much more than anyone can handle. I think the cliché is, or should be: God gives you more than you can handle, and that’s why He also gives you the Church. Together, there is nothing you can’t handle.

As we walked away from the final New Song service, I invited our friends to my house to mourn out loud, together. They came, we mourned, and after several hours, I said some of the most hopeful words I would ever speak: Next week, if you want to come back, we’ll open our Bibles to 1st Chronicles 1:1. Not everyone came back, but some did, and that’s exactly what we did. They didn’t know, then, what I did, that we were being called to build something new. We all were just faithful in listening to what each of us were given, and no more. Just the next step. Maybe it was doomed, maybe we had misheard, maybe we were all very foolish, but we took these fresh new steps.

People came, stayed, left, more came, more stayed, more left. (If you think you ever get used to the leaving, and it stops hurting, you would be fantastically wrong.) We tried lots of different things. I played the guitar and sang “Stand By Me” one time, handed out mix cds another time. One service was only us reading chapters of the Bible outside, with our shoes off and our feet in the grass. We canceled another as a living, breathing, illustration of grace. One homework assignment was to give away our offering to someone in the community, face to face. We ate so much food together. We prayed. We moved 3 times and grew each time. We referenced so many movies and songs. We danced. We love The Most Spiritual Movie Of All Time, Fight Club, together (even though most of us, thankfully, haven’t actually seen it.) I made you mad, didn’t respond as quickly as I should have, we disagreed. There were marriages and babies. We cried, laughed, fought and made up.

The growth was/is slow, with what looked like a plateau each time, but was actually regaining equilibrium before the next bump. I am thankful for that, now. The Angel still believes it was God’s grace, keeping my soft, mushy heart from exploding. I also believe it was God’s grace, but for a different reason. You see, I could never wrap my head around my own transformation. I often found myself waiting for everyone to wake up to the fact that I should not be here. (As you probably already know, I did the same thing with the Angel. You’re not the only one who asked, what is she doing with him??) I don’t wait anymore. Once I did the waking up, not to my inadequacy, but to the searing disobedience & idolatry of constantly questioning what God has created (or was creating, if I would only stop being an obstacle and step into His mercy and love), I could finally see me, as I am (which is changing all the time).

We sometimes do that with the Gospel. It sounds amazing, super-spiritual, to brag that we are too bad, too far away, for Jesus to cover, accept, rescue, to love. But it’s not spiritual at all, it’s mean. Instead, it’s saying, “I’m so special, He/His sacrifice/His resurrection aren’t enough. I was saying, “I can’t be (whatever), He can’t make dry bones live, He can’t bring healing, He can’t He can’t He can’t.” But I was terrifically wrong. He can. I’m not too special, but I am wonderfully made by the Creator of the Universe, in His image, and, to paraphrase Nick Fury in The Winter Soldier, “it’s about time I get with that program.”

I asked those of us who were there that first week to reflect a little, remember these last 13 years. Every year, I teach what I call a manifesto to never forget our purpose. We may not be called to have 25 different services in a weekend on screens all throughout America. We may not even be called to have 2. My books might not get the sales of Joel Osteen’s (I don’t have his hair or perfect teeth, either). We might end next week. But this thing that God has built through us, it’s so much better than the best case scenario. I have no idea what could possibly be next, but what I do know is that the ethos of the Bridge has never changed – we’re still listening and taking just the next step. We exist in Him, through Him, by Him, and for Him. We are, and will remain, a Gospel church (which, if you ask me, is the only kind of Church to be).

He’s given us all of this, grace, kindness, forgiveness, righteousness. He’s given us a home. He’s given us each other, to walk with, to listen to, to hug, given us hands to hold. He’s given us the people who will pick us up or will simply get down on the ground with us until we can stand. He has given us a call, given us The Church, and He’s given us this Bridge.

I am overwhelmed. I am honored to belong to it, honored to be your friend, honored to get to watch you, really blessed to love you. I am grateful. Happy Anniversary.

What Makes A Teacher?

This website hosting app, Jetpack or WordPress, has a prompt every day, a question that is designed to inspire (or at least to get us to write more often, ostensibly so that they can collect more advertising revenue. But I don’t care why, to be honest with you. I like this site, their prompts, and I think they should get paid for their service. But now that I think of it, in my head, people sit at desks and around tables brainstorming for these prompts, and I want them to get paid… but that’s probably hopelessly naive, it’s for sure an AI generator that’s creating them. Maybe the machines should be paid, too. Anyway.) Today’s prompt is: What makes a teacher great?

It’s interesting, right? Especially in light of our Ecclesiastes study, written by “The Teacher.” What makes him great? Is he great? Think about your favorite/best teachers (were the best your favorite? Maybe that’s a different criteria…), what made them special? I am a teacher, and I am constantly evaluating my methods, style, clarity, and on and on, looking for obstacles to remove and new, different possibilities to help the material print on our minds and spirits.

I do have a huge advantage over the teachers & coaches you may have had, I’m not teaching geometry or physics or 19th century poets, I am teaching The Gospel, a message we are hard-worked to search for and accept. Added to that, what could be more important?

But it just so happens I do have an answer for this AI’s question, and it’s fresh because it happened to me yesterday morning.

In the middle of our study of Ecclesiastes, chapter 3, we had a short discussion on hell. I didn’t jump all the way into these deep waters, just more of a passing glance, talking about words and cultural influences. Maybe it was effective and clear and gave you a whole new understanding. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it made these waters even more muddy than they were before. Maybe I lost your focus, as you started thinking about lunch.

Then, after the service, as I stood in the narthex (one of my very favorite words) to say goodbye, a good friend walked right up to me and said, “I have a question…” And that’s it, that’s the answer.

Jesus, the greatest teacher who ever lived, answered questions with questions. It was pretty rare for Him to just give a straight yes/no and detailed explanation. It seems like He wanted each of us to dig deeper, to discover the answer. Now, that might be because the answer sometimes changes from person to person, and even at different seasons of the same person’s life. Or it could be that He wanted us to hold His hand for a little longer, or forever, never letting go. Maybe it’s all of those things.

I’m just me, I’m not the greatest teacher in Cleona, I’m probably not ever the best teacher in this house! But whatever happened in that church yesterday encouraged someone to want to continue to wrestle with concepts we too often…

Well, what do we “too often” do? Do we just accept what we’re hearing, take it as truth without thinking? Or are we disconnected, neither accepting or rejecting, indifferent to whatever, indifferent to everything?

What makes a teacher great isn’t always the teacher, certainly not only the teacher – of course, the teacher has a responsibility in communication, but it’s our posture as learners, our openness, it’s the words, environment, experience, space and mostly it’s the Spirit working in/through them, kneading them like dough in our minds and hearts. It’s the Truth that opens us up to look more closely, to not just be satisfied when the lesson ends, and keeps us going back to the well.

Every New Beginning Comes From Some Other Beginning’s End

I’ve coached my last game, spent my last day in the high school weight room. My youngest son has graduated, and will be leaving for college in August. My oldest son has a great job. Better yet, they are 2 of the best human beings I’ve ever met. The Angel is The Angel (and yes, it’s still very obvious I’ve married well out of my league, but that’s her problem, not mine – I say that a lot, and I really, really like to say it). The church is on solid footing, or at least as solid of footing as a ministry can be. God can call any of us in a different direction at any time. It’s best not to be too comfortable with these sorts of things. I could lose some weight, but probably many of us could/would say that. Maybe I will. Maybe not.

But the question that keeps rearing it’s bright-eyed, exciting, excited head is one I love: Now what?

I referred, in my last post, to a hope for the time & space on vacation to bring some clarity, some light in a dark hallway for the next steps. It didn’t, exactly, which is both disappointing and awesome. 

So, here’s what I’m thinking…

I am a rescued, redeemed child of God, husband, dad, brother, friend, pastor, possibly exceptional dancer, lover of everything, including this life I have been given, you and pop songs. My ministry is to love, and to tell everybody how much they are loved, what the Gospel is, and why that matters so much. That is who I am. 

Now, what will I do, in service of that ministry/life?

I am always working on the sermons for Sunday mornings, and will continue my commitment to this call to pastor our beautiful community – an increased imagination will probably lead to more Saturday evening events, and different risks, at the Bridge. There will be a focus on a marriage curriculum. I do some marriage counseling (pre- and post- marital) and will make myself available for more and more of that, in pointed, individual & group, class-ish contexts. There is a new book in the works, which will be called, We Have a Weight Problem, which is not actually about body weight. (Well, it’s a little bit about body weight. It’s more about the value we give to things in our lives and how we’d go about changing those lives.) It’s a good title, right?

I post in 2 places every week (the Bridge Faith Community, and Love With A Capital L), and may increase that frequency. I should probably do some interesting things to get those posts in front of more eyes. 

[I often treat my work as if it is a secret. I guess it’s residual ash from from setting fire to my imposter syndrome. As if I think you might not want to see or read it, and if you did, you might not like it. That’s silly. Of course it’s true!! You might not like it, but that’s ok. I don’t like all Morrissey songs, and I’m not the greatest singer of all time. I’m not for everyone, you might actually hate my work, but you might not, too. In fact, it might be cool, it might give you a new perspective, you might think it’s awesome. I’m going to stop treating these things as if they’re a fancy club, where you have to know the password to get in. I’m going to invite you to the Bridge.]

There’s a new series that will show up somewhere called “What I’ve Learned,” I just don’t know where. Maybe here. I might begin a podcast-type thing, like the old Facebook minis (10 minute shorts), but with other people and their ideas and viewpoints. I’ll follow up on the Bull Elephants (if you know what that means, you know, if not, I’ll explain it another time). I’ll make a new Instagram Bridge page, where I’ll invite you to the Bridge, and keep you posted on any-/everything else. I’ll be at our mid-week prayer group, and increase the opportunities for connection with the people I know, and the people I meet. These connections will be to counsel or coach, to provide space to ask questions and discover the answers, to study the Bible, to discern spiritual gifts, or to build & strengthen the bonds of friendship. 

I don’t think the Church is a place people come to, I think the Church is a group of people that go from a certain geographical, local home. Our ministries are in places you are, at town squares, malls, grocery stores and fields. We cannot just walk around trying to build attendance in our local churches, as altars to ourselves. Instead, we’re called to GO. Much of the next steps, as far as I can see today, are loosely tied to where I/we already are (but maybe that’s bound to be the case) . 

I am not discouraged at this. (I once would have been, and would have thrown this all away immediately.) What this means now is that I show up and am faithful with what is here in my ever-growing circles. Maybe there will be time for all of this, maybe just for one or 2. All I can be is fully present in where I am, what I am doing. But I am also paying attention to all the burning bushes, looking for the ones that aren’t consumed, because it’s often there that God gives our specific GO. 

So, what now? Well, I’ll love who & what is in my path – Jesus, you, me, everybody, this lovely creation – in the ways I can, and if (and when) my path changes, or expands, I’ll love there, too. And i’ll be really, really grateful for all of it.

(A)PESTs

You know how a really great piece of art makes you feel like anything, like everything, is possible? It affirms your belief in God and that He is supremely good, that He loves us. I just had that, with a book I finished just now. I’ll talk more about that somewhere else, but I just wanted you to know how grateful and happy I am right now.

On a parallel track in my mind, I’m thinking about Ephesians, chapter 4, I think. (Yep, 4, verse 11.) “He is the One Who gave these gifts to the Church: the Apostles, the Prophets, the Evangelists, the Shepherds, and the Teachers.” If you like acronyms, it’s referred to as APEST, and you can understand it like this: Apostles say, “Let’s GO climb that mountain!” Prophets say, “Are you sure, that mountain?” and then discern if that’s the mountain we’re actually called to climb (or if we’re mistaken and want to climb that one, for another reason, whatever reason.). Evangelists tell all of their friends, “Come climb that mountain with us!!!!” Shepherds say, “What do we need? Will there be enough water for everyone, as we climb?” and make sure we all have comfortable shoes. Teachers say, “Climbing mountains requires some certain knowledge and skill. Here, let me show you.”

Everyone operates inside of their giftedness to do our task, in this case, climbing this (or another) mountain. It’s a perfect setup. Other places, Paul likens it to the parts of a body. No one does everything, everyone does something. And mountains get climbed together.

I say it’s a perfect setup, but it isn’t always comfortable or natural. Apostles think apostle-ing is what everyone should be thinking about (Let’s GOOOO), Evangelists wonder why everyone isn’t as excited about Evangelizing as they are (why aren’t you telling all of your neighbors??), and teachers think everybody is getting ahead of themselves (you can’t think about climbing a mountain until you know how to climb a mountain!)

I had a nice illustration/reminder of this, again, yesterday. Thankfully, life continues to send lots of lessons to finally get through my thick skull. It sometimes takes me a while to learn anything.

(I won’t use names or examples, but know that the person and I are very close, and love each other to the moon. So, I’ll use an different, years-old example…)

A woman said to me, “I think God is deeply concerned about the environment, His Creation, and part of being a Christian is being good stewards.” Of course, I agreed. What she meant was that she thought we should not be using plastic silverware and paper plates, and as far as I can tell, she’s right. She wanted us to use real dishes and spoons and wash them each week.

That is her mountain, her letter. My mountain might be different, and, in fact, it is. I agree with her, but dishes aren’t my primary concern, even as I agree with her. I said, yes, of course, but that I wouldn’t be doing it. She would have to, because I had other mountains to climb. She was sort of frustrated, she thought her A list was, and should be, everyone’s A list.

She isn’t wrong, this is what passion looks & feels like, it’s part of why she’s so awesome. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and even if you don’t much care about silverware, after a conversation, you’d be willing to do anything she asks.

But I was more concerned with making sure the food was there. You see, my A list is telling you about the Gospel, it’s what everything I do is geared towards, and there are lots of obstacles to that. You need to be inside and comfortable, before you are able to listen. I think about that – how to effectively communicate the love of God – and, honestly, ancillary details can get lost.

Hers was also communicating the Gospel, and disposables are an obstacle for her. I was ignorant, oblivious, to that obstacle. And that is precisely why Ephesians 4:11 is so important. She’s necessary to see the obstacles that I don’t. We all communicate the Gospel in different ways, it isn’t a one-size-fits-all ministry, because we’re not one-size-fits-all.

If I spend my time on dishes, it takes from my actual calling – which was not on her A list – and Evangelists are Apostling while Prophets are bringing water, and nobody is doing what they’ve been wonderfully crafted to do. This is how burnout happens. When Evangelists evangelize, they are fully alive – this is not surprising, when you think about it. The One who gave the gifts is also the One who is calling us into spaces to use them.

What can easily happen to me, though, is frustration. Like all of us, I think my part is vital…and I’m right, it is…so why don’t you see it?!!? But in my myopia, I can miss that hers was vital, too. She is right, too, so why don’t I see it?!!?

One of the points of the Bible, and the beauty of the early followers of Jesus calling this The Way, is that it’s a process, we’re in motion, listening for His Voice, listening to His Voice, finding out who we are, and what we’re for, what our A list is – and it is also in learning who they are, what they’re for, and what their A list is. We discover where we fall on the APEST spectrum (we are all on it, somewhere), what parts of the body we are, and step into the reality that we only work the way we’re designed if we work together.

…And Yet

One of the most significant differences in me, now, and me, for the previous nearly 50 years, is the amount of lies running around in my head. Before I fell in love with Jesus, one of the things I absolutely knew about myself was that I was not enough. Of what? (There’s a cool movie called The Wild One with a young, awesome Marlon Brando. In it, he’s asked, “What are you rebelling against?” He answers, “What have you got?” That’s my answer…) What do you have? Wherever it’s possible for a person to be inadequate, I was. Not a good enough husband, son, daddy, worker, athlete, not pretty enough, strong enough, funny enough, and on and on.

Then, when I fell in love with Jesus, He slowly began to unwind those ties that bound me in their ever-tightening grip. Unwind and Replace with Truth, His Truth. It’s been very nice, to feel some peace & quiet, some rest.

I’d be lying if I said I never hear those lies anymore. When I do, the big problem is that they sound so much like truth. They’re the same old lies – I can’t do it, I’m not enough, and I never will be. They deserve better, someone more…well, not me. Someone more than me.

What then? What if the perceived evidence supports the lie? Is the evidence an illusion that should be discarded? This is one of the hardest things about a life of faith: it requires trust in steps we can’t see, and distrust in steps we can.

What I am learning is actually pretty simple: patience. These lies, once you know the Truth, don’t generally hang around too long. When Jesus gets the first & last word in your head/heart, the noise in the middle can get drowned out after their initial deafening detonation.

The other big plus is the Gospel. What I mean by that is that this story is His. We can’t earn it or be great enough to punch our own tickets. So, when the lies roll in, screaming how “not enough” of whatever that I am, they can be met with a resounding, hilarious “that’s TOTALLY right! I’m NOT!!” which disarms this enemy, transforms the evil piercing attack of the lie into a reminder of the beautiful affirmation of the Truth.

“You’re not enough.” That’s right…and yet.

What would an enemy say to that?? It mostly neuters him with the sword of the Spirit, the Scriptures, and the shocking Truth of Jesus.

Of course, the ‘initial deafening detonation’ hurts. I guess the best analogy is a stubbed toe. It hurts like crazy, feels like our toe is broken, but it does go away. The pain of hitting the edge of the bed isn’t forever, it fades and is forgotten. Sometimes, it does break the bone. In that case, it lasts a little longer, but that doesn’t change the fundamental reality, that the toe is not broken, will heal and be whole again.

I’m not a good enough husband, daddy, pastor, teacher, whatever – all true. (This is what I mean by evidence. I lose my temper, say the wrong thing, don’t come through, swing and miss, all of the things that come with being a beautifully flawed human being.) These people I serve – you – are all made in the image of a wildly, passionately loved by The Creator Of The Universe. How could anyone possibly be enough for someone like that, for someone so valuable to Him? In other words, how could anyone possibly be enough for you?

…and yet.

We get back up, we move on, we show up with all we are and love these treasures of His. (By the way, we are one of these treasures, too. Imagine how He feels hearing us run down His beloved with all of our mean, nasty self-talk.) We show up the best we can, in any & all situations, every moment. You’re right, I’m not enough, not what you deserve, but I’m sure going to love you, from where I am, now. I’m going to keep moving forward, becoming more and more of who He has created me to be. I’m going to love this world of His, and I’m going to tell everyone who He is, and who we are. I’m imperfect, messy, I get it wrong a lot, I will let you down, but I am really really loved, anyway.

This is probably what Grace means to me, personally, right now. And it’s also what it feels like to have Jesus destroy the prison walls I’ve built that keep me from Him.

These Next Two Weeks

In the next 2 weeks, my youngest son will graduate from high school, coaching youth baseball will be over, and my time in the high school weight room will be over, too. Also next week, the Angel & I will celebrate 24 years of marriage together. It’s a lot to process. Last Saturday, we held an event at the Bridge for a pair of extraordinarily talented musicians, and the HS baccalaureate was Sunday evening. Today was the dentist, and tomorrow is the awards assembly.

I’m not telling you any of this because I’m particularly unique. Everybody is busy, the grass keeps growing, the wheels on the bus go round and round and round and round and round. You have these moments that you are aware/awake to the fact that they hold tremendous significance, that maybe your life will change, marking a deeply etched line separating before/after. There are much too many things on your mind to keep them all straight, but it’s the weight on your heart that is exacting the true toll.

These things are hard to hold. They are wonderful, your heart feels like it might actually explode from the joy. You cry those tears of celebration, and then, at some point, somehow, they morph into sadness. Where does that come from?? Why are you so sad? Because your life is not what it was before. Maybe it’s better. Maybe not. Who can tell here, now? How does one define better or worse? But it is certainly different. And all change is, in fact, loss, and all loss has to be mourned, or it sits in the corner of your soul (sometimes it’s very noisy, sometimes it’s quiet, almost unnoticeable), taking up space, waiting to be addressed.

But we are asked to hold them. Instead of what we would prefer to do, which is avoid them, run from them, numb ourselves so we don’t have to look at them, or simply pretend they don’t exist.

One of my favorite passages in the Bible is the shortest, “Jesus wept.” There may be a million different interpretations, but to me, this is Our Savior climbing into our complexity and staying there. He does not say (as we surely would), “It’s ok, don’t cry, you’ll see Lazarus again, watch this!!!” He knew that. But He knew what we often don’t, these tears are an integral part of the human experience, they’re necessary, honest. In His actions, He is giving us permission to be exactly where we are – more than permission, He’s encouraging us to be exactly where we are. He’s telling us that holding this life that He has given takes more than 1 hand. He’s showing us the value in presence, that here and now is more than enough.

I feel like Mary and Martha right now, so full of emotion. Like He knows how this movie ends, but He also knows I don’t, so He is weeping with me. We start with the joy, moving into and through the crushing sadness of missing something and/or someone, (of course, this is all awe at the scope of His Creation, this is all in gratitude, as it pours out of us for the time and the moments He’s blessed us with) and then back into the joy and wonder and pleasure of breathing His air and living the life He has given. He knows my love for Him, as much as I am able, yet paling compared to His love for me. He holds me as I’m experiencing all of what He’s made us to experience. And I imagine His delight as He sees how deeply I love all of it.

I don’t know what we’ll do tomorrow, in 2 weeks, or what the future holds for you or me or any of us, but I do know how we’ll do it – with both hands and our whole hearts.

Reputation Management

Mark Manson wrote this, in today’s mass email, “Your actions reflect who you really are. Your words are simply reputation management.” Reputation management?!!? That’s as perfect of a phrase as I have ever heard, and one I think I’ll use until everyone think is it’s mine, and mine alone. I’ll never give him credit again, after this post.

In Sunday’s message, we discussed honesty, authenticity, and the overwhelming temptation to create images of shiny, perfect people who have everything together. Social media is the only logical extension of this, it had to go this way. We finally made a place where we only show the parts of us we decide you can see. There are no missed shots on Instagram. There are no zits or awkward pauses, no bad lighting, no pictures where we aren’t looking. It’s awesome. When the aliens come, they’ll know that we have achieved the pinnacle of human evolution.

Of course, that conclusion will be as honest as we are. This has always been an obstacle of ours. We like to think the Bible isn’t too relevant, anymore, but it is. Solomon wrote to ancient people, and may have been writing to us, now, here, today. Actually, Genesis 3 is just as on-the-nose as it ever was. We will seek to find our worth in our work and/or relationships, to our own assured destruction.

Over and over, God addresses this, explicitly, in words, and implicitly. in which books were included in His collection of holy works. He doesn’t want empty ritual or mindless routine. He doesn’t want pretense or masquerade. He wants us. Me & you & your neighbor. He wants all of us, as we are, the worst parts as well as the ones we like. He wants the burned, ruined meals alongside the ones we post. I think He probably likes the hundred thousand missed shots even more than He celebrates the ones on Dude Perfect.

So, yes, it’s all over the Scriptures, and we still try to avoid looking out of control or imperfect. I wonder why??? We say things and do others. I want to lose weight, and this morning, I bought a box of Pop Tarts. Those things don’t live together in loving peace and harmony. When I tell you I want to lose weight, I think I am managing my reputation. I want you to think I do. I want you to think that is important to me. I think I want me to think that, too. But my actions say something else altogether.

Hm. I really love this discussion. I guess I now really love uncomfortable conversations, and I bet I know why. Uncomfortable conversations really only happen when we set aside our fears (at least a little), sit in our vulnerability, and begin to talk about who we really are and what that means. What do we really value? What do we really want? I often hear that word in my head, when I speak or write… really????

“I really love this discussion.” Really? You really like to think about the parts of us that hurt and make us want to run and hide? That make me want to run and hide? Really?

Maybe.

But that word reminds me of my other favorite question, “What now?” They both lead us into dimly lit rooms and dark paths where we have to trust that we might not actually be lost, at all. We might just have our eyes closed as we follow Our Creator, like it’s our birthday, and when we open them, we’ll have to deal with a whole new reality. What could be more exciting and hopeful and terrifying?

It’s very good we’ve been given each other to hold onto when we open our eyes, isn’t it?

Decompression

The site prompt for today is: How do you unwind after a demanding day? This is a fine day for that question. Last week was a busy, heavy week. There were physical meetings and appointments, but more than that, the emotional & spiritual weight was, at times, overwhelming. The site knows this, so the question is especially pointed today.

So, what do we do?

Late last week, we discussed rhythm. The Church calendar has this flow – Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, with others sprinkled in, but in between is the mushy, colorless connecting tissue that’s called “Ordinary Time.” Today is the day after Easter (there are several Sundays of Easter), but feels exactly like Ordinary Time.

The only obvious question is, “Is any time truly ordinary?”

Again, so, what do we do?

Some of us sleep in, others wake up early, some leave for a quiet vacation away from home, some choose a quiet vacation at home (stay-cation), some go to the gym, some get right back to work, some of us feel like we might be getting a little sick. The Angel is reading a book with her workout clothes on (maybe she’ll go for a walk outside, or maybe she’ll stay right where she is and read. Either way, she’s exactly where she needs to be. And she looks ridiculously beautiful.) Elisha is awake, watching YouTube videos while playing a video game while eating breakfast (maybe this is rest, for the younger generation.) I am writing now, thinking about this (and you), and wondering if what I feel in my throat and head is, indeed, a sickness.

I have a great friend who lost her mother 2 weeks ago, the service was last week, and I bet today is awfully… what? The responsibilities are over, there’s a new normal, most people are home and praying for her and her family instead of being at their home praying with them. Does she feel like she can finally cry out loud in her bedroom? Or does she feel tired deep in her soul, as well as her body? Is she dreaming of her mom dancing with Jesus, and laughing in celebration of a fully-realized faith? Probably all of those. Is that Ordinary Time? Is it decompression?

I used to call the 45 minute drive time home from work ‘decompression,’ where I would begin to breathe after a long day. There were people at home, and I didn’t want the weariness or drama to enter and muddy the precious space between us. That’s what I have always called “unwinding.”

Lost of words come to mind: presence, mindfulness, intention, and others just like them. I don’t think it really matters what it is that we do, as long as it’s on purpose. Maybe your decompression is very different from mine. Some mow grass on Sundays because it’s not work at all, it’s how they express their gratitude at a lovely creation. It’s work for me. My brother in law cooks all the food for Thanksgiving because it’s how he floods his entire family with his love, care, and appreciation. I just eat, as my thankfulness.

What do you do? There’s no wrong answer. Although, if there was, it would be to climb back on the wheel, seeing it as a wheel of oppression, hating it but running because that’s what you’ve always done, and there’s no other choice but to run. Sometimes, we change our circumstance, and others, we change our perspective of the current circumstance. Maybe, in that case, living the resurrection is to see the wheel with gratitude, as provision. Or maybe it’s to tear that wheel to the ground.

Nothing is better or worse, sacred or secular. The only question is if it’s consecrated or not. (Consecrated simply means set apart, given to God, and anything can be consecrated. Or not. Grocery shopping can be a supremely spiritual offering, and attending church can be an abomination.) So, what do you do? What do you want to do? What do you want? What do you have? Who are you? What does the you that you want to be, that you’re created to be, do to decompress?

What a fun, hopeful, question rooted in limitless possibility. Ordinary? Not even close.