gratitude

A Dallas Cowboy Win

The Dallas Cowboys are the official NFL team of the Bridge Faith Community, I’ve decided, and yesterday they barely eked out an overtime win over the hated rival New York Giants. To be honest with you, it was pretty disappointing, and as I am examining why that is, I am finding that it speaks to a reality that is far mare important than some dumb game in Texas.

Every year, I think the Cowboys will win the Super Bowl, and every year since 1995, I am wrong. This no longer ruins my year, season, month or even day, like it did when I was a teenager. They are just my favorite team. I am not a player, I have no stake in the team whatsoever. Yet, I would say I love them. [Obviously, not in the way I love my wife or any other person I actually know. I’m not an insane teenager anymore.] This is, I recognize, a ridiculous reality, but it is a reality nonetheless.

Now, let me tell you about a family beach vacation, about 10-15 years ago. One evening, we were on the boardwalk and my sister and I began to argue – I don’t remember what it was about, more than that I wanted her to say and/or do something, and she wasn’t saying or doing that thing, that way. She wanted the same from me. We had pictures in our heads of how the evening should go, and when they didn’t, we were frustrated and angry.

(If you have a sibling, you know the kind of ‘frustrated and angry’ I’m talking about. There is a certain safety in screaming out of frustrating and anger at someone you’ve lived with since you were born.)

Why were we arguing on a beautiful night on a boardwalk in Ocean City? For the same reason I was (am) disappointed in a nice win. It’s also the same reason the Angel and I usually have conflict, in our relationship. When I’m shockingly mean to me, in my head, it’s for this reason, too. And it’s also why I don’t buy, or listen to, the new Counting Crows albums. While we’re on the subject, it’s probably why we all hate each other on social media.

My sister and I fought because we had an expectation for the evening, we expected something from the other. I expect the Dallas Cowboys to win every game, comfortably. When I listen to new Counting Crows records, I still have August & Everything After in my head, and this new one is never that! I walk into these conversations with my wife with expectations that she will see it my way, or respond to me in a particular way.

Expectations are about what they should do, what they are supposed to say, how this should go, who should win, how you are supposed to see the world, and on and on. And when they don’t, when it doesn’t, I am disappointed and petty. I lash out, or pout (in other words, I say mean things or nothing at all.)

That night on the boardwalk opened my eyes to a new question, instead of why she didn’t participate in my mental construct for a perfect evening. Who in the world was I to decide how she should be, what she should say???? What gave me the right to be the all-knowing arbiter of what is supposed to be?

And when I finally asked that question, and searched my super ugly parts for the truth, it’s easy to see that I gave me that right. It’s simple arrogance, the same idolatry that is so commonplace all over the Bible and still is, today, in every corner of all creation. I didn’t like that answer, but what I like or don’t like doesn’t really matter when we’re talking about the truth.

What if I could have allowed my sister to be and do only what she wants to be and do? What if I didn’t have to control every aspect of all people and circumstances? I’ll tell you what happens – I am free to enjoy the time. I am surprised by the kindness, care and thoughtfulness of people, and the stunning beauty of my life, when it can unfold naturally, without my need to write everyone’s story by the blinding light of my own altar. Most importantly, without expectation, I am free to be grateful.

I can’t always do it (like yesterday’s NFL game, for example), maybe I never will be perfect, but I’ll sure keep trying. It’s totally worth it. Those Counting Crows albums probably aren’t so bad, after all.

A Genesis 28:16 World

Genesis 28:16 reads, “When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it.”” I reference it often, the most recent of which being just last Sunday, telling the story I’m about to tell again, here & now.

This verse is inextricably tied to the death of my dad, because it found me as I was raw and in such pain, struggling with his absence, mourning the hole he left. The truth that I was also mourning the hole I allowed while he was alive was almost too much to bear – I was very unaware. This warning changed the rest of my life, as I vowed to never be unaware ever again, never miss the divine in others, never sleep through the sacred moments & people (which is, of course, all of them) in my life.

You know how vows are, though…I have still missed far too much. But I’m trying, and I’m getting better, more awake, all the time.

Anyway, we moved my youngest son into his college dorm room last week. The school, Lycoming College, then, held a Convocation. I had never heard the word before, (and I really like words, and I like to know lots of them!!), so I didn’t know what we were in for.

A Convocation, according to our great, all-knowing sage, Wikipedia, is “a group of people formally assembled for a special purpose, mostly ecclesiastical or academic. The Britannica dictionary defines it as “a large formal meeting of people” It’s just a gathering, or the act of calling people together for a gathering. (There is such a cool thing coming, in about a paragraph or 2.) This convocation was a “welcome, new students,” gathering, and was moving, emotional, and charged with all of the weight of beginning a new stage of life, for all of us, students & parents alike.

Well, not all of us. There were many students listening to music, watching TikTok videos, or messaging others. Then, a few rows from me, 3 students were loudly talking (I still don’t know if they were talking to each other or their phones – I’m pretty sure it was certainly about the content on their phones.) Did I say “loudly?” LOUDLY. They were so loud, not using their inside voices at all.

Now. Of course, this awful behavior, and these 3 people, is/are rude and disrespectful. Elementary children are less obnoxious than these college students. BUT. What struck me was how depressing it was, and how depressed I was, for them.

They were taking their first steps into a brand new world. They are beginning their adult lives, full of promise and possibility. They are becoming the people they will be, and this process starts with this beautiful ceremony. What could be more significant??

And they missed it. And I don’t think they’re unique in this, I think it’s probably a Genesis 28:16 world.

Now, can you guess where the word Convocation comes from? Leviticus!! In Leviticus 23, God instructed His people to set aside holy times to gather, worship, and refocus on His covenant. Convocation actually means a “sacred meeting!!”

Surely the Lord was in that place, and they were unaware.

My heart breaks, even now. They’ll never get another convocation as first time, incoming college students. God was there, filling that gymnasium, whispering His call on their lives, through the 6 people who addressed them, and through the other students who will be the iron that sharpens them.

The thing about the burning bush was not that it was burning, bushes burn all the time, it’s that it wasn’t being consumed. That takes presence and attention, awareness when the Lord is in this place, wherever “this place” is. These 3 were like what was surely countless others who walked on by, unaware, until Moses noticed and his life, and the lives of a nation and a world, changed.

And my next thought is always, I wonder where I have been unaware. Where have I missed it, missed my life, missed the sacred in my midst? I really hope those kids wake up, and I hope we all do, too, so we never again suffer the crushing ache of having to say, “and I was unaware.”

Creativity

The site prompt, today (or yesterday, since I didn’t finish it last night), was, “What do you enjoy most about writing?” I’ll tell you the truth, reader & AI program that chooses these prompts, I love almost everything about writing.

I embrace the possibility of the blank page/screen – at least, usually I do. Of course, sometimes, it’s terrifying, but I read this book by Stephen King once and he said, just write something, anything. That’s been great advice, because then, after a few words that are banal and meaningless, voilà, the page is no longer blank and far less intimidating.

I value the time. I write by myself, listening to music, in a fluffy recliner. While it’s not silent, it’s quiet, peaceful.

But to answer the prompt, what I enjoy most is the self-discovery. There have been countless times where the words & ideas flow in unexpected ways, opening my eyes to how I really feel and believe. I just start with questions and feel around in the dark for myself. This is what I’ve heard called an “inward journey.” There are no rules or judgment in writing like this, just the free expression of a person in progress. Maybe this writing is why I enjoy the “in progress” part of me so much. (Not the actual stretching, but the growth…maybe just in hindsight.)

Another thing I like most is the creation of a new thing (whether fiction or non, novel, short story, poem, post, or sermon). What did not exist, now does. We breathe life into work that will outlive and outreach us. I can get people I will never meet from all over the world reading the words I type from my fluffy chair. The pages and pages I’ve written, my boys could read long after I’m gone. (Probably they wouldn’t, but they could, right?) I don’t think this is a delusion of a narcissist, it’s much closer to our divine design. We are created in the image of a wildly creative God, with the purpose of spreading His love, His word, His Story, to the ends of the earth. Why wouldn’t that be what we do, however we do it?

So, I see now that the last paragraph could be called connection, and writing, especially in an immediate, interesting format like this, does that in a way few other mediums can. I can do this, open my heart in an authentic, vulnerable way, and we can find the common ground we’re all searching for.

My son goes to college in 2 days. This is the most wonderful pain I have experienced. It’s a new set of emotions. The order of things that I’m used to is: 1. I feel pain and wish I didn’t. 2. Later on, (months/years), I see how valuable that pain was, and become resigned to my own gratitude. This one is different. I am fully, overwhelmingly grateful as it is tearing my heart out and breaking it. I am proud, excited, would not even consider stunting this very natural, beautiful part of his becoming, his own journey. I will just miss him terribly.

At funerals, I have come to find that those who are only broken hearted are the luckiest. Some (most?) of us have some complex mixture or regret, anger, frustration, and on and on. What a gift it is to simply grieve. Those sad tears are a blessing that is pretty rare, honestly.

This is like that. I’m not afraid or hesitant. There isn’t mourning over times I’ve missed. He is all I could have ever hope for, our time has been better than the best, and he is ready to change this whole world by simply being in it. The Angel & I are healthy. We cry and we laugh and we encourage, all in it’s time, whenever it comes. I was mushy in line at Hersheypark yesterday because I felt mushy in line at Hersheypark yesterday. Then, we had an awesome time of joyful presence. We’re just here.

Having said all of that, do you know what I mean? Of course, you do. We’re not the first to do this, won’t be the last. Maybe you know about funerals or fear or regret. Maybe you understand me in ways you didn’t, or maybe you understand your neighbor or co-worker in ways you didn’t. Through these posts, we see that we are all human beings, created by the same loving God, sharing so much more than there could ever be different. And maybe that’s why God made us in His image, with the ability to do our own creating. To grow closer and learn how to love each other. It might not be writing, it might be cooking, organization, interior design, or anything else. But what it is is an offering, to each other and the God that so made all of this beauty.

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.