gratitude

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.

To Pause

Today is Good Friday. When I was young, most stores were closed. Good Friday was a holiday. (At least, that’s what I remember.) Sundays were, too. Nothing happened, really. We’d eat meals together, watch a game on tv together, or go outside together.

[I just wrote “Nothing happened, really,” and then I proceeded to describe the most important things in our lives. Nothing happened? Anyway.]

These days when business (and much of everything else) paused forced us to pause, as well. We could breathe, rest, be renewed.

I used to deliver medical equipment, and then I did that and what I’m doing now (being the pastor of a faith community), then I left that job to focus solely on the Bridge. I found, at the delivery job, that I had time on and time off of work. It was a difficult transition, because now there was no “time on.” I worked from home, when I did, answered phone calls when they came, met with people when they could. There was no “time on,” which meant there was no “time off,” which meant all time was equally appropriate for work.

Sundays were our “time off,” and now, there is no “time off.” No time to unplug and go outside, no time to read books or play. There’s also no time to think.

Today is Good Friday. With the exception of Resurrection Sunday (and perhaps Christmas), there’s not a more significant day in the life of a human being, each created in the image of this loving, gracious God. This is the day of His selfless sacrifice, the exchange of His life for ours. One perfect, divine life given for all the lives. What does that mean? Have we ever stopped to truly think about the weight of today?

Tomorrow is the Saturday In Between. The day after the horrific drama of the crucifixion. It’s like the Sundays when I was a kid, nothing is going on. With nothing to do but think and reflect, can you imagine the overwhelming hopelessness? Everything they thought was true, turned out not to be true, at all. The One they thought would fix everything was broken, murdered in the most public of executions. He was their Teacher, Mentor, their Friend. Now what???? What could they do now? Where could they go? Sadness isn’t a strong enough word to describe their despair. Their probably isn’t a strong enough word to describe their despair.

…But Sunday is coming… The day when everything changes.

I’m only writing to ask, to encourage, us to pause. We don’t get to do that in our world where there’s no “time off,” only the oppressive march of time. The beautiful rhythm of Genesis has been replaced with the breakneck speed of modern progress and productivity.

To reflect on today, on the tremendous, unthinkable sacrifice of Jesus Christ is to celebrate our lives. Before today, the story was a story of separation & death. Now, it’s one of reconciliation and LIFE, real life. Each breath, kiss, taste, flower, orange, tree, breeze, photo, song, slice of pizza, laugh, smile – they’re all proofs of life, the life He gives.

The Life He gave, today.

So. Pause. Feel the hurt of Jesus, crucified. And feel the exhilaration of our redeemed lives. Practice gratitude, because that’s all there is to do, this Easter season. And then do it all again, every season, because that’s all there is to do, then, too.

Characters

The site is wondering, if I could be a character from a book or movie, which one would I be?

Well, I have always wanted to be Superman or Luke Skywalker. And, with the terrific portrayal in the MCU, I can add Captain America. Those are who I wanted to be, and as I look at them now, they are characters with very little conflict. They’re squeaky clean and always good.

That’s why Star Wars fans had such a problem with The Last Jedi, the avoidance & moral ambiguity of Luke Skywalker tainted his reputation. The film is my favorite of the bunch, mostly because, as I get older, I recognize that everyone has those gray areas. Captain America keeps most personal things a secret and is a horrible friend. Superman… well, if you would call sleeping with Lois before marriage a moral flaw, that might be the only one, but he is Superman.

When I read High Fidelity, by Nick Hornby, I could see myself in Rob, the record store owner with relationship issues. I still can, in lots of ways. I will sometimes get my priorities mixed up, misplacing pop music and culture much too high in the hierarchy of values. I can receive too much of my worth in the way others perceive me, too. But he’s also funny and cool and loves (people, art, and things) easily. I feel like, in real life, we’d really like him.

I can happily also see me Kung Fu Panda’s Po. I’m fairly paunchy, hate cardio, own action figures, love violence and noodles. I have studied my own dragon scroll and have found there is no secret ingredient in me, either. I am just me, and have found that absolutely, wonderfully freeing. But I also make a mess and eat too many cookies. 

In the Bible, there’s a disciple named Peter. He speaks quickly, without thinking, and is often wrong. He’s zealous and excitable, he probably talks too loudly and too much. There’s a moment when Christ is transfigured, and Peter is one of three to actually see it, and instead of being present to this sacred glimpse of the Divine, he wants to build altars to His God and this space. He wants to do something, fix something, explain something. He wants to prove himself through what he can/will do, through his devotion. He fails in big spots, chooses the easy, comfortable way, and likes things to be his way. He also loves Jesus with every ounce of himself. He wants everybody else to love Him, too. He is the rock upon which Jesus can trust to build His Church. After the resurrection, when he sees Jesus, he jumps right out of his boat and swims to the shore. I’d like to be a rock Christ can trust…but otherwise, I can certainly relate to this person in a Book.

I guess that’s the difference between a boy and a man. I can see me in Rob, Po, and Peter – the good parts and the bad. I can hold the different sides of being human, I appreciate their flaws, and love them deeply anyway. Maybe this mirrors our own journey. We want to have superpowers and win all the time, so we can’t look too hard at the cracks in our self-created images. But now, as a grown up, I can see my bad, aged skin from a life lived, and I don’t hate that skin anymore. This skin is mine and tells the story of me, then, and me, now. It tells the story of God’s creation & grace: in spite of the mess I’ve made (and continue to make) of His work, He loves me desperately anyway. He sees tremendous value and beauty in that skin, in me, so maybe I should, too. 

I wanted to be superheroes and Jedi knights when I was young(er), I don’t want to be them anymore. I don’t really want to be anyone other than who I am, only who He’s created me to be, anymore.

A Delusion

We talk an awful lot about a 2 Hands Theology, right? That just means the human experience is complex and complicated. Almost nothing is just 1 emotion. To look at one example: When you have a baby, it’s amazing, exciting, hopeful…AND… it’s terrifying, overwhelming. It’s also the end of that stage of your marriage, where you could pick up and go anywhere, anytime, without days and hours of planning and a packed diaper bag. It’s the best. And this monumental life change is also the loss of who you both were before. It’s a great change, but all change involves some sort of loss, and every loss must be mourned. To ignore either hand is to eliminate half of your life, it’s pretense, and it’s pretty unhealthy.

Now. Every day holds this same invitation into an authentic, engaged life. Your friends move, people pass away, relationships end, you’re promoted, your book comes out, the doctor calls, and on and on. It’s a BOTH/AND life that we lead, and we are wonderfully present.

But sometimes, it’s a lot, isn’t it? Sometimes, it feels like the hand that holds the pain, sadness, and overwhelm parts is heavier than the joy & celebration. Sometimes, it seems the scales tip, our shoulders slump, it feels like an anchor is attached to our hearts, dragging them underwater.

Most people run from this darkness, pretending that the clouds are not just lined with silver, but made of gold. We pretend that the sadness is a lack of faith, a dismissal of God’s goodness & sovereignty. It isn’t, it’s honest, overflowing with a faith in a Creator that would be big, awesome, and loving enough to take it all with us. In His mercy and grace, He weeps with us.

That’s what we often do, run from the suffering. And other times, we fall into the delusion that the dark side is winning, that the hand that holds the pain IS actually heavier. This isn’t true, either.

In much the same way that 1 negative comment can eclipse 15 positives, the pain is loud, intense, and obsessive. But that doesn’t mean the other hand has disappeared. And that isn’t natural or healthy. It’s a 2 Hands Theology, very very rarely only 1.

So, when it’s raining and feels like it’ll never be sunny and dry again, how do we reclaim our full perspective, that is faithful, beautiful, and authentic? The answer is the same as when we skip through the streets in a monsoon, pretending we’re not wet: we open our eyes, look up, look around. And in the opposite case, when it might be tempting to fall, we look to the other hand. Because simply because it seems that the scales have tipped and the anchor is permanently fastened to our soft, lovely hearts doesn’t make it true. The hand that holds the wonder of each other, the blooming flowers and blinding sunlight, the abundance of gifts and blessings, is still there, hasn’t gone anywhere. We just need to notice, and say thanks. Gratitude is the antidote to despair, it always was, and it always will be.

God doesn’t take us out of the rain, He holds us in it. But He also doesn’t say that it’ll never stop raining. The resurrection tells us that there’s a day coming when it won’t rain, when there will only be 1 hand (and it’ll be His.) But until then, He’s there with us, loving us, not for our myopia or our faking, but for everything we truly are.

Both Trash Collectors And Hoses

After service, a brilliant woman who I am thrilled to call my friend said to me, “we’re garbage collectors, picking up the trash on the road to Jesus, then becoming the hoses that wash it down.” How great is that??!!

Of course, this makes no sense, if you hadn’t been there. In the last few months, I’ve made 2 specific analogies. The first is that we are conduits for the love of God. He provides the love, filling us, transforming us, then we become hoses that His love flows through, getting all over everyone. The second, last week’s illustration, was of a path to a door. God has built the house, set the table for the feast, built the door, then paved the road to that door. We don’t do any of that, He does. But, as we’re studying in Paul’s letter to Titus, it is our job to partner with The Spirit to clear away the obstructions that we so often set on this path to Him. We set up this spiritual obstacle course, in so many ways, then we are tasked to remove them. I like my analogies, but the picture she painted, tying the 2, was so good, I badly wished I had made it.

I’m telling you this story for a few reasons. 1. Our small community has so many fantastic talents, it never ceases to surprise. This is a testament to the abundance of God’s blessing. The leap is not a huge one to assume that we all are overflowing with gifts, just sitting, waiting to be unlocked and taken out of the package and played with. That’s what I have always guessed – it’s nice to be affirmed in every interaction & conversation. 2. We are a nation, a world, a galaxy, a Church, of priests. I happen to have a position called ‘pastor,’ but I am absolutely not the only minister. All of us together, using our individual, unique interests, passions, gifts, skills to reach others IS the walking, talking, living Great Commission. I don’t, can’t reach all people – as you know, I am not for everyone. Maybe this woman isn’t, either. Or you. But all of us together… It’s like the outside of a Venn diagram, where a number of circles overlap in the middle, signaling a shaded area of similarity. All of our separate circles, millions of them overlapping in many places (sex, color, hometown, taste in music or pizza, etc) – the only big overlap, as The Church, is Jesus – create an enormous mosaic/flower-type shape that covers the entire human race.

I use movies and songs and dead lifts and baseball to connect us. This woman connects these concepts easily, using her wild creativity to make it easy and memorable. You should be me for a Sunday, and hear the incredible insight I do as people are leaving, sharing their thoughts with me. My sister gave me the analogy of going out past where the ocean water turns from light to dark, where you can’t see the bottom – can you even imagine how many to whom that will make the perfect sense that starts them on a journey that leads to that feast? A very good friend works with numbers, another with flowers, others use guitars, voices, dance, organization, fabric, my mom makes the greatest lemon meringue pie this world has ever tasted.

Sure, all of these celebrations make me appreciate and love you. I pray you know how great you are. It’s a great pleasure/privilege to notice them everywhere, in everyone. But it makes me appreciate and love this God of ours even more. I see His attention, care, and love in each of us (I can now even say, “including me”), my mouth hanging wide open in wonder and awe. I am grateful, 100%.

We simply need to open our boxes and play. To paraphrase everybody’s favorite singer, Morrissey: Trash Collectors and Hoses of the world, unite and take over!

The Security of Inadequacy

This is the 2nd post this week, and that’s fairly unusual, but so is the Bible passage I read this week. These posts are like the concept of tithing for me. Give 10%, but you can give more. It isn’t a ceiling, it’s more like a floor. I post once a week. I only have one entry on my to-do list that says “Bridge Post,” but that doesn’t mean the internet police will break down my door if I open this app for the 2nd time. (Actually, it’s quite the opposite, the internet – and especially this app – wants me to post EVERY DAY!!! We’ll call this a compromise.)

In 1 Chronicles 13, David tries to transport the Ark of the Covenant, in the way he figured was appropriate (but was not according to the specific laws of the Torah.) The Ark teeters, Uzzah reaches out to steady it, and is immediately struck dead. David is angry, and very afraid. Now what? In chapter 15, they transport it again, according to law, without incident. He even says, “we failed to ask God how to move it in the proper way.” No excuses, no blame. This was a natural consequence of transgression. There was punishment, but not from an unhinged, wrathful God, this punishment was meted out by the sin itself.

Sometimes, I eat lots of cake and, as I’m doubled over with a vicious belly ache, wonder why God is so mad at me.

When my boys were small, I’d say, “If you hit your brother again with that bat, you’ll lose it and have to have a timeout.” Inevitably, they’d lose the bat and have timeout and ask why I was so mad at them, why I wanted to punish them. It wasn’t really my decision, it was theirs, wasn’t it?

David is called a “man after God’s heart,” and that is always such an interesting conversation, because it’s not like he was perfect. The Scriptures are very clear about his shortcomings and poor decisions, and remain clear about his standing as a faithful follower/friend/person of God. We often think God is holding a clipboard in His arms, noting our missteps, looking for reasons to be mad at us, when the Bible seems to show a very different God; One who has destroyed the clipboard and is, instead, easily forgiving, and filling His arms with us.

What made David so extraordinary is obvious in this Ark situation. His heart is contrite in his error, he’s humble, repentant, teachable. He offered no justification. Yes, he was angry, but he never pretends to be more than human. I wonder who/Who he was angry with, God or himself? Maybe even Uzzah. Anger’s best characteristic isn’t it’s logic. David was angry when he was angry, afraid when he was afraid, then did the next right thing. How do we move this Ark? Then, he did that.

The Angel and I used to have arguments, BIG arguments, and I’d forget the beautiful picture we were painting. I’d only be able to think of the piece in front of me. I couldn’t apologize, I had to win. I’d show her. You would not have used words like “humble, repentant, contrite, teachable.” You also wouldn’t have used careful, patient, or particularly loving. You wouldn’t have called me a man of God. You wouldn’t have called me a man, at all.

You WOULD have used stubborn, prideful, myopic, small.

So, we still have arguments, but we now aren’t so caught up in proving our right-ness, that we can’t write a chapter 15, “I’m sorry. I am/was wrong. We/I failed.” What a cool, free-ing place to be. Where we no longer have to build our résumé’s to defend our worth. Where we can simply rest in who we are, put it down, and take the next step, do the next right thing.

I heard a sermon once where the big phrase was, “you don’t have to live like that anymore.” We don’t have to live with the insecurity of inadequacy. The Bible (in this story of David, and countless others) testifies to the peaceful security of inadequacy. There is a bigger masterpiece at work. We don’t have to be right, or do it our way. We just have to move the Ark.

What About The Prayer of Jabez??

1 Chronicles 4:9-10 9 Jabez was more honorable than his brothers. His mother had named him Jabez, saying, “I gave birth to him in pain.” 10 Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, “Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.” And God granted his request.

I have always found this Jabez passage (2 verses in the middle of chapters and chapters of genealogies in the 1st book of the Chronicles) to be a little selfish and short-sighted. To me, it sounded like, “give me more money and stuff.” God agreed and granted his request, which only added to my confusion. 

This passage is one of the birthplaces of the prosperity gospel (along with the incomplete reading of Jeremiah 29:11 that is so popular.) The prosperity gospel is NOT The Gospel. It is, instead, the polar opposite of The Gospel.

So, how & why is this prayer of Jabez and its Divine affirmation here at all?

That was my question. It sounds different to me now.

Jabez is “honorable” (the adjective also translates as distinguished, significant, valuable)… and named after the worst part of his life: his painful birth. He had been given a negative brand, and lived an upright life, worthy of his God. (As much as a human being can be worthy – maybe a better word is ‘pleasing’ to his God.)

Honorable, or distinguished, implies a good/great reputation. People may have looked at him with respect. Maybe they wanted to model their lives after him. A pillar of society, in many ways. 

This is all before his prayer. His is a life of service, obedience & worship, ostensibly without regard for reward. His comfortability was not the end he was seeking with his life, his life lived for God was the end, in itself. He seems to have followed God, and then (perhaps incidentally) offered his prayer. 

He asked for 3 things: 1. To be blessed. 2. To have his territory (or borders) enlarged (or his lands extended). And 3. To be kept free from harm and pain (or trouble). 

He asked for blessing. This is a righteous blessing from a humble heart. We can, and should, all ask for blessing, for ourselves and others.

The next 2 are my problems, or have been, beginning with “free from trouble or pain.” First, we have all prayed that, right? It’s a very human prayer: keep me safe and sound, why is this so hard?, open doors, grease the wheels of what I want and how I want to live. Only the fact that he received a YES makes this noteworthy, and that is not his fault at all. It is no reflection of him. It IS a comment on the grace of God to say YES and give it to him.

The only special thing about Jabez is that he believed in God. He believed on His love, goodness & authority so much, that he would ask his Father for a gift only He could give. Jabez was not the answer to his own prayer, he was not powerful enough, he was not the center of this world. The Creator, his Sustainer, his Father, was. 

Now, the last and most concerning. 

“Enlarge my borders/territory, extend my lands.”  On the surface, this can be seen as a child wanting “more, more, more.” So, it has to be asked, more of what? What is the land for? Or, what does the land represent?

To make this a bit more personal, what/where are our borders?

Land, or borders, refer to our sphere of influence, places where we live, where we make, set, and carry out the rules.

[It is possible that he simply desired more land for the increase in net worth, but based on what we already know, that doesn’t seem likely. More plausible is the desire for wider lands to devote to God, more people living lives of purpose and obedience, like his. How do you define wealth?)

Is this a different society, a new context, essentially a rephrase of apostles Paul & Peter’s exhortations that we are an example to the world around us? We increase our circles so that a bigger section of people can, and will, live honorable, distinguished, significant lives under the authority, grace, and love of our Creator. This, I think, is the opportunity where God says YES to Jabez. 

If this were simply an ask for $1,000,000 and an easy, comfortable life, maybe the answer would have been different, and it wouldn’t be written in the holy Scriptures.

[Of course, maybe it would have. Ultimately, God’s ways are unfathomable to us. The only right answer here, at the end of the study, is to say, “Your will, not mine.” We do not discard the items or passages we don’t like or understand. We submit to His will and keep knocking.]

This is important, vital, for us because, as The Church, we have been so conditioned to cower from any hint of pride. Jabez’s prayer has that hint, and our prayers for extended borders certainly do. BUT maybe this passage tells us that His followers, His Bride, are exactly the kind of people who should be asking for, and receiving, bigger, wider lands. We might not get the answer Jabez got, but maybe he didn’t, either, the first thousand times he asked. 

If we build our lives as walking, talking, “honorable” temples of gratitude to Him, under His authority and will, then we are free-er and free-er to ask away! [Again, just a reminder about helmets… Our behavior doesn’t ‘make’ God love us, or accept us, He already does. We can ask, seek, and knock. The point is, as we offer our lives to Him, begin to live for Him, with the guidance of the Spirit living in us, our desires begin to reflect His. That’s what makes me guess that Jabez didn’t just want a bazillion dollars to “build new barns” to store all of it. We don’t know why he wanted extended territories, but we can be fairly certain that he didn’t intend them as geographical altars to himself.]

This passage is an invitation to honestly present all of our petitions to him (no matter how small, personal, and seemingly insignificant they are) and allow Him to do what He will…with them…and with us.    

Messy?

So, what I’m thinking, after several weeks of relational discord and the nagging sense that “things are not as they should be,” is that I might not agree any longer. Maybe things are exactly as they should be.

First, of course they aren’t. We have been made for eternity, made by a loving God for shalom in paradise, walking with Him, filled by Him. We are living in times bathed in tears, our own and everybody else’s. There’s war, hate, and on and on and on, we are covered by a general blanket of anxiety, rage, suffering, and unworthiness. The idea of sin simply means “missing the mark,” which implies that there is a mark, this is not it, and as long as we are missing it, everything cannot be “exactly as they should be.”

However. We have a trinitarian God, 3 in 1 – this God expresses Himself/Themselves in perfect community, a divine dance, selflessly giving and receiving, Each pointing to the Other; Father, Son, And Spirit. One of the most interesting implications of this wildly unfathomable Trinity is that, being made in His image, we are made to be in relationship. This is clear in the Garden, before the fall, when the man alone was called, “not good.” Eden is not Eden without relationship, without others.

But, then, given that fact, what do we do with the fact that other people are awful? We think that we could really follow Jesus, really give ourselves to Him, truly offer all of our mind, body, and soul to Him, without the mess of our neighbors. (We all know loving our enemies is almost impossible, it’s hard enough to love those who live in the same house!!!) It would be easier for you to maintain pure thoughts without my dumb jokes and bad decisions, wouldn’t it? (Imagine how hard it is to live with me.) If politics is just the science of the way we organize ourselves in a society, the absence of people would mean we have no need to organize a society… wouldn’t it be much more reasonable to be peaceful, patient, and disciplined without politicians? And we could all breathe like monks if there weren’t any other cars/drivers on the roads, right?

When the refrain of a social life is “messy,” it rings like a lament. Messy, messy, messy. Like milk spilled on the floor, out of order, disruption. But the more I see & experience of God, the more I see that a life without brothers & sisters or enemies or politics or getting cut off on the road, or even my dumb jokes, isn’t following Jesus at all. It’s just another way we “miss the mark.” [A full life is marked by periods of intentional solitude, rest, and communion with God – but a life built on solitude is absolutely contrary to this amazing creation. It’s not good to be alone.]

Withdrawal isn’t an option. We are made to be a blessing to a world in pain, even as we are a part of that world in pain. We are made to be agents of healing, even as we are sometimes the ones inflicting the wounds. This is all part of the human experience. Jesus asks us to be peacemakers, this implies that we will be living in a world that is not at peace. And sometimes, we are the ones who upset the shalom. All of this is true.

And if being human is inherently messy… If all of our relationships, even the best of them, are messy, at times… Maybe it’s ice to start looking at the mess not as something to be eliminated, but to see it as what it is, life. A full, beautiful, present life IS messy. It has always been. Maybe it was always supposed to be. Maybe it’s the primary vehicle for our sanctification. Or to put it another way, how do we learn patience if not for those who test our patience? How do we learn the loveliness of difference if not for the different?

Yes, we are awful. And yes, we are the greatest. One day, this creation will be totally redeemed, no more tears, hate, or pain, but until then, instead of trying in futility to rid our yards of grass and dirt, maybe we could just lay down and roll around?

The Honesty of Authentic Presence

10ish years ago, my sister and I had a fight on the Ocean City boardwalk. I don’t have any idea what we were arguing about now, but it made everyone uncomfortable and the rest of the family all wished they were somewhere else. Or probably that we were somewhere else.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned, but last night, my youngest son had his last high school basketball game. I’m not going to go into details about that game, (or any other game, for that matter), or my feelings for/about him. But this is the sort of event that can make a man like me very sensitive, mushy even, for quite a while.

Studies show that human beings generally recognize 3 emotions: happy, sad, and mad. Of course, this isn’t anywhere close to enough, and it’s not that we don’t feel different emotions, we just lack the vocabulary to accurately communicate those emotions. Last night was bittersweet. I was proud, disappointed, joyful, overwhelmed. I was happy, sad, and mad, at different times. Sometimes at the same time. It would have taken 1,000 hands to hold everything I was feeling.

Several times during Sunday morning’s sermon, I realized & acknowledged (in my head) my tone and my turbulent spirit. As I taught about the second chapter of Titus, I realized how much of these moments were colored by this game, this program, church dynamics, politics, relationships, how I slept, what I ate, even what shoes I was wearing. Everything comes to the party, and it should, because everything matters.

Our services begin with a silent prayer, where we come as we are, bringing what we carry, to the feet of Jesus. It is embarrassingly misguided to pretend that we can come any other way, as if we are blank slates unaffected by the world around us. The prodigal son’s words to His Father land differently after you have children. The story of Israel is different from opposite sides of empire.

And I think that’s an absolutely intentional requirement of a life of faith. One of the most important observations I learned in seminary that totally changed my life is the honesty in every word of the Scriptures. Whether it’s in Lamentations, Habakkuk, Psalms, Titus, or any other book, God doesn’t want our sacrifices if they aren’t real. He has no use for fake plastic hypocrisy. He doesn’t want our pretense and our loud, grandiose assemblies if He doesn’t have our hearts.

He has mine. And so do you. Sunday morning, you get my awe, my reverence for the God Who rescued me, my study, prayer, interpretation, faith, AND my broken, confused, euphoric, sometimes wildly contradictory spirit. My careful conclusions and my dumb jokes. My cold, broken hallelujah.

Last night, I was disgusted at the basketball program while I wept for the people in it. I never want the season to end, and I’m so happy it’s over. I think there are lots of things that Jesus needs to transform in me, and I know He loves me in a way none of us can fathom, as I am. I get so many things wrong, and I am forgiven. I don’t want to stay this me, but I really like this me. Last summer, I told the baseball players I coached that I was finished, and I was relieved & thrilled to be done, and so sorry I thought I might crumble.

Being fully present, authentically ourselves, in true relationship with Our Creator and each other means all of this.

I chose a picture for this post. It’s last week’s senior night. I’m happy and sad, proud, hopeful, and he might be holding me up because I love him so much I might die. What it is, really, is a picture of gratitude. God gave us each other. And to stand next to for all of it, this God gave me the Angel.

I told you about Ocean City because, while everybody else wished to be somewhere else, I didn’t (and I bet my sister didn’t, either.) To be as close as we are requires us to bring everything we are to this amazing party. I’d love to go back to that night, when my boys were 5 and 7, and it was summer and the ground wasn’t covered with ice, but I don’t need to, I was there, then, fighting with my sister, loving every moment of this beautiful life I have been given. And if I could/would go back, I wouldn’t have been there last night, and I wouldn’t have missed that for the world.