imagination

Steps.

In 2 Corinthians 13:11, Paul writes, “Dear brothers & sisters, I close my letter with these last words: Rejoice. Change your ways (or Repent). Encourage each other. Live in harmony and peace. Then the God of love and peace will be with you.”

As I was reading this passage, I thought of the new book I’m working on, it’s called We Have a Weight Problem. (I probably thought of it, because it’s what I was working on right before I opened my Bible, until I had to charge the battery on my laptop.) It’s about our values, the weight we assign to everything, and why & how we change our lives.

I thought of the Pharisees, too, who read the Scriptures and try to help people understand and apply the truth of God’s word. They’re also wildly hypocritical and phony, but at the root of the matter, they’re most of us. We read, study, learn and try to figure out how to integrate it into our everyday moments, taking this beautiful Gospel into the world, knowing it’s as contagious as we think it is. And we’re pretty hypocritical, sometimes, too.

Anyway. Earlier in the 1st Corinthians chapter, he asks us to “examine…test” ourselves, to ask questions about who we are and what we believe. How? What questions? How would we know to change our lives? Then he gives these last few words that, I think answer both questions. They give us a baseline and an action plan.

1st. Rejoice. Are we full of joy? Do we rejoice in the blessings all around us? Do we have the eyes to even see them, or are we too overwhelmed and/or distracted by anything else? Probably, all of those answers are “sometimes.” Sometimes, we can’t help but see the sunshine, the blooms on the flowers, each breath…but honestly, we’re pretty overwhelmed and distracted, so that “sometimes” is less & less often and less & less impactful.

No. 2: Repent. Are we doing the things that make us love us less? Are we living lives beneath the honor & dignity that God has bestowed upon us, living below our call, below our identity as His children? That one is surely, sadly, “yes.”

3 & 4. Encourage each other, Live in harmony and peace. What do our relationships look like? Are we encouraging one another, or are we existing in division and discord? Are we kind? Do we call each other up, or do we simply tear each other down? Do we live in harmony and peace, together? How about within ourselves? Do you feel peaceful? At peace? Sigh.

Now what? We’ve been opened up, and haven’t particularly liked the reflection in the mirror Paul has held up. How do we change this? How do we re-engage with our God, ourselves, and our families, friends, communities?

Rejoice. If we don’t rejoice, let’s start. Slow down, open our eyes, look, listen, notice – there’s heart-exploding beauty all around. Find it. Rejoice. If we haven’t rejoiced, rejoice. Repent. We’re walking down paths that we know aren’t for us…turn around. Repent just means turn around. Maybe we can stop making excuses for the behavior that ask us to hide, or that bring us shame, and turn around, instead. Those instincts (hiding and shame) are not of God, they’re from a place that doesn’t like us at all, hates us, & doesn’t want good things for us. Let’s leave them behind, ok? If we’re not loving others, love others. We know how to do that (Paul’s 1st letter to the Corinthians, also chapter 13, gives us a list, in great detail), so we can start today. If we haven’t been kind, be kind to the next person we see. And the next. And the next. We all know everybody is going through all sorts of pain, struggle, challenge, maybe we could tell them we see them, and to keep on moving forward, we’ll take one step at a time and hold their hands if they want.

It’s probably true that I make this sound so simple, but I think it sounds that way because it is. We usually make it hard.

Several months ago, I asked my ChatGPT, who has given himself the name “Theo” (I can explain it later, if you want), why my joints hurt and I am so fatigued. I wanted a detailed list of medical jargon and long, intricate, difficult steps to change my life, and he said, “Stop getting so much sugar & caffeine, take a day or 2 off from the gym, and get a good night’s sleep.” I knew all of that, I just wasn’t doing that – who knows why? It’s not easy, but it is simple. He said he can give me a plan, so I said yes, still hoping for brain-numbing complexity, and he essentially said, “Pick one day and on that day, when you would go to the gym, don’t…And all that sugar you eat? Don’t eat so much of it. Haha.

Love God, love one another. Not easy. Simple.

Rejoice. Repent. Encourage. Love. Repeat.

Next Steps

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Weather???

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First Cousin Once Removed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This Rab

Rab, a Jewish teacher of the third century A.D said (or, more likely, wrote), “Man will have to give account for all that he saw and did not enjoy.”

This is a very interesting, invigorating perspective to see our faith, isn’t it? In a faith that is so often grounded in what we cannot do, what we should not do, This Rab asks the question of whether that ground is totally accurate. We weigh the bad we do much, much heavier than the good that is left undone. Choosing to turn our head away from the suffering of another and causing that suffering, while perhaps not equal in our eyes, they are both transgressions – against God and each other.

I’ve hi-jacked a phrase from the actor Johnny Galecki that I heard on Anna Faris’ podcast: sin is all the ways we love ourselves (and each other) less. We love each other less through violent, evil acts of aggression, as well as through not practicing empathy, kindness, and mercy.

We also love ourselves less by not enjoying the beauty of these Divine gifts that surround us.

I just hung up the phone with my sister, who told this amazing story of a meal she shared with my brother in law on Friday night. She’s vegan, and, as vegans are, a zealot about it. It would be easy to tune this all out if, 1. She wasn’t brilliant and one of the very coolest people that has ever walked the earth, and 2. Her passion for and gratitude in this experience didn’t make me wish that I, too, was a vegan. (Not enough to actually become one for real, but while I’m on the phone with her, I think it’s not such a bad idea. That’s the thing about zealots, especially the best ones. She’d probably be a terrific cult leader.) Her evening, and her story today, were absolutely the best kind of worship. They both thoroughly soaked up the love of their Creator, through the food (and every other moment of that evening) without reservation.

I do the same thing with our weekly telephone calls. How did I end up being so blessed by the God of the Universe?

Our homework was to take the advice of the Rab and enjoy these gifts. Imagine the scene he implies, standing before the Giver, being asked why we didn’t have more fun (when He gave us so many ways to have fun), why we didn’t fly (when He gave us wings), why we didn’t slow down and taste the food He provided. What could we possibly say? “I was distracted, working, sleeping, scrolling.” Is there anything we could say as an excuse? Solomon writes in Ecclesiastes 9:9, “Live happily with the woman you love…the wife God gives you is your reward.” So, God gave me the Angel, who I love, as a reward (God gave you someone different to love, just insert her/his name here), how could I, with so little conscience, take her, take this life, these smooches, her laughter, for granted?

We talk about the ways we don’t live up to our calling. Usually, this means the holes we are falling into, the bad decisions we make. We read Paul’s lists of behaviors, and consider how to stay away from the things that make us love us less. But we don’t always mention how we do not savor His gifts, and maybe we should, because if we did, maybe we’d be too busy delighting in all we have to be so awful to each other.

This Rab quote seems more and more like a paraphrase of Jacob’s exclamation in Genesis, “Surely God was in this place, and I was unaware.” We have a wholly depressing tendency to fall asleep to our lives, and the people in them. We look at how bad everything is, how the wheels are falling off the world. Maybe it’s time we begin to look at how beautiful this Creation really is (and we do this out loud for everyone to see), and maybe that thankful praise would be the catalyst for a seismic culture change, for a tiny, baby step closer to what we pray, “Your Kingdom Come, on earth as it is in Heaven.”

Details, pt 2

The site prompt is asking me to share about one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten, and before we continue…well, maybe it’s not “before,” maybe it’s all related in the same conversation. Anyway. For Christmas this year, the Angel gave me 2 canvasses (canvi?) of pictures she had taken from a vacation beach trip, and on those canvi, there were words. The first one held my wedding vows to her, from May 2001 (I still have the original paper I read from at our ceremony.) Her vows, sadly, were lost in the flood that took everything else we owned. Still, that second canvas also had wedding vows, but these were newly written, from December 2025. How is that for “one of the best gifts” any human being has ever gotten??

Now, moving on. Yesterday’s post was about the details of our lives that affect the sorts of soil we are, and are becoming. Then, this morning, today’s Bible In A Year reading is in Leviticus. I recognize that nobody likes Leviticus. Many of us are commenting (more like complaining) on the endless lists of instructions at the end of Exodus, and I always want to say, “just wait til we get into Leviticus.” I’m no different, I don’t like Leviticus, BUT it also happens to be one of my new favorite books. This super boring, repetitive list of commands has a vital message for our lives, then, now, and forever.

Why are there so many instructions, why so much detail, why does this matter so much (and it obviously does), and why do these commands matter now, at all? Why are we reading this? Why should I care, thousands of years later?

We live in a world of “good enough.” The smallest amount of effort is good enough. The minimum effort necessary is fine, just get by, don’t try too hard. As even Solomon says in Ecclesiastes, “avoid all extremes.” This philosophy is the polar opposite of the people we read about in the Scriptures, who left everything behind to follow a new Way of living. Who could ever have been more extreme than Jesus?

Leviticus, and the parable of the soils, ask for our attention to who we are, who we are becoming, what we care about, and what we believe about ourselves and Our God. Essentially, (in addition to the overwhelmingly detailed sacrificial system, and the overwhelmingly detailed weights and measures of the Tabernacle in Exodus), they’re all asking what we’re giving to God. What is our offering? And, as we all know, the offering, the level of gratitude, implies a value to the gift and the Giver. Are we giving the first, the best, or simply what’s left?

The Tabernacle was the early precursor to the Temple in Jerusalem, which was the early precursor to the current Temples, which are you and me. Do you think the lengths and widths of a tent or building are somehow less important than the details of our lives? That the Temple mattered then, but not now? Judging by the Bible, the very Word of God, everything matters.

If that’s true, if 1. Everything matters, and 2. How we do anything is how we do everything, then what does that mean? If we give scraps to our job, then it’s probably not the only place we give scraps. What do our spouses, children, friends, co-workers, cashiers at the grocery store, servers, neighbors & enemies, get from us? What kind of soil are we in our home, community and the world? Do they know Who we follow?And do they know His tremendous value to us? As far as that goes, do they know their value to us?

He is never asking for perfection, just the best we have to give, in any and all situation. Our first fruits. Of course, all situations are different, what we have to give might be different from moment to moment, but way too often, we slide along, at the lowest possible plane, trying not to break a sweat.

I think Exodus, the Tabernacle, Leviticus, food & sacrificial laws, the canvi from the Angel, our posture towards each other, the way we express our love (intentionally and without condition or limit), Saturday nights and Tuesday mornings, all testify to the Truth that scraps are not, and have never been, what we’ve been called into. There is an honor and dignity to this awesome experience of being human, and some things, like the scraps, the crumbs that fall from our table, are simply beneath us. Sometimes, the biggest, most significant changes begin with small, seemingly inconsequential acts. Sometimes, an empty tomb and a brand new creation begin with a baby in a barn.

Yesterdays

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charam-ed

In last week’s message, we discussed the Hebrew word “charam,” which usually means “utterly destroy,” but is also used as “consecrate.” Consecrate is a word I used to describe as Christian-ese, as this super secret language that felt like a secret handshake or password that could easily separate those who belong from those who certainly do not. I use this term (Christian-ese) derisively, because as one who did not belong, I felt dismissed and excluded. I didn’t have their code, so of course, I didn’t want their code.

I’m a different person now, one who likes words and definitions. Charam. Consecration is to “set apart something for a sacred purpose.” It’s like an offering. When I write my first check (if you’re of a certain age, you can Google “writing checks” to know what this is) to the church, I consecrate that money. This can be anything; time, energy, stuff, etc. If everything is God’s, gifted to us, this is our natural response. We give it back. Charam can also describe excising any hurtful, damaging, contaminating aspect, “giving” it to God, (or utterly destroying it), so it doesn’t spread and infect the whole. Again, if everything is God’s, this is keeping it nice, in good repair, and trying to not allow it to be stained.

Today, I’m thinking of it in a new way. (Probably outside of the definition, but I’m also thinking that’s ok – I can do whatever I want with these words, can’t I?)

I have what I believe is a bruise on my hip bone. And it sometimes hurts like crazy. When I engage in any physical activity (like lifting weights, walking, playing basketball, or, say, shoveling snow), it hurts. These physical things are vital to me, they comprise an integral piece of my overall health, and maybe this bruise can interfere with my development, growth, and living as a healthy person. A healthy person is able to lean in and participate in his/her ministry (and we all have one – and that one, shared, is loving people, neighbors and enemies alike, and loving this wonderful creation). It’s the same reason I am so intentional about keeping my home relatively drama free (as much as possible)…so I can show up, and help others carry their burdens. If I am personally in ruins, I simply don’t have the capacity (time, energy, or anything else) to engage as a peaceful presence for anyone else.

But this painful bruise can keep me from doing the things that allow me to live at a high level. Left unaddressed, it will contaminate, or hurt, my life, health, and by extension, my ministry. I am/will be in disrepair, living beneath my call. It has to be “charam-ed.”

We all have “bruises,” and far more often, they are not physical. They are character issues, unfaithfulness, control, selfishness, unchecked sin. (Of course, sin is just anything that causes us to live beneath our worth.) They’re not physical, they are largely invisible, which makes the whole thing so absolutely necessary, and so hard to do. It requires us to pay attention to our lives and hearts, requires us to examine our motives and values, requires us to show up to ourselves. Consecrating our own lives is, probably, one of the most important things we’ll do, as new people.

Getting rid of the bruises doesn’t make God love us more – that is impossible – but it will make us different, and us being more of who we’re created to be, consecrated, can and will make this world different. It’ll move, more and more, into the world we’d like to live in, the world we’ve been created to live in.

Messages

The site prompt (every day, the hosting website for this blog suggests a topic to encourage regular interaction) for yesterday was, “If you could un-invent something, what would it be?” And today, it’s “What makes a good leader?”

I receive just a few mass emails, one is from a man named Mark Manson, and his email is called Your Next Breakthrough. The first section is entitled, “One Thing For You To Think About,” and today, that thing is: Actions are your values made real. You can talk and talk, but at the end of the day, your actions never lie. Then, the next is, Two Things For You To Yourself, and they are: Is there something you tell yourself you value but your actions don’t follow? Is there something you tell others you value but your actions don’t follow?

Another list I belong to is WiRE (if there’s a reason for that particular capitalization, I have no idea what it is), by Justin Camp. He gives a short teaching, today it ends with, “For community to work, for truth to flow properly, we must understand and appreciate each other. And we begin by telling our stories. If we don’t begin there, we’re likely to damage community and to do damage to each other—like when we give advice and try to “fix” a person, or a situation, we don’t fully understand.” Then, he asks, “Okay, so what do we do?” and answers, “Do you know your brothers’ stories? If you haven’t already, give each man an hour—at least—to tell his story, completely. Have each man start at the beginning and bring his story current. Encourage transparency. Ask no questions. Give no advice. Just listen.” (WiRE is directed at men, but is obviously not only for men.)

I’m sharing this because we are under a near-constant barrage of information, every sense stimulated (over-stimulated?) everywhere we go, everywhere we are. What do we do with all of it? How do we filter what is valuable from what is not? Do we even recognize how much is fighting for our attention? And, then what? Are we intentional with what we take in, do we engage with it, or simply go where the wind of the algorithm pushes us?

You might think I would suggest we unplug from all of this, and avoid the avalanche of messages. But if you do, you’d be mistaken, because I recognize that it is absolutely impossible to escape our current, modern reality. It’s like those people who swear they aren’t affected by advertising or marketing – I don’t know if they’re lying or just wrong. McDonald’s has sold “billions and billions” of hamburgers, and it’s certainly not because they’re good.

So, since we can’t drop out, what do we do? I suggest we lean in, in the spaces we choose. The above examples are perfect. There are only 2 emails – I got 30+ today that I either unsubscribe, block, or delete – and I’ll consider those 2 carefully. I’m going to ask myself those 2 questions about the consistency of my values & actions. (I already know I am not perfectly aligned, I can easily think of 2 areas, and I’m sure there will be more.) And, as far as WiRE, I’m already on board with what he’s saying, but it does give me a new way to say it (and in my line of work, any new ways to communicate ideas are valuable.)

The prompts are not always awesome, but when they are, they can be quite enlightening. What would you un-invent? That might be a light to a new path for you. We’ve heard it said that the things that make us angry can open our eyes to our hearts, show us the places where we may need to get involved. And leadership?? 2 things. First, I can’t imagine there could be better time to think &. talk about this. And second, we’re all leaders to someone. How are we holding that opportunity/responsibility? What kind of leaders are we? Then, to neatly tie these together, is it the kind of leader we want to be? Are the things we say we believe, the things we care about, clearly seen in our lives?

We might be too busy or distracted or worried or whatever to sift and sort the stampede of stimulation. But I think it’s possible that it becomes it’s own circle, we are too distracted to sift, which keeps us distracted, so we can’t sift, which keeps us distracted, repeat forever. It’ll take our attention, intention, and interest in the creation of our own lives.

It’s all in front of us, there’s no going back, the only question is if we’ll seek His hand, open our eyes, wake up and jump into this beautiful gift and what we’ll make, together.

A Romans 12 Season

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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