imagination

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.

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!

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.    

Fresh Eyes

Everybody needs a fresh word, sometimes.

Here are some of the lyrics from a song, “Fresh Eyes,” written and performed by Andy Grammer: I got these fresh eyes, never seen you before like this. My God, you’re beautiful. It’s like the first time when we opened the door, ‘Fore we got used to usual…So suddenly, I’m in love with a stranger. I can’t believe that she’s mine. Now all I see is you with fresh eyes, fresh eyes…

There isn’t really any subtlety here, as far as I can tell. He wrote this to his wife. How deep does the phrase “before we got used to usual” cut? We all can point to the things that, once, changed our lives, and now are just…ordinary. I can remember driving to the Angel’s apartment at college to pick her up for our first date, wondering what I’d do about the birds (much larger than butterflies) in my stomach, scared if I’d have to pull the car over to throw up. It’s now 25+ years later, I no longer drive to see her, I see her every day – she’s the first one I see in the morning, the last at night. I kissed her goodnight when I’d drop her off, when we were dating, now I kiss her goodbye at her car door in the morning, and hello at the front door after work, and every other time I can. Like Andy, I can’t believe she’s mine. She’s out of my league, but that’s her problem. When it comes to her, I am grateful to have never lost my fresh eyes.

So, this song is about our wives, but it’s also about everything else. I have these orange flowers next to the pond just outside of my back door that are so beautiful, they could probably knock you down, and I almost never go outside to see them, or even stop to notice them when I bring the groceries inside. They are “usual.” There is a song called “Brooklyn Bridge,” by Alex do Leo (the hook is “come on, won’t you kiss me on the Brooklyn Bridge,” and it’s consistently surprising anything could sound that good) that is absolutely perfect. I’ve heard it 5,000 times and can hear it anytime I want, and rarely do, anymore. It is usual. I could list many more. I wonder how many “usual” things are in our lives, “usual” simply because we forgot how extraordinary they actually are.

And what about the stories of our lives? We can forget how beautiful we are, how talented and full of promise we are. We get trapped in rote cycles of behavior, thinking/believing, and lose our hope & imagination. These lives (overwhelming gifts from a Loving God) become obstacles to be endured, instead of experienced with breathless joy and wonder. Why is that? When did we get so used to usual???

Last Sunday, I was sitting in the front pew at the Bridge before anyone else arrived, reflecting on what we’re building in our community. Do we ever forget? And treat it like it’s an obligation or “have-to?” Like it’s the usual that we’ve gotten used to?

Flowers, songs on the radio, church services, family meals, laughter, phone calls, basketball games…these explosions of the divine are everyday miracles, certainly not the mindless routines we so often take for granted. Just because we’ve held that hand for so long doesn’t make it any less awesome than the first time. If we’re totally honest, it really makes it more awesome.

Sometimes we need fresh words to see the truth of our reality, of our promise, of our story. And sometimes we need to speak those words, bringing new worlds into focus. And to speak them, we need to see them. We need fresh eyes. This may seem daunting, but if we learn anything from the resurrection and the redemption/renewal of all things, it’s that nothing is ever just ‘what it is,’ dead bones can live again, and everything can be new again. Then, “all we see” will be Jesus, the Gospel, you, me, us, them, all of this, with fresh eyes.

The Homework

Sunday morning was especially life-giving for me. We asked a million questions, and those sorts of messages are always my favorites. The idea that we will actually spend any time during the week to consider them is so hopeful, because it’s there, in the search & discovery, that our lives begin to take the shape they might become. The very best a church service can do is to send us into His presence. In the study, prayer, application, wrestling, praise, pain, relationship, and on and on through the beauty of The Church and the local church, there is the invitation into Who He is and who we are, in Him.

The verse in Titus that prompted the homework was this one: “To the pure, all things are pure,” and it’s opposite: to the impure, every one can be the vehicle for impurity. Vehicles like food, career, money, sex, desire, ambition, progress, study, knowledge can drive us to His feet, in worship and community, or down wide, smooth paths to the sad, lonely altars we’ve built to ourselves. Into His arms, or into temples for religions created for just 1, the high priest and only congregant is the same person: me. We drive these vehicles, they go where we steer them.

Where are we driving? That’s the choice before us. And like those road trips that require recalculation, u-turns, and backtracking over wrong turns, our lives are constantly asking for evaluation. Is this where we want to be? Is the destination still the same for us, or have we changed our minds and decided to go somewhere new? And my favorite question: NOW WHAT???

How do we chart a new course for these vehicles of ours? The simple truth is the same as most everything. We connect to Him. We ask, seek, knock. We hold His hand and follow where He leads. Yes, simple, but not at all easy. We’ll have to stop some things, start others. But it all starts with The Ask. Where have we allowed our vehicle to be driven by another, who might not have our best interests in mind, who wants to drive as fast as possible toward & into an inevitable crash?

So, we ask, and when we receive our answer, then there’s that next decision to make. Will we take the wheel back and give it to Him, so we can turn around, because as we do that, these things (food, career, etc) are recalibrated to see their inherent purity, and become, again, holy. We eat with purpose, with gratitude, and not mindlessly shovel down as much as we can while we’re driving to the next box to check. We work with character and integrity in beautiful service instead of to stack dollar bills, building bigger barns to store our ever-growing mountains of what some marketer has convinced us is the new solution for what ails us. When we ask, we get tingles and goose-bumps. That is possibility that we feel. We can take this world back, give it to the One Who made it, and us. All questions have the same answer, ultimately: Love. And in those 4 letters, there is eternity.

But it all starts with a question, on a Tuesday morning in February.

Dreams

I have 2 website where I write. There’s this one, and there’s another where I choose to discuss movies and music and terrible referees or whatever catches my eye. The hosting site gives a prompt every day, I’ll sometimes use that. That blog is always about Jesus, too, because everything is always about Jesus. I just might not use Bible verses there. Every now and then, a post happens and it fits into both spaces. This is one of those.

I’ve been meaning to write about a verse in 1st Kings, I started it 2 weeks ago, and it’ll be cool, but I keep getting sidetracked by basketball points or snow days or, in this case, dreaming. I assure you, I will get to that one, just not today. So, anyway, here it is:

This site is asking me what my dream job is… 

There’s a story in the Bible I reference often. A blind man reaches out to Jesus, asking for help, and to this, Jesus responds, “What do you want me to do for you?” It sounds pretty simple and obvious, but I have found it’s anything but simple or easy. For an endless number of reasons, we don’t ask to see. We ask for a new can or sunglasses, or a better attitude to deal with the blindness, or enhanced hearing or taste. This man alongside the road understands the assignment, asks to see, and is immediately granted his sight. 

So, like the site, I sit down with people and ask, “What do you want?” How they answer that is always fascinating. But the saddest reply (for both of us) is, “I don’t know.” We’ve gotten so used to blindness. Or we’ve lowered our hopes & expectations to the point where sight is impossible. Or, in the case of the site’s question, we’ve stopped dreaming a long time ago.

I had a job for 16 years. It changed my life for the first 10, then quickly deteriorated for the last 6. You’d think I would pray for a new job, new opportunities, an imagination that could hope for a new path. Just something new and wonderful. But my prayer was to endure in a more positive fashion. The site question wouldn’t have made sense. The question from Jesus would’ve been met with silence. 

Probably, the most damage we can inflict on our children is to steal their imagination. The adults in the room talk about realistic expectations (which is just another way to open the door for them to join us in dark rooms of despair.) I want to be a superhero. Really? Why? To help people. Because I see injustice. To fix what is broken. Whatever the why, there are a million pathways for that. But I was told, over and over, that it was impossible, that I was wrong and had better craft a Plan B (or C or F) that was more reasonable. Go to college, make money, work in a nice office with a window and fancy title. Get a job and a new car. Wear a suit & tie. Pull your head out of the clouds and chain it to the plow of consumerism. Superheroes aren’t real life.

Except they are. I meet superheroes every day, I see people do extraordinary feats all around. It just takes eyes to see – maybe that’s the point of the interaction between that man and Jesus. We might have our sight, but we sure can’t see. They are (you are) ordinary men & women who haven’t had their dreams dashed on the rocks of ‘good sense,’ who still believe that we can make a difference and change the world, who still believe that every day is a chance to rewrite what is, and create what will be, who love without limit or abandon. Ordinary? No way, they are absolutely superheroes, they just don’t wear capes and cowls.

This is what I get to do. I get to ask those questions, re-frame the conversation, and try to inject some hope back into our lives. This is my dream job, and those grown-ups were wrong, I do get the chance to be a superhero.

Play

The site prompt today is “what was the last thing you did for play or fun?” And probably this is it for me. I like to write, it’s super fun. But I was also thinking about you this morning and opened my computer to post. This question is in the same ballpark.

So first, what was the last thing you did for play or fun? Do you love to sing, or play the guitar? Paint? Work out, make or eat a great meal, reorganize your closet? Meet a friend for lunch? Binge watch tv shows or go to the movie theater? Play board games, read novels, listen to Morrissey albums, watch high school basketball games? Sleep? Kiss your wife? What are the things that make you come alive, refresh you, or give you rest? What are the things that are like revival to your tired soul? What are the things that, when you do them, you lose time & think, “I was born to do this, and could do it forever?”

I sat down to write this because I’m neck deep in reflection, evaluation, and anticipation – of the last year, the last several years, the upcoming days, months, years, who I was, who I am, who I am becoming. And this path always leads me to the Bible passage in the gospels where a blind man reaches out to Jesus, who asks him, “What do you want Me to do for you?”

If Jesus were to ask us that same question, how would we answer? Do we know? Have we ever even considered it? Who, what, do we love? What do we dream of, when we allow our imaginations off the least of routine and responsibility? What do we want Jesus to do in our lives? Do we believe He wants to, do we believe He can? Who is our God (or god)? Where are we blind and desperately need sight?

Speaking of doing something for play and fun, these questions are really fun, right? Do you remember sitting in elementary school letting our minds run wild, anywhere they wanted. The exhilaration of the lives we’d have. We wanted to be superheroes or artists, or moms or dads, or rock stars, and at some point, life and grown ups told us that it was impossible, to be realistic, to lower our expectations for our lives, that it is what it is.

But they were wrong. We are superheroes to someone, it isn’t just what it is, and we are all artists. Our greatest work of art are these lives we have been given…the problem is, we stopped seeing them as art. In lowering our expectations, we forgot who we were, who we were made to be, and settled for unfulfilling jobs, buying stuff we don’t need, emotionally distant from our spouses and children, believing the lie that what we do doesn’t matter, that we can’t change, that it can’t change. We became blind to the Divine, to the Holy Spirit (THE SAME Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead) living in us. We are the blind men alongside the road, reaching out to Jesus. He’s asking us the same question…

What are we going to tell Him, the One who set those talents, gifts, dreams, passions, blessings in our hearts? I, for one, want to see. That’s what I want for Christmas, from the Giver of all of our best presents.

Girlfriend In A Coma

Today’s site prompt (the hosting website asks a question every day, to spur thought and encourage me to post every day) is “What’s one thing you would change about yourself?” On one hand, I don’t like this question. It sounds like a wish in a well, like ‘I’d like to be taller,’ or to be able to fly, or whatever. But on the other, maybe this is a doorway into something deeper. In a mass email I received last week, a man named Mark asked if we were becoming the sorts of people we want to become, and that sounds like a variation of the variation of the same question I ask most Sundays. If our answer is a catalyst towards entering a new phase of growth, maybe it’s a good one. Instead of wishing to be a superhero, what if the one thing is to love our neighbor in ways they understand, or to show up to our spouses more often, and asking is the first step in actually doing it, that’s a different story, isn’t it?

This reminds me of a book I just read, Girlfriend In A Coma, by Douglas Coupland. It’s a good book that I read in college, because I have always liked Coupland (he wrote the impossibly important novel Generation X, where the term was first coined), AND because it’s titled after a fantastic Smiths song. A good book, but not life-changing, then. Now might be a different story.

The end has all of the main characters standing in an apocalyptic wasteland, they are the only survivors, and they have a decision. They can stay where they are (which isn’t at all as terrible as it sounds, for one HUGE reason that I won’t spoil) or go back to before the “apocalypse.” They choose to go back, deciding to use this new time, these new lives, to effect change.

Listen to this: “You guys just wait and see. We’ll stand taller than these mountains. We’ll bare open our hearts for the world to grab. We’ll see lights where before there was dimness. We’ll testify together to what we have seen and felt…Our hearts will shine brightly.”

“How can I give them a spark? He wonders. How can I hold their hands and pull them all through flames and rock walls and icebergs?…Every cell in our body explodes with the truth…We’ll be begging passersby to see the need to question and question and never stop questioning until the world stops spinning. We’ll be adults who smash the tired, exhausted system. We’ll crawl and chew and dig our way into a radical new world.“

Right??? I’m typing with tears in my eyes for 2 reasons. First, the thing they had to give up was so humongous, the cost was so high, it absolutely crushes my heart. But the second is the hope of their choice and their opportunity. Now, obviously, it sounds like they’re the ones who will “fix it,” who will “stand taller than mountains,” whose strength and significance is great enough to rewrite the future. I don’t believe that. Jesus fixes (fixed) it, Jesus stands taller than all mountains stacked up, His strength & significance is more than enough to rewrite the past, present, and future, forever and ever, amen.

However, I think this grandiosity isn’t always our problem. More often, we have far too little regard for our own participation. We simply don’t think we have a part to play in changing anything. We believe we’re a pebble thrown into the ocean.

This book (and all of the art that really moves us) presents a different narrative – that we can “testify to what we’ve seen and felt,” that we can let our hearts “shine brightly,” that we can give a spark, we can hold hands and pull, we can smash this tired, exhausted, hopeless system through our faith and hope in Our Savior, and in so doing, we can have a “radical new world.” What we do matters, and it matters a lot.

It doesn’t matter if the prompt is a good one. What’s important is that we keep asking, keep pushing, keep holding, keep crawling, keep shining, keep testifying. Every cell in our body explodes with the Truth, we just have to let that explosion out.

The Grateful

Gratitude Journals. Gratitude Breaths. Thank You Notes. Those are the first 3 in an email list of gratitude practices, as it is Thanksgiving this week. I think we’ve probably heard all of them before, We’ve been told to make lists and to slow down and breathe many times. Maybe we haven’t had thank-you notes suggested (when was the last time we passed a hand-written note at all??), but it certainly does make sense to acknowledge kindness and beauty.

The 4th requires an explanation. Flip The Script means, in difficult situations, we ask,”what is one thing I can be thankful for in this situation?” It’s a simple re-frame that can exchange one “O” word – obstacle – for another – opportunity. And it reminds me of a different email I received yesterday, that stated “the opposite of misery isn’t happiness, it’s gratitude,” and asked us to “Be grateful for your struggles, because within them is the opportunity for growth and meaning.”

In the movie I watched last night, after saving the multiverse (don’t ask), one character asked if the time variance agency (really, don’t ask) could change another character’s regrettable, awful past for rescuing the world. He was told that past, that deeply painful past, is what created the hero that could save us all. There was nothing to change.

By the way, it was yet another instance of a story where the hero sacrifices him- or her-self so everyone else can live. Sounds familiar. I point this pattern out to my boys every time we see it, and explain that it’s in so many stories because it’s The Best Story. Our Creator, Savior, and redemption are wired into our souls. We all know it, and so does Hollywood. (I was going to add “whether they admit it or not,” but that’s silly. They admit it with every re-telling.)

Anyway. I’m just spending the time this week reflecting on gratitude, in general, as a concept, and in my own life, specifically. We could make lists or flip all the scripts, but each of them, any/all of them, are designed to open our eyes and turn our heads. Paul writes that we are to be thankful in everything, and that’s unbelievably difficult sometimes.

But so was my first deadlift. A deadlift works nearly all of the muscles in your body. It’s hard and I struggled to do very light weights. However, I wanted to do it, I wanted to be a man who deadlifts. And guess what happened? I kept watching YouTube videos on correct, safe form. I asked questions and studied others in the gym. I deadlifted often, even when I didn’t want to, didn’t feeeeeel like it. The light weights increased as it became an integral part of my workout routine. It’s still hard, but it’s awesome. I am a man who deadlifts.

I think gratitude is probably the same idea. Being a grateful person requires all of us, asking muscles we don’t always use to grow and strengthen. And we pay attention, hand writing notes (maybe we should bring handwriting back) or reading mass emails or whatever, and keep gratituding. Even when we really don’t feeeeeel like it.

We have been given our very lives, each breath, each moment. We’ve been given each other, the beauty of the changing leaves and the Church. We’ve been given touch, smiles, kisses, tapioca pudding, and breakfast sausage. We have been made to deadlift, we’ve just seen the wind & forgotten. Way deep down, in all of the most authentic parts of us, under all of the rock in which we hide, we are The Grateful. So, how about, starting with this week, we begin chipping away at the rock and reveal this stunning true nature of ours.

Everything & Everyone

On Sunday, we ended with verses that seemed fairly innocuous on the surface. But it sometimes goes like that, doesn’t it? When we’re reading the Bible and think the book or passage isn’t for us, or worse, if it’s for someone else instead (like, “I sure wish _____ was here to hear this! She needs it!”), it’s scalding hot water when we open our eyes to the truth. “Slaves, obey your masters…and masters, treat your slaves…” Not only does it have nothing to do with us, it’s pretty offensive. Why is the Bible giving us instruction on how to properly own other people or be owned people? This sounds like evidence for those that believe the Bible is outdated, at best, and horribly problematic, at worst.

(It’s not either of those, but we’re not going to get into that here, today.)

So, we all mostly checked out until the directive to do everything as if we were doing it for the Lord. I say “we” because, when I see some particular verses we’re studying for the first time, I wonder how in the world they are going to find some way in to our lives. But then we do, and the surprise only adds to the weight of the sledgehammer. Whatever I’m doing – singing, working on my Avengers puzzle, talking on the phone, deadlifting, dancing, writing this, cooking dinner, watching tv…whether I’m at work, home, the gym or grocery store, do it all as if I’m doing it for the Lord.

What if I’m tired, or sick, or irritable, or the job seems pointless, or my back hurts, or or or??? Still, as if it was for Him.

Taken a small, obvious yet scary, step further, if the things we are doing are for Him… Well, the rest of the passage is about how we treat each other, is it possible that… No, that can’t be possible.

Can it?

Jesus tells a parable where the sheep that got others a drink were getting Him a drink, and the goats that didn’t get others a drink were not getting one for Him. Taken together, are we to also treat everyone as if He/She were the Lord??? Everything & Everyone?

Tomorrow is Election Day in our country. What happens if we take these passages seriously, and do it as if we were doing it for the Lord? And (gasp!) treat everyone as if it were the Lord? If our Facebook posts and explicit flags/stickers had the beautiful Name of Jesus in the place of the people we hate most? What if we stopped thinking the monsters on the other side were stupid and uneducated and godless, and instead considered them made in the image of God, loved, accepted, holy? Would it become harder to treat others with our tongues dripping with venom if we woke up to the harsh truth that that nasty condescension was actually directed at Our Savior? What if we took seriously the command to love each other?

Do you think it would make a difference?