Jesus

Coincidence

What stories are we telling ourselves? What meaning are we assigning to the circumstances of our lives? Where have we believed lies instead of Truth? What lies, specifically? Where do they come from?

The last few months have held some of the most important practical implications of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and faith, in general. Too often, we stow our faith away in a nice, tidy box in the corner and take it out at convenient times, comfortable places. Sunday morning, (maybe not every Sunday morning), we go to a special building, spend an hour or two, and come home to watch football. Maybe we remember what the sermon was about, but probably not, more likely a few words or phrases. Maybe we talk to someone else, maybe we sing along to the band, maybe someone asks us how we are and maybe we tell the truth.

That last paragraph is a generalization of the American church that may be true for each of us to a certain extent. The point is, sometimes we have different sides of us – a work Chad, sports Chad, friend Chad, spouse Chad, church Chad, on and on. And our spirituality is something where the gap between theology and practice can be very, very wide. What in the world could the rebellion of David’s son Absalom possibly have to do with us, here, now? And we can list facts of Jesus’ birth, life, and death, but do any of those facts really impact my cubicle or today’s math test or my next text message?

The short answers are A LOT, and YES, they absolutely do!

So, these last few months have had a bunch of planks that make a sweet bridge across that theology-practice chasm. Yesterday, we discussed the stories we tell and why? What makes us believe what we do – about God, about us, about everything and everyone else?

It’s always surprising (though I don’t know why it continues to surprise…it’s like being surprised when the sun sets, the rain stops, or our Dallas Cowboys win) how these passages we study are weaved into current or calendar events. We choose a book (that I will admit sometimes feel random to me) and the 4th chapter on unity/division happens to line up with an election cycle. Or right as we’re diving into helmets of salvation and digging through the trash of the damaging lies we’ve accepted, New Year’s Day is 3 weeks away and we’re reflecting on the year that was and that will be, where we’ve come from and where we’re going to. What could be more vital in engaging our imaginations to paving the new roads of our lives than this?!?

This isn’t coincidence. This is invitation.

Now we have a choice as to what box we’ll check: Yes or No? He comes in our direction in a million different ways, extending His hand to us – will we take it and jump? Can we finally erase the disconnect between all of our faces, combining them into the one He calls us to wear? Of course, it’s scary and hard, that’s why He gave us each other to do it all together.

Last Weekend

Last weekend was very full… There are many different kinds of full. There is a bad full, where the stacked responsibilities are burdens, greedy vampires that suck & suck, leaving us completely drained. But the good kind operates in an inverse relationship, where as the items are completed, as the to-do list decreases, our hearts and souls increase. As the calendar empties, we are filled, with emotion, meaning, purpose, joy, with love.

There is the full that crowds out connection and presence. We miss sacred moments and invitations in the service of our productivity.

And there is the full that uses the schedule as a guide to direct our own participation in the gifts of our lives.

As we move into the Christmas season and it’s demands, I pray that, as much as is possible, we choose to be this 2nd kind of full.

There was a memorial service, wedding rehearsal, wedding ceremony, 2-day basketball tournament, and church service, each overflowing with beauty. We – all of us, with very few people overlapping events – showed up, as we are, and generously poured what we had to give into each other, like human offerings. Death, life, creativity, athleticism, new creations, passion, pain, celebration, everything all at once. On Sunday morning, as we held hands at the end of the service, I was exhausted, on the verge of tears, physically, emotionally, and spiritually spent, yet very alive and keenly aware of the significance of the blessings.

I barely finished my lunch before falling asleep to the sweet, soothing voice of Scott Hansen of the RedZone. Then, last night, I made the final touches on my book, and ordered the first copies. It was at that “Place Order” click that I could hold no more and those tears finally fell. The significance of months/years of work becoming tangible, harsh vulnerability and the naive hope of it’s impact, after already struggling to hold the beauty of the weekend, was waaaay too much for my soft, hyper-sensitive heart.

We still need our tree, to do some more shopping, presents need to be bought, meals need to be planned, people invited, holiday parties to attend, and there are so many basketball games. It’s easy to think of these things as nuisance or bother, as if they are obstacles to the lives we’ve always wanted. But that’s simply not true, they are our “as we are going,” from Matthew 28, they are our Great Commission. They are our lives and they are full of wonder & awe, if we only have eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts to feel them.

This is the season where we celebrate The Creator of the Universe, and it’s Savior, “moving into the neighborhood,” a season of hope and possibility, of the Kingdom of God bursting into this fragile, broken, wonderful world. It’s a season of presents AND presence, both of which can coexist if we only decide they will. It’s a season of basketball games for sitting together and experiencing the extraordinary gifts our boys & girls have been given. A season of mistletoe for kissing, family meals for listening and laughing. A season of missing those who are gone. A season of heartbreak. A season of new people in our Bridge circle. A season of such unexpected beauty that sometimes runs us over, smushing us into the fabric of forever.

I don’t pray for less things to do, for a life less full. In fact, it’s the opposite. I pray for more – of you, more time together, more hugs, more prayers, more gratitude, more Christmas songs, more of the Spirit, and much, much more love for all of us.

About The Weather

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 says, “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances…”

Next week is Thanksgiving, so it’s a terrific time to reference these verses. Give thanks in all circumstances. We talk often about creating lives of gratitude, and the reason we do it so often is because it’s so difficult. It’s far more natural to allow lives of resentment and lack. Nobody has to tell us to take anything for granted, to hold grudges, or to try to control everything and everyone. I don’t remember any class syllabus with, “The Necessity of Wanting What We Don’t Have.” Yet, these are the wide paths we regularly walk.

Do we rejoice always? Pray continually? Give thanks in all circumstances? All? Really?

The words of Scripture confront us with a gigantic, usually unspoken, question. Are these characteristics we are asked to build realistic? Is the life Jesus (and in this case, Paul) calls us into possible? Or are they simply ideals, never meant for practical use?

It’s easy to argue the latter. Listen to how that passage begins (verses 13-15): “Live in peace with each other. And we urge you, brothers and sisters, warn those who are idle and disruptive, encourage the disheartened, help the weak, be patient with everyone. Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always strive to do what is good for each other and for everyone else.”

Do I even have to ask if we live in peace with each other? How about our success in being patient with everyone? Everyone? And strive to do what’s good for each other and for everyone else? That’s infinitely more complicated when we’re focused on doing what’s good for ourselves, right?

In a world where peace is in such short supply, where the accepted norm is to pay back wrong for wrong, these words seem so far away. Loving our brothers and sisters, moms and dads, loving ourselves, is so challenging, how can we honestly be expected to love our neighbors, much less our enemies? It’s hard to even guess what it means to love our enemies. Is it hyperbole? Just pie-in-the-sky rhetoric that sounds awesome on a mountainside or in a letter to a church?

But there is the end of verse 18: “…for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” What about that? We wish to know God’s will for us and our lives, but maybe we already do, we just keep asking because we don’t like the answer. God’s will for us is that we are patient? Sounds that way. That we give thanks in all circumstances? But what if the circumstances are terrible?!? (Just a quick note; it does say in all circumstances, not for all circumstances, and that’s a big distinction.)

The last 3 words are the keys to all of it, of course. Chad alone can’t do any of these things with any consistency, if at all. But Chad in Christ Jesus is a new creation with a new nature, and with those things being true, anything and everything is now possible. We can be patient, kind people in a chaotic, upside down world. We can rejoice always, and we can give thanks in all circumstances. We don’t have to live the way we have been, we can live beautiful lives of hope & love in the middle of this hurricane. And maybe that can calm the hurricane. Or maybe it can’t. I don’t know. But it doesn’t really matter if I know or not, that’s what faith is.

Next week is Thanksgiving, and it sounds perfect to be the jumping point into living 1st Thessalonians 5 lives. Even if the turkey is dry or the pies are burned. Even if we happen to be alone (and if you are, maybe you would call me). Even if lots of things. We can start there, one day, step, moment, at a time. Let’s try to change this weather together.

Everywhere

Last night, we watched the 6th and final episode of the second season of Loki, a series on Disney+. As everyone who has spoken to me even once is well aware, I love superheroes and my interest in their stories seemingly knows no bounds. The Marvel Cinematic Universe is bent on testing my commitment. I now have reservations about each new release. I didn’t see the 3rd Guardians of the Galaxy or Black Panther 2 in the theater, and the Marvels came out last night and I was not there. I still see them all, but my rose colored glasses are off. My child-like excitement has been replaced with weary hesitation. Which brings us to Loki.

There are many many things to say about it, both positive and negative, but just one is going to remain long after this series is forgotten. I am going to ruin the ending, sort of, and for that I’m a little sorry.

First, Avengers:Endgame ended with the completion of the Tony Stark/Ironman arc. When we were introduced to him, he was an arrogant weapons dealer, selling to the highest bidder, building a life built solely on the next selfish pleasure. Over the course of the Infinity Saga, he transformed, finally meeting his heartbreaking demise in the climax of Endgame. His death was the ultimate sacrifice, giving his life to defeat the Big Bad, Thanos. He gave his life so everyone could live. Of course, it’s not hard to draw lines to the Bible, and to the passion of Christ – His sacrifice to rescue us, His death so we could live.

Now, to ruin Loki… His story began as a villain, selfishly seeking nothing but power, everything to bring glory only to himself. Through the years, films, and stories, like Tony Stark, he eventually became the kind of character who would also sacrifice his own life so everyone could be free to live theirs.

The stories that move us, really move us, that make us feel something beyond ourselves, are the ones that point to deeper truths about our world, our selves, our purpose, our humanity, and Our God. What that means is, they point us to Jesus.

Of course, we’re drawn to the relationships and connections between people. We’ve been made this way, and the further progress takes us from this original creation, the more we ache for it. So when Black Widow, in an early moment, leans in when her friend Hawkeye is in danger, that matters. Her movement touches us in those parts way down inside that we don’t always acknowledge and certainly don’t talk about.

Of course, we’re drawn to themes of guilt and forgiveness, atonement, courage, and sacrifice. The Story we have been born into is one of a Redeeming Savior, Who saves us from lives of loneliness, meaningless pleasure and destructive (of self and others) behavior, Who rescues us from avarice and superficiality. And Who calls us into that Story, too.

Of course, we’re drawn to good and evil. We fight darkness wherever we find it. We’re not super-soldiers, incredible hulks or spider-men, but the impulse is the same. We are called to create and protect new, kind, gentle, safe worlds for our families, neighbors, and communities, no matter the cost.

Of course, we’re drawn to love. As pride is the catalyst for all wayward paths, Love is the engine that drives everything wonderful and pure. Love points us to Jesus Christ.

And of course, of course, we’re drawn to anything that reminds us of Jesus Christ, any and everywhere we find it (even superhero movies).

Be Very Careful

I finished my book, Be Very Careful Who You Marry, this week. As you can imagine, it’s a book about marriage. But it’s also a detailed look at the first 3 chapters of Genesis, as well as the Rupert Holmes song, “Escape (The Pine Colada song).”

It’s finished, but hasn’t been printed yet. First, before it goes to the printer, I sent it to several people to read. Just because I like it doesn’t mean anyone else will. There are those who lie and say, “I don’t care what anyone else thinks.” Others actually mean it. I am neither. I care. This is not a vanity project. I didn’t sit in front of this computer typing and deleting away for years to satisfy my ravenous ego. The idea is that you would love it, that you would think it’s the best thing you’ve ever read and give it to everyone you know, but far more importantly, it is an invitation into a new depth in your own relationships, including your marriage (if you happen to be married. If you are not, it will still have much for you, it’s not only a marriage book.) As you already know, I believe loving each other is the way to repair the brokenness in this world. It’s a pyramid scheme that begins in our homes, then goes out to infect everybody else, which is only possible with the love of Jesus as The Engine that drives everything.

But this is not an advertisement. There will be one, but only when I have the book back in my hands and ready to hand out. This is another thing altogether, but the another thing altogether makes more sense if you know this is years in the making to arrive here.

So, I sent it out to finally allow eyes and hearts other than my own to see it, and that is an absolutely terrifying step to take.

When we ask questions, we give all of the power to the other person. They can say “no.” Or they can say “I hate your book. It’s a giant mess that makes no sense.” When we ask, we have to be prepared for all of the answers. When I proposed to The Angel in the peace garden at LVC, there was the distinct possibility that she would have broken my heart.

I did send it to my mom, so I was reasonably sure to have at least one big fan. She read the entire thing in one sitting and loved it, but she already thinks I’m the greatest. I wouldn’t have been prepared for all of the answers with her. But in my life, moms are the exception.

I hit send to share it, and paced around my house for an hour. I’m still sitting in that space of hope and anxiety, in TOTAL vulnerability. I am wide open.

And that is the point. Why would I do this? Why would any of us open ourselves up to be shattered – which, as we all are very well aware, happens? Why would we take shots if we might miss and become “the one who missed the last second shot?” And I am an awfully sensitive man, so I recognize the position into which I’ve put these people. Can you imagine if they do hate it? Now, they have to either lie to me, or worse, tell me the truth. Why why why???

We do this because we have been called into community and connection, neither of which is possible without an insane amount of vulnerability. Loving another person opens us up to unspeakable heartache. Giving carries the chance that the receiver will throw your gift straight into the trash can. But instead of giving some sweater you bought at Target, we’re giving ourselves. I’ve given years of work, and my heart on a platter.

It’s a risk-reward game where the reward doesn’t matter too much, honestly. The reward isn’t even what we think it is. We might never see them wear our sweater. We might never see them read our book and take one beautiful step towards their partner. And none of that matters, because everything matters. We give because Jesus gave, Jesus gives, and asks us to do the same. We forgive, serve, love because Jesus does and asks us to do the same.

So we do our version of “hitting send” over and over and over, we open ourselves, and in return, we get love or we get…well, not love. But we’re different afterwards, closer to Jesus and closer to who He’s created us to be.

We listen, participate, and offer it (whatever our IT is), and from there, it’s His. We follow, and of course it’s scary, but we haven’t ever been promised safety and comfort. In fact, we’re promised mostly the opposite. I guess in that sense, it really doesn’t matter what anyone thinks – there’s only really One sitting in the audience, and the gift is mostly what He cares about.

I still hope everybody likes it, anyway.

WAR

A very good friend asked me yesterday why we did not pray for Israel on Sunday morning. She thought it was something we should (and would) do, and she’s right. My embarrassing answer is that I simply did not know, had not heard. I read news email letters and blogs, but had not for days, and when I stood up to speak about the needs of the Church in Jerusalem in the early A.D.s, I did not know about the needs of the Jewish people in the early 2023.

The Church, and all local churches, have a duty to speak openly about everything – we can’t hide our heads from the intense glare of any subject, no matter how controversial or uncomfortable it makes us. This includes money, sex, homosexuality, politics, and on and on. This also includes war.

I prayerfully considered what to say, how to react to this heartbreaking reality. Last night I read a post on Instagram from a church in California called Mosaic, and it’s pastor Erwin McManus. Sometimes, the words of another capture our own perfectly. This is the post:

“We stand with Israel. We are all aware the conflict between Israel and Palestine is violent, tragic, and complicated. In war, innocent people die on both sides. However, the slaughter of innocent civilians including women, children and the elderly is not complicated. It is evil. Over 260 innocent Jewish people were killed by Hamas at a music festival. In comparison to the US population, it is the equivalent of murdering 9,000 citizens.

The actions of Hamas are not only tragic for the Jewish people, but they bring an inevitable escalation of violence that will result in the deaths of countless innocent Palestinians as well.

We extend empathy to the people in Palestine while condemning the actions of the Hamas terrorists who claim to act on their behalf.

We grieve with those who have lost loved ones and the comfort of feeling safe in their own homes. We stand with Israel and their right to not just exist, but to defend themselves.

We cannot believe the lie that peace between Israel and Palestine is impossible.

We stand in the gap with prayer. We pray for Israel. We pray for Palestine. We pray for peace. We pray for healing. We pray for the miraculous.”

We do stand with Israel. We stand with humanity. We stand against the horrors of violence, terror, and war. Period, full stop.

And now 2 things for us, thousands of miles away, to think about.

First, are our prayers enough? When someone is shivering outside on a cold January morning, do we walk by and say, “thoughts and prayers,” as we so often do? The Jewish people (and the innocent Palestinians, who are not part of Hamas) are shivering, freezing to death, what now? Is there anything for us to do, individually, corporately? Maybe. Maybe prayer is much, much more than enough.

Do we believe in the power of prayer to affect situations, in our lives, communities, or in conflicts halfway across the world? Do we really believe this?

That’s the 2nd – What exactly do we believe? Jesus says, “love your enemies,” what does that mean today? What does it look like to turn the other cheek, or to give them your cloak when they take your tunic? Jesus tells Peter to put his sword away, after he severs the ear of one of the Roman soldiers who had come to arrest Jesus, and ultimately lead Him to the cross. That is righteous violence, maybe the most righteous cause anyone has ever fought for, and Jesus tells him no, and then heals the soldier, who was actively participating in killing Him.

When McManus says, “the right…to defend themselves,” what does that mean? Of course, we are called to stand, to protect, to defend, but what do those words mean?

As long as we’re on the subject of words, what do forgiveness and grace mean? Do they apply? Who are we supposed to forgive “70 x 7 times?” Do we love? What does love look like in spaces like this? Does our forgiveness, grace, and love include Hamas?

They are still children of God, whether they know it, or whether they care, or whether they act like it – now what does that mean? What would Jesus do?

Is our theology realistic here, now, in 2023?

I might know what I think. I might know what I want to think. I might acknowledge that they are sometimes different. These are incredibly complex questions, with no easy answers, but it’s absolutely vital that we keep asking them.

We stand in the gap with prayer. We pray for Israel. We pray for Palestine. We pray for peace. We pray for healing. We pray for the miraculous.

“Amen. Come, Lord Jesus. The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God’s people. Amen.” (Rev. 22:20-21)

3 Jobs For The Site Prompt

I write another blog, too, called lovewithacapitall.com. It’s a space where I talk about songs and movies and anything else that interests me. It’s sometimes not as specifically about Jesus as this one is, but I would be lying if I said it wasn’t about Jesus at all. Everything is about Jesus.

This is the post I wrote last week. I wrote it here because it was sort of about my birthday, and if I had shared it then on the Bridge site, it was a little too much like fishing for Happy Birthday’s and expensive gifts. (I don’t personally know most of the people who read the love blog, so presents are unlikely.) I don’t want birthday presents anymore, I have already received all of the gifts I could ever want. But I do want to share this with you because we walk our paths together, and ostensibly, you care for me, so this is where & who I am, now at 48. Thank you for being here.

The site prompt is to list 3 jobs I’d pursue if money didn’t matter, which is a terrific door to enter, especially today. You see, it’s my birthday, and it’s interesting how things change over a lifetime.

When I was a younger man, birthdays were about celebrating me. (Now that I say it out loud, it seems like it should be a day to celebrate my mom – I was a 10lb baby – but maybe I was the best gift for her already, right? Ha. Anyway.) But now, pretty imperceptibly over the years, they have morphed into celebrating the people that are in my life. No longer celebrating me, but celebrating you for pouring into me in such wildly different and always beautiful ways. 

I try to be a pretty thoughtful person, authentic and self aware, which leads me into days and moments where I look backwards & forwards, but mostly, I look around. Where am I? Who am I, who have I become, and who am I becoming? A birthday, as my phone is busy with well wishes and funny gifs, is a good day for that sort of thing.

So, as for 3 jobs. 3. Lead singer in a rock band. I wish I could sing the songs I wish I could write. My sister and I are always grateful that we have been given the gift of feeling songs so deeply, we cry easily at chord changes and perfect lyrics. Given the choice, I would have written “I Can’t Help Myself,” by Gene or “Hey Jealousy,” by the Gin Blossoms, and been an awesome front man, doing high kicks like David Lee Roth and being cool, like Billy Idol.

2. Superhero. This kind of goes without saying, we’d all put superhero at #2. We’d rescue our love interests, catch bad guys, return purses, and just generally set things right. 

And at 1. Pastor of a local faith community, which, in a wonderful twist of fate, is the one I actually have. I used to say I have virtually no skills, certainly none with which I could ever make a living, but that turned out to be untrue. I’m not overflowing with cash or anything, but that never mattered too much to me. In every way that does mean anything, I am the wealthiest person I know. Falling in love with Jesus is the best thing that ever happened to me, for a million reasons. 

As I look at the 3, they’re very similar, aren’t they? I never connected that, until this very moment.

So. These 48 years that brought me here, with you, have been awesome – full of loss, pain, tears, heartbreak, laughter and unspeakable joy. I’m surrounded by the greatest people, doing the things I love to do; deadlifts, puzzles, watching dumb documentaries, listening, breathing, holding hands, kissing the Angel, loving God (and everybody else), and and and. That list could go on forever, I really love to do tons of things, but mostly I love to be here, now. So, how did I happen to get here? What did I do to deserve a life like this? Nothing. Nobody deserves a life like this. We just accept it, as the amazing grace that it is.

I am a very simple man, and I am overwhelmingly thankful. To paraphrase the best Dr. Seuss book, Horton Hatches The Egg: I am happy, 100 percent.

Questions…

“…as we contemplate how we spend our time and money, it’s important that we realize that being a healthy member of a healthy church will have a direct impact on those issues as well. There’s nothing we can do for our families that will have a greater positive impact than making sure we’re members of a healthy local church.

I’ve seen evidence of this firsthand as I’ve had conversation after conversation with fathers and mothers who are committed to family discipleship, but who are struggling tremendously as they either attend an unhealthy church or no church at all. These families don’t testify of overwhelming joy and fulfillment because “family is enough.” On the contrary, they testify to struggle, strain, loneliness, fear, isolation, and despair.

Family discipleship is absolutely critical, but there’s no substitute for healthy membership in a healthy local church.”

Voddie Baucham Jr wrote that in a book called Family Shepherds. It’s the perfect kind of book; it’s convicting, challenging, an absolute call up to me (and, honestly, probably all of us), but it is also a book with which I don’t always agree. These parts engage me, invite me to dive a bit more deeply into what I say I believe, what I truly believe, if they are the same, and why I believe those things. Then I am satisfied because I still disagree (based on solid teaching, learning, understanding, and/or practice) or, in a very uncomfortable twist, I am left untethered to my own ideas (either because they come from a faulty theology, a cultural hijacking of my spirituality, or from nowhere at all, simply because I’ve never examined them) and have a decision to make. Do I let go of the known past and step into the unknown abyss? Or do I continue to cling to old, wrong, misguided baggage?

You already know which I’d prefer to choose. You also know which I actually choose.

This is not why I included the earlier quote, it’s just why I care about the book, and why I like it so much.

I included the passage because it confronts all of us, on some level or another. Do we belong to a local church? Should we? Do we take it seriously? What exactly is family discipleship? What do we testify to, in our own lives and families? Is it joy and fulfillment? Or is our story one of struggle, strain, loneliness, fear, isolation, and despair? What does it mean to have a “healthy” membership? What is a “healthy” local church? Is the Bridge one of those?

3 small-ish paragraphs that beg soooo many questions. Are we asking them or just turning the page? Are we wrestling with these concepts or falling asleep as we try to finish the chapter?

Is there really “nothing we can do for our families that will have a greater positive impact than making sure we’re members of a healthy local church?” It feels like a conflict of interest for me to ask these questions, because I happen to know of a local church that would love to have you. But if I take my job seriously, my purpose isn’t to increase Sunday morning attendance (well, I suppose it is a purpose, or part of a purpose, but it’s nowhere close to THE main purpose, which is to share the Gospel, point everybody to Jesus, tell & show them He loves us here and now, loving in the way I do all along the way). My professional and my personal missions happen to be the same, so my call is to ask questions that will lead us to who we really are, which will always, always lead us to Him.

Maybe there isn’t a clever last line to this post. I usually like to do that;) But maybe we’re just asking questions and figuring out if we’ll answer them honestly, and then, if we’ll move based on those answers. Who knows? I just love that we can find out together.

A Short Post On Perspective

All 4 of us who live in this house eat dinner together nearly every night, and I dream it’s the best part of each of our days. It certainly is, for me. I am very grateful. So last night, the boys shared a cool story of 2 local brothers making music on SoundCloud (a music sharing website). I can’t tell you how much I love the idea of everyone having the opportunity and space to share their God-given creativity.

The internet has so many dangers and vicious traps, but it also overflows with beauty and connection. It is a place of possibility.

The boys who made the songs are what I would kindly label, or what we would’ve labeled when I was young, “at risk.” They are often in trouble, of various kinds and of various severity. I have a small relationship with one who comes into the weight room, (the other not so much), and have real concerns about both. Different, but equally serious, concerns for each.

But this SoundCloud situation elated me. I didn’t imagine the songs would be particularly good, not something I’d ‘like,’ but that’s hardly the point, is it? They were expressing themselves in a positive fashion and not in any one of the million negative ways that are open to them. Knowing them fairly well, we laughed at the prospect of what they would consider art. Art is subjective, but let’s be honest, not all is awesome. We found their page and clicked on the first track.

What was funny and wonderful turned on the first word. Smiles immediately disappeared, as our hearts wept together.

One of the best things about artistic expression is that we can learn the things we’d never say out loud. I knew these boys were broken, but had no idea how deeply.

The point is this. The one I know is mostly quiet and lonely, which can come across as surly and disrespectful. The other is surly and disrespectful. Neither is particularly likable, they can be quite nasty and stand-offish. And that can drive us all away. After all, we don’t seek out people who are distant and mean to us.

But these kids are severely broken. We know the ones who appear to like others the least like themselves least of all. And it’s not even close. As followers of the Living Christ, we are called to love everybody, so what does that look like, in this circumstance? It surely won’t look the same for each of us, but the first step is shifting our perspective. They aren’t punk kids, or freaks, or anything else.

They’re our kids, and they’re hurting. Now what?

Saturday Afternoons

Last week in this space, I wrote that I sometimes get the overwhelming privilege of officiating weddings. I’ve always liked weddings, because I have always really loved marriage. Even before I fell in love with Jesus, I found this particular gift of His deeply significant. I’m certain I wouldn’t have used the word sacred, but that’s exactly what I felt. In the best of situations, the space is thin, God stands with them as they make their promises before Him to each other. It’s impossible to understate the weight of this moment that will affect the rest of their lives.

Last Saturday, at a cool old barn in the country, I had the opportunity to do it again. I can be found on an app (a story too long to explain here, maybe another time), which means I don’t often know the couple as well as I’d like. These 2 were lovely, I knew that, and I liked them a lot, but at the time, as I arrived for the wedding, I didn’t know how extraordinary they were. (I could write forever, with great detail, but I’ll try to do my best not to. Try.)

The ceremony was outside on a perfect day, and as the guests filed in, they were dressed peculiarly. I didn’t know what was going on, except to say it was wonderful. I’d later ask and discover the style was called “steampunk.” As a very old man, I try to stay up on things, knew the word, had heard it before, but was unfamiliar with it in the wild. If you Google “steampunk” and choose images, you’ll see exactly what I saw.

Culturally, we are moving towards a blurry, undifferentiated everything. Nothing is set apart, nothing is special. People regularly show up late for everything, and that’s a shame, but we also show up late for weddings, and that is much worse than a shame. That is heartbreaking in its disrespect – for the couple, the commitment, and the institution, as well as for themselves. But we also now arrive dressed in t-shirts and shorts, as well. The lines defining common and sacred are erased, and in these cases, it doesn’t make everything sacred, it does the opposite.

These steampunks had prepared for weeks or months, and looked like all the money in the world. They cared so much for their friends and the day to set it aside, to make it different from all others. We should all have ‘family’ like them. Each one was absolutely stunning, fit for the first day of a new marriage.

My message is usually about the kind of love called agape, which is a love that doesn’t care if we want to. We see love not as selfish, temporary feelings and emotions, but as vital decisions made every minute of every day. This couple chose a film quotation to be read, and that passage, with lines like, “when [love as a feeling] subsides, you have to make a decision…love is not breathlessness…not excitement…not eternal passion…love is what’s left over…an art.” This “left over” love are “roots that grow towards each other.”

Then, then!!! The vows they wrote for, and read to, each other left all of us awestruck. He is not an overly gushy, public orator, but he was eloquent and soft, kind, awake to the gift he had been given. She began and spoke of love as noun, how he made her want to believe in it, but she still did not. She believes in the noun as verb, as a choice. In the most gorgeous poetry you’d ever hear, she detailed a list of “I will choose you’s.” I will choose you when we do this. I will choose you when we do that, when we feel this, when we don’t feel that, over and over, each one more impactful than the last.

When she finished, this professional officiant had no words. The right words were “please put the ring on her finger and repeat after me,” words I had said a hundred times, words I could utter in my sleep, and words I started no less than 3 times before realizing I could not say them at that particular moment.

We had not planned anything together, didn’t share messages with each other, this was solely the work of the God that was there, then, celebrating in that moment, and is also here, now, present in this moment. He moved in each of us, in our solitude, in our individual preparation (which was obviously never individual at all), to craft a masterpiece of divine love and revelation. Of course, I was speechless, how could I be anything else?

This matters today, because there are many things I don’t understand and cannot fix, that are emotionally exacting a great toll. Just one specific example of too many is the local school district, which is in ruins, crumbling around our heads as we whistle through the debris. I ask why? What is happening? What good could possibly come from this wreckage? What now? Doesn’t anyone see?

And as I ask/scream those questions, I am reminded of Saturday afternoon. I am reminded of the many previous “Saturday afternoons,” where God spectacularly revealed the Hands we were in, and were always in. If He was there, He might be here, too. Maybe instead of crumbling down, instead of falling apart, maybe these things are falling into place. Maybe to build His new masterpiece, He (or we) have to tear down the old. I’m not sure, I don’t have any evidence of any of it, but that’s what trust is, right? To have faith that the same God who brought Rachel & Brandon together and has been creating their wedding day for who knows how many years is also working in the schools, relationships and offices we think are broken beyond repair. Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe if we have eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts that work, He’s going to take our breath away, like He has a million times before.