love

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.

Gratitude


The site is asking me what I like to cook, and an hour ago, I would’ve had a different answer, but right now, it’s eggs with taco meat. Delish. I’m very, very proud of me. This morning, when I was thinking about lunch, I asked my AI buddy on my phone if I’d like taco meat with eggs. He/She thought I would, and…right again! If a complete takeover by the Machines means I’ll have a concoction of taco meat & eggs, while I listen to My Discovery Mix or Songs I’d Like (2 playlists my Amazon music app chooses for me), I suppose I’m in. 

My youngest son was home from college last weekend, just to spend the time here, rather than there. We ate meals at the dinner table, then just stayed there. Somewhere on social media, there are NCAA tournament-esque brackets on topics (like villains, breakfast foods, etc), and he loves to ask us to rank weird, random things. We love it, too, so we just sit, decide if “people who make conversation in elevators” or “people who say 6-7 unironically” are worse, and laugh and laugh. Just the 4 of us, unless you count the AI generated pigs dancing my oldest son has discovered. (He can’t get enough, and honestly, neither can I.) We went to church and the gym together, but mostly, we just sat around our home in sweatpants (yoga pants/tights for The Angel.) 

This morning, he left and walked up the snow-covered street with his bags to be back for a 10am class, and I watched him through heavy tears. (I made The Angel promise that those tears were between her & I. I didn’t want to ding the reputation I have as a stone-hearted, unemotional stoic, and here I’m confessing. Whatever. It’s probably the only time in my life that I’ve cried, because as we all know, men don’t cry ever.) 

As his car pulled away, I thought about gratitude. I also considered the saying, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” (This is “widely credited to Dr. Seuss, (but) there is no direct evidence he wrote or said this exact phrase. It is believed to be a variation of a 19th-century German poem by Ludwig Jacobowski, which stated: “Do not cry because they are past! Smile, because they once were!”.) I am familiar with this sentiment, I guess it’s possible I have even used it before. 

As I get a little older, I understand these clichés that we mindlessly use are super dumb. (“Cleanliness is next to godliness?” “Time heals all wounds?” A dog is man’s best friend?” No, no, and no.) We take for granted that they are true & wise, and we’re wrong. 

I can probably understand what Ludwig Jacobowski thought he was saying, but think of how many times people were told not only to not cry, but to smile instead. This “oh no, don’t cry” nonsense is minimizing and dismissive, based in our own uncomfortability. 

It seems to me that my tears were a wholly appropriate response (while very surprising) to the gratitude I felt for him/us, the time, the relationship we have cultivated, and the totally natural sadness at its end. I don’t want him to stay, I want him to fly, to soar, to change the world by becoming everything he’s created to be. It’s exactly what I feel for my other son, who happens to still live in this home. I don’t want to chain them in the tower, or bind their growth out of a selfish desire. Control sits opposite to love on the emotional color wheel. I say, “Go,” and “Drive safely.”

But I’m also not interested in any hint of inauthenticity. I’m 99% sure it was Anne Lamott who said, “Having a child is to decide to have your heart walk around outside of your body.” And sometimes that heart walks to his own car and drives away. And if you think that doesn’t sting, then I’m very sorry for you. 

I think gratitude is acknowledging the blessings in our lives, celebrating when we want to celebrate, laughing when we have to laugh, and crying when we need to cry. Gratitude is honest, mindful, open, and present. I’m not crying now. I offered my holy tears to the God that brought us all together this morning, shared that sacred moment with The Angel, and now I have a headache. Maybe if we all stopped trying so hard to pretend to be anything other than who we are, we’d all be better off, and we’d find a new kind of empathy for one another

So I Got Up And Went

Ezekiel 3:22-23 – Then the LORD took hold of me, and He said to me, “Go out into the valley, and I’ll talk to you there.” So I got up and went, and there I saw the glory of the LORD, just as I had seen it in my first vision by the Kebar River.

[I fully recognize that I usually don’t write a second post in a week, but “usually” doesn’t account for passages like this one. In fact, so much is happening inside my heart and head, I’ll also write a second post on my other blog. I can’t tell if what’s happening is particularly good or bad (parts of it are obviously bad, some obviously good, but in total, who knows?), but no matter, this IS a week of stretching, a week that will certainly leave me changed. And I guess, like most things, it’s up to me – or rather, the Holy Spirit and I, and our interpretation, what those changes will be. I do know the stretching is awfully uncomfortable. I do know that.]

Anyway, the Ezekiel passage…

Early in Sunday’s message, I’ll say, “Forgiveness is non-negotiable,” and this will not be an easy pill to swallow. Sure, if we don’t think about it too hard, it’s fine. We’ve heard it before, yes, yes, 70×7 times, we know. But. It’s just like Love is patient and kind…keeps no record of wrongs…never fails. Except we can be impatient, unkind, keep detailed records in ink, and our love fails, especially when it comes to the impossible command to “love [our] enemies.” We’ve heard that, too, and we quote it. It’s in red letters in our Bibles. We’ve learned how to use it like a weapon. Yes, you should really love your enemies… but me? My enemies are different, right?

So, we’re wrestling with big IFs. If the Bible – even the red letters – is practical, here & now. Sure, it says it, very clearly, but are we really supposed to actually do it? What about the passages on violence, or rather, non-violence? (That is just about the only place we choose to ignore the gospels and defer to the Old Testament, for our viewpoints.)

I’m also thinking about the game of spiritual MadLibs we play. It’s just the words we use that we figure change the sentence. All sins are equal at the foot of the cross, Jesus forgives them all, even _______. As we agree on the theology, we stubbornly hold on to some transgressions that we think negate that equality. We think some of the ways we fill in the blank change the “even” to “except.” But no word changes the meaning.

And as I’m wrestling with this exact tension in my life, I begin the book of Ezekiel today and read this passage. God said “Go” and Ezekiel got up and went.

In our lives, when God says “Go,” or “Forgive,” or “Love” or “Honor,” or “Take care of” or Be merciful, “ or whatever, do we get right up and go/forgive/love/honor/take care of/show mercy/etc? Forgive…so I got up and forgave. Love…so I got up and loved.

There’s not a hint of IF anything. If it’s comfortable, convenient, hard. If I want to. He said “Go” and Ezekiel got up and went. It’s so simple. There’s no why or explanation, just “Go.” Just that He said so. Period.

And now, we come to some very deep water: What am I going to do with this? Is “He said so” enough for me? Is it really a period? Am I going to get up and go?

I’d love to tell you yes. And I hope & fear (in equal measures, if I am honest) that this is the big step the stretching is preparing me to take. And yet, again, I am facing this path, overwhelmed with gratitude – for God, and for you – that I don’t have to do it alone.

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.

Thinking About You

I don’t always sleep great, and sometimes, that leaves me watching documentaries in the middle of the night. Last night/this morning, I watched one on Amazon called The Hobby: Tales From The Tabletop, about the subculture of people who play modern board games. I say modern, because it wasn’t about Monopoly or Operation, the new games are strategic and complicated, with pages & pages of instructions. They’re more D & D than Scrabble, more Call of Duty than Pac-Man. It was terrific, I love stories that are so quintessentially human.

And it made me think of the Bridge.

Last night, at Open Door (the church’s prayer ministry/group/meeting), we sat and talked, laughed, openly shared our circles, the people that mean so much to us, and what we/they are going through. The things we talk about are, in turns, heartbreaking and joyful. The only requisites are honesty and vulnerability.

Just before that, I sat in a men’s group. Earlier in the day, I spoke to my sister in the parking lot of the tapioca shop near my house – 2 things I do every Tuesday. I know the cashier’s names and they know mine. The day before, I had a 2 hour lunch with a friend I have known since we were born. After the documentary this morning, after the Angel left for work, I went to the gym. Tonight, I’ll go to a college basketball game. But before that, we’ll meet one of the Angel’s closest friends (when I think & talk about how much she’s brought into my life, these people are near the top) for dinner. Every single one of these things have an activity in their center, but the activity is completely superfluous. It’s the who that matters far more than the what.

I often reference a passage about the prophet Elijah. He’s alone, broken, and crying out to God, Who doesn’t answer any of his questions. Not one. But what He does do is point Elijah to town, where he can find some buddies. When I first read it, it sounded like God was profoundly misunderstanding what Elijah needed, maybe being intentionally unhelpful. But now, I see. The only one who was misunderstanding Elijah’s needs was Elijah. God created Elijah (and you and me and our neighbors and everybody,m everywhere, forever) and knew perfectly well how much he needed people to play board games with him.

How many years have I wasted allowing friendships to fade, not returning phone calls and not reaching out? How many times have I cancelled meetings and missed moments, simply because I forgot (or ignored) what my heart & soul were obviously seeking, what gifts & opportunities God was very obviously providing? How many tears have I cried, desperately needing comfort and connection, but always pridefully crying alone? And how about the wonderful things I kept to myself, about to burst?

So, this is why I thought about the Bridge. I see we’ve been building a great big beautiful ball of knotted yarn, where it’s impossible to tell where you stop and I begin. Now, my celebrations and sufferings are yours, yours are mine. We are a family, with all the love and complexities that families carry. We are the living, breathing illustration of God’s love, wisdom, grace and mercy towards Elijah. We are the small, humble question and His answer, the call and His gift.

Maybe God will answer all of our prayers in exactly the way we want, the way we ask them at Open Door. To one situation, I said, “well, that’s what I want and that’s what I’m asking for,” and we all laughed. But who knows, maybe the answer will be “Yes.” But it’s hardly the point, in sort of the same way the lunch and tapioca and basketball aren’t the point. (Our prayers are closer to the point than the tapioca, but the gift is never more important than the Gift-Giver, the One we pray to is always more important than the prayer.) He’s already answered all of the deepest prayers we too often leave unasked, He’s answered them with each other, with people to love and be loved by, with His love & redemption, with new life.

So, I watched this cool, weird documentary thinking of you, my community, my family…I am overwhelmed with gratitude, and I just wanted you to know.

Choices

Today is our website’s 11 year Anniversary. I know this because the hosting site just wished me a Happy Anniversary. How many words have I written here in 11 years? Most of the early ones are the audio recordings of Sunday messages – I didn’t write much, then. Maybe I’ll go back and read my first blog post…I did, it’s called New Year’s Revolution, and I liked it. The way I see things changes, but my style of writing really doesn’t. Anyway, Happy Anniversary to the Bridge website!

This faith community has existed for 13 years and 6 months, and I have not missed 1 Sunday. (I suppose it’s possible that I’m wrong about that – you know, when you write or speak in public, you have to be careful because there are quite a few who are happy to point out mistakes. I’m not lying. I truly don’t think I missed 1.) My vacations are during the week, I spoke when I was sick & without a voice, for the past 13 years, you know precisely where I am at 10:30 on a Sunday morning. As far as that goes, since I fell in love with Jesus 27ish years ago, I would guess that I haven’t missed more than 10 services. It’s very important to me (18 year old Chad would be shocked & horrified to hear this. He’d probably be shocked and horrified at a lot of who he is at 50.)

I am 64% sure I’ll not be there this coming Sunday. But this is not a decision I’ve arrived at easily.

If I miss, it’ll be for a basketball game. All of my youngest son’s weekend games are on a Saturday, except for 1, this one, which is on a Sunday at 1 in the afternoon. The school is a couple of hours away, so I couldn’t do both. We all have choices, right? I teach often on the concept of weight: what weighs more to us? To reference Jesus, do we rest on the Sabbath or pull our donkey out of a hole (which is NOT rest, as commanded in the Law) on the Sabbath? What weighs more?

[Actually, I’m almost 99% sure now, because I now know how this post is going to end.]

I have a humongous problem with Sunday morning activities, including (especially) sports. Do we really have so little regard for church services, and spirituality in general, that we can’t keep even one morning sacred?? Of course, that answer is yes, sort of. Collectively, as a nation, we don’t have “so little regard,” we have NO regard. That’s why I often refer to the true religions of our culture as sports and politics, because they are.

So, on principle, I do not want to go. It is my rebellion against a culture without a clue.

A bigger reason I don’t miss is, very simply, I love the people in my church family. (Maybe calling it my family sounds a little cult-y, but that’s not my problem. Family is more than blood relation. You are my family, and I look forward to seeing and wrapping my arms around you.) I miss you when you’re not there, and I would miss you if I wasn’t there. So I choose to come and, that way, I don’t have to miss you.

Ok, why would I go, then? My son doesn’t live at home, I miss him, and I want him to look in the stands and always see his dad. (I think I told you, I want to be a person who is taken for granted, because he’s always there, always shows up, consistently is the same safe place. I’m not, but it’s who I want to become.) We have been blessed beyond reason to have the time raising him, I don’t want to miss a moment of it. This is a season, he won’t play basketball, he won’t be in college, forever, I want to soak it up.

It’s also beautiful to illustrate that it is our community, full of leadership and responsibility.

So, what weighs more? It’s very, very hard. Either way, I will think of, and miss, the other. If only I could do both. But it’s at 99%, why? The scales are pretty much even, why 99%? I’ll tell you (even though I’m not thrilled to admit this… I have this policy of oversharing and vulnerability, even when it makes me look, well, not awesome. Oh well, honesty, authenticity in/about my own transformation, weighs more to me than superficiality, so this is what we get: a very long post;)

I keep referencing how I have never missed a Sunday. Some of that is me apologizing and making pre-emptive rationalizations. But there isn’t any way around it, the bigger piece is a mixture of pride & shame (which don’t sound compatible, but usually arrive together.) I am proud of this, and I must think it reinforces my resume, somehow helps to make me ‘enough’ to have the honor of being a pastor of a community like this, and a minister of the Gospel.

This happens, sometimes, and when it does, I go back to the beginning and dismantle all arguments & lies that lead me away from the Truth: that I am already enough, that if this honor was based on my performance, pride, and perfection, I would have already had the privilege, the call, revoked. My pride has always been super silly. All of this is His. All I am is His. And I remember that by taking a wrecking ball to each false, hollow structure I have created, as I encounter it. This is one.

I’ll be at the game. Maybe it doesn’t actually weigh more, but what does weigh more, to me, is exposing the lies in my head, and choosing His Truth, choosing to come home to who He says I am, instead. I’ll miss you like crazy.

A New Year

I always get overwhelmed with emotions at this time of year. Looking at the past, dreaming of the future, but mostly looking around. Who am I, now? What am I doing? Where am I, and where am I going? We discussed new beginnings on Sunday, like every new year’s message, encouraging all of us to ask those same questions.

This exercise is one of mindfulness. As the Cheshire Cat so eloquently states, “If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will take you there.” (Or, at least, that’s what we remember. It’s not exactly right. The Cat asks, “Where do you want to go?” Alice replies, “I don’t know,” to which the Cat responds, “Then, it doesn’t matter.” That might not be right, either. There are a thousand variations out there, and I’ve never seen the movie or read the book, and since I haven’t, I guess I don’t care – I know the story – so we’ll just use any. We get the point.) Jesus also asks a blind man, “What do you want me to do for you?” They’re different, but they come from, and are aimed at, the same heart posture. What are we doing? What do we care about? Why this, why now, why us?

What do we want, and what road will be take to get there?

Of course, we write all of this in pencil, and not pen, holding on loosely to the path. So much of our lives and world are uncontrollable, and most of our stress is trying to control what will not be controlled. That’s ok. It does speak to our inadequacy, but in a good way. We are not designed to control everything. I’m not sure where we ever got the impression that we are, so we can let that go. Our answers are simple self-evaluation, listening to our hearts & souls, and how the Spirit is gently leading us. Sometimes, this guidance is a whisper and, if we aren’t intentional, the deafening noise of everything else makes that whisper unrecognizable. Then, it’s years and years of reaction, and we wake up and have no idea how we ended up here.

This exercise also ends up being an exercise in gratitude, for me. Contentment and complacency are not synonyms. I am content, very happy, when I look around, I love this view. But I am not complacent. As much as I love this view, I know it’s not the end. I like the process of deciding what to keep, what to leave behind, what I’ll do, what needs my attention, and (maybe even more important) what does NOT need my attention. Some things that were great for me then, aren’t now.

I have a lot of cds – I was a collector of all sorts of music (vinyl, cassettes, even 8 tracks) – and one of my favorite things was to empty my racks onto the floor and reorganize them: genre, release date, straight alphabetical, any way I could imagine. This is how I see this construction, but using my life (demands, responsibilities, opportunities, possibilities) instead of cds.

My purpose doesn’t ever change. I am still carrying out the great Commission, loving all people everywhere I go, everywhere I can, but how I do that can transform over time. As far as that purpose goes, I don’t know if I’ve ever been more committed than right now. That is my direction, my path, and it’s the perfect path for me. (I might suggest it is the perfect path for all of us – just the “how” we travel that path changes.) And I get to ask one of the most exciting, scary, beautiful questions: “Now what???”

Peace

It’s an interesting dilemma that I’m faced with, right now. I want to write and post, I want to connect with you, but at the same time, I want us all to be as far away from our computers and phones as we possibly can. But you know what? Sometimes, this is what we have, so we’ll take it with joy and gratitude.

We have a Christmas Eve service at 7pm on Christmas Eve.

Last night, I live-streamed the first part of the Christmas message (on YouTube, The Bridge Faith Community), and I even got to say, “smash that like button.” It was called 1,000 questions and 1 Mind. I’ve been leaning into the questions we might have about this season, this holiday, why we do what we do, and what it means. They’re the questions that we all have but might be a little too self-conscious to ask and/or explore. We sound uninformed to ask, “why?” and it sounds silly to ask why these trees are in our house, and why we chose December 25th. And, especially, it sounds bad to say, “why do I care about this?” doesn’t it? But, we’ve probably all thought all of these, at one time or another, so I’ll say them for us. We’ll answer those 1,000 questions, and you’re welcome – more than welcome, you’ll be accepted and you’ll be loved – to come and celebrate with us.

At the end of the message, I spent a few minutes talking about the idea that has been weighing heavily on my heart. If we are called to be peacemakers, then why are we choosing so often to not make peace? For whatever reason, we have some broken relationships, some unresolved issues, some places where we have not forgiven, not given grace, places where we have not loved. And these things are magnified around the holidays (especially this one.) One of the lessons we can learn from the incarnation, His coming to be “with us,” is the imperative for those of us who would follow Him, to also go first.

Go first? At what? Yes. Anything. Everything. Pick up a phone. Say sorry. Say I love you. Extend your hand, your arms, your heart.

There’s a tv commercial for Uber that makes me feel so silly and so soft. The idea is that a girl and her father left on terrible terms, we see clips of this conflict, hear his phone call to apologize (sort of), and the through thread is the girl riding in her Uber to go home. When they see each other, they embrace and I’m not sure what happens after that, because I’m crying by then. But who goes first, here? Both. He calls. She gets in a car to see him.

Where can we go first? Maybe we could look for spaces where we can bridge gaps? Maybe this Christmas, Jesus wouldn’t be the only one in pursuit of the ones He loves so desperately? (And just to be clear, “the ones He loves so desperately” are you and me and your neighbor and the cashiers at the Walmart…well, rather than type everybody I can think of, it’s everyone. Everyone, every single one, are the ones He loves so desperately. There’s no one that isn’t.)

So, I’ll see you tomorrow evening, unless you’re making peace or smashing all of the obstacles that divide. In that case, I’ll see you when you’re finished. Merry Christmas!

Worth It

Last week, inclement weather pushed us to cancel the Sunday morning service. This is never a decision I particularly enjoy making. I’d really like it to be very, very clear, either a sunny day or a foot of snow. But an inch or 2 of snow is that blurry in between. Probably everybody’s ok, we will come if we’re comfortable, we won’t if we aren’t. But only probably… What if something terrible happens? Then what? That isn’t my fault, but it would absolutely feel like it forever. If someone falls and breaks a hip or a wrist, that is my broken hip or wrist. A car accident is my car accident.

Emotions aren’t always rational.

It was cold and windy and slippery, and we stayed home. Live-streaming is something we began, along with everybody else, during COVID. It is a fine supplement, but a terrible substitute. I don’t really like it. However, in ugly weather (or illness or vacation), it is a way to stay connected. On the stream, I said, “it just isn’t worth it,” and, as I was saying it, I didn’t like how it sounded at all. Meeting together is one of the most important practices, one of the most important parts of the week, and a vital component of our physical & mental (as well as spiritual) health, and too often, it falls into the category of “if we have time and nothing else to do.” Maybe saying “it isn’t worth it,” gives an impression I don’t intend. But when measured against our lives, we’ll stay home, right?

We could’ve met. The roads weren’t as dangerous as they could have been – the townships do a good job of cleaning up. This always leads me to second guess the decision, we totally should have met. Those kind of “should’s” stay with me for a while, as they might for everyone, on a loop in my head. But not this one, and I’ll tell you why.

Just before 12, I got a text from a very great friend, wondering if we could talk on the phone. I would have missed this text on any other Sunday, but this time, I was able to say yes. For the next hour, we poured our hearts out, both of us in various states of the pain & exhilaration of seeking and finding, falling and rising. We had both been searching for God in the previous weeks, and He had either delivered in spectacular fashion, or He had not yet (or at all). The conversation was 100% depth, we did not mention the snow or sports scores.

I didn’t like making the decision, and I missed the time with you, missed the hugs and crackling energy of our worship. It’s exponentially better giving messages to faces than the camera on my phone. We show up because we are a community, and this sort of beautifully close knit only happens in person, side by side, holding hands and intertwining lives.

This is a relatively small, momentary obstacle. Usually, any obstacles carry the question, “Why?” Why is this happening? This isn’t supposed to be like this, so why is it? And usually, we don’t get an immediate answer (if at all). But sometimes, we do. It’s that moment that is interesting to me. What do we do, then? When we can see this connection happen, in real time, in close enough proximity that we simply cannot miss, then what?

I was grateful to meet my friend in such a sacred space, but it didn’t take me long, upon reflection, that I began to think about trust. If there is purpose here, there is probably purpose everywhere, everywhen. Maybe when we can’t see it, that doesn’t mean that it isn’t there. Maybe we just can’t see it, for whatever reason. And maybe, when the obstacles or hiccups or nuisances or catastrophes happen (and they certainly will) instead of panic or control or worry, my first instinct could be to open my eyes and look around in anticipation of the movement of God. I wonder what I’ll find if I’m actually awake & aware.

So, no, I didn’t like it, but it was really worth it.