love

25 Years?!

[I wrote this on my other blog, and thought I would share it here, as well. It’s about a specific pop song, but it’s also about marriage, and the blessings we can sometimes miss. Maybe you’ll like it.]

What does “having it all” mean to you? That’s what the site is asking, and it is actually a pretty revealing query. It certainly tells more than most of these prompts. Maybe I’d care to dive into this another day, but not today, hosting site, not today.

Today is our 25th wedding anniversary. The Angel has been married to me for a quarter of a century. I’ll get all mushy at the end of this post, but something happened this morning that perfectly illustrates what a healthy marriage is, and how to get one. (I don’t have all the answers, obviously, but when I do happen to come across one, I like to pass it along to you. I don’t only want me to have an A+ 25-year marriage, I want everybody to have that. Incidentally, I am not particularly special or unique, what I’m about to write about has nothing to do with me, it is open to all of us. Also incidentally, I used to think this A+ healthy marriage had to do with finding the Angel, and that blessing had more to do with her being a unicorn rather than any principle or idea. I don’t, anymore. That unicorn has everything to do with my marriage, but she is not the only avenue for anyone to have a beautiful relationship.)

Anyway, this morning on the way to school (through some turn of circumstance, I take her to and from work nowadays), I chose to listen to an Amazon Music playlist titled Rediscover: 90’s Alternative. The first song was the classic “Wonderwall,” by Oasis. I knew she’d sing along with me once the first word of the lyrics “Today…” started up. It’s also an awesome love song – “I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now…Maybe you’re gonna be the one that saves me, and after all, you’re my wonderwall.” Perfect beginning to a great day, right? Except she says, “I’m happy I’m getting out of the car.” Whaaaat???? The she explained, she doesn’t like Liam’s voice or the song or the greatest era of music, either. 

We had our first date in 1998, got married in 2001, and have been together almost every day since. How could I have possibly not known this? Before this moment, it had never ever crossed my mind that anyone would not absolutely love this song. I told my son, later, that “it was wildly overplayed, think “Shake It Off” (by Taylor Swift) levels of airplay, and still, it wasn’t enough.” Everyone loves “Wonderwall.” The fact that my wife doesn’t is impossible.

So, here’s what I learned… You marry someone, you learn all about them, who they are, what they dream of and care about, where they come from, what songs they love, and then they grow and change, and you learn those things again and again and again. I am not the boy she married, and I will not be the man I am now in 10 years. She is not the same woman who sat across from me in that restaurant in 1998. We are dynamic creatures by nature, made to move and evolve. (Sometimes we forget and stagnate, but that is not our design.)

My experience has been that relationships crack and break apart when we stop paying attention, stop learning each other, when we think that we know who the other is, that there are no more surprises or amazing revelations. We get bored. But we are very wrong. The harsh truth of that is, we’re not bored with them. We’re bored with ourselves, we checked out of our own lives and never came back. We’re the boring, uninterested & uninteresting, apathetic, pathetically incurious ones. 

Imagine if I believed the Angel was the college junior I met those many years ago? I would have missed countless wonderful (tiny and humongous) transformations. She looks the same, gorgeous as ever, but now she has some gray hairs and they are absolutely fantastic, adding a level of texture and interest. Imagine if I stopped looking at her so closely, so intently. Imagine if I expected her to look like a 20 year-old. I would have missed this wildly better, even more beautiful, version entirely. 

After 25 years, I’m married to the Angel, but the Angel is different, new, stronger, deeper, both more open and more assured. She’s cooler than I thought, and she’s everything I knew she was. She drives me crazy – in all the good ways as well as the bad. Of course, there have been growing pains, but they are also growing joys, growing pleasures, growing wonders, and growing peace. We have discovered each other in terrific new ways, and in not so terrific ways (like the “Wonderwall” tragedy). We have loved each other, and will continue to do so, for as long as we are given. 

I’ll never know why she wanted to be married to me for one day, much less 25 years, but that’s her problem, not mine. As for me, I’ll keep looking & listening closely, dreaming, learning, I’ll keep growing and moving forward, and I’ll stay forever grateful that I get to do it with her, whoever she becomes, and whatever horrible thing I might learn in the car, tomorrow.

Something Else About Judges

Yesterday, I wrote a very long post about an odd story in the Bible (called “It’s In The Bible”). The story is strange, but its inclusion in the Scriptures is even stranger. The point of the post was that I don’t get to decide what makes sense, what should happen, or how things are supposed to be, and that it’s wildly arrogant to think that I do.

But there is another layer to this, one that I didn’t mention yesterday. As the Micah account begins, verse 17:6 says, “In that day Israel had no king; all the people did whatever seemed right in their own eyes.” This verse is repeated, the last verse of the book, 21:25. Maybe that’s important.

The chapters immediately following the one on Micah are equally disturbing, I could’ve written yesterday’s post about them just as well. And twice, in 18:1 and 19:1, we find an abbreviated, “In that day Israel had no king.” Maybe that’s important, too.

What do these verses mean?

First, it’s just a fact, in those days Israel didn’t have a king. The people were decentralized, each tribe governed themselves. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but the next sentence (after a semi-colon) and these stories are clear clues as to what it meant then.

I say “then,” because “whatever seemed right in their own eyes” is kind of a cultural ideal today. My truth, your truth, follow your heart, do what feels good, and on and on. So, today, it is played as a positive direction. (Is it, really?) But then? These few stories in these few chapters are not at all what we’d consider awesome. The chapter following Micah’s is far more horrific, maybe one of the most shocking in the entire Bible. And the last is ugly and misogynistic.

But it’s the semi-colon that ties them. Even though “all the people did what was right in their own eyes” isn’t spelled out every time, the semi-colon of chapters 17 and 21 tells us it is still there, the continuation of an idea. They had no king, and this fact serves as a symbol of spiritual anarchy, chaotic and random, without vision or coherence.

These stories don’t make sense, and that’s probably the point. When we are left to our own devices, we choose what feels good, we choose pleasure, and we always choose comfort, always choose ourselves. There’s no right or wrong, up or down, so we’re always casting idols, selling out, and throwing our daughters to the mob to save ourselves (a reference to chapter 19.) Our lives begin to look like these chapters, messy, disturbing, and often horrific.

They sound objective, like journalism, but they most certainly are not. They’re charged and pointed lessons, teaching us what it is to be human. Of course, we haven’t learned, our news stories could carry the tagline, “In these days the people have no king, and do whatever seems right in their own eyes,” and we are drifting farther and farther away from our shared humanity. It’s a sad story, this history of us, but it’s one that can change the moment we open our eyes and get back to writing the Big Story that’s always been there, from the beginning.

Steps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rejoice. Repent. Encourage. Love. Repeat.

Jairus

In Sunday’s service, I stated a relatively simple but heavy truth that the Church almost always grows (in both width & depth) in times of oppression…but in prosperity, not so much. This has been played out and proven over history, and probably, our own lives.

In the book of Luke (8:41-42), “a man named Jairus, a leader of the local synagogue, came and fell at Jesus’ feet, pleading with Him to come home with him. His only daughter, who was about 12 years old, was dying.”

It’s not hard to vividly picture this scene in your head. He “came and fell,” “pleading.” His daughter is dying and he’s broken-hearted and broken, he’s poor in spirit. There’s nothing left to do, so he comes to a certain Rabbi, of whom he’s heard rumors. Who knows if they’re true, but he’s at the end of his rope. Imagine his face and footsteps. I don’t think he ran – maybe he did, but the word ‘fell’ brings images of heavy feet and slumped shoulders to me, of barely getting to Jesus before collapsing under the weight of such intense loss. He pleads, begs, cries, wails. “Help her, Rabbi, please help her!!” It’s 2 verses that are absolutely, totally devastating.

Now, maybe Jairus was always following Jesus, maybe he was one of the first followers. Maybe he knew Jesus, maybe he believed. But maybe not, and that’s what I imagine. If he knew him, believed, he would have come sooner. The Jairus in my head was skeptical, fell right into line with the Jewish teachers and Pharisees in his circle. Or maybe, even, he was decidedly not a believer. Instead, maybe he thought this Rabbi was a dangerous threat to his God and his religion.

But pain and suffering, oppression, lead us into some very uncomfortable spaces, right? We say & do things we might never say & do. We’re much more open minded, less likely to close any doors, more likely to open already closed doors. Jesus is a trouble-maker, but when her daughter is dying, what if it’s true??? What can it hurt?

Jairus asks. He seeks, He knocks. He cries out in his broken-ness. And God answers. When Israel is in Egypt and cries out, God answers.

When things are great, clicking along, the bills are paid, the sun is shining, we have a great tendency to forget. When we’re being promoted at work, we think we deserve it, we’ve earned it, we’re capable and strong. We know what to do. But when we’re fired, we’re lost, afraid, weak, and have no idea what to do or where to go. When we cry out for Help, God is far more apt to rescue us, than when we think we’re in control and so awesome we could never need/use any help from anyone.

To tell you the truth, as I’m thinking about it, Levi (Matthew) is a much more exceptional story. He was a guy who had a good job, power, lots of money, and when Jesus said, “Follow me,” he left that all behind. We’re probably way more Jairus than Levi.

Today is a gorgeous day, I slept great last night, and now I feel good and got a bunch done in the yard and my closet. I ate terrific pizza with my son for lunch. The Angel will be home in a minute. Today is a very good day. And I didn’t think of God too much, today. I said Thank You a few times, fleeting and quick. Sunday, I had a headache that woke me up out of sleep in the middle of the night, ibuprofen didn’t help, it was agony, and I spent hours in prayer.

The idea is that, whether we have everything or nothing, whether it’s sunny or sleeting, whether our bank accounts are overflowing or empty, whether our hearts are overflowing or empty, God is still God and loves us exactly the same. I bet this is the “secret” Paul talked about, except it’s not really a secret at all, it’s the secret practice of turning our hearts toward Jesus not only on Saturday, when it hurts, but also on Sunday, when we’re healed.

What We Believe About Everything

Last week, the new Morrissey album, Make-Up Is A Lie, was released (or “dropped” as the kids may still say). It’s really, really awful. If you have been with me for more than one second, you know how much that pains me to say. But this isn’t a review.

I’m instead wondering about the head- (and heart-) space of an artist. 

When a good-to-great artist (in this case, a transcendent artist) completes and readies (what we consider) a subpar album for release, does he/she feel: 1. This is awesome, maybe the best material I’ve ever done. Now, of course, he/she might be wrong, or we are. 2. This may not be my best work, but it’s totally solid. At this point in my life/career, with much success, this is another excellent work. 3. This isn’t great, but the media/label/public pressure is heavy and something new needs to come out NOW. It might be fine. I hope it’s better than I fear. Or, I suppose there is a 4th: This is a stinker, but there are so many people out there who will buy it no matter what. Who cares about them? Money is money. 

The specific is this album, but the real question is, how do we see each other? What is in the soul of a human being? Are we ultimately lacking integrity and looking to use each other as means to our own selfish end? Or do we genuinely mean well, even if things don’t turn out the way we hope? Can we be trusted? Who are we? 

And, since I see most things through a spiritual prism, when a religious person or group uses Scripture to beat up another person, shame and ostracize them, when they use verses as excuse for violence and hate, is this because they are simply looking for an excuse for violence and hate? Or, at the point of inception, do they truly believe that they are doing God’s/god’s will? Is it from their authentic faithfulness that their actions flow? Or is it spiritual abuse and garden variety manipulation, the convenient means that justify their own ends? 

I know, it’s just an album, and maybe something so trivial shouldn’t have any connection to our deepest held values. Or maybe what we believe about one thing is what we believe about everything. Or maybe that’s how it should be. I’m not sure that this album matters at all, but I am absolutely certain our perspective of every human being matters, and maybe they’re related.

I think he thinks it’s great. Maybe it’s not The Queen Is Dead, but he’s not that guy anymore. He’s this one, and he believes Make-Up Is A Lie is an A+. He’s not a bad guy, not a schemer, not a thief, not a guy with bad character, he just happens to be wrong. I’m not out on the old stuff, or the next album (if we’re lucky enough to get another one). I still trust him, and still love him the same, and will still wake up early to listen to his new songs. 

I have the honor of walking with many people, in pretty close proximity, sometimes at the worst moments of their lives. And those people can say some awful things. They/We can be rude, dismissive, belittling, condescending, and just plain nasty, at times. When that happens – when they drop the interpersonal equivalent of Make-Up Is A Lie, what do we do with that? Are they/we simply the last thing (or the worst) we’ve done? I don’t think so. That person who hurt us, maybe they’re also not bad guys, or schemers, maybe they don’t have bad character…Maybe they’re hurting, or maybe they’re just human. Maybe they’re made in the image of God, wholly loved, just like we are.

Now that I think about it, they probably are related.

This Rab

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Details, pt 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yesterdays

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.