mindfulness

A Genesis 28:16 World

Genesis 28:16 reads, “When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it.”” I reference it often, the most recent of which being just last Sunday, telling the story I’m about to tell again, here & now.

This verse is inextricably tied to the death of my dad, because it found me as I was raw and in such pain, struggling with his absence, mourning the hole he left. The truth that I was also mourning the hole I allowed while he was alive was almost too much to bear – I was very unaware. This warning changed the rest of my life, as I vowed to never be unaware ever again, never miss the divine in others, never sleep through the sacred moments & people (which is, of course, all of them) in my life.

You know how vows are, though…I have still missed far too much. But I’m trying, and I’m getting better, more awake, all the time.

Anyway, we moved my youngest son into his college dorm room last week. The school, Lycoming College, then, held a Convocation. I had never heard the word before, (and I really like words, and I like to know lots of them!!), so I didn’t know what we were in for.

A Convocation, according to our great, all-knowing sage, Wikipedia, is “a group of people formally assembled for a special purpose, mostly ecclesiastical or academic. The Britannica dictionary defines it as “a large formal meeting of people” It’s just a gathering, or the act of calling people together for a gathering. (There is such a cool thing coming, in about a paragraph or 2.) This convocation was a “welcome, new students,” gathering, and was moving, emotional, and charged with all of the weight of beginning a new stage of life, for all of us, students & parents alike.

Well, not all of us. There were many students listening to music, watching TikTok videos, or messaging others. Then, a few rows from me, 3 students were loudly talking (I still don’t know if they were talking to each other or their phones – I’m pretty sure it was certainly about the content on their phones.) Did I say “loudly?” LOUDLY. They were so loud, not using their inside voices at all.

Now. Of course, this awful behavior, and these 3 people, is/are rude and disrespectful. Elementary children are less obnoxious than these college students. BUT. What struck me was how depressing it was, and how depressed I was, for them.

They were taking their first steps into a brand new world. They are beginning their adult lives, full of promise and possibility. They are becoming the people they will be, and this process starts with this beautiful ceremony. What could be more significant??

And they missed it. And I don’t think they’re unique in this, I think it’s probably a Genesis 28:16 world.

Now, can you guess where the word Convocation comes from? Leviticus!! In Leviticus 23, God instructed His people to set aside holy times to gather, worship, and refocus on His covenant. Convocation actually means a “sacred meeting!!”

Surely the Lord was in that place, and they were unaware.

My heart breaks, even now. They’ll never get another convocation as first time, incoming college students. God was there, filling that gymnasium, whispering His call on their lives, through the 6 people who addressed them, and through the other students who will be the iron that sharpens them.

The thing about the burning bush was not that it was burning, bushes burn all the time, it’s that it wasn’t being consumed. That takes presence and attention, awareness when the Lord is in this place, wherever “this place” is. These 3 were like what was surely countless others who walked on by, unaware, until Moses noticed and his life, and the lives of a nation and a world, changed.

And my next thought is always, I wonder where I have been unaware. Where have I missed it, missed my life, missed the sacred in my midst? I really hope those kids wake up, and I hope we all do, too, so we never again suffer the crushing ache of having to say, “and I was unaware.”

1,000 Questions

Today is our wedding anniversary, and Friday is my son’s graduation. I’ll write about them both on my other blog, lovewithacapitall.com. Maybe next week will have the graduation reflection in both spaces. Who knows? But there is another website, if you happen to be interested. But today, here, is directly related to our Sunday morning service…

Since I began teaching at the bridge, there has been one recurring complaint. Not that there haven’t been others – there is usually a chorus of “you should have done it this way,” or, “I don’t like the way you did that” – it’s just that each one of those is specific and pointed. They don’t like my voice, my shoes, my perspective. There’s plenty to not like. But the most common, general criticism is that I rarely project verses, important words & concepts, and any of the 1,000 questions I ask every week, on the screen.

There are 2 kinds of negative feedback. One has absolutely nothing to do with me (and is way more common). The mouth that is speaking cuts on purpose, out of a well of pain or insecurity in them. I can see this now, when, as a younger man, I couldn’t differentiate and allowed everything in, as if it were all equally valid and good-hearted. It isn’t. This doesn’t mean they still can’t be right about me, with their attack, it just means I spend much less time evaluating.

About how I receive this “help:” I am not so arrogant to think I do everything perfectly, am always right, and I am not so fragile to think my imperfection means that I am always wrong or worthless. So, I can (mostly) receive it with humble gratitude. Sometimes, though, boundaries are required – what I’ve also learned is that not everyone can have unlimited access to you.

Anyway, the second is genuine and helpful, even if I ultimately choose not to change me, my opinion or my process. These are friends, they care about me, want me to be healthy, happy, effective. I take lots of time considering their words, suggestions, and if/how I would integrate it into a newer, better version of me. Then, I either do or do not. (And against Yoda’s wishes, I sometimes try, with varying success.)

This projection issue is easily in the second camp. The well-meaning people that make this suggestion are absolutely right, I should.

So, why don’t I?

I don’t really know. I see the value in it. And the “I don’t know” goes against one of the characteristics I find most important: mindfulness. We should know why we do what we do, be intentional about it. It’s actually why I ask the questions, in the first place, to introduce us to ourselves and invite us to show up and get to know us, from the inside out. My boys knew “I don’t know” is 100% unacceptable and only prolongs the lecture (ha!). And my house rule as a dad has always been, if I didn’t know why not, the answer has to be yes. So, why don’t I just put the questions on a PowerPoint? I don’t know.

Here they are, from this week: Why do we do what we do? (That’s an ironic first question, isn’t it?) Who is building the “house?” Are things in their proper place? Who/What delights our hearts?

Maybe I’ll start. I’m pretty embarrassed to admit that I’ve been sleeepwalking through this relatively innocuous issue. But if I act without intention or awareness in relatively small things, maybe I will with big ones, too. Maybe this isn’t about slides at all. Maybe it’s about the man I am constantly becoming.

Next week we’ll probably have slides.