perspective

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.

Christmas…

As I’m sitting down to write this, to connect, to take a breath and focus, I’m thinking that isn’t an easy thing, to find any kind of time, is it? We have so many demands right now, on our hearts, homes, schedules, and bank accounts. And if you know me at all, you already know what I’m going to ask:

How do we decide what gets our attention? How do we prioritize what we prioritize? Or, maybe a better question is, are we deciding, or prioritizing, at all? Or just allowing our lives and this particularly busy season to run us over?

My youngest son is coming home from college for 2 weeks, before he gets on a plane to fly to Texas for his team to play basketball. My oldest son is taking some time off to spend at home with us, as is The Angel. We have family Christmases, shopping, dinners, and, well, all the things everybody has now. It’s awfully cold, which adds that uncomfortability, and apparently, the Christmas decorations in Pennsylvania aren’t colored lights and trees, but orange cones and construction signs.

The point is, if we don’t practice some level of mindfulness, this season easily runs us over, and then, it’s January and dark and we’re wondering where the time went. I always tell the people I get to marry, “the saddest thing I see is when the couple gets so overwhelmed in the day, thinking about anything & everything, and afterwards, they think about the day and don’t remember a bit of the ceremony where they got married.” And the more I think about it, that applies to so much more than a wedding day.

I’ll sit down on Saturday with The Angel’s family, we’ll open presents and eat terrific food with people we actually like. (What a blessing it is to like those we love, right?) Then, we’ll leave and not see some of those people again until next year. It’s a huge opportunity squandered to miss it, thinking about anything else, allowing any of the 1,000 things that are fighting for our attention to distract from those in front of us.

I considered taking a big break from these posts. But I won’t, because the connection with you is important. Hopefully, the many moments I take to write can lead to a few moments of peace for you to pause the spinning wheel to read.

That’s just one of the things I am choosing. Only you know what all is fighting for you. What are the items you’ll choose? They certainly won’t be the ones I choose, and that’s perfect. We’re very different, we have different families, schedules, concerns and possibilities. We just need to choose. Let’s not let one more day, one more moment, pass that we miss, simply because our bodies, minds, and hearts weren’t in the same place.

Now. One last thing I’d like to suggest. Every second, our bodies, minds, and hearts should be in the same place, but maybe we could spend the seconds of this month in the place where we are celebrating the birth of a God Who would save us all. Maybe we could spend these seconds in gratitude. (And I say that knowing some of us have so much sadness, and emptiness that the season magnifies – what I have learned is that the sweetest gifts we are given are each other to hold and cry with, and often times that is all we get, and it will have to be enough.) Maybe we could turn our attention away from the presents under the trees and toward the presence we give freely to each other. And most of all, toward His presence, His love, in our lives, our relationships, and our world.

A New Thought

I read a New Testament passage and an Old Testament passage every day. It’s study, but not really specifically for any sermons, mostly just for me. Sometimes, it turns into something more. Other times, I just copy verses in my notebook and maybe write any thoughts I might have on them. I’m in 1 Corinthians and Isaiah, now.

Today, Isaiah 61:1-2 read, “The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me, He has appointed me to bring Good News to the poor, comfort the broken-hearted…announce that the captives will be released, the prisoners will be freed, and the blind will see…He has sent me to tell those who mourn that the time of the Lord’s favor has come.“

This sounds familiar because it appears again in Luke 4, where Jesus (at the beginning of His earthly ministry) goes into a Synagogue, unrolls a scroll, and reads this passage. It’s a goosebumps moment. Imagine if you were there, and this is happening in front of you, that a man comes as a teacher, and reads from a book you have known, about prophesies you have been waiting to see fulfilled, and makes the “me” about Himself. We have the benefit of hindsight, we know what is happening, what will happen, and most importantly, who He is. But imagine if we didn’t. Imagine if it was only a possibility. Could this be the One we’ve been waiting for?

Anyway, I love these kinds of moments. But today, I’m seeing this passage in a new way, connected to the path we’ve been on.

Sunday, we talked about 1 Corinthians 13 (incidentally, not where I am currently in 1 Corinthians – I’ll get there soon) as a statement on what it looks like to live & move through our lives as Jesus followers, in love (patiently, kindly, etc). This is a new branch of the same tree to be included in our self-examination.

We are called to bring the Good News – are we? To comfort the brokenhearted – are we? To announce that the captives will be released, the prisoners will be freed, that the blind will see – are we? To testify that the day of the Lord’s favor has come – are we? We are to do all of these with our hearts and bodies, as well as our mouths.

So, I know this is a 2nd post in as many days, but living an awake/aware existence today, here & now, leaves us in a peculiar position. We are saddened, broken daily with the behavior of our brothers and sisters, as well as our own. We feel powerless to change. And it is too easy to get caught up in this downward spiral of vitriol and violence. We need a way out, light in this increasingly dark tunnel. How can we do this? How can we find beauty and truth, even in this? How can we BE that beauty and truth, even in this?

Am I loving? Am I choosing to act like a walking, talking, breathing 1 Corinthians 13? (Now, if I say no to that, then there are different questions, I suppose. Or not. Maybe we are just deciding to use the tools of the enemy to fight back, following the same patterns that created such a mess. As King said, “Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”)

We can choose to love each other, no matter what. (And it’s the “no matter what” that is such a high, treacherous mountain to climb.)

And we can choose to bring the Good News, the one true Gospel of Jesus Christ, with every thought, word, and deed. Are our words (and posts) announcing freedom and sight? Are we pointing to the life He gives?

I sat in the stands last night at a basketball game at Lycoming college, thinking about everything that was happening. The boys (young men) using the gifts they have been divinely bestowed, the coaches teaching them, the service of the referees, and those of us in the bleachers all together in one giant mixing bowl. Was all of it loving? Was all of it praise, worship? Of course not…

But some of it was. And that’s what’s so cool and hopeful. We can change our present (there isn’t any changing our future – the tomb was empty and God wins), we can choose a new path. It just takes our submission. It just takes us taking our thoughts and actions and bringing them into (or at least closer to) His will. We can love, and we can drive out this hate. All it takes is everything, and it starts right now.

[That’s the end of the post, but Thursday is Thanksgiving and I wanted to wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving. I am truly grateful for you, in every way. I’m grateful you read these posts. I’m grateful to walk alongside of you, to build my pyramid scheme of love with you. – And one last thing, I said, “all it takes is everything,” right? I am fully grateful that the “everything” we are (and have) is from His strong, loving hands.

Ok, 1 last, last thing: When I think about His grace and mercy on my life, I think of my 2nd favorite children’s book, “Horton Hatches The Egg,” and how often the last line appears to have been written specifically for me. “And they sent him home happy, 100%” Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.]

Wings

One day last week, at a college basketball game, the Angel and I watched our boy play. He played very well; unselfish, aggressive and with an intensity that may have been surprising if you had not watched his commitment over the past several years, alone in the gym, in the driveway, or outside on the local courts before the sun came up. This was awesome, but it was not the best part of our evening. We were also relayed stories of how he is fitting in, as a great teammate, and an “even better human.” Then, after the game, we walked to our car with him, his girlfriend, and his best friend. Once we were on the road (following a really terrible route from the GPS), I texted how beautiful I thought this circle of friends was, that he’s creating….How beautiful this life was, that he’s creating.

The next day, the Angel and I attended our older son’s workshop for a family dinner party. We sat, barely getting time to eat, as we were flooded with stories of who our boy is. He’s kind, respectful, funny, strong, and sweet. When we got home, I told him how proud of him I was, about this man he’s becoming, this life that he is creating.

You see, he has always been this person. He has always been kind, respectful, funny, strong and sweet. He’s one of the best I’ve ever had the privilege to know, how much more to live with him and watch him every day. My prayer has always been that he fully step into who he is, every part of himself, authentically, and let that out, just open himself and get it all over everyone. It has been my prayer for his brother, too.

The boys we know so well have not always been public. To use a phrase from the Bible, they have sometimes hidden their blinding light under hesitant buckets. We want the world to experience the blessings we have.

It’s hard, probably impossible, to fathom Who God is – His patience, forgiveness, grace, and love. Sometimes, all we have is our own experience. And this is sort of how I imagine God feels, when we put on our authentic selves and start to become all of who He has created us to be.

My boys are different, sometimes wildly so, in their personalities, desires, ambitions, talents and gifts. Who they are growing into are not clones of each other, there aren’t molds they comfortably fit. It’s like that with us, too. You are not me. We are not carbon copies of anyone else. (We are all equal, in Him. He loves us all the same, as sons and daughters. But loving us the same is not the same as making us the same.) I love Morrissey and Fight Club, and you love… well, that’s a bad example, we all love Morrissey and Fight Club, but you get the point. The Angel likes hikes and I like to lift weights, she likes mashed potatoes and I like anything but mashed potatoes. None of us are alike, and that is absolutely the design. We are all the way we are, for a purpose.

And when we start to step into that purpose, to take these new wings that we’ve always had out for a test flight, I think Our Creator rejoices. I think He says, “YES, finally!! Wait until this world gets a taste of (Cathy or Diane or Trish or Josh or whoever, anyone, everyone)!” It’s like He’s painted a masterpiece and just can’t wait for us to remove the curtain, so that everybody can see it.

In this scenario I imagine, you are the masterpiece. So am I, and so is your neighbor and your enemy.

Of course, it’s a flawed analogy. God is not like us. He’s waaaayyyy better, better than we could possibly dream, by miles and miles, by infinity. He is the One that gave us these wings, He wants us to use them. Sometimes, we don’t. Sometimes, we hide. Sometimes, we pretend to be someone else. Sometimes, we don’t know who we are, we don’t know we have these magnificent wings.

And, in my limited human perspective, I imagine that when he sees us find them and stretch them out, it’s a lot like how I felt last week.

New Words

I wrote a book called Be Very Careful Who You Marry (The other one I have written, so far, is Chronicles, Nehemiah, and Other Books Nobody Reads. I love that title, but I like Be Very Careful Who You Marry even more, mostly because my dad unknowingly titled that one 40ish years before I wrote it. I think he’d be very, very proud how careful I was; like him, I married well out of my league. Anyway.) and in it, I included several words that created the foundation for a marriage, the fabric of our Bridge community and my life. These are words like Intention, Attention, Respect, and Communication.

Last week, I think I added 3 more. This was not actually my intention, but as I gave the message, they felt vital, and since then, as I consider them, they gain even more weight.

We discussed the Grace we have been extended, and that we extend to each other. The Grace that recognizes that we are made in the image of God, and covered with the love of God, a love so great that it would lead Him to the cross. If those are all true, how could we not give it to each other??? How could we look down or dismiss those whom He has made? How could we speak such venomous words to anyone, when He says, “when you did it for/to them, you did it to me?” (That’s a paraphrase, but you can read the actual passage in Matthew 25.) Grace doesn’t recognize “them,” only “us,” because in Christ, their is no “them.” Grace sees us all as His, and behaves as if we all have the honor that comes from being children of The King.

Then, well, it’s not just one word, it’s more of an idea, but we can call it Perspective. There is a BIG story we’re in, not just here, now, to us. It is His story and it extends forever in all directions. Have you ever heard that helpful question, “will it matter in 5 minutes, 5 days, 5 years?” It helps us put this moment, which we so easily elevate into massive proportions, into perspective. How about adding, “will it matter in/for eternity??” Maybe the record of the 2025 Dallas Cowboys won’t, right? Then maybe it shouldn’t matter quite so much to us.

This is a fascinating paradox, because, taken with the first one (Grace)… Yes, it is His Story and not ours. Yes, the time line is infinity and not measured in days and months. Yes, the Dallas Cowboys record isn’t of eternal significance. BUT. This God loves us so much, loves His creation so much, that all of it matters. Everything that matters to us matters to Him, so it actually elevates the value of each moment. His love turns the tiniest blink sacred & holy. Cool, right?

The last one is Gratitude. I’m listening to a song by Briston Maroney, called “Paradise,” and it is soooo good, loudly singing along while I’m wiggling in my chair, eating an Asian pear. This house, this chair. Tonight, I’ll eat cheeseburgers with my wife and oldest son, then we’ll probably watch the new Jurassic Park movie. What could possibly be better than any of this? Now, a song called “Better Than Love,” by Hayley Kiyoko. The hook is, “Somebody tell me, what’s better than love?” This Hayley is so right, what could ever be better than love? Yet we forget so often, don’t we? These miracles go unnoticed because we are sleeping through our lives. Everything is a gift. And if everything is a gift, if we don’t deserve anything, if nothing is ours, then we can simply say “Thanks” and be content with whatever it is that we are able to hold, for however long we get to hold it. We could even share it, or give it away.

How could we transform our lives, families, neighborhoods, countries, our world, if we truly adopted these principles, and took them out into every day, every relationship, every policy, every procedure? It’s staggering to imagine. We’d eliminate envy, worry, the headache of having to remember each offense and keep score. We’d be able to stop trying to get even, or to get more. Our words could create a brand new reality. We’d be present and aware. Kisses and hugs would take on new meaning, we could begin to listen, we would show up. I really, really love to dream about these kinds of things, the transformation of the entire world that begins with 2 people giving each other our undivided attention, remembering that they are made in His image, that this day & this breath are wonders, that we are loved and have nothing to do but stop running and receive it. Remembering that we get to love each other, too.

And, honestly, what’s better than love?

Set Apart

While we were on vacation, the Angel and I went out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. She wondered, “does it ever surprise you how people dress at different places?” Now, before I give my 2 cents on this, it’s entrely possible she was talking to me. I was wearing very casual shorts and a polo shirt. She said she wasn’t referring to me specifically, so I’ll choose to believe her. But, honestly, whether she meant it or not, she was right. Did it surprise me how I was dressed at such a fancy place, on a date with a beautiful woman (who looked like a million bucks)?

My answer was no, but it was a complicated no.

I wasn’t surprised because I do quite a few weddings, and more and more guests are wearing t-shirts and baseball caps. There used to be “church clothes,” and now there aren’t. Teachers at the local school district no longer wear ties or dress shoes, often opting for jeans and yoga pants instead.

Now, on the one hand, at least in the case of church clothes, that you come is more important than how you come, right? And any obstacle should be removed, immediately. And maybe that reasoning applies in other places. That our weird uncle shows up to our wedding is the point, no matter what he’s wearing. And if being comfortable helps the school with teaching times tables or American history, then by all means, dress down.

There is a cost to everything, and in this casualization (yes, probably not a word, but you get the point) of our culture, something has been lost.

If we don’t set moments, people, and events apart as special, will they eventually lose their special-ness? Will we become desensitized to the concept of significance? Will everything just become common and forgettable? If I can go to the gym, then to the grocery store, then to dinner with the Angel, without changing my clothes (or mindset), does that subconsciously express an equality where none exist? A date with my wife is not the same as grocery shopping. Without a delineation between moments, wouldn’t they all run together?

On days I officiate weddings, the preparation takes time. I shave, iron my shirt, purposefully choose a tie and wristwatch. This focus, I think, is totally appropriate for the ceremony – after all, this is the first day of a marriage. Superficial or not, this intention helps to move my heart into a reverent posture.

Now, maybe it’s not that important. Maybe we don’t need superficialities to recognize special-ness. Maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe it isn’t necessarily a disregard for significance. Maybe it is the reclamation of the essence of a beautiful moment without any bells or whistles. Maybe.

Or maybe it is a blurring of lines, disrespect for time and space, disregard of the sacred nature of everyone and everything. Maybe some things should feel different, maybe they should be different.

Who knows? See? A complicated no. Here’s what I know: I want you there Sunday morning, and I don’t care if you haven’t gotten to brush your teeth and are still wearing your pajamas. But here’s what else I know: I was underdressed for our dinner. I felt as if I was communicating something about our time that I didn’t want to communicate, even for a second.

We can throw away convention, if we want, and cut out all mindless traditions. But that’s the key, isn’t it? The word “mindless.” We can lose the things, but we need to be aware that we are losing them. We need to be absolutely sure we can, and want to, bear the cost. Things don’t gain or lose their significance in t-shirts and yoga pants. Things only lose their significance through our apathy and mindlessness.

Legacy

Last Sunday, I gave a pretty personal message. Sometimes, the most personal things can be alienating. No one is going through the exact same circumstances or situations, no 2 people are really walking the same path. However, far more often, the most personal expressions are the most universal, because we are all having this human experience and share much, much more than we don’t. When Taylor Swift talks about her ultra-famous boyfriend breaking up with her, of course we can’t relate to those specific details, but we certainly do with broken hearts. We hear the words from her diary and they feel pulled from our souls, from our own relationships.

Paul gave his farewell address to the elders in Ephesus…a wildly different place than our small town in Pennsylvania, different people, different culture. Yet, his words ring true to us, here, now, as we read them 2,000 years later on our cell phone apps. So, it’s my birthday, and it probably isn’t yours (unless you’re my cousin), but we’ve all asked the same questions, right? What would our farewell address be? I mentioned our legacy, and that’s such a pretentious word, but it just means “something passed down.” What would we pass down? Would they remember us, and how?

On one hand, we can’t spend too much time considering this, or we’ll end up thinking about how to live a beautiful life instead of actually living one. But, as with most everything significant, it doesn’t just happen. Beautiful, lasting lives require examination and intention.

I asked these questions: Do we want our last post to be a mean, nasty, cutting one? Do we want to leave with a separation, with something between us? Do we want the last thing we say to be anything less than love, grace, peace, or Jesus? Do we want the people we leave to know we love them? Have we told them today? Have we shown them today? Have we proclaimed the Gospel, with our words, hands, feet, resources, and lives? Have we been patient and kind? Have we loved? 

I often reference our social media posts, because I find them shockingly sharp and aggressive, from even the most lovely people. It seems that we don’t consider their impact, as if they’re made in a vacuum, as if they are not actual personal connection, not us at all. It’s like the coliseum, where we fight, kill or be killed. (It is not. There are flesh and blood moms and dads, sisters, brothers, behind those profile pictures and posts of perfect dinner plates.)

Anyway. Have we loved? I can think of no better string to wrap around our fingers or tattoo on our hands. That is a fitting legacy, maybe the only fitting legacy.

Or have we been annoyed, short, bothered? Did we ignore those holy moments, or were we just distracted, or running late? Maybe we scolded them, made them feel small, mocked, made fun? Do they feel inspired after seeing us, by simply seeing themselves through our own eyes, through fresh words and possibilities? Are they beaten down again, or filled with the hope of redemption? When they walk away, have they seen the love of God in, from, us?

Life can be pretty hard. Do we want to be the ones that ease pain, bring peace, extending hands instead of throwing fists? Are we the ones who are raising our arms to defend our sides, or are we taking our arms and wrapping them around each other? Have we loved, always, and in all ways? I know that last answer is no, of course it’s no, but if we can only start thinking about what it is that we are passing down, maybe it’ll be no less often. And maybe we can start singing some great new songs.

Till Death?

I received this beautifully considered & written piece from a fellow brother at the Bridge (who wishes to remain anonymous):

(But before you see it, understand that this is the sort of thing I had always envisioned this space to be – a space where anyone/everyone in our community could express themselves, on the things that matter to you. I love the idea of us being prompted by the Spirit, so much so that we would sit down and follow that prompt, wherever it takes us. It can start conversations, here or elsewhere, but it will certainly affect us, ask us questions, and invite us into a deeper relationship, with God, ourselves, and the others in our circles. Enjoy!)

“The phrase “Till Death Do Us Part” is frequently contained within marriage vows. Matthew 19:4-6 (CEV) states: “Jesus answered, ‘Don’t you know that in the beginning the Creator made a man and a woman? That’s why a man leaves his father and mother and gets married. He becomes like one person with his wife. Then they are no longer two people, but one. And no one should separate a couple that God has joined together.’”

Death of a Christian spouse releases their soul to Paradise while the other remains on earth. When the remaining spouse dies, will that soul rejoin their married partner? Possibly, according to Lee and Annette Woofenden, under certain conditions: 1) Each individual would need to be in a right relationship with God; 2) Each of the married couples must love the other more than themselves.

In the article, “Will Happily Married Couples be Together in Heaven?” by Lee and Annette Woofenden, they state the following: “What God does is not temporary, but eternal. So, if God joins man and woman in marriage, it is a relationship that can last forever.”

This article and related articles may be viewed at: “How does Marriage Fit In with a Spiritual Life? Is There Marriage in Heaven?”

What do you think? Will our souls rejoin our earthly spouses in Paradise??? It’s a fascinating possibility, that could provide hours, and months, years of contemplation, not to mention the huge box those 2 conditions open. There are verses/passages to follow down as many “rabbit trails” as you’d care to walk. This is the beautiful opportunity of the Bible and of The Church. We read the Scriptures, begin to be transformed, then take those new thoughts, insights, ideas, doubts, and questions to others we trust to keep turning over the jewels, getting deeper and deeper through our engagement. 

So, engage!! Turn it over, wrestle, think – we have been given the unfathomable gift of relationship with the Creator of the Universe (and of us), why would we not lean in? 

But, as for me, on this subject, in case you were wondering…I certainly hope so.

A Dallas Cowboy Win

The Dallas Cowboys are the official NFL team of the Bridge Faith Community, I’ve decided, and yesterday they barely eked out an overtime win over the hated rival New York Giants. To be honest with you, it was pretty disappointing, and as I am examining why that is, I am finding that it speaks to a reality that is far mare important than some dumb game in Texas.

Every year, I think the Cowboys will win the Super Bowl, and every year since 1995, I am wrong. This no longer ruins my year, season, month or even day, like it did when I was a teenager. They are just my favorite team. I am not a player, I have no stake in the team whatsoever. Yet, I would say I love them. [Obviously, not in the way I love my wife or any other person I actually know. I’m not an insane teenager anymore.] This is, I recognize, a ridiculous reality, but it is a reality nonetheless.

Now, let me tell you about a family beach vacation, about 10-15 years ago. One evening, we were on the boardwalk and my sister and I began to argue – I don’t remember what it was about, more than that I wanted her to say and/or do something, and she wasn’t saying or doing that thing, that way. She wanted the same from me. We had pictures in our heads of how the evening should go, and when they didn’t, we were frustrated and angry.

(If you have a sibling, you know the kind of ‘frustrated and angry’ I’m talking about. There is a certain safety in screaming out of frustrating and anger at someone you’ve lived with since you were born.)

Why were we arguing on a beautiful night on a boardwalk in Ocean City? For the same reason I was (am) disappointed in a nice win. It’s also the same reason the Angel and I usually have conflict, in our relationship. When I’m shockingly mean to me, in my head, it’s for this reason, too. And it’s also why I don’t buy, or listen to, the new Counting Crows albums. While we’re on the subject, it’s probably why we all hate each other on social media.

My sister and I fought because we had an expectation for the evening, we expected something from the other. I expect the Dallas Cowboys to win every game, comfortably. When I listen to new Counting Crows records, I still have August & Everything After in my head, and this new one is never that! I walk into these conversations with my wife with expectations that she will see it my way, or respond to me in a particular way.

Expectations are about what they should do, what they are supposed to say, how this should go, who should win, how you are supposed to see the world, and on and on. And when they don’t, when it doesn’t, I am disappointed and petty. I lash out, or pout (in other words, I say mean things or nothing at all.)

That night on the boardwalk opened my eyes to a new question, instead of why she didn’t participate in my mental construct for a perfect evening. Who in the world was I to decide how she should be, what she should say???? What gave me the right to be the all-knowing arbiter of what is supposed to be?

And when I finally asked that question, and searched my super ugly parts for the truth, it’s easy to see that I gave me that right. It’s simple arrogance, the same idolatry that is so commonplace all over the Bible and still is, today, in every corner of all creation. I didn’t like that answer, but what I like or don’t like doesn’t really matter when we’re talking about the truth.

What if I could have allowed my sister to be and do only what she wants to be and do? What if I didn’t have to control every aspect of all people and circumstances? I’ll tell you what happens – I am free to enjoy the time. I am surprised by the kindness, care and thoughtfulness of people, and the stunning beauty of my life, when it can unfold naturally, without my need to write everyone’s story by the blinding light of my own altar. Most importantly, without expectation, I am free to be grateful.

I can’t always do it (like yesterday’s NFL game, for example), maybe I never will be perfect, but I’ll sure keep trying. It’s totally worth it. Those Counting Crows albums probably aren’t so bad, after all.

Psycho Catfish

There is a new documentary on Netflix, called Unknown Number: The High School Catfish. A catfish is an actual fish, a “diverse group of ray-finned fish,” “any of an order (Siluriformes) of chiefly freshwater stout-bodied scaleless bony fishes having long tactile barbels,” but it is also a person who pretends to be someone else online. They masquerade for lots of reasons, from self-consciousness to pedophilia, and everything in between. There is a show on MTV called Catfish, that I love, that details the search to uncover the identities of internet love interests. This search/reveal can be light and insignificant or it can be devastating.

This documentary is not the light, insignificant kind.

A 15 year old girl starts getting text messages from the same person using unknown numbers. The texts are shockingly lewd, inappropriate, mean, and bullying. They are about sex acts with her boyfriend, trying to break them up, they are hateful missives about her looks & weight, and they encourage her to commit suicide. Sometimes, there are a few, sometimes as many as 50 or 60 per day. The police are involved, and are completely ineffective in exposing the sender. Finally, it is an FBI agent who discovers that it is… (spoiler alert!!!)…the girl’s MOTHER!!!!!!!!!!! The mom makes excuses and is awfully unlikable. That’s all we’ll say about the film, except to say I didn’t really care for it (for lots of reasons.)

This post is called “Psycho Catfish,” which is what she was, right? She was awful and went to prison for around 19 months, and should probably have been longer – the text abuse lasted longer (almost 2 full years). Right? She cried hollow tears over the worst of the consequences, that she hasn’t seen her daughter – the same daughter she tormented. Can you have empathy for this woman, the best documentaries ask. Can you? How can a human being be capable of this??

Now. In Acts 9, Jesus stops Saul on the road to Damascus and says, “Why ate you persecuting ME?” Saul was chasing the early followers of Jesus, capturing them and bringing them back “in chains,” often to their death. He wasn’t persecuting Jesus, just His followers, right? Just? In the Gospels, Jesus said, “when you did (either good or evil, getting food & drinks or not) to/for them, you did it to/for ME.”

We have read these passages, sometimes many, many times. But this all happened 2,000 years ago, what do they possibly have to do with us?

Well, these verses seem to suggest that the things we do/say/think/post about people, we are doing/saying/thinking/posting about HIM. If that is the case, then what? I called that mom a psycho, decided that she should have been in jail for much longer, and rolled my eyes at what I thought were crocodile tears. Does that mean I’m calling Jesus names? Is that using Him & His Name carelessly, disrespectfully? Is that blasphemy?

Well, if we take the Scriptures seriously, it probably is. The thing this mom did was wrong and terrible. Of this, we can agree. This is just the truth. However, what is also true is that Jesus sees her exactly the same way he sees his perfect people (like you & me;), with forgiveness, grace, and endless, limitless love.

What this mom did was heartbreaking, but were her transgressions worse than Saul’s??? No way. And, if we are honest, are they that much worse than my own worst moments? Maybe they are. I think they were, but of course I’d say that. So, who am I to decide?

You know I don’t think the Bible was written to shame us, so the fact that I’m calling this “Psycho Catfish” isn’t driving me into the ground. My thoughts about her aren’t pushing play on the tapes in my head that would crush me with guilt. As He has grace for her, and for Saul, HE has for me. Maybe I can, too?

But what they are doing is asking me some very hard questions, challenging me about my perspectives, my words, the way I see those around me (and especially those in Washington D.C.). If they are Jesus, then what? What if these stories in the Bible didn’t only happen thousands of years ago? It’s overwhelming to think they are still happening today, here, and now.