perspective

Who Is Jabez?

Sometimes, the site prompt is unbelievably deep & searching, asking questions we might not want to explore. Today’s is: “What could you let go, for the sake of harmony?” Doesn’t this sound like so much of what we’ve been discussing in the epistles of Paul? When do the (perceived) slights and disrespect get so big that the relationship between us would be harmed? IS there a line, where it’s simply too much? Or is harmony to be defended at all costs, and we are to let everything go? This was not something I intended to think about today, it’s just a gift to lead us into ourselves, a place where we can consider what it is that we truly believe.

The prompt that got me to open my computer this morning did not come from the hosting website, it came from 1 Chronicles, chapter 4. Verses 9 & 10 read, “There was a man named Jabez who was more honorable than any of his brothers. His mother named him Jabez because his birth had been so painful. He was the one who prayed to the God of Israel, “Oh, that you would bless me and expand my territory! Please be with me in all that I do, and keep me from all trouble and pain!” And God granted his request.”

So, who is Jabez? An honorable man who too a risk and made a BIG ask of God – not only bless him, not only give him a lot of land, not only presence, but keep him from all trouble and pain!! ALL trouble and pain?! And, in an extraordinary move, God granted his request! What made Jabez so special? Did the fact that he was honorable ‘earn’ that unbelievable yes? Or was it the faith in a generous, loving God to ask? It seems like there should be more than 2 verses in a book no one really reads given to such a man, such a story. There have been many books written, many gospels based on 2 verses, surely there must be more to learn about this story.

Does God give us what we pray for? In Mark 11:22-24, Jesus says, Have faith in God…Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” If I believe that a mountain will throw itself into the sea, and it will because I said so, then maybe the prayer of Jabez isn’t that big of a deal at all.

But, then we have Matthew 11:2-6, “When John the Baptist was in prison, he heard what Jesus was doing. He sent his followers. They asked, “Are You the One Who was to come, or should we look for another?” Jesus said to them, “Go and tell John what you see and hear. The blind are made to see. Those who could not walk are walking. Those who have had bad skin diseases are healed. Those who could not hear are hearing. The dead are raised up to life and the Good News is preached to poor people. He is happy who is not ashamed of Me and does not turn away because of Me.”

John lived his entire life for Jesus, paving a way, devoted to the coming Messiah, and found himself in prison. We can forgive him for asking, “Um, are you the One?” Maybe he had Jabez in mind, thinking if we’re honorable & faithful, things will go very well for us. Jesus answers in an unusual way, essentially telling him he wasn’t getting out of that cell alive, but he shouldn’t turn away from Him. So, what’s up with this? All of the disciples had horribly tragic deaths (except John – a different John – who had probably only wished he died several times), the prophets didn’t exactly live cushy lives of material comfort. In fact, it seems like Jabez is the exception.

God’s blessing isn’t an exception. God’s generosity isn’t an exception. God’s grace & love aren’t exceptional. It’s only an exception that, in thsi case, His Divine Blessing looks so much like we want it to look, with easy living and loads of land and money.

What do we make of this? First, I can’t remember many prayers I’ve read or heard that sound like this. I wonder how many of us have prayed so boldly, so honestly, so un-self-consciously. I haven’t. Do we think it’s selfish or somehow wrong to ask for what we’d really like from the only One who could really give it to us. Maybe we don’t ask because, what if our answer is like John’s. Maybe our faith isn’t quite built to withstand a “No,” for whatever reason. Maybe we’re afraid to be so open with God, as if He doesn’t know what we’re holding back, leaving unsaid. What does this say about our perspective of God?

This morning, my sister told me a story about how she called a coworker to ask if she’d switch shifts with her. Now, I’m thinking about the vulnerability of that, but also the faith. My sister is likable and great at her job, she’s honorable. But she’s also perseverant, if that coworker says no, I bet she’ll be a little like the parable of the persistent neighbor, asking for bread at midnight over and over until she gets the bread. She asks for what she wants.

Maybe Jabez got what he wanted just because he knew the character of God enough to ask. Right now, if you ask me (and I suppose nobody actually has;), I think these 2 verses are about the heart posture of prayer, and our reverence and child-like belief in Our God. The act of asking says, 1. He loves me. 2. He wants to give me good gifts (even if I might not always know what He would call “good”). 3. I am human, He’s created me to be His child, He knows me, inside and out, so I’ll ask Him. But also, 4. I love Him, I’m grateful, I trust Him to know what I need, so my entire faith doesn’t hang on the thread of His giving me everything I want. I don’t need Him to be my vending machine to love and/or follow Him.

The Bible isn’t always easy to understand, and sometimes the deeper we get, the more mysterious it gets, but that doesn’t make it any less awesome.

Grading The Kings

The Old Testament readings lately in the Bible-In-A-Year plan are quick, glancing blows about the kings of Israel & Judah. They simply give the name, how long he ruled, and whether or not he did what was “pleasing” or “evil,” “in the Lord’s sight.” Sometimes, they spent many years in power, and still, only one thing seems to be important. (Of course, if you want to read more, the author repeats, you can look that up somewhere else.)

[Violence is always present. Some of the kings assassinate their predecessors, then are assassinated by successors. Some win wars, some lose wars, against the same enemies. This is the insanity of human beings, the story of Samson (in the book of Judges) on a loop, where only the names change. Samson does something (what he does doesn’t really matter, but someone gets offended and/or killed), then the Philistines retaliate, then, “because you did this to me,” Samson raises the ante, then, because he did that to them, they retaliate. Both sides think they’re right, obviously, only paying back evil for evil, an eye for an eye (or a head for an eye), but the story is one of an unquenchable vengeance and bloodlust. No one knows who started it, no one cares, really. At the end of the story, Samson and a building full of Philistines are all dead in the ruins. And then, the next ‘Samson’ and ‘Philistines’ believe that this time, it’ll be different. That we (whoever ‘we’ is) can bring peace through victory, but it’s not peace – the shalom of the Bible – and it isn’t lasting. It’s strange how we don’t like to read about the violence and war in the Bible, while we perpetuate the story generation after generation. Anyway, that’s not what I meant to write about today, it’s just a momentary digression.]

[Speaking of digression, we’re about to move into a few chapters in 2 Corinthians that scholars refer to as “The Great Digression.” Isn’t that awesome??]

The kings are graded on just one thing: did they do the things, govern the people, in such a way that it would please God or not? That’s probably enough to think about, but that is also not what I want to get into. What I do want to get into is another familiar refrain in these chapters (and I’ll specifically use just one example, from June 29, The Angel’s birthday, 2 Kings 15:3-4): “[Uzziah] did what what pleasing in the Lord’s sight…But he did not destroy the pagan shrines and the people still offered sacrifices and burned incense there.” Good kings, pleasing in the Lord’s sight, often leave pagan shrines and/or asherah poles, behind. This is fascinating to me. Why would they stop? Why would they leave such an offensive symbol of disobedience and idolatry standing? And how are they still considered “pleasing” to God?

The Bible leaves a lot of questions unanswered, doesn’t it? That is on purpose, by the way. The idea is that we enter in, wrestle with it, turn it like a diamond with many facets, discover ourselves in the story and then notice as the characters we are change with subsequent readings.

What do I notice? I was a bad king for much of my life, following in the footsteps of the culture around me, walking the roads that have been smoothly paved over hundreds, thousands of years, leaving so much damage (to myself and others) behind. Then, as I fell more and more in love with Jesus, my eyes began to open and I started to see new ways, take small steps from that wide path onto a new, narrow one. I was a king that might have followed some of the Law, might have followed Him a little, one foot on each path. I’m moving in a direction, growing, becoming. It’s that passage, Uzziah’s epitaph, that disturbs me. He was pleasing, but…

Where are the pagan shrines, the asherah poles, in my life? I wonder if all of the kings even knew they were there, I wonder if Uzziah could see all of the altars. Do I? Do I even want to know?

Uzziah left them, and was pleasing anyway. This is the message of grace, I think. We are new, redeemed, and we still leave some of the past standing. The old us still hides in tiny, secluded caves in our land. We still carry that “but…” but maybe the sentence gets reversed in Jesus. We may have, so far, left the pagan shrines, BUT we are pleasing to Him. We are loved anyway. We keep living these ridiculous loops of Samson, but… We keep going back to the wide path, even if just for a second, but…

When we read the Old Testament, it can be maddening. Why do they keep doing this?!!!? Why don’t they get rid of the shrines and poles?!!!?It doesn’t take much awareness to realize that we are them, and once we see that, we see the exile and the return (we see all of these stories) in a whole new Light, through new eyes of tremendous, overwhelming gratitude.

Lies

[I wrote this post on my other blog, it’s about 2 documentaries I recently watched. I generally try to keep these blogs separate, but sometimes, the ideas drift across the lines. At the end, I’ll suggest we find our identity, worth, value in something other than fear, but the only “something other than fear” that truly defines us, pointing to our original design, is God, Jesus Christ, and Love. So, what is defining us? Who are we? Who or what has the keys to our identity? These are questions that are absolutely vital to ask AND answer, and anything that moves us to ask them (even silly tv shows) is invaluable. Sometimes the things that move us the most move us the most because they are found in unexpected places, we simply have to have eyes that see and ears that hear.]

I watched 2 documentaries lately. Anatomy of Lies, on Peacock, and Maternal Instinct, on Netflix. Anatomy details the “life” of Elisabeth Finch, a writer on several shows you would’ve heard of, the most popular being Grey’s Anatomy. I put the word ‘life’ in quotes because most of everything she said or wrote about her life was a fabrication, a hi-jack of other people’s actual stories. She was called a “trauma vampire,” sucking other’s traumas and passing them off as her own. Instinct chooses a woman named Taylor Parker as its subject. She also lied about everything, eventually murdering pregnant woman Reagan Simmons-Hancock, and c-sectioning her unborn baby in a strange attempt to, not keep it as her own, but to lend evidence to her 9 months of false pregnancy.

These are interesting, sad stories but they are certainly not unique. There is no shortage of documentaries and “based on a true story” dramatizations of pathologically dishonest pretenders. Sometimes, once the liars are exposed, they apologize in their own non-contrite way. Like the vast majority of apologies, they’re sorry for being caught, not what they did (for which everyone else is to blame). Finch confesses only for things that can be proven false, and nothing else. Parker doesn’t confess at all, the documentarians don’t even ask, they don’t interview her at all. 

[For an interesting, related context, I was only able to watch Anatomy of Lies because I subscribe to Peacock, and I only subscribe to Peacock because it has a show called Poker Face. The show is perfect, starring Natasha Lyonne as a drifter named Charlie Cale, who has the beautiful talent we wish we all had: the ability to know when someone is lying. She says, ‘everybody lies, it’s just a matter of finding out why.’]

Think about all of the really humongous relational messes you’ve either witnessed or experienced, how many of them had some level of deceit or dishonesty as the cornerstone? Some very recent, very close catastrophes left me saying, in each case, “If anyone, at any point, had told the truth, and even better, the whole truth, all of this drama could have been avoided.”

But they didn’t. Elisabeth Finch didn’t. Taylor Parker didn’t. And I wonder why. A woman in the Finch doc believes it all comes from an internal lack of worth creating a desperate need to be someone else. That’s probably true. 

Of course, we also lie to avoid punishment. If the lamp falls, we say “not me,” so we don’t have to pay for it. That makes sense, right? Well, I mean, it doesn’t, because everybody always finds out who broke the lamp, and instead of just taking responsibility for the lamp, now we’re dealing with the lie, which is much, much worse. But there’s not an awful lot for us to do with this one, people either become adults or they don’t.

But, the other one, tied to a deeply perceived worthlessness, is a bit more interesting. Why do we want to be someone or something else? Why do we want their story or their family or house or money or whatever? 

The 10th commandment (You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or his male servant, or his female servant, or his ox, or his donkey, or anything that is your neighbor’s) is sometimes read not as a command, but as a reward. If you do the previous 9, you won’t want your neighbor’s wife or donkey or anything that isn’t yours, because what you have will be enough. Enough is sort of a dirty word in America, where we worship at the altar of MORE. There is never enough. We are never enough. We are steadily fed the narrative that we are always lacking, and we’ll do anything to fill that hole. We need facelifts and new boobs because who we are and what we have now is simply not enough, and getting a new whatever is the answer. 

Of course, the hole isn’t filled with more stuff or a new nose. We aren’t magically made whole with abs. 

I’m increasingly interested in why we keep trying the same methods that don’t work, and have never worked? Why do we keep thinking a new car or jeans or dishwashing liquid will fill our souls? Why do we keep thinking war will bring peace? Or a bigger account balance will bring us the joy & peace that have eluded us for so long? Or that a few well-placed lies will produce the image that will finally complete us?

Finch lied to everyone in her life, it fell apart, she lost those people – the chaos of her broken life was directly related to her truth problem, and yet, she continues to lie. Dishonesty (on any level) builds walls around us while tearing down the chance/hope of intimacy and connection. The lies are a symptom, of course, the fruit of our fear. And until we can be defined by something else, until we can find our identity in something other than terror, we’ll continue to live these same boring loops and keep making these tired documentaries.

What About Self-Control?

We discussed self-control Sunday, the last of the fruits of the Spirit. I know what’s going through my head as I study, write, and give these messages, but what’s happening in the heads & hearts of those listening? That’s always an interesting thought to me.

Have we let ourselves down, when it comes to self-control, did the things that we knew weren’t healthy? We knew they weren’t healthy, sometimes even destructive, knew they were beneath us, they didn’t fit in who we are and/or who we are becoming, and yet we did them anyway. Then, we looked in the mirror and felt that familiar twinge (or tidal wave) of guilt or sorrow. I can see that some of us know that emotion very, very well. Maybe others have had it, once or twice, some quite recently. Maybe one or two of us are just beginning to discover our identity, whose eyes are only starting to see that there are things that aren’t healthy, things that would be beneath our standing as children of God. Some are thinking about loved ones who are engaging in things that are tearing them (and us) apart. And probably others are thinking about lunch. Or the World Cup. Or just watching the clock.

I think about the areas where I am disciplined, and then it doesn’t take long to drift into the ones that are less so. Sometimes, it’s jarring how fast that transition moves. And then I ask, “why?” Isn’t this quality, this fruit, just an across the board kind of thing? Like, either I am disciplined or I am not. You can’t be kind of pregnant, isn’t self-control like that? What does self-control look like, anyway? If I want to work out, how much would display self-control? What if I take too many days off? (And what’s too many????) Why can I do these things but not these? Why do I have blind spots?

And while we’re at it, why do I do the things I don’t want to, at all? If I don’t want to do them, it only stands to reason that I wouldn’t do them, right? Nope. And, then, why do I not do the things I DO want to do?

Of course, in a super-well known passage in the Bible (Romans 7:15-20), Paul writes about exactly this situation: “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.”

Have you ever read this closely? I do not understand what I do. That makes sense, I don’t understand. Then, we see that if I don’t want to eat those cookies and I do, I agree that the Law is good? No, I don’t. And sin still lives in me? I still have a sinful nature? I do have the desire, I sure do, I don’t want to do the things that make me feel like garbage in the mirror, and I want to do the good things, I really do. But when I don’t, it’s not me????

We could unpack this passage forever. But I think what I’m trying to say, at least today, is that whatever goes through our minds, whatever we feel when we look in the mirror, is that we are not alone. Wherever we are right now is a really great place for us to be right now. I know we all can easily start to think, “I SHOULD be so much further along, I SHOULD not have this trouble anymore, I SHOULD be perfect.” But what this Romans passage tells me today is that we’re all on a path. Even Paul, a superhero of the faith, writer of much of the New Testament, struggles, does what he doesn’t want to, doesn’t do what he does want to. Even Paul doesn’t understand what he does. And sin still lives in Paul.

When my boys were very small, each of them had trouble with their weight. They fell 2 lines on the sacred growth chart, and 2 lines make the doctors absolutely freak out, so for the oldest, we had endless appointments with specialist after specialist. Every meal was of massive importance. The stress hung like a thick blanket over each bite, on him and his parents. The tests were all good news, and the moment one recommended a feeding tube, we decided to step out of this hamster wheel and take a breath…he began to eat. When the youngest followed the same pattern, we did some tests (not the whole battery his brother faced), and opted out. Of course, then he ate, too.

Our anxiety over where we SHOULD be, who we SHOULD be, is really not helping us. We’ll gain our weight as soon as we give ourselves a break from the shame of the should’s. There is nowhere we should be, and there is nowhere we are where God’s grace can’t cover us. That’s comforting, right? And it just might free us up to start moving again.

Behold!

I sometimes write these posts as a sort of companion for the message on Sunday. We’re The Church, and that alone makes it obvious that it’s not simply an hour a week, a box checked off as “completed.” Each of our faith journeys are made up of a thousand small steps, each thought, each action, no matter how small. We are new creations, AND we’re becoming new creations; It’s immediate AND it’s a process.

So with all of that in mind, William Blake said, “We become what we behold.” Whether it’s today, this week, next Thursday, or next February, it’s important that we consider what we are beholding.

The things we consistently focus on, pay attention to, and consume eventually shape our thoughts, attitudes, character, and behavior. We are bombarded by constant messaging, what we regularly allow in eventually shapes us, shapes who we are. In the Bible, this process would be called transformation.

The political discourse in our country is nasty and consists of each side deeply etching lines separating “us” from “them.” “We” are, of course, right, and “they” are obviously wrong. Not only are they wrong, they’re monsters, sub-human. And when we dive into that water, immerse ourselves in that kind of rhetoric, we simply can’t help but begin to adopt those viewpoints. They are monsters. We are the informed, the educated, the smart ones, and they are…not.

Let’s say we go out after work on Thursdays for appetizers at a local restaurant, and the co-workers at our table spend that time venting about the management, their decisions, ethics, hairdos, and the shocking lack of communication. They also talk about how dangerously overworked and underpaid we all are. And let’s also say you haven’t really thought about it like that before that first night, maybe you like your job, maybe you even respect your boss. How many Thursdays until you start to see it their way, and join the cacophony of grumbling? Sadly, not as many as we think.

Now, I say “sadly” because, in this context, it is awfully depressing. We take on the characteristics of our environment, we become what we behold, and lots of times, our environment isn’t that awesome or positive or uplifting.

But what if it is?

What if we sit at a different table? And what if that table is singing a new song? What if this new table is honest about the truth, but also grateful? What if they are looking for solutions instead of making lists of the broken parts? And what if, instead of the right or left talk shows, we start asking questions and listening to the answers? What if we look at those who might disagree, not as hopelessly pathetic dummies, but instead as human beings who might have arrived at different conclusions? What if we asked why, or how? What if the voices we hear are voices of love and kindness?

What if the first thing we hear everyday is the ways we are valued and enough, instead of what we lack and how we’ll never be complete until we get that ____? What if we choose to input the beatitudes and the sermon on the mount before the video games or TikTok? (Did you notice? We’re not dreaming about eliminating video games or TikTok. We’re just reordering our priorities. We’re just reconsidering what gets to be first.)

Our design is our design, the principle works just the same. We become what we behold. Are we letting someone decide what we’re beholding? Or are we being intentional about the messages we receive? I know, I know, too often others choose our path, but maybe that hasn’t been working? Maybe we’re not that thrilled with this soul-numbing path that’s been paved for us? Maybe it’s time for the new, narrow path of the Gospel. If it is, maybe a new transformation all starts with waking up to what we are choosing to consume.

It’s In The Bible

I am following the Bible-In-A-Year reading plan. Each day, there’s a section of the Old Testament, a section of the New Testament, a section of the Psalms, and a few verses from Proverbs. I like it a lot, and am mostly very faithful. When I am not, I never have an excuse. I missed yesterday. What was I doing? Nothing. I ate pizza, took a nap, watched the finale of a show called Extracted, and 2 game 7’s in the NBA playoffs. You can see how easy it was to forget, with all of this terribly important stuff going on. So, today I read 2 days worth, May 3 and May 4.

[Incidentally, today is May the 4th, which has been ridiculously christened Star Wars Day. I know this because 1. I love Star Wars, and 2. Because the man monitoring the self-check at my supermarket gave the super special greeting, “May the 4th be with you.”]

Yesterday’s Old Testament reading was from Judges, chapters 17 & 18, and was awfully strange…

A man named Micah stole a substantial amount of money from his mom. She didn’t know this, so she put a curse on whoever did it. When he became aware of this curse, he confessed and returned the money. She was happy, and, as you do, she took the money and had it cast into an idol (“in honor of [her] son” – it’s not stated what it looked like, but in my head, it was a silver bust of Micah. That sounds appropriate.) that Micah kept in his house. Then, a Levite (the Israelites tribe of priests) happened to be traveling by, and Micah asked him to live with him and become his personal priest, which he did. So, then, a group of Israelites from the tribe of Dan sent some scouts (who ended up at Micah’s house), who noticed the town of Laish (a fertile land inhabited by “peaceful and secure” people.) The Dan-ites took the advice of the scouts and decided to take that town. As they went, they passed by Micah’s house. These scouts told the rest of the idol & other valuable items, so they went into Micah’s house and took them. They also convinced the Levite to come with them and be their priest. The tribe of Dan took Laish with swords, burned the town to the ground, and renamed it Dan, where they set up Micahs idol to worship.

And there’s no more, chapter 19 just moves on to the next story. This is the entire story of Micah, Micah’s mom, their idol, Dan’s theft and subsequent destruction of “peaceful” Laish. I think there is value in every word of the Bible, even when we can’t immediately see it, that there’s layer after layer of wisdom to be discovered. I believe there is not a wasted word and nothing is in the Scriptures by accident or without purpose.

So, what about Judges 17 & 18? I think something should have gone wrong for Micah, who stole from his mother. But nothing did In fact, the opposite happened, there was blessing. They fashioned an idol? Why? Have you ever fashioned an idol? And, then something BIG and significant should have gone wrong for the Levite who monetized his priestly call to be someone’s personal priest, worshiping some random image, right? It should’ve gone wrong again, when the priest sold Micah out and moved on with the people who looted his house. But it sure didn’t. And Dan, one tribe of the 12 of God’s chosen people, who stole what may as well have been a golden calf, then destroyed a whole town of “peaceful” people, who didn’t do anything wrong except be peaceful – why wasn’t there consequence for them? This story isn’t supposed to end “happily ever after.”

This all makes me think of something my old pastor said. She asked the age-old question, if a tree falls in the forest and I’m not there to hear it, does it make a sound? “Of course it does!” The world doesn’t revolve around me, it continues to operate and trees continue to crash even if I’m not involved. She thought it was a terrific analogy to illustrate our limitless arrogance.

Does this passage truly not make sense simply because I can’t find sense in it? Of course not. Why would I get to decide what should be, or how things are supposed to go? Just because I’m selfish?

I really cannot find any meaning or purpose in it. It sounds all wrong to me. But I think I’m seeing what 1 word I’m missing: now. I can’t find meaning…now. It sounds wrong…now. How many passages and verses didn’t make sense to me the first time I read them? How many didn’t the 300th time? Jesus’ teaching on the “pearls to pigs” in the sermon on the mount is a perfect example. I thought it was impenetrable and silly, but it just turns out that I was. Now it’s thick with meaning and informs much of my behavior in relationships.

Maybe this story about Micah and his mom will be the same way. Or maybe it won’t. But today I had my eyes opened by this passage, and I didn’t so much like what I saw. I guess Micah isn’t the only one who struggles with idolatry.

Every week is the same. We show up for Sunday service, turn on the equipment (lights, sound board, speakers, microphones) and sit down to connect & pray until people begin to show up. We do what we do first, just in case there happens to be a problem, which is usually battery related. Last week’s problem was not battery related. We had a worship leader with a mask and an illness. We also had a projector that wouldn’t work.

[The end, so it’s on no one’s mind: It seems likely that the projector issue is an HDMI cord issue, which should be a very easy fix.]

This is certainly not the first headache with the equipment. Technology is awesome until it’s not. Our first Christmas Eve, I remember walking down the hill through the graveyard trying to remember to pray, but instead mostly talking to myself. Really? We have a big night, new people, and now this?!?!? Christmas Eve is like a super bowl for a local church. We sometimes have only one chance to make an impression, and that impression is less than great without sound for the music or the sermon. Once, we inexplicably lost power to the whole building for one day – the next time we turned on the lights, everything was as usual. A car tire rolled down our parking lot and crashed through our front doors, destroying them. In the middle of one message, a strange Russian man walked through our door and right down the aisle and started to preach and hand out tracts. Most winters I lose a lot of my voice for a week or 2. I could go on and on.

Much of the planning concerns removing any foreseeable obstacles. It’s difficult to connect when you’re cold or hot, when it’s noisy, when the speaker is unprepared and unclear, under or over dressed, the piano is out of tune, anything could happen, really. We’re very simple, not too many dogs or ponies in our show, but we still get hiccups. We control what we can and open our hands to allow the Spirit to work (or anything strange and surprising) inside of our careful preparation.

Sunday it was the projection and a sickness, and I do concede that it’s not ideal. It’s easy to become distracted and focus on what has gone wrong. But that morning, I just happened to be thinking about the many things we put before God (in other words, idolatry). And projection is just another one. We think we neeeeed projection and fancy light shows and microphones and snacks, but we don’t. All we need is the Gospel. Those other things can and do help us connect and communicate, but they are not the message. Not even close. When we allow them to cloud our vision, when they become the point, we have lost our way. And weeks like this provide the opportunity to remember.

This is true in our personal lives, just as well as in our community. We can put any number of relationships, possessions, opinions, beliefs, details and circumstances in a category we call essential, and before we are even aware, those things usurp the throne of our lives. Our partners, car, party, football team, or job title become the primary force that drive every step & decision. The water gets muddy as God is quickly downgraded, simply serving other neeeeeds. But once they are stripped away, once they fail, we can hopefully see the truth – there is only One need, only One essential, and He never fails.

[That’s the end, but I do want to tell you a funny story. We began the service with a similar message to this post – I encouraged us to not confuse the medium for the message, and remember that Jesus is our 1 and Only. As I walked out and the music started, I met someone new in our narthex. She lamented about how she was looking for a faith community, but so many were only the show. Some didn’t even mention the Name of Jesus, but their performance was on point, practiced and trendy. She was looking for Jesus and His Word. I laughed, said we didn’t even have any projection, but that she sure would hear about Jesus. Funny how things happen how and when they do.]

Puzzle Pieces (extended)

[I wrote this yesterday for my other site, and I keep thinking about other implications & applications for my love of puzzles, so I’m adding to it here (minus the first paragraph about favorite restaurants, which was based on the site prompt and which you probably don’t care too much about).]

This post is a little late, I usually write on Mondays, but I was in the middle of a big, beautiful Star Wars puzzle. That shouldn’t matter, it shouldn’t be an obstacle to real life for a normal person. But I’m not a normal person. I have what’s called an addictive personality, so when I begin a puzzle, we can safely figure it will take nearly every second of my free (or writing/working) time until it’s done. And that’s what it did, for a couple of days, and now it’s finished and glorious.

I love puzzles, and I often used to wonder why. Now, I know. 

The world is more and more mixed up, confusing, frustrating, and I have almost no control over what happens on a macro level. Of course, I have lots and lots of control over how I treat my neighbors or what I buy at the grocery store, or how & when I brush my teeth. But I can’t stop any of the wars happening right now or make the sun come out. I can’t erase any of the President’s increasingly problematic posts on his personal social media site. I can’t bring gas prices down or help the Dallas Cowboys win the Super Bowl. 

So, it feels like our cultural, political, emotional, and economic environments are just big snarling masses of individual pieces, disconnected and random. It’s a dining room table of chaos. But in this Star Wars puzzle’s case, I can find 2 pieces that fit, then a third, and it starts to take shape. You hold one piece and think, how can this possibly make sense? And it really doesn’t, by itself, but there is a meta-narrative that recontextualizes everything, making one central ordered picture that’s full of meaning. 

I think that’s what the Bible is: our meta-narrative that gives the chaos order. It’s our big picture. Each piece is important to the whole, even if we can’t see it now, and it takes lots of patience and hope to continue. The pieces might be love, generosity, or kindness – each individual act or moment – and alone, don’t appear to make much of a difference. However, there is a masterpiece being created, and each of those “random,” “nonsensical” pieces are absolutely required for the final product. What does this mean for us? Well, it means we stay at it, persevering, moving the puzzle pieces, even when it doesn’t look like we’ll ever get done, like these pieces of ours will never matter, because we trust there is a giant Story being told and our pieces are integral. We keep showing up, even as the chaos rages and the temptation to quit rises. We keep showing up, loving The Creator of this Story and each other, in faith.

Puzzles work as a metaphor, a soothing intellectual exercise, a Gospel illustration, and they are super fun. Now that it’s done, I can just appreciate the beauty of cohesion and unity, and that’s just what I’ll do.

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.