perspective

About The Weather

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 says, “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances…”

Next week is Thanksgiving, so it’s a terrific time to reference these verses. Give thanks in all circumstances. We talk often about creating lives of gratitude, and the reason we do it so often is because it’s so difficult. It’s far more natural to allow lives of resentment and lack. Nobody has to tell us to take anything for granted, to hold grudges, or to try to control everything and everyone. I don’t remember any class syllabus with, “The Necessity of Wanting What We Don’t Have.” Yet, these are the wide paths we regularly walk.

Do we rejoice always? Pray continually? Give thanks in all circumstances? All? Really?

The words of Scripture confront us with a gigantic, usually unspoken, question. Are these characteristics we are asked to build realistic? Is the life Jesus (and in this case, Paul) calls us into possible? Or are they simply ideals, never meant for practical use?

It’s easy to argue the latter. Listen to how that passage begins (verses 13-15): “Live in peace with each other. And we urge you, brothers and sisters, warn those who are idle and disruptive, encourage the disheartened, help the weak, be patient with everyone. Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always strive to do what is good for each other and for everyone else.”

Do I even have to ask if we live in peace with each other? How about our success in being patient with everyone? Everyone? And strive to do what’s good for each other and for everyone else? That’s infinitely more complicated when we’re focused on doing what’s good for ourselves, right?

In a world where peace is in such short supply, where the accepted norm is to pay back wrong for wrong, these words seem so far away. Loving our brothers and sisters, moms and dads, loving ourselves, is so challenging, how can we honestly be expected to love our neighbors, much less our enemies? It’s hard to even guess what it means to love our enemies. Is it hyperbole? Just pie-in-the-sky rhetoric that sounds awesome on a mountainside or in a letter to a church?

But there is the end of verse 18: “…for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” What about that? We wish to know God’s will for us and our lives, but maybe we already do, we just keep asking because we don’t like the answer. God’s will for us is that we are patient? Sounds that way. That we give thanks in all circumstances? But what if the circumstances are terrible?!? (Just a quick note; it does say in all circumstances, not for all circumstances, and that’s a big distinction.)

The last 3 words are the keys to all of it, of course. Chad alone can’t do any of these things with any consistency, if at all. But Chad in Christ Jesus is a new creation with a new nature, and with those things being true, anything and everything is now possible. We can be patient, kind people in a chaotic, upside down world. We can rejoice always, and we can give thanks in all circumstances. We don’t have to live the way we have been, we can live beautiful lives of hope & love in the middle of this hurricane. And maybe that can calm the hurricane. Or maybe it can’t. I don’t know. But it doesn’t really matter if I know or not, that’s what faith is.

Next week is Thanksgiving, and it sounds perfect to be the jumping point into living 1st Thessalonians 5 lives. Even if the turkey is dry or the pies are burned. Even if we happen to be alone (and if you are, maybe you would call me). Even if lots of things. We can start there, one day, step, moment, at a time. Let’s try to change this weather together.

Everywhere

Last night, we watched the 6th and final episode of the second season of Loki, a series on Disney+. As everyone who has spoken to me even once is well aware, I love superheroes and my interest in their stories seemingly knows no bounds. The Marvel Cinematic Universe is bent on testing my commitment. I now have reservations about each new release. I didn’t see the 3rd Guardians of the Galaxy or Black Panther 2 in the theater, and the Marvels came out last night and I was not there. I still see them all, but my rose colored glasses are off. My child-like excitement has been replaced with weary hesitation. Which brings us to Loki.

There are many many things to say about it, both positive and negative, but just one is going to remain long after this series is forgotten. I am going to ruin the ending, sort of, and for that I’m a little sorry.

First, Avengers:Endgame ended with the completion of the Tony Stark/Ironman arc. When we were introduced to him, he was an arrogant weapons dealer, selling to the highest bidder, building a life built solely on the next selfish pleasure. Over the course of the Infinity Saga, he transformed, finally meeting his heartbreaking demise in the climax of Endgame. His death was the ultimate sacrifice, giving his life to defeat the Big Bad, Thanos. He gave his life so everyone could live. Of course, it’s not hard to draw lines to the Bible, and to the passion of Christ – His sacrifice to rescue us, His death so we could live.

Now, to ruin Loki… His story began as a villain, selfishly seeking nothing but power, everything to bring glory only to himself. Through the years, films, and stories, like Tony Stark, he eventually became the kind of character who would also sacrifice his own life so everyone could be free to live theirs.

The stories that move us, really move us, that make us feel something beyond ourselves, are the ones that point to deeper truths about our world, our selves, our purpose, our humanity, and Our God. What that means is, they point us to Jesus.

Of course, we’re drawn to the relationships and connections between people. We’ve been made this way, and the further progress takes us from this original creation, the more we ache for it. So when Black Widow, in an early moment, leans in when her friend Hawkeye is in danger, that matters. Her movement touches us in those parts way down inside that we don’t always acknowledge and certainly don’t talk about.

Of course, we’re drawn to themes of guilt and forgiveness, atonement, courage, and sacrifice. The Story we have been born into is one of a Redeeming Savior, Who saves us from lives of loneliness, meaningless pleasure and destructive (of self and others) behavior, Who rescues us from avarice and superficiality. And Who calls us into that Story, too.

Of course, we’re drawn to good and evil. We fight darkness wherever we find it. We’re not super-soldiers, incredible hulks or spider-men, but the impulse is the same. We are called to create and protect new, kind, gentle, safe worlds for our families, neighbors, and communities, no matter the cost.

Of course, we’re drawn to love. As pride is the catalyst for all wayward paths, Love is the engine that drives everything wonderful and pure. Love points us to Jesus Christ.

And of course, of course, we’re drawn to anything that reminds us of Jesus Christ, any and everywhere we find it (even superhero movies).

The Post Office

This morning I went to the post office to buy some stamps. I arrived at 8:58am (according to my watch) and found the door locked, so I sat on the steps to wait. 2 minutes later (and not a second before), I heard the door unlock behind me. I pretended the clerk greeted me and invited me in, so I followed him to the desk, where I stood for a few moments while he did something very pressing at the desk behind the counter.

I said, “Good morning,” and it appeared to startle him. He asked what is was I wanted, and I said I needed some stamps. I considered making a joke about being so old that I still used the mail, but thought better of it, and instead answered his, “a sheet or book or what?” with, “I guess a sheet, how many are in a sheet.” He may have answered, but I didn’t hear/understand, so I got a sheet, paid $13.20 (!! When I was young, that would have bought me a thousand stamps, so that must be how many are in a sheet) and left.

I came from the gym, where I had to do my workout in reverse. Today is Leg Day and I needed a rack to do my squats and dead lifts, but all 4 were taken. I did 5 sets of calf raises, 4 of abductions/adductions, 3 sets of leg extensions, and 3 of Romanian dead lifts – it’s not important to know what those things are, just that I did 19 sets, while watching the guy on the last rack do 1 set, choosing instead to sit on the bench and look at his phone. 1 set.

Then I went to a local butcher, which I call The Tapioca Shop in honor of the shockingly delicious creamed pearl tapioca. The cashier who checked me out was not new, I see her nearly every week, and that is no problem at all, because she is fantastic. She isn’t going to break your neck with her blinding speed, but that is hardly important. I often with she were even a little slower, so I could have more time with her.

She made me think of the young woman who works at the gym, always smiling and waving to everyone who is lucky enough to walk inside.

SO as I left The Tapioca Shop, a small passage in Colossians came to mind, chapter 3, verses 23 & 24: Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.

It’s not my intention to blast the postal clerk at all, I don’t mind blasting the phone guy from the gym, but it’s the 2 others that are interesting to me. Those 2 women give everything they have, they work with all their hearts, minds, and souls, as if serving the Lord. They aren’t cleaning workout equipment for me, not selling tapioca to me, they are truly serving the Lord.

I know they don’t always feel like it. Their lives aren’t perfect – no one’s are, though I hope theirs are fulfilling and all of their relationships are awesome, that they’re treated like somebody’s treasure. The older woman wears gloves, maybe she is in pain, maybe she didn’t sleep well, maybe the younger woman is fighting off a cold or has a headache.

I don’t always feel like it, either, and neither do you. But that’s not covered in the Scriptures.

We’re just called to serve God. We’re called to love each other. These women do, am I? Do I always show up, and give everything I have to give? If that answer is no, then I should probably recalibrate. I’m really grateful I have these women as such cool examples who help to show me how to do it.

Be Very Careful

I finished my book, Be Very Careful Who You Marry, this week. As you can imagine, it’s a book about marriage. But it’s also a detailed look at the first 3 chapters of Genesis, as well as the Rupert Holmes song, “Escape (The Pine Colada song).”

It’s finished, but hasn’t been printed yet. First, before it goes to the printer, I sent it to several people to read. Just because I like it doesn’t mean anyone else will. There are those who lie and say, “I don’t care what anyone else thinks.” Others actually mean it. I am neither. I care. This is not a vanity project. I didn’t sit in front of this computer typing and deleting away for years to satisfy my ravenous ego. The idea is that you would love it, that you would think it’s the best thing you’ve ever read and give it to everyone you know, but far more importantly, it is an invitation into a new depth in your own relationships, including your marriage (if you happen to be married. If you are not, it will still have much for you, it’s not only a marriage book.) As you already know, I believe loving each other is the way to repair the brokenness in this world. It’s a pyramid scheme that begins in our homes, then goes out to infect everybody else, which is only possible with the love of Jesus as The Engine that drives everything.

But this is not an advertisement. There will be one, but only when I have the book back in my hands and ready to hand out. This is another thing altogether, but the another thing altogether makes more sense if you know this is years in the making to arrive here.

So, I sent it out to finally allow eyes and hearts other than my own to see it, and that is an absolutely terrifying step to take.

When we ask questions, we give all of the power to the other person. They can say “no.” Or they can say “I hate your book. It’s a giant mess that makes no sense.” When we ask, we have to be prepared for all of the answers. When I proposed to The Angel in the peace garden at LVC, there was the distinct possibility that she would have broken my heart.

I did send it to my mom, so I was reasonably sure to have at least one big fan. She read the entire thing in one sitting and loved it, but she already thinks I’m the greatest. I wouldn’t have been prepared for all of the answers with her. But in my life, moms are the exception.

I hit send to share it, and paced around my house for an hour. I’m still sitting in that space of hope and anxiety, in TOTAL vulnerability. I am wide open.

And that is the point. Why would I do this? Why would any of us open ourselves up to be shattered – which, as we all are very well aware, happens? Why would we take shots if we might miss and become “the one who missed the last second shot?” And I am an awfully sensitive man, so I recognize the position into which I’ve put these people. Can you imagine if they do hate it? Now, they have to either lie to me, or worse, tell me the truth. Why why why???

We do this because we have been called into community and connection, neither of which is possible without an insane amount of vulnerability. Loving another person opens us up to unspeakable heartache. Giving carries the chance that the receiver will throw your gift straight into the trash can. But instead of giving some sweater you bought at Target, we’re giving ourselves. I’ve given years of work, and my heart on a platter.

It’s a risk-reward game where the reward doesn’t matter too much, honestly. The reward isn’t even what we think it is. We might never see them wear our sweater. We might never see them read our book and take one beautiful step towards their partner. And none of that matters, because everything matters. We give because Jesus gave, Jesus gives, and asks us to do the same. We forgive, serve, love because Jesus does and asks us to do the same.

So we do our version of “hitting send” over and over and over, we open ourselves, and in return, we get love or we get…well, not love. But we’re different afterwards, closer to Jesus and closer to who He’s created us to be.

We listen, participate, and offer it (whatever our IT is), and from there, it’s His. We follow, and of course it’s scary, but we haven’t ever been promised safety and comfort. In fact, we’re promised mostly the opposite. I guess in that sense, it really doesn’t matter what anyone thinks – there’s only really One sitting in the audience, and the gift is mostly what He cares about.

I still hope everybody likes it, anyway.

WAR

A very good friend asked me yesterday why we did not pray for Israel on Sunday morning. She thought it was something we should (and would) do, and she’s right. My embarrassing answer is that I simply did not know, had not heard. I read news email letters and blogs, but had not for days, and when I stood up to speak about the needs of the Church in Jerusalem in the early A.D.s, I did not know about the needs of the Jewish people in the early 2023.

The Church, and all local churches, have a duty to speak openly about everything – we can’t hide our heads from the intense glare of any subject, no matter how controversial or uncomfortable it makes us. This includes money, sex, homosexuality, politics, and on and on. This also includes war.

I prayerfully considered what to say, how to react to this heartbreaking reality. Last night I read a post on Instagram from a church in California called Mosaic, and it’s pastor Erwin McManus. Sometimes, the words of another capture our own perfectly. This is the post:

“We stand with Israel. We are all aware the conflict between Israel and Palestine is violent, tragic, and complicated. In war, innocent people die on both sides. However, the slaughter of innocent civilians including women, children and the elderly is not complicated. It is evil. Over 260 innocent Jewish people were killed by Hamas at a music festival. In comparison to the US population, it is the equivalent of murdering 9,000 citizens.

The actions of Hamas are not only tragic for the Jewish people, but they bring an inevitable escalation of violence that will result in the deaths of countless innocent Palestinians as well.

We extend empathy to the people in Palestine while condemning the actions of the Hamas terrorists who claim to act on their behalf.

We grieve with those who have lost loved ones and the comfort of feeling safe in their own homes. We stand with Israel and their right to not just exist, but to defend themselves.

We cannot believe the lie that peace between Israel and Palestine is impossible.

We stand in the gap with prayer. We pray for Israel. We pray for Palestine. We pray for peace. We pray for healing. We pray for the miraculous.”

We do stand with Israel. We stand with humanity. We stand against the horrors of violence, terror, and war. Period, full stop.

And now 2 things for us, thousands of miles away, to think about.

First, are our prayers enough? When someone is shivering outside on a cold January morning, do we walk by and say, “thoughts and prayers,” as we so often do? The Jewish people (and the innocent Palestinians, who are not part of Hamas) are shivering, freezing to death, what now? Is there anything for us to do, individually, corporately? Maybe. Maybe prayer is much, much more than enough.

Do we believe in the power of prayer to affect situations, in our lives, communities, or in conflicts halfway across the world? Do we really believe this?

That’s the 2nd – What exactly do we believe? Jesus says, “love your enemies,” what does that mean today? What does it look like to turn the other cheek, or to give them your cloak when they take your tunic? Jesus tells Peter to put his sword away, after he severs the ear of one of the Roman soldiers who had come to arrest Jesus, and ultimately lead Him to the cross. That is righteous violence, maybe the most righteous cause anyone has ever fought for, and Jesus tells him no, and then heals the soldier, who was actively participating in killing Him.

When McManus says, “the right…to defend themselves,” what does that mean? Of course, we are called to stand, to protect, to defend, but what do those words mean?

As long as we’re on the subject of words, what do forgiveness and grace mean? Do they apply? Who are we supposed to forgive “70 x 7 times?” Do we love? What does love look like in spaces like this? Does our forgiveness, grace, and love include Hamas?

They are still children of God, whether they know it, or whether they care, or whether they act like it – now what does that mean? What would Jesus do?

Is our theology realistic here, now, in 2023?

I might know what I think. I might know what I want to think. I might acknowledge that they are sometimes different. These are incredibly complex questions, with no easy answers, but it’s absolutely vital that we keep asking them.

We stand in the gap with prayer. We pray for Israel. We pray for Palestine. We pray for peace. We pray for healing. We pray for the miraculous.

“Amen. Come, Lord Jesus. The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God’s people. Amen.” (Rev. 22:20-21)

Influence

The Halloween season is here again, and there is almost nothing I like about it. I don’t like giant spiders and killer clowns, hate being scared, and generally don’t appreciate the pall of darkness. The last horror movie I saw was Saw the week Samuel was born, who is now 18 years old. I can’t imagine the circumstances where I’ll ever see another – I turn the channel or look away when trailers come on tv.

I don’t hate handing out ever-shrinking sizes of candy to cute neighborhood children dressed like Woody & Buzz walking with their parents. But sometimes they’re vampires or clowns, and the fun of Halloween is gone.

Now, if you know me at all, just because I’m not a Halloween person doesn’t mean you can’t be. I don’t want to make clown masks or scary yard cobwebs and skeletons illegal. Enjoy. Perhaps you don’t love everything I love, either. It’s the differences that add texture and color to our lives.

There is a family who lives in my town who, every Halloween season, creates a horrific hellscape of death in front of their house, complete with life-size bodies hanging by their necks from a gallows along main street. Again, I’m not suggesting the township legislate just how creepy or disturbing anybody’s house can be, but it does have me thinking about the verse in 1st Corinthians 15, “bad company corrupts good habits,” and the many ways we’re influenced.

When my boys were very young, the Angel and I noticed a peculiar causation. When they would watch extended periods of Tom & Jerry, they would become increasingly aggressive and violent. We would put Kipper or the Backyardigans (NEVER Caillou!!!!!!) on instead, and the peaceful sweetness would immediately return.

The things we put into our ears, eyes, heads and hearts matter, they have the power to subtly (or not so subtly) change us.

I know, I know, we are not the type to be swayed. We are the exceptions. We’re “mighty,” like Thor (in Age of Ultron), unable to be manipulated, right up until the point where he is manipulated. There is a reason bazillions of dollars are spent on advertising & marketing. So, even though we are very mighty, it’s still very important that we pay close attention to what, and to whom, we are giving our time and attention.

Spend time with The Complainers at work, and see if we don’t begin seeing half-empty glasses all over the place.

We can think our marriages are boring and broken because the carefully curated marriages we see for hours scrolling through Facebook are soooooo wonderful, everybody’s perfect and totally fulfilled. Except they’re usually not.

If we watched tons of pornography, we might start to think it’s real, that sex is actually like that, or that we are actually like that.

It matters what food we put into our bodies. If we ate nothing but candy bars, that would have an effect on how we feel, how we think, what we do, right? Why are the songs we listen to or books we read any different? Or the people we follow, on TikTok or in real life?

They’re not.

The good news is that it works both ways. There are people who bring out the best in us, movies that inspire us, Instagram feeds that engage & push us forward. I think Paul probably had in mind this family in my town and their Halloween decorations when he wrote (in Philippians 4:8), “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

Here’s what’s interesting: maybe Halloween is “lovely” and “excellent” to you. Maybe this nightmare-ish scene inspires you and helps you to see the boundless creativity that God gave to all of us. Maybe you see Jesus as she plays her version of the Gospel song. Just because I don’t understand that doesn’t make it impossible. Tom & Jerry didn’t make me want to punch anyone. But we need to ask the questions for ourselves, with the guidance of The Spirit, we need to step back and look at what is going into our souls, what all of that input is doing once it gets inside, and if the effect is really a positive one.

We’ll just stay away from Caillou and clowns, though, ok?

A Short Post On Perspective

All 4 of us who live in this house eat dinner together nearly every night, and I dream it’s the best part of each of our days. It certainly is, for me. I am very grateful. So last night, the boys shared a cool story of 2 local brothers making music on SoundCloud (a music sharing website). I can’t tell you how much I love the idea of everyone having the opportunity and space to share their God-given creativity.

The internet has so many dangers and vicious traps, but it also overflows with beauty and connection. It is a place of possibility.

The boys who made the songs are what I would kindly label, or what we would’ve labeled when I was young, “at risk.” They are often in trouble, of various kinds and of various severity. I have a small relationship with one who comes into the weight room, (the other not so much), and have real concerns about both. Different, but equally serious, concerns for each.

But this SoundCloud situation elated me. I didn’t imagine the songs would be particularly good, not something I’d ‘like,’ but that’s hardly the point, is it? They were expressing themselves in a positive fashion and not in any one of the million negative ways that are open to them. Knowing them fairly well, we laughed at the prospect of what they would consider art. Art is subjective, but let’s be honest, not all is awesome. We found their page and clicked on the first track.

What was funny and wonderful turned on the first word. Smiles immediately disappeared, as our hearts wept together.

One of the best things about artistic expression is that we can learn the things we’d never say out loud. I knew these boys were broken, but had no idea how deeply.

The point is this. The one I know is mostly quiet and lonely, which can come across as surly and disrespectful. The other is surly and disrespectful. Neither is particularly likable, they can be quite nasty and stand-offish. And that can drive us all away. After all, we don’t seek out people who are distant and mean to us.

But these kids are severely broken. We know the ones who appear to like others the least like themselves least of all. And it’s not even close. As followers of the Living Christ, we are called to love everybody, so what does that look like, in this circumstance? It surely won’t look the same for each of us, but the first step is shifting our perspective. They aren’t punk kids, or freaks, or anything else.

They’re our kids, and they’re hurting. Now what?

Saturday Afternoons

Last week in this space, I wrote that I sometimes get the overwhelming privilege of officiating weddings. I’ve always liked weddings, because I have always really loved marriage. Even before I fell in love with Jesus, I found this particular gift of His deeply significant. I’m certain I wouldn’t have used the word sacred, but that’s exactly what I felt. In the best of situations, the space is thin, God stands with them as they make their promises before Him to each other. It’s impossible to understate the weight of this moment that will affect the rest of their lives.

Last Saturday, at a cool old barn in the country, I had the opportunity to do it again. I can be found on an app (a story too long to explain here, maybe another time), which means I don’t often know the couple as well as I’d like. These 2 were lovely, I knew that, and I liked them a lot, but at the time, as I arrived for the wedding, I didn’t know how extraordinary they were. (I could write forever, with great detail, but I’ll try to do my best not to. Try.)

The ceremony was outside on a perfect day, and as the guests filed in, they were dressed peculiarly. I didn’t know what was going on, except to say it was wonderful. I’d later ask and discover the style was called “steampunk.” As a very old man, I try to stay up on things, knew the word, had heard it before, but was unfamiliar with it in the wild. If you Google “steampunk” and choose images, you’ll see exactly what I saw.

Culturally, we are moving towards a blurry, undifferentiated everything. Nothing is set apart, nothing is special. People regularly show up late for everything, and that’s a shame, but we also show up late for weddings, and that is much worse than a shame. That is heartbreaking in its disrespect – for the couple, the commitment, and the institution, as well as for themselves. But we also now arrive dressed in t-shirts and shorts, as well. The lines defining common and sacred are erased, and in these cases, it doesn’t make everything sacred, it does the opposite.

These steampunks had prepared for weeks or months, and looked like all the money in the world. They cared so much for their friends and the day to set it aside, to make it different from all others. We should all have ‘family’ like them. Each one was absolutely stunning, fit for the first day of a new marriage.

My message is usually about the kind of love called agape, which is a love that doesn’t care if we want to. We see love not as selfish, temporary feelings and emotions, but as vital decisions made every minute of every day. This couple chose a film quotation to be read, and that passage, with lines like, “when [love as a feeling] subsides, you have to make a decision…love is not breathlessness…not excitement…not eternal passion…love is what’s left over…an art.” This “left over” love are “roots that grow towards each other.”

Then, then!!! The vows they wrote for, and read to, each other left all of us awestruck. He is not an overly gushy, public orator, but he was eloquent and soft, kind, awake to the gift he had been given. She began and spoke of love as noun, how he made her want to believe in it, but she still did not. She believes in the noun as verb, as a choice. In the most gorgeous poetry you’d ever hear, she detailed a list of “I will choose you’s.” I will choose you when we do this. I will choose you when we do that, when we feel this, when we don’t feel that, over and over, each one more impactful than the last.

When she finished, this professional officiant had no words. The right words were “please put the ring on her finger and repeat after me,” words I had said a hundred times, words I could utter in my sleep, and words I started no less than 3 times before realizing I could not say them at that particular moment.

We had not planned anything together, didn’t share messages with each other, this was solely the work of the God that was there, then, celebrating in that moment, and is also here, now, present in this moment. He moved in each of us, in our solitude, in our individual preparation (which was obviously never individual at all), to craft a masterpiece of divine love and revelation. Of course, I was speechless, how could I be anything else?

This matters today, because there are many things I don’t understand and cannot fix, that are emotionally exacting a great toll. Just one specific example of too many is the local school district, which is in ruins, crumbling around our heads as we whistle through the debris. I ask why? What is happening? What good could possibly come from this wreckage? What now? Doesn’t anyone see?

And as I ask/scream those questions, I am reminded of Saturday afternoon. I am reminded of the many previous “Saturday afternoons,” where God spectacularly revealed the Hands we were in, and were always in. If He was there, He might be here, too. Maybe instead of crumbling down, instead of falling apart, maybe these things are falling into place. Maybe to build His new masterpiece, He (or we) have to tear down the old. I’m not sure, I don’t have any evidence of any of it, but that’s what trust is, right? To have faith that the same God who brought Rachel & Brandon together and has been creating their wedding day for who knows how many years is also working in the schools, relationships and offices we think are broken beyond repair. Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe if we have eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts that work, He’s going to take our breath away, like He has a million times before.

Imagination

This series on love (based on the Love chapter, 1 Corinthians 13) is awfully uncomfortable. I’m not sure how something so disruptive could have ever made the leap from a wild animal into a soft, cuddly stuffed toy. How could a passage designed to crawl into our hearts, and expose our selfish instincts in such an aggressive way, ever be a sterile poem our grandma’s read at weddings to which no one pays any attention? How could “Love keeps no record of wrongs” not tear each of us to shreds when we so clearly do?

There are songs & artists I love that seem alien. Like what they do, what they are, is something far off that I have no category for outside of themselves. Their creativity is shocking. They keep me at a distance, standing on the sidelines or sitting in the cheap seats.

Others make me want to sing.

Some books make me want to never write again. Yet others drive me right to my notebook.

The basketball world changed when Steph Curry remade the game. We could never in a million years do what LeBron James and Michael Jordan can do, the game is far off, like superheroes and mythology. Steph makes us think we could do it, too. We bought basketballs and went to the local hoops and shot all day. Jordan left us in awe, Steph inspired us to play.

It really doesn’t have much to do with the quality. Steph is an unbelievable basketball player, and the truth is, we probably couldn’t do what he does. He’s one of the greats. High Fidelity is an A+ work of fiction, and makes me want to create an A+ work, and perhaps more importantly, makes me think I can. If Nick Hornby could do it, maybe I could.

What does this have to do with the Love chapter? What does Steph Curry have to do with Paul’s letter to the Corinthians?

The Bible wants us out of our seats, wants us to play. Sure, the ideals of “Love is patient and kind,” are high, maybe we can’t get there (certainly not all the time), but what the Bible does is tell us over and over who we are. We are not space aliens, we are made in the image of he Living God, and we have His power (the same power that raised Jesus from the dead!!!!) inside of us, and with that, all things are possible. If Paul does his job, and if we do ours, the vision is compelling, beautiful, and better yet, the kind that explodes our imaginations to where we actually participate as He changes our lives. This newly engaged imagination inspires us to be patient and kind, to not anger quite so easily, to think about throwing our records of rights/wrongs in the garbage where they belong. We begin to look for people and ways to love.

These words are tickets backstage, they’re invitations to sing. They’re tigers that have never been safe or comfortable, they weren’t supposed to be, but we are told that we are the artists of our lives. We are the songs. And what it means to be made in the image is that we are designed with the creativity to re-write the code of our own game into one where the players always hope, bear all things, and never fail. We simply have to start to shoot.

How It Was Supposed To Go

Sunday’s sermon was supposed to look a different way, supposed to feel a different way. Usually, I create inside of a narrative (sometimes stated, but more often in my head giving directions). There is a thread that runs through everything, each point, connecting the verses we study like a puzzle.

Last week’s message in my notebook/iPad was not unusual in this regard. It was entitled “Loving?” and followed this framework. The transitions were in place, the pieces formed a single cohesive talk. This was how it was supposed to go, as if we were walking a smoothly paved path – even if we didn’t know quite where it would lead.

Of course, it wasn’t smooth and it wasn’t cohesive. I was pretty surprised to discover that it was much more of a series of bullet points, rather than a story. And, added to that, the natural conflict & dissonance contained in the topic (boundaries) was more pronounced than expected. Instead of a smooth path, it was a trail that was poorly marked with uncertain footing.

I didn’t like the feeling. I felt exposed and vulnerable. This was not how it was supposed to go at all. I prepare well, write and write, edit, soak in the teaching before trying to convey it; I am very careful and aware of potential turbulence or danger zones.

Each week, I say to the Angel afterwards, “did everything make sense?” Sunday I didn’t. Never ask a question if you’re not prepared for all answers, right?

Immediately following the message, in the narthex during the final worship song, it clicked in my head, the path and the connections clearly emerged. It would have been very nice to see a few hours earlier, but we don’t always get to choose.

And after a full day reflecting on the morning, that’s probably the point. We don’t always get to choose. When I say, “how it was supposed to be,” how else could my posture be but arrogant? As if I know! How is it supposed to be? Who knows? Why couldn’t God have spoon fed me that realization hours earlier? Maybe to illustrate my futile attempts to control Him…

This, obviously, doesn’t discount my preparation. I know the message backwards and forwards, so that I can be sensitive to The Spirit and to the hearts of the listeners. We control what we can, and then we release the rest. Except when we fall into the lie that all is “what we can” control and try not to release anything. Except when we decide “how it is supposed to be.” I think I know, and again and again, I am faced with the harsh truth that His ways are higher than mine.

This message, the one that felt disjointed and awkward, left the room dead quiet as we all (me too, the disruption opened me up in new ways to these truths) wrestled with, first, the fact that boundaries are just an extension of our too-narrow definition of love. Then, then: Love (agape) without action might not be (and most likely isn’t) love at all.

No story of mine, no amount of craft or artistry could clarify those lessons. In fact, perhaps craft and artistry could’ve unintentionally obstructed their impact. Maybe they needed the unsettling atmosphere to tear down our tightly constructed walls of comfort.

I sure wasn’t comfortable, my walls were certainly exposed to those wrecking balls (and many others) and agape doesn’t care. Agape doesn’t care how I think it’s “supposed to go,” and couldn’t possibly care less about my control. I don’t know that I would’ve chosen this new route. But it’s best that He leads this, and every, journey, because when we can finally let go and stop trying to strangle each second with our white-knuckled expectations, we get to experience some very sacred moments together. Like Sunday.