Audios

Creativity

The site prompt, today (or yesterday, since I didn’t finish it last night), was, “What do you enjoy most about writing?” I’ll tell you the truth, reader & AI program that chooses these prompts, I love almost everything about writing.

I embrace the possibility of the blank page/screen – at least, usually I do. Of course, sometimes, it’s terrifying, but I read this book by Stephen King once and he said, just write something, anything. That’s been great advice, because then, after a few words that are banal and meaningless, voilà, the page is no longer blank and far less intimidating.

I value the time. I write by myself, listening to music, in a fluffy recliner. While it’s not silent, it’s quiet, peaceful.

But to answer the prompt, what I enjoy most is the self-discovery. There have been countless times where the words & ideas flow in unexpected ways, opening my eyes to how I really feel and believe. I just start with questions and feel around in the dark for myself. This is what I’ve heard called an “inward journey.” There are no rules or judgment in writing like this, just the free expression of a person in progress. Maybe this writing is why I enjoy the “in progress” part of me so much. (Not the actual stretching, but the growth…maybe just in hindsight.)

Another thing I like most is the creation of a new thing (whether fiction or non, novel, short story, poem, post, or sermon). What did not exist, now does. We breathe life into work that will outlive and outreach us. I can get people I will never meet from all over the world reading the words I type from my fluffy chair. The pages and pages I’ve written, my boys could read long after I’m gone. (Probably they wouldn’t, but they could, right?) I don’t think this is a delusion of a narcissist, it’s much closer to our divine design. We are created in the image of a wildly creative God, with the purpose of spreading His love, His word, His Story, to the ends of the earth. Why wouldn’t that be what we do, however we do it?

So, I see now that the last paragraph could be called connection, and writing, especially in an immediate, interesting format like this, does that in a way few other mediums can. I can do this, open my heart in an authentic, vulnerable way, and we can find the common ground we’re all searching for.

My son goes to college in 2 days. This is the most wonderful pain I have experienced. It’s a new set of emotions. The order of things that I’m used to is: 1. I feel pain and wish I didn’t. 2. Later on, (months/years), I see how valuable that pain was, and become resigned to my own gratitude. This one is different. I am fully, overwhelmingly grateful as it is tearing my heart out and breaking it. I am proud, excited, would not even consider stunting this very natural, beautiful part of his becoming, his own journey. I will just miss him terribly.

At funerals, I have come to find that those who are only broken hearted are the luckiest. Some (most?) of us have some complex mixture or regret, anger, frustration, and on and on. What a gift it is to simply grieve. Those sad tears are a blessing that is pretty rare, honestly.

This is like that. I’m not afraid or hesitant. There isn’t mourning over times I’ve missed. He is all I could have ever hope for, our time has been better than the best, and he is ready to change this whole world by simply being in it. The Angel & I are healthy. We cry and we laugh and we encourage, all in it’s time, whenever it comes. I was mushy in line at Hersheypark yesterday because I felt mushy in line at Hersheypark yesterday. Then, we had an awesome time of joyful presence. We’re just here.

Having said all of that, do you know what I mean? Of course, you do. We’re not the first to do this, won’t be the last. Maybe you know about funerals or fear or regret. Maybe you understand me in ways you didn’t, or maybe you understand your neighbor or co-worker in ways you didn’t. Through these posts, we see that we are all human beings, created by the same loving God, sharing so much more than there could ever be different. And maybe that’s why God made us in His image, with the ability to do our own creating. To grow closer and learn how to love each other. It might not be writing, it might be cooking, organization, interior design, or anything else. But what it is is an offering, to each other and the God that so made all of this beauty.

Wedding Clothes (extended)

The site prompt for today is, “What brings you peace?” That is something fun to write about, but not today. Maybe later. Today, I want to share with you some of what I wrote for my other blog:

“I sometimes get the privilege of officiating weddings, of getting to say “dearly beloved, we are here today,” and “kiss your Bride,” and filling out legal paperwork that ties people together forever. I fully recognize the statistics that say we have about the same chance of forever as a quarter has of landing on heads, I just don’t care. I don’t have to acknowledge it, I can believe it’s forever.

This couple had been together since the 8th grade, through braces, high school graduations, college in different cities, injuries, long distances, COVID, and Trump, twice! Their book had the sweetest pictures you’ve ever seen of every awkward, beautiful step.

Their guests filed in, early and immaculate. 

I mention it, because this is not as usual as you’d like to think. Some are late (some significantly so), some come in jean shorts & cut off t-shirts, and some take the opportunity of someone else’s wedding to make a mess. I had one Bride’s mother show up late for an outdoor wedding in a park, and drive by slowly, uncomfortably close to the people, and through, never bothering to stop and attend. This isn’t only guests. Once, a Groom wore a tank top and gym shorts to his own wedding to a woman in a perfect white dress. 

I would tell you I mind, and I probably do. But that tank top wedding was awesome, some underdressed guests were wonderful surprises to the couple, and really, who cares how you are there, as long as you are there, right? I don’t necessarily like our casual culture, where every time & place is the same as any other. We “come as we are” everywhere we are. Of course, I’d like some separation. I’d like to set apart some moments. A wedding isn’t a ballgame. A first date isn’t video games with buddies. I’d like to bring back church clothes. But I’m the pastor and I wear shorts and untucked shirts all summer long, so there’s that. 

We can agree that some things are just more important, like heart postures. Clothes aren’t everything, are they? Nope. But they can certainly tell a story, (not the whole story, obviously), and give a window to the posture of the heart. They can speak volumes. The look of the guests at this wedding sure did. 

I imagine that the women bought new dresses and shoes (who cares where they bought them or how much they spent???) for this day, they started doing their hair and makeup in the morning. The men bought new ties, shaved, and wore fancy socks and pants that fit. They reflected on this couple, who they desperately love, as they did it all, and respected them, the day, the amount of money and time that was invested in the ceremony, and the grace of the God who made all of this possible. That’s what I imagine, and you can’t convince me otherwise. They came and gave their very best to this moment…because this moment deserved it. 

Now. That sort of implies that some moments don’t, and I don’t believe that, either. Maybe that’s the justification behind our super-casual, dressing down. And maybe that’s where I can argue. Maybe instead of bringing everything down to the level of picnics and McDonalds, maybe we can acknowledge the significance of every second, every place, every person. Maybe McDonald’s shouldn’t be eaten in the car and maybe we shouldn’t show up late to anything. Maybe we could eat on the fine china for sandwiches with our spouses? Maybe we should raise the consciousness and treat everything like the blessing it is? Maybe we can just start with this moment and go from there?

And that’s where that post ended. To tell you the truth, I still don’t like how I wrote the ending. I think it’s clumsy and confusing, to read. I could speak it, and my tone & pace would clear it up, but Kae Auhild (for example – I know that she is actually reading it, because she “liked” it when I posted it yesterday) is reading it, wherever Kae Auhild is reading it, and can’t hear my voice or see me at all. Anyway. What I meant was that, instead of choosing a sort-of least common denominator, where all things sink to the same at the bottom of the scale, we could try to bring them up, where everything is infused with the Divine energy. We would bring the same care and mindfulness to a spontaneous slice of pizza with a friend as we do for a funeral, instead of the other way around.

This is partly the first fruits idea, in practice. As Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters sings, “is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best, of you?” Is someone, is anyone, getting the best, the best, the best, the best, of us? What does get the best of us? Does a Tuesday evening family dinner? Or are our phones on the table with the tv on in the background?

The other part is the answer to the question, “what is sacred?” and maybe, to us, to Easter people, everything is. Or it can be.

We all know this world is hurting, and it probably feels so hopeless sometimes because we’ve chosen to disregard the sacred in the everyday (maybe even the sacred in the extraordinary, too) and in each other. We too often treat our lives, our world, and the people in it, as if we/they are disposable, as if we/they are anything less than miraculous. We watch (and participate) in the devaluation of all things.

If we treat others (and ourselves) as if they are actually made in the image of God, and wildly loved (as we are), then what is possible??? If we use the fine china for fast food, maybe it could carry new meaning, and if we can turn a gross McDonald’s hamburger on an “ordinary” evening after work into something deep and priceless, with gratitude and respect, then we can surely do that for everything else, too. Maybe it’s gone too far and there’s no turning back, but like the marriage statistics, I don’t have to acknowledge or accept it. And besides, faced with the bleak alternative, it’s sure worth a try, isn’t it?

A List

Today’s site prompt is to list 30 things that make you happy. Maybe I’ll do that, it sounds like fun. Morrissey. My AmazonMusic Discovery Mix. Rollercoasters. Fruit & yogurt parfaits. Cool mornings. This wedding picture on our wall. Clocks. Well, maybe I won’t do it here. I do have something to discuss.

Sunday’s message asked the, frankly, terrifying question: Will they know us by our love? I know, it sounds divisive to use language like this. Who are they? Who is us? But, does it really matter? Will another person who is not me know me by my love? Will other people who are not me see/meet me and think, that man there is a walking, talking, hugging illustration of 1st Corinthians 13? If you spend more than a moment considering this question, it’s a big, convicting mirror that asks a million more questions.

I wake up with the Angel. In the summer’s, she has Fridays off, which means she goes in at 6 from Monday-Thursday, so the alarm rings at 5ish on those days. I no longer get up that early, on purpose, except in the summers. Usually, we leave together and I go to the gym, but today is a rest day. (Maybe a rest morning, maybe I’ll go in the afternoon or evening. Who knows?) Today, with all of this time, I ate my breakfast while watching an Amazon documentary called Shiny Happy People.

Shiny Happy People is a series, as it turns out, with each season digging into a new, different topic. Season 1 dealt with the Duggar family. It’s possible you’ve heard of them, they are a couple who has 1,000 children, a reality tv show and a growing mountain of controversy. Season 2 concerns the teen ministry, Teen Mania. Apparently, it was absolutely massive, and I had never, ever heard of it. Teen Mania, and it’s tentacles, were gigantic, and now does not exist, due to the many ex-members who went public with their experiences.

So, now I have a new question. We are called to bring healing, right? Are the things we do & words we say bringing healing to the broken & hurting?

This ministry (which, like most other cults, began as a beautiful community of Christian faith) was positive for many, but was a wrecking ball to others. I wonder if my words are kind of like that, if I am like that. Are my words just another instrument of damage, or do they bring peace and hope into dark places?

The documentary was unbelievably frustrating and so, so sad. The Gospel of Jesus Christ being weaponized for the ultimate end of political gain, power, and money is wildly offensive. Essentially, it was The Gospel being used in service of a different gospel, this one a false counterfeit, the gospel of me. It’s selfish and creates so many obstacles to the true, loving relationship with Our Crteator that saved so many of our lives. That I can inflict these wounds for a vote or a dollar is clear, there is no fundamental difference between us.

And THAT is why these questions are so important. This Teen Mania guy probably began as someone just like us, who loves Jesus and wants you to do the same, then he got some attention and status, then some more power, which went unchecked, which translated to more and more money, yet more power, until he was a monster with a raging, unquenchable ego who forgot our call to love, and to heal. When these people he traumatized finally spoke out loud, he lied, denied, and continued to steal money from youth groups, until he could no longer so do, and left the country to try to build the same model elsewhere.

If we don’t hold The Spirit’s Hand and ask, if we don’t examine ourselves and our motivations, if we don’t double and triple check our social media posts and messages, if we don’t pay attention to our relationships and communities, if we don’t stay on the path of Jesus, we can, and will, be Teen Mania, inflicting pain everywhere we go. The enemy doesn’t need us to follow him, just ourselves.

Our words still have the power to build or destroy, to give, or take, life. For what end will we use them? We can be creators or destroyers. Which will it be?

Now…23 more things that make me happy. Bacon. Ice cold glasses of water. GIFs of babies dancing. I bet I’ll get waaaay more than 30.

Typical?

“Was today typical?” That is the site prompt today. (The website/app that hosts this Bridge site asks a prompt every day. They figure that, the more anyone posts, the more people click, the more eyeballs, the more advertiser revenue. I post once a week. Maybe I should be a better content/revenue generator…) It’s a great question, isn’t it? What is typical? What is a typical day, to you? Actually, this question makes a pretty big presupposition: that typical exists. Is that true? Is there any such thing as typical?

Maybe today is typical. I woke up, went to the gym, met with a very good friend/mentor, got the groceries, went to the bank, picked up my creamed pearl tapioca at the tapioca shop, and have been working since then. I’ll play Scrabble with my son as soon as I finish this post. That sounds typical. But my heart, head, mind, spirit are in all sorts of different spaces that are anything but typical. This summer is, actually, wildly atypical, if I am honest. Maybe, if we are all honest and present, the idea of typical is a joke.

Before I saw that prompt, I opened this computer to write about Sunday morning. Well, to be more specific, the 2nd half of the message on Sunday morning, the half I didn’t give. The half in which a young woman gave her first sermon.

Now. No one sees the past several years of meetings, of study, of humble searching for her identity in Christ. Her humble, teachable spirit. Her struggle with her own nerves. Her growth. Her steady, consistent participation. We see her standing up there, maybe some of us guess that she stumbled up there, willy-nilly, just to “see how it goes.” We don’t see the hours and hours and hours that went into her foundations, her formation, the prayers, the second-guessing and doubts.

Is that typical?

Of course, we are called to show up to our lives, called to lean in. We are made to be on some kind of path, moving forward. It’s probably not the best thing to be the same person that we were 5 or 10 or 20 years ago. Even the same person we were yesterday. We are created to become, everything is. Trees & plants grow, reproduce. There’s a rhythm to creation. The most natural thing is to transform.

So, that seems to point to her journey as “typical,” doesn’t it?

It seems that way, but sadly, this becoming is not at all typical. It’s quite extraordinary. We stay firmly, (in some cases) stubbornly, exactly where we are. We are afraid to take a step. OR we are comfortable. OR we are lazy. OR we simply confuse contentment with complacency. Who knows why we do it? To try to quote The Most Spiritual Film Ever, Fight Club, from memory, “we work jobs we hate to buy stuff we don’t need.” Why? Because we always have, I guess. Because it’s what culture tells us is important. We say things like, “it is what it is,” and we justify our bad habits & behavior, just to try stay the same, desperate and bored. We might not even like it, we just know the roads here.

Is her growth typical? Maybe it should, or could, be, but it is decidedly not. Maybe we could make it more typical.

No More Donkeys

Sunday’s message featured the age-old cage match between envy and gratitude. Envy confronts us, again, with the question of why we do what we do. Are we doing it to get that person’s whatever, or for another reason? Are we giving our time, money, or energy to get that better thing/model, or for more and more of what we have? Everything about envy is diametrically opposed to the tenets of gratitude, which says, this (person/thing/situation) is enough, I am enough. Then, there were lots and lots of ways to practice gratitude: presence, appreciation, focus, simply saying the words, “thanks.” The topic is as important as any we speak about, as far as it’s impact on our daily lives.

Our relationships dissolve because we take what we have for granted and allow our eyes and minds to wander elsewhere, to a new relationship we guess would be better. Our jobs are unsatisfying because we have lost interest in our own and would rather have theirs. Envy is a lifestyle of perpetual lack.

And a lifestyle of lack is a lifestyle of lack. It’s what we deserve, what we are supposed to have – it’s a selfish perspective, and that directly impacts our understanding of Jesus Christ, the Gospel, and the Bible. It was an important, and deeply personal message to give.

Now. The message had its roots in the 10th commandment, Do not covet your neighbor’s anything. I always use the “neighbor’s donkey” part, and it is used to describe anything of our neighbor’s that we want, whether it’s their car, house, new windows, or wife. Sunday, I carried the donkey metaphor over into our marriage relationships, referencing David & Bathsheba, even using the phrase, “the vows we made to our donkey.” This is a husband or wife. It just so happens I have a wife, and the metaphor spilled onto her. It was perceived that I was calling my wife a donkey. Many turned around to see her reaction. It was a little bit funny, and to be honest, I used the metaphor on purpose.

Metaphors are not usually meant to be realistic, they can make their greatest impact if they are absurd, wildly exaggerated, or shocking. Like using the word donkey in discussion about spouses and covetousness. Of course, it can also obscure the point. Maybe we all forgot how destructive envy is or how valuable gratitude is, because we were thinking about donkeys and the Angel. (*More on that in about a paragraph.) Maybe we were thinking about her and I instead of our own vows. Maybe we forgot to say thanks, about our own donkeys (whatever they are).

The joke was that I was in BIG trouble. I wasn’t. She understands metaphor and she understands the art form, and being with me requires a certain willingness to live fairly publicly (and have some stories told out loud in a room full of her friends). She lives her life with understanding and tons of grace.

AND, there is another thing…

The vast majority of the message contained many, many (too many, I was afraid as I began) examples of the things I loved, and continue to love, about her. The things I never take for granted about her. How I remember asking her out on our first date, and every second of that date and most after.

In speaking about searching for & reflecting on the beauty in our lives, I used a study about how the negative prints immediately on our souls and the positive takes 15 seconds. It’s why 100 likes & compliments are overshadowed by the 1 thumbs down or pointed jab. We rarely hear, and almost never remember, “that’s a nice shirt.” We ALWAYS carry “why would you wear that shirt?” sometimes for months, sometimes forever.

All you know of how I feel about being married to the Angel, over the years you know me, and the avalanche of appreciation and gratitude on Sunday were eclipsed by what sounded like an off handed comment (but wasn’t an off handed comment at all). I know, right?!!? Every week, it’s gross how I look at her with hearts in my eyes, open her doors, speak behind her back as if she’s the girl of my dreams (because she is), and lose my train of thought because she looks so rad. And one metaphor puts me in the metaphorical doghouse?

Sheesh. What does that mean about how we speak to each other, our children, the people online or at the store? What does that mean about our social media comments? It says, fair or not, it can be pretty easy to be a wrecking ball, crashing and undoing years and years of building.

I don’t want to be a wrecking ball, or an obstacle to anyone taking the terrifying honest journey of self-reflection. (This is so much of what Paul writes about – sure, you can, you have the right, but if it hinders one, it’s not even close to worth it.) We’re building something wonderful here, at the Bridge, in our relationships, and with our lives. And my intention was obviously, clearly misunderstood. I assure you I will take chances with examples and metaphors that stick, but I can also assure you I will not use that donkey metaphor again.

No Why

Today’s site prompt is “what bothers you and why?” That’s pretty prescient of the AI prompt generator, because I opened my iPad to write about a thing that does, indeed, bother me.

First, you should know that lots of things bother me. I am bothered when people hog equipment at the gym, then don’t spray & wipe that equipment off afterwards, rudely leaving their disgusting germs all over for the rest of our immune systems to find off. It’s a wonder that we all don’t have a perpetual case of pinkeye. But what REALLY bothers me is when (usually the same) people leave their weights on the bars. Yes, that actually happens, can you believe it?!!? We live in a society, a fact that has managed to go unnoticed by these monsters. I’m bothered by a lack of spacial awareness in public, poor sports officiating, and the New York Giants, among many others.

The last paragraph was all mostly a joke. These things do bother me – probably a better word is annoy – but it’s a superficial wound, a paper cut that is forgotten immediately after the initial cut. I don’t really care too much, I’ve never had a day ruined by any of these trivialities. The problem is that we just don’t have enough words, sometimes. The “bother” of the least paragraph is not the “bother” of the next one.

In Acts 12, king Herod Agrippa “began to persecute” some believers of Jesus. The apostle James was “killed with a sword.” Then, when he “saw how much this pleased the Jewish leaders,” he captured and imprisoned Peter to do the same to him, in a very public fashion. That night, “an angel of the Lord” appeared and sprung him from his cell. It’s a cool story, with a cool scene of Peter showing up at the place where all of his buddies were praying for him, as they were praying for him. The prayer was answered immediately, spectacularly.

Hallelujah! …except for one thing. Why was Peter rescued and not James? We can talk and put forth all sorts of hypotheses, but the truth is that we have absolutely no idea. There is no why.

Why do terrible things happen to one and not another? Why is this happening to me? Why is this not happening to him/her? Maybe you remember the singer-songwriter we hosted, Olivia Farabaugh, who was miraculously healed from a chronic disease. I’m so thankful she was, but why do others still suffer with that same chronic disease? They may believe in healing and have faith that can move mountains, too. James believed.

John the Baptizer was sitting in jail, about to be murdered, and sent word to Jesus, asking if He was the One for whom they were waiting. He answers, yes, and blessed are those who don’t fall away because of Him. Essentially, John was asking IF He was the Messiah, and IF He was going to rescue him. John was His cousin, also His friend and witness. He’d been faithful his whole life and, with everything he thought & did, pointed to Jesus and His Kingdom. Yes, Jesus was the Messiah, and No, He would not be breaking him out of prison. Why? Only He knows?

We all have some deeply loved friends who are carrying more than anyone can handle, crying enough tears to drown the world. Why them? Why doesn’t God step in and help? Why does He do it for some and not others? Why didn’t He save James from that sword? I wonder how many burned up in the same furnace where Shadrach, Meshach, & Abednego were delivered. Why? Why is this happening to me, him, her, them?

There is no why. And that bothers me. My pride and driving need for control makes me want those answers. I want to understand. I want it to make sense to me. I want there to be a why, and I want to know what it is.

The other side of my own idolatrous coin is faith. There is a why, we just might not get it. We have to faith anyway, to trust anyway. We can certainly ask, He’s plenty big enough for our questions. But there always comes that point where, even if we don’t get the answers we want, or like, or that make sense, or any answers at all, we are faced with a decision; will we still trust that He is there, that He is good, and that we are still loved beyond reason or limit. What do we do then?

Maybe we’re James and get the bad thing, or maybe we’re Peter and get the good. Maybe they’re both blessings, and maybe it just depends on your perspective. Maybe we don’t ever know why. Maybe it’ll always bother us like crazy, but maybe we just continue to follow Him anyway.

13 Years

13 years ago, this week, the Bridge was born out of the ruins of our previous church, which had closed its doors the previous week.

Including our flood-ravaged home, this was the 2nd home we’d lost in 10 months – I don’t know how much you can lose before you break forever… The cliché is that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle, and I don’t believe that, at all. I think we get more than we can handle all the time. I have a very great friend who has much more than anyone can handle. I think the cliché is, or should be: God gives you more than you can handle, and that’s why He also gives you the Church. Together, there is nothing you can’t handle.

As we walked away from the final New Song service, I invited our friends to my house to mourn out loud, together. They came, we mourned, and after several hours, I said some of the most hopeful words I would ever speak: Next week, if you want to come back, we’ll open our Bibles to 1st Chronicles 1:1. Not everyone came back, but some did, and that’s exactly what we did. They didn’t know, then, what I did, that we were being called to build something new. We all were just faithful in listening to what each of us were given, and no more. Just the next step. Maybe it was doomed, maybe we had misheard, maybe we were all very foolish, but we took these fresh new steps.

People came, stayed, left, more came, more stayed, more left. (If you think you ever get used to the leaving, and it stops hurting, you would be fantastically wrong.) We tried lots of different things. I played the guitar and sang “Stand By Me” one time, handed out mix cds another time. One service was only us reading chapters of the Bible outside, with our shoes off and our feet in the grass. We canceled another as a living, breathing, illustration of grace. One homework assignment was to give away our offering to someone in the community, face to face. We ate so much food together. We prayed. We moved 3 times and grew each time. We referenced so many movies and songs. We danced. We love The Most Spiritual Movie Of All Time, Fight Club, together (even though most of us, thankfully, haven’t actually seen it.) I made you mad, didn’t respond as quickly as I should have, we disagreed. There were marriages and babies. We cried, laughed, fought and made up.

The growth was/is slow, with what looked like a plateau each time, but was actually regaining equilibrium before the next bump. I am thankful for that, now. The Angel still believes it was God’s grace, keeping my soft, mushy heart from exploding. I also believe it was God’s grace, but for a different reason. You see, I could never wrap my head around my own transformation. I often found myself waiting for everyone to wake up to the fact that I should not be here. (As you probably already know, I did the same thing with the Angel. You’re not the only one who asked, what is she doing with him??) I don’t wait anymore. Once I did the waking up, not to my inadequacy, but to the searing disobedience & idolatry of constantly questioning what God has created (or was creating, if I would only stop being an obstacle and step into His mercy and love), I could finally see me, as I am (which is changing all the time).

We sometimes do that with the Gospel. It sounds amazing, super-spiritual, to brag that we are too bad, too far away, for Jesus to cover, accept, rescue, to love. But it’s not spiritual at all, it’s mean. Instead, it’s saying, “I’m so special, He/His sacrifice/His resurrection aren’t enough. I was saying, “I can’t be (whatever), He can’t make dry bones live, He can’t bring healing, He can’t He can’t He can’t.” But I was terrifically wrong. He can. I’m not too special, but I am wonderfully made by the Creator of the Universe, in His image, and, to paraphrase Nick Fury in The Winter Soldier, “it’s about time I get with that program.”

I asked those of us who were there that first week to reflect a little, remember these last 13 years. Every year, I teach what I call a manifesto to never forget our purpose. We may not be called to have 25 different services in a weekend on screens all throughout America. We may not even be called to have 2. My books might not get the sales of Joel Osteen’s (I don’t have his hair or perfect teeth, either). We might end next week. But this thing that God has built through us, it’s so much better than the best case scenario. I have no idea what could possibly be next, but what I do know is that the ethos of the Bridge has never changed – we’re still listening and taking just the next step. We exist in Him, through Him, by Him, and for Him. We are, and will remain, a Gospel church (which, if you ask me, is the only kind of Church to be).

He’s given us all of this, grace, kindness, forgiveness, righteousness. He’s given us a home. He’s given us each other, to walk with, to listen to, to hug, given us hands to hold. He’s given us the people who will pick us up or will simply get down on the ground with us until we can stand. He has given us a call, given us The Church, and He’s given us this Bridge.

I am overwhelmed. I am honored to belong to it, honored to be your friend, honored to get to watch you, really blessed to love you. I am grateful. Happy Anniversary.

Am I?

Does wisdom imply honesty? I guess it doesn’t imply anything, does it? We can know plenty of facts, but wisdom puts those facts to use. We might know how to build a nuclear bomb, have all of the information and skill, but it’s wisdom that keeps us from actually using it. Maybe wisdom could/should keep us from building it at all, but that might be a different question.

I’m asking that initial question, because Sunday morning, we discussed a passage in Ecclesiastes that was patently disingenuous. (Maybe it wasn’t technically a lie…) In chapter 4, verses 1-3, Solomon laments over the oppressed who didn’t have anyone to comfort them. If you are familiar with Ecclesiastes, you can probably guess that this is “meaningless.”

Now, this is an interesting observation from Solomon, as he had morphed into empire building, using slaves to build his palace and army. Essentially, he was the oppressor of a great many in Israel.

If I take my son’s cell phone away, can I lament his lack of a cell phone? Maybe it is terribly sad that he doesn’t have one, but if I’m the reason, then what? If this Teacher’s world is meaningless because there isn’t anyone to comfort the ones he’s oppressed, why isn’t he comforting them??? If I am heartbroken because my neighbor can’t cut his grass, and I don’t cut it for him (and I can), is my heart really broken??

So, I was angry with Solomon. Why are the people of God doing the oppressing? Why are they not comforting the oppressed, instead? Where are they???

I write another blog (lovewithacapitall.com), and there, I wrote about some Netflix documentaries. They were entertaining, (some very much so), but their root was the undeniable human impulse to act terribly to each other, if given the opportunity. I wrote: “These shows are pretty depressing, to be honest. Mirrors often are.” I’m thinking about that now, because I wonder if I was so angry with Solomon because he’s a mirror to my own capacity for 1. Hurting others, and 2. Ignoring my own hypocrisy.

If I had a country and unlimited power and resources, who is to say I wouldn’t build that country into an empire, even though most every word in the Bible says NO? Maybe I’d be so wise that I’d know every word of the Scriptures, know God would not want an empire of slaves and gigantic armies used to oppress, I’d know the right thing to do…and I’d take the other road anyway. And maybe I’d write books about how it’s so awful that there are oppressed people, my boundless wisdom would allow me to see every social ill clearly. As much as I’d like to say otherwise, I bet I would. Then what?

I know the right decisions to make in the kitchen, I am very aware what foods make me feel good and are healthy for my body. And I choose not to make them. I think I’m so frustrated with Solomon because, at least in this, he’s me and I’m frustrated with me. I see what’s wrong, I wonder why it’s happening, and I wonder why the Christians aren’t comforting the poor and broken, wonder why the Christians aren’t peacemaking… And then I realize, I am a Christian, aren’t I? Am I writing instead of comforting, posting instead of peacemaking? Am I a hypocrite?

The answer to all 3 of those questions is Yes. And this is not surprising. This kind of thing happens all of the time. The Bible opens us up in a million wildly uncomfortable ways, sends us running into the arms of Jesus, Who has already forgiven us, and Who sends us right back with a new (old) commission, call & focus. Take drinks, bring food, give shelter, visit, help. Love someone. Comfort. Make peace.

Am I? Yes, I am all of these things. I am oppressor and comforter, the idea is to be less and less of the first and more and more of the latter. Make more peace than we break. And sometimes seeing that in ourselves begins with outrage at another’s behavior.

I’m no longer mad at Solomon.

What Makes A Teacher?

This website hosting app, Jetpack or WordPress, has a prompt every day, a question that is designed to inspire (or at least to get us to write more often, ostensibly so that they can collect more advertising revenue. But I don’t care why, to be honest with you. I like this site, their prompts, and I think they should get paid for their service. But now that I think of it, in my head, people sit at desks and around tables brainstorming for these prompts, and I want them to get paid… but that’s probably hopelessly naive, it’s for sure an AI generator that’s creating them. Maybe the machines should be paid, too. Anyway.) Today’s prompt is: What makes a teacher great?

It’s interesting, right? Especially in light of our Ecclesiastes study, written by “The Teacher.” What makes him great? Is he great? Think about your favorite/best teachers (were the best your favorite? Maybe that’s a different criteria…), what made them special? I am a teacher, and I am constantly evaluating my methods, style, clarity, and on and on, looking for obstacles to remove and new, different possibilities to help the material print on our minds and spirits.

I do have a huge advantage over the teachers & coaches you may have had, I’m not teaching geometry or physics or 19th century poets, I am teaching The Gospel, a message we are hard-worked to search for and accept. Added to that, what could be more important?

But it just so happens I do have an answer for this AI’s question, and it’s fresh because it happened to me yesterday morning.

In the middle of our study of Ecclesiastes, chapter 3, we had a short discussion on hell. I didn’t jump all the way into these deep waters, just more of a passing glance, talking about words and cultural influences. Maybe it was effective and clear and gave you a whole new understanding. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it made these waters even more muddy than they were before. Maybe I lost your focus, as you started thinking about lunch.

Then, after the service, as I stood in the narthex (one of my very favorite words) to say goodbye, a good friend walked right up to me and said, “I have a question…” And that’s it, that’s the answer.

Jesus, the greatest teacher who ever lived, answered questions with questions. It was pretty rare for Him to just give a straight yes/no and detailed explanation. It seems like He wanted each of us to dig deeper, to discover the answer. Now, that might be because the answer sometimes changes from person to person, and even at different seasons of the same person’s life. Or it could be that He wanted us to hold His hand for a little longer, or forever, never letting go. Maybe it’s all of those things.

I’m just me, I’m not the greatest teacher in Cleona, I’m probably not ever the best teacher in this house! But whatever happened in that church yesterday encouraged someone to want to continue to wrestle with concepts we too often…

Well, what do we “too often” do? Do we just accept what we’re hearing, take it as truth without thinking? Or are we disconnected, neither accepting or rejecting, indifferent to whatever, indifferent to everything?

What makes a teacher great isn’t always the teacher, certainly not only the teacher – of course, the teacher has a responsibility in communication, but it’s our posture as learners, our openness, it’s the words, environment, experience, space and mostly it’s the Spirit working in/through them, kneading them like dough in our minds and hearts. It’s the Truth that opens us up to look more closely, to not just be satisfied when the lesson ends, and keeps us going back to the well.

Homing Pigeons

We are homing pigeons… I love that metaphor: homing pigeons created to fly home to our God. Our fear, anxiety, restlessness, discontent, unease, unfulfillment, depression, longing, all point us away from all of the superficial, hollow ways we try to make sense of ourselves and our lives, and point us to the only One who can. We all look for meaning, purpose, and identity, most times in wildly unhealthy ways, our unmet desires are spiritual direction signs, and we ultimately find our answers in Him.

But there is one thing I didn’t really mention, and it’s the thing I haven’t been able to shake.

We used to have a van, and there was a “tire pressure” indicator on for the last several years we owned it. In high school, my best friend Matt had a car with a perpetual “check engine” light. At the last oil change, the computers weren’t reset, so every time I start my focus, the “oil change” message shows on my dashboard screen. That’s just 3. There might be any number of lights on in your car right now. The common thread is that we all ignore(d) these warnings.

If our unmet desires are spiritual direction signs, are they just more warnings we ignore? Do you feel anxious about anything? Better yet, what are the things that make you anxious? Maybe you don’t know. Maybe we are so busy, and so busy running from all uncomfortability, that we don’t have (or take) a second to address our holy desires, don’t pause to ask these questions.

Or, if we do ask, we answer dishonestly, with a maddening nonsense that’s only purpose is to uphold our ridiculous constructed images that everything’s fine, that we’re all ok. But we’re not.

A massive self-help industry implies that we need it. Marketers/advertisers know the best way to reach us and convince us to buy the newest, fanciest, most expensive whatevers is through our perceived lack. Alcohol, drugs, porn, junk food, and & all -isms, and on and on – they’re all futile attempts to fill these holes.

What could happen if we stopped and sat down, looked around, said, “these things certainly aren’t helping…but I still do have this nagging thorn in my soul that there must be more. What’s that about?” What could happen?? That’s the idea behind being homing pigeons. Solomon writes, “He has set eternity in the human heart,” which is another way of saying, “He has set Himself in our hearts.” So, what now? Do you think He gave it to us, so we would be forever incomplete? Or do you think He gave it to us to allow Him to complete us?

(That’s not a genuine question, you already know what the answer is. But what if your perspective of God is one of distrust? What if the god in your head is an angry, disapproving one just waiting to catch you messing up, so he can unleash his wrath upon you? Maybe you wouldn’t be so quick to go home, maybe you’d want to be a different kind of pigeon. But that isn’t the God of the Bible. That is simply not the Gospel.)

This post is about the importance of examination. Maybe Socrates famously said, “the unexamined life is not worth living,” because he knew there is only one place to find this life that is “worth living.” And maybe he wanted us to check our warning indicators and finally listen to them.