Audios

A Dallas Cowboy Win

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Psycho Catfish

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

This documentary is not the light, insignificant kind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Although

The note in my personal Bible, for the book of 2nd Chronicles, chapter 18, verse 1, reads, “Although Jehoshaphat was deeply committed to God, he arranged for his son to marry Athaliah, the daughter of wicked Ahab.” And as far as interesting, loaded sentences go, that’s pretty terrific.

The 2 kings mentioned were the leaders of the north and south kingdoms of, what was and would be, the nation of Israel. Jehoshaphat was a good, moral king, Ahab was not. In fact, Ahab was probably the worst of them all. But sometimes political interests are more important than religious, spiritual ones. (Obviously, we wouldn’t know anything about that, but just try to use your wildest imagination to put yourself in this ancient time.) Jehoshaphat followed the God of his ancestors, but even so, he decided this alliance was important/valuable/necessary/whatever word describes why & how we would ever rationalize shelving our principles for political viability and gain. I’ll choose “necessary,” because that is what I often hear as explanation for the ways we decide the words of Jesus just aren’t practical, here, now. So, this alliance was necessary to rebuild a powerful, re-connected Israel.

Of course, it didn’t go that way, wasn’t necessary at all.

I am not a king or a politician, so this doesn’t relate on a strictly apples to apples basis, but I do know very well about rationalization. And I do know the truth of the “although.”

Although I love Jesus, I can be really judgy, sometimes. Although I am absolutely clear on His commands to NOT judge, I can still choose to do it. Although I am deeply committed to my fitness and physical health, I often eat like a 6-year old. (I am the walking, talking, weightlifting illustration of the harsh truth, “you can’t out train a bad diet.” I wish you could. I would have the best abs.) I see other drivers on the road who have Jesus fish on their cars; although they love Jesus, so much that they’d advertise it on their bumpers, they have cut others off and raged behind the wheel. Although some pastors love Jesus and have given their careers to spreading the Gospel, they can deliver some of the most hurtful speech about others who are under His grace, just as they are. Although people love their spouses, they… You get the idea. How many ways do we live out the “althoughs?”

This is one of the very cool things about the Bible. We can’t relate at all to choosing politics over faith, but we can easily translate that into lots of other areas of our lives. It is timely – real people (Jehoshaphat, Athaliah), real times (hundreds of years B.C.), real places (Israel), and real tensions (arranged marriage between heirs, political maneuvering) – these things are specific to a time. We live in 2025 in a small town in Pennsylvania, our kids choose their own partners, we never get politics mixed up, never elevate it to an idol that would direct our steps with our friends and families.

But it is also timeless – the “althoughs” and the constant struggle in our hearts, decisions, and relationships between God and all of the other, lesser things that would take His place.

Who would guess that something Jehoshaphat did or said thousands of years ago, would have the ability to ask such vital questions of us? Isn’t it fascinating that Ahab and Athaliah have meaning in our careers and marriages, that 2 wicked characters would invite us into a deep dive into our own days and moments?

I have a book called God Is In This Place, and it dissects Genesis 28:16 (maybe I mentioned that verse before;), using 9 chapters to interpret it in 9 very different ways. It has crossed my mind to take a passage or verse, probably a parable of Jesus, and teach it several weeks in a row. The Bible is often compared to a diamond, with facets that change the look of the stone with each small turn.

There are so many perspectives of the life & rule of Jehoshaphat, but today, we’ll just be knocked out by the warning of his own “although,” and hopefully not make it our own.

A Genesis 28:16 World

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.