TFD: Holding Serve

It’s been quite awhile since my last post – in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever gone quite this long without disgorging something. In that time I’ve had ample opportunity to think about my favorite subjects, including of course me.

While I was pretty busy in the intervening weeks – including all my annual tasks connected to my fantasy baseball league; the beginning of both major league and Little League baseball; Holy Week; and the yearly Income Tax Ordeal – I don’t know that I was honestly too busy to write. In some ways it felt mostly like I didn’t have that much to say… maybe that’s an indication that I’ve already said everything worthwhile (I have been at this for more than five years!), or maybe at a deeper level I’m just not all that interesting.

There is for sure one aspect of my cosmopolitan, jet-set, on-the-go existence that I ponder quite often; I’ve hesitated to write about it because there are so many ways it can come out badly, but maybe if I can cross it off the list, something else will take its place.

I think that, constitutionally, I’m as selfish as the average person. I can confess – since my family never reads this – that if I bring an especially delicious treat in the house, I tend to store it in the most inconspicuous spot I can find. I’m not saying hide, exactly – OK, I did hide that 3.5 lb bag of peanut M&Ms… but I swear that was for everyone else’s protection… sort of. But I’m big enough to admit that I don’t usually call attention to such items either. In fact, I’m big enough to do most anything, since I quite often eat all the treats myself.

So what I’m getting at is that I certainly don’t see myself as Gandhi or Mother Teresa or anything. But there is no getting around the fact that in the structure of my daily life, I take on the role of a servant as much as any other role.

I have written about this before, and I’m sure it looks from some angles like I’m sitting here faux-modestly and stretching up my neck to receive a reassuring pat on the head. Hey, I wouldn’t put it past me to be a trifle mixed in my motivations. But I think mostly I’m just holding it up to the light and turning it around and trying to understand what it is. If it’s an ego issue at all, it’s probably more related to thinking that I can make it interesting to anyone else.

In fact, I think that if anything I’m finally starting to understand just how not-applause-worthy it all is. If I sort of cross-reference my life with Scripture, what I think I understand is that far from being up for the Nobel Prize in the husband/father category, it may be that I’m just meeting basic expectations (if that, even). After all, it says in Ephesians that husbands and wives are to submit themselves to one another; while that passage is often taken to mean something more like “obey”, I wonder if it’s not closer to the idea that in a marriage each partner may at times, or frequently, need to put aside individual ambitions for the good of the other.

So when I get right down to it, I understand that when I defer -- or even extinguish, so to speak -- following my more immediate desires, I don't get to take a bow. I have to say, I find that... really annoying. I like getting credit for stuff, and I love looking like the good guy. Instead I'm supposed to pull a Joe Friday -- "Just doing my job, ma'am."

Carrying it a little further, of course, I run smack into Philippians 2:

⁵ In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

⁶ Who, being in very nature^[a] God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
⁷ rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature^[b] of a servant...

So I apparently don't win the prize; all I get is the home version of the game...

Hired to Be Fired

As is the case each year about this time (and mentioned in this space yearly as well), I have used an awful lot of time in recent weeks getting things prepared for the Fantasy Baseball league I administer. Really, though, once they begin tossing a ball down in Florida (and Arizona), everything in my world becomes kind of baseball-inflected. The fantasy season draws near; soon I'll be able to watch actual games; and even spring itself seems surely just about to round third base and head for home.

Maybe that explains why I'm identifying with baseball managers these days. It's early yet, but if some team gets off to a poor start, we may see our first managerial firing before too long. And if the victim is a particularly philosophical sort, we may even hear a popular line from the mythical Manager's Creed: "Managers are hired to be fired." That is, no manager lasts forever (well, Connie Mack ran the Athletics for 50 years -- spending most of the last several years napping on the bench -- but then, he also owned a chunk of the team); he knows on the day he's hired that the exit interview is already in sight.

Or maybe it's our more recent visit to the Mark Twain House & Museum that has me feeling like Tom Sawyer. As I recall -- it's been awhile, and I'm too lazy to research it -- Tom let the folks in his town think he was dead, and was gleeful at the prospect of attending his own funeral.

I suppose that all of that sets rather more of a foreboding tone than I really intended, so I should probably pause here to assure the reader that no one was fired and nobody's dead.

We have, however, been contemplating endings and transitions around here lately, because as was officially announced last Sunday, we will be moving this summer. We know that no pastor -- at least in our system -- stays forever in one place. It's not exactly "hired to be fired", but still the expectation is set from day one: someday you'll be moving on.

I told my wife that the announcement was a little like attending your own funeral, in that people are somewhat expected to say nice things about you... but I don't think she really wanted to contemplate her own funeral. I, on the other hand, would be burningly curious to know what's being said about me! As it turned out, several people were quite kind and gracious in ways that let us know that they weren't just "saying the right thing".

While the move is not unexpected, it bears some resemblance to the old joke about mixed emotions... we're moving with open hearts and open eyes, but at the same time it's wrenching to leave this place that has so much good about it. Had the call not come, we would've been happy to stay here in this place and minister among these people; in fact, I in particular have been pretty vocal about the concept that I wouldn't mind being "forgotten" and left here for the rest of my life.

Of course, that is only partly because I love it here and clearly some portion due to my general change-averseness (about which I have been equally vocal). And besides, the church here kind of brought it on themselves: they have become such a vibrantly healthy (emotionally as well as spiritually) bunch that it really made it possible for us to leave. If they'd been troubled, it would've been a lot tougher sell.

We're still in the process of selling to the kids, who've really never experienced this kind of move. Our daughter was 9 months when we came, and while the boy was 3 1/2, he doesn't remember it too well. I think he does remember viscerally how it pained him to lose his first home -- I know I do.

So we get the girl excited about the basketball court in the new church and the possibility of biking to school, and we tell the son that we'll be less than a mile from the mall AND ToysRUs. There will be a park nearby and some good friends living not far away. And I've stopped saying in Sunday night prayers, "Thank you God that we went to church and saw all our friends,".... because I don't want to remind them that (relatively) soon, we'll be going to church and seeing strangers. New friends, yes, but not that first week for sure.

We believe in our hearts that this new place is where God wants us to be at this time, although there's clearly a corner of my heart, at least, that has retreated behind a locked door. Can a "corner of your heart" put its fingers in its ears and go, "La la la I can't hear you!"? I guess I should have said above that we're going with mostly open hearts and eyes.

I have one little theological theory that I fall back on a lot, although no one else seems to much get why it's important to me. But I find it of great comfort: since God is beyond time and space, the concept of "today" is meaningless to Him. I am tied, at least physically, to today, no matter how tempting it may be to try to live in the past or obsess over the uncertainty of the future. God, however, is already there in that future. In God's world, it's "today" and "1983" and "this July"... so I don't have to be afraid even when uncertainty looms (although it seems that quite often I am anyway). I know there's already someone there who knows me and who's going to make all the pieces fit together somehow.

Giving, and Taking

Even I would have to admit that I don't always project the sunniest of dispositions. I'm not necessarily 100% John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band, but I do tend towards the theory that not only is the glass half-empty, but the milk is probably spoiled anyway.

Regardless, I don't think I'm being unjustifiably negative when I say that one of the parts of the year that really puts me through the wringer is vacation. I'm not talking about the physical toll of travel, or the financial drain, or the difficulties of enforced togetherness/small spaces; it's probably more self-inflicted than that. And this has been very much on my mind -- pressing down hard on my mind -- since we just did our 3-day Winter Vacation Trip last week.

I don't know whether it's genetic (a Guy Thing?) or learned, emotional or strictly mental, or even pathological, but I take a huge burden on myself whenever we travel. I spend loads of time before the fact, planning and researching, scheduling Fun Activities for the Whole Family, looking for that hotel room that's 10% nicer for $5 less -- then, of course, getting everything mapped out to the last possible turn (this time, I had 3 pages of printed directions... which I basically ignored in favor of the more, you know, electronic guidance of the GPS).

The day arrives and I am, ah... not bubbly... as I'm trying to get the last details nailed down and get us out the door On Schedule. I do virtually all the driving -- not because my wife won't, or because I don't trust her to, but because it just feels right to me to carry the load. I am in general a pretty confident, and I believe competent, driver; but always in the back of my mind is that we could get lost or break down or have an accident.

If one of the stops doesn't come off, if the targeted Children's Museum turns out to be a ball pit and a card table with a box of broken crayons on it, if somebody gets a lousy meal... all of that feels like a personal failure to me.

I'm sure a lot of that sounds like egomania -- making it all about me -- or some kind of messiah and/or martyr complex. Rationally I do know that plenty of stuff can go wrong that I have absolutely no control over, and I recognize that nobody's waiting to point the finger at me just because the thermostat doesn't work in the hotel room.

But in the midst of all that burden I felt myself carrying the past couple of weeks, I also realized that there's a healthy lesson to be learned as well, and it's this: there are times that it's more blessed to take than to give. That is, I realized that what I was doing, at least in part, was living out the role of Head of the Household (now there's a term you don't hear much these days, at least in a non-census sense) in the way it's really intended: not giving orders, but taking responsibility.

The New Testament talks about the man being the head of the woman, which is a concept that got twisted so far in a particular (and particularly uncomfortable) direction that I think it eventually went SPROINNGGG! and flew off behind the couch or something. Or at least we'd like to hide it there. But I think the real point of being the "head" is that I can serve my family by being the buffer zone, getting out front, taking the blow if necessary.

As it turned out, the vacation came off fine -- a couple complaints from the GPS, but nothing that couldn't be resolved by circling the block. So I can look at it as a lot of worrying for nothing, or I can see careful planning and concern for my family's well-being paying off.

And isn't it interesting that God can take "character flaws" and use them for positive purposes?

TFD - Finding the Season

As a preacher's kid, and a preacher's spouse, and a just plain regular churchgoer, I figure I've heard the story of Christmas -- not the one with the 8 or 9 tiny reindeer in it -- as many times as anyone possibly could in the past 47 years. So there is a danger for me of becoming like the fish who doesn't really think about water... it's just "there", you know? Then you add in all the stresses and responsibilities and peripherals of the season, and all of a sudden it's December 28 and, hey, what just happened here?

So I've made it something of a quest to find bits and pieces in all the Christmas I'm swimming in that bring the truth of Christmas to me in a new way, or maybe just the same old way but a way that somehow resounds for me. I thought I would share some of these; perhaps one will strike a chord in you as well.

I do have one powerful advantage: I now have over 300 songs (well, not 300 distinct songs; for example, I have 18 versions of "Silent Night") in my Christmas playlist and -- speaking of immersion -- have been listening constantly since the beginning of Advent. As I do, I listen for nuggets of truth in addition to cool tunes.

But the quest actually started with this phrase singing hymns in church: "where meek souls will receive Him, still the dear Christ enters in." Keep in mind that one of the highlights of my season so far has been that one Christmas wall decoration with a punctuation mistake in it didn't make it on the wall this year (and I was already a certified grammar/punctuation/spelling geek) ... so it surprises me a little that the point of this sentence hinges on punctuation, and I've been missing it. It is the end of the 3rd verse of a 2nd-tier carol, so I have a small excuse. Plus, the way the music is phrased makes it sound like this: "Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in."

That makes it sound like all the perseverance -- the continuing action -- is on us. That is, we're still receiving Him. Good for us! Oops... look again: comma after "Him", which is to say it's Jesus who's still continuing to enter. It's not on us, it's on Him -- and He is faithful to fulfill His part of the bargain.

Two more seasonal truths come from my favorite Christmas album -- do I even have to say it? I've written it all before. Steven Curtis Chapman's "Precious Promise" tells the story of when first Mary, then Joseph, then the shepherds, then the whole world get the news of Jesus' birth. In Mary's verse, we find this line: "But her questions and her fears are met with an overwhelming joy that God has chosen her."

Like anyone, she had questions and fears; what made her special was not that she immediately reported for duty without questioning... but rather that she was able to question, and also able to let that joy permeate her to the extent that it pushed all the fear right on out. Maybe the key faith issue is: which voice do you want to listen to? Your own, or the still, small voice...

The other Chapman lyric which speaks deep truth to me comes from "Our God Is with Us": "And we will never face life alone now that God has made Himself known as Father and friend, with us to the end -- Emmanuel." The Christmas story is full of miracles, of course, but the central one is this. I'm not going to bother to look this up, but I'm pretty certain I've written about this before -- not because I'm short on ideas (or at least not solely for that reason) but because it continues to blow my mind. It comes down to this: God loved us so much that He couldn't just watch "from up there" as we struggled our way through life. He cared enough to send the very best: himself. Not science fiction, but the God of the universe fitting Himself into a newborn baby. If you can't feel the synapses in your brain popping like old-fashioned flashbulbs thinking about that, don't bother with the SyFy channel.

And if you do feel that popping, imagine how Mary must have felt. One of my favorite Christmas Scripture verses is, "But Mary treasured all these things up and pondered them in her heart". I can tell you what day it was when my daughter's teacher called to say she'd become a "leader" of her kindergarten class (in three days of school); I know where I was standing when my son's 2nd grade teacher made an emotional speech recognizing him as Most Improved Student; I can only imagine what it would be like to have shepherds and wise men and angels show up. But that's really what I'm striving to do in this season -- to treasure the story up in my heart anew, to ponder it all over again. And I pray you won't let the season slip by without doing the same.

TFD: A Transitive Verb

I don't claim to be the most widely-read guy in the world... but I do read in a lot of different formats. From Facebook to the Internet as a whole -- from Sports Illustrated to TV Guide -- from Newsweek to Entertainment Weekly to the daily newspaper -- I get a pretty broad exposure to what's being written from week to week.

But even if you didn't, you'd probably guess that the subject (or at least the hook) for a high percentage of current writing this week is Thanksgiving. Everyone's talking -- throw in TV if you like -- about the things in their lives, or the movies or TV shows, that they're thankful for. Even the political stories are telling you what politician X ought to be thankful for in current events.

It seems to me, however, that in the majority of cases there is something conspicuously absent in all the ink/pixels expended on thankfulness: an object. Now I suppose I could be totally wrong on this semantically -- although it doesn't appear so -- but my gut reaction is that giving thanks is completely meaningless without someone to accept the thanks.

On some level, I believe most people get that. Because I read not only TV Guide but also Entertainment Weekly, I'm privy to many profound utterances by the Hollywood Crowd; not to sound like I should be chewin' tobacco & wearin' overalls or anything, but my experience is that Them Thar Fancy Showbiz Folks have a heightened tendency to be thankful to karma, or positive energy, or the universe. Not sure exactly where The Man Upstairs/The Big Guy in the Sky fall into that continuum, but I think it's all a way to backhandedly acknowledge the seemingly self-evident fact that blessings don't just materialize out of the sky; every gift has a corresponding Giver.

I don't know that I've done an awesome job in my life of Celebrating Thanksgiving; that is, we don't usually have an extended family time of rehearsing our gratitude as we gather for the feast. By the time I get the turkey on the table, mash the potatoes, whip up some gravy and accidentally leave the rolls in the oven too long, I'm not always welling up with an overwhelming emotion of thankfulness (and everyone else has long since forgotten what we're celebrating). I do try, however, to remind the kids from day to day of all the wonderful things we have -- even the beauty of the world around us, which God gives us as a completely optional gift... not because it's "necessary", but solely for the purpose of our enjoyment.

So as the day approaches, by all means take some time to reflect on all the good things in your life -- but don't forget to direct the message of thanksgiving where it really goes. Oh, and also, don't forget to take the rolls out of the oven.

Under the Spell

Just this past weekend, I was faced with an agonizing choice: take my son to see a high school musical (no, not the High School Musical), or spend the afternoon cleaning the basement.

I'm not sure how long the Jeopardy theme lasts, not that I'm planning to pay royalties to Merv Griffin's estate... but let's just say the decision didn't take that long.

Start with the fact that I am myself the veteran of a number of stage musicals -- anyone who knows me even casually would probably guess that. Add the twist that the show was being presented by my alma mater. Plus, the wife is not so much a fan of the melodic arts (and besides, she was On Duty for the school project we've been trying really hard to pretend was not coming around again via child #2), so if one of us was taking the boy, it figured to be me. In addition, I kind of "collect" classic musicals, and this was one I'd never seen... and for the clincher, it was Godspell.

When you put all of that together, what you end up with is yet another of those perfect storm situations -- or as I often say, if nothing else, I'll get a blog out of it.

I'm probably fortunate that they've redesigned my high school to the extent that the interior is pretty much unrecognizable; there's only so much sensory input I can process at once, and nostalgia all by itself tends to blow my circuit breakers. Still, the auditorium hadn't changed much, so I got an instant zing walking down the aisle.

Before the show, we got an orientation from the director, pointing out that the basic book (script) is meant to be supplemented with more current cultural references (it was written almost 40 years ago, after all). And indeed there were enough extra "bits" that it threatened to veer into Monty Python territory at times, but it mostly all worked as part of the atmosphere.

You can see that, as usual, I was dealing with the Curse of the Blogger -- the affliction wherein I can't really just experience anything for itself. I'm always a little bit outside myself... asking, "Am I enjoying this? Is this really good? What's it like for the people involved?"

I should note, this didn't come about as a result of the blog; if anything, it's the cause. I like to think, at least, that it helps me develop more of a unified 'storyline' to the topics I write about, and maybe even dig out the essence or most important/interesting aspects of an event. However, it can also be kind of a pain in the keister to never quite be all the way in the moment.

I could almost feel the different parts of my brain firing simultaneously as we reached the show's climax. I had been wondering throughout: what's it like for a bunch of "random" high schoolers to be in a show based on the words of Jesus? Did any of the words get through? Were any of them more curious about discipleship than before they started?

At the same time I was also mindful of the experience of putting on a show, keeping an audience's attention, getting applause -- the rush of entertaining; but also the sort of foreboding that comes during the last show, as the intense experience you've been sharing for so many weeks is about to come to an end.

The emotional high point of the show is when Jesus is crucified -- symbolically, not violently, but it's still a wrenching moment. And much of the cast was crying or near tears. I wondered... are they just really good actors? Maybe some of them are painfully aware that in 10 minutes the show will be over forever. Or... could it be that one or more of the kids up there is being overwhelmed by the truth of the gospel?

Hard to say from my vantage point. But it's kind of ironic that keeping myself "outside" the show really worked to draw me in, to really feel what the cast members must've been feeling -- both the performance experience and the true majesty of the story. And as the triumphant conclusion unfolded to the strains of "Long Live God", and then the cast returned laughing and crying at once for the encore, I paused for a moment (choking back my own tears) to pray for the hearts of a group of kids, that they would always contain all the words they had spoken and sung.

TFD: On the 17th Day of Christmas

I made a lot of noise last time about how Christmas was over... but truthfully, there are still little vestiges of the season left around. I can't really say a lot of it is conscious, of course; the Christmas tree is still lying on its side in the side yard because I dragged it out just before we left for our Christmas-break vacation stay at camp. There are miscellaneous decorations here & there that just didn't get put away. The wrapping paper is still piled up in the corner of my office (although I did finally fold up the worktable a couple days ago. Some time soon I will take the folded table out of the office, too).

And despite all my protestations to the contrary, all the Christmas music is still loaded up in my iPod, as well as iTunes. Before Christmas, I was doing a constant shuffle of all the holiday songs; now, at least, I've returned to the full list shuffle. As a result, the Christmas music acts like a little punctuation -- I could say that it's the nutmeg in the eggnog, but that's a holiday-only metaphor. In any case, instead of the whole dish, it's just the spice, which in its way makes me "hear" it a little more.

I tried through the season (the "real" season) to rate my songs using the iPod's 1-5 star system, and it may be that I decide that the 4- and 5-star songs are worth keeping year-round. That will probably almost automatically include most or all of Steven Curtis Chapman's two Christmas albums.

It seems like every time I mention Christmas music, I come back to SCC. One of his songs hit me in a special way this year, to such an extent that I convinced myself that it gave me a fresh insight. I've had some time to think about it, and I guess it falls a little short of, you know, C.S. Lewis-level inspiration -- but I'll share it anyway.

The song that brought Christmas home to me this time was "Our God Is with Us":

Our God is with us
Emmanuel
He's come to save us
Emmanuel
And we will never face life alone
Now that God has made himself known
As father and friend, with us through the end
Emmanuel

(You can hear the song, and in fact the whole album, if you go here and click 'play' next to The Music of Christmas)

It's always been one of my all-time favorites, but one day it hit me at a new angle: he's come to save us. And instead of the conventional sense of the word -- those who believe in him don't have to go to hell -- I took it quite literally. I imagined myself in a lot of trouble, maybe even being held captive, when suddenly the SWAT team arrives to rescue me. OK, I guess in this case it's more like the SWADDLE team, but the image of Jesus coming because it was the only way to bail me personally out of danger made Christmas a little more, I don't know, urgent -- not just another Silent Night.

Don't get me wrong, I love the Silent Night. I love Joseph standing nearby trying to keep his head from exploding with everything that's happened to him. I love the shepherds saying, "Wait -- you're telling us the most important news ever?" I love Mary watching it all wide-eyed, "treasuring all these things up in her heart" (there's a blog I'd pay to read). And I saw one of my favorite Biblical phrases on a Sunday school bulletin board this week: it was a Birth Announcement for Jesus, and on the line for "When:" it said, "In the fullness of time". I wish I could say that's why this post is so "late" -- I'm just trying to achieve the fullness of time for it.

But alongside all that we have the image of Jesus arriving at just the right time -- albeit not in the most powerful or glamorous fashion -- to save us from a crisis... and that, much more than shepherds or wise men or donkeys, is a piece of Christmas I can take with me all year long.

Happy New Year

I spent an astonishing proportion of my life in school... all the way through high school & college, then graduate school, then teaching at the college level for lot of years. Now, of course, I'm in 3rd grade -- OK, my son's in 3rd grade, but since I am such an active participant in the homework I'm really hoping to get credit for the year.

So in a lot of ways, the academic calendar strikes more of a chord in me than the one hanging on the fridge. It's only reinforced by the church calendar; even though we have church all year round, there's certainly a sense that a certain portion of the church family, let's say, is on vacation for the summer months, and then we restart in September.

It also represents a different kind of new beginning; it was in September, a number of years ago, that I made one of my first steps toward applying the faith I said I had toward my actual, you know, life.

My life at the time: junior in college, but since I had lived at home for the first 2 years of community college, setting out on my own for the first time -- a good time, if not a bit tardy, to really mull over what my own values were. Also, and of course this is pivotal to the story, I had a girlfriend.

She was also in college in another state, but we'd been dating for over a year and it felt pretty solid. We had had the boat rocked a few times, but overall it seemed reasonably happy.

When I got to school, it was made clear to me in a number of ways that faith was not something we took out of the drawer on Sunday morning and then returned to its cotton-batting-lined box once the service was over. We had prayer before classes, and chapel services 4 times a week. There were special speaker series, and even the entertainment was faith-based.

I have to admit that, as much as September prompts this look back, I was also prompted by my recent music-recording efforts. I was recording one of my favorite old Christian artists, De Garmo & Key, when I realized I was missing an album: "No Turning Back", which was recorded on the same tour they were on when I saw them that September.

It was the sort of raw, hard-charging faith message they presented (and rocked out with), along with a few pointed comments by one of those visiting speakers, that made me think back over a few things in my life. Such as this: why didn't my girlfriend & I ever discuss faith matters?

We had spent a lot of time together -- in fact, we worked together that summer; we'd had innumerable phone calls and dozens of long, long letters. And while it's easy for me to sit here and note that she didn't talk about faith, I also had to realize that I hadn't either.

This isn't a TV movie, it's a slice of my past... but nevertheless you probably know how the next scene goes already. But honestly, I guess I hadn't seen enough movies at that point, because I went into it with a sense of excitement. I wrote her a long impassioned letter about what I was learning and feeling, how I was changing, and I invited her to tell me about her faith experience. I promise you that what I was expecting was to open up a whole new level of communication and closeness...

... but somehow that's not what I got. I've long since lost track of the letter I got, so there's a chance I'm not portraying it accurately, but here's what I remember: she felt like I was accusing her of not being spiritual enough, and she told me that her faith was too personal to her to discuss.

Well, of course I backed & filled, and tried to repair the damage... but what I didn't understand was that I hadn't caused a breach, I'd merely revealed one I didn't see before. We struggled on till Thanksgiving break, keeping in touch and trying to find common ground, but I think we both knew that it was over. When we both got home, I went to her house to talk to her, and before I left we broke up.

I guess 'broke up' isn't quite the right term; we really acknowledged to each other that we were already moving in opposite directions, and affirmed the wisdom of continuing that way. When I left, she told me she was sure we'd get back together someday, and I did get a couple letters from her in ensuing months, but it really was over.

I can't honestly say I learned the lesson all the way that first time, but I'm thankful that our God of second chances gave me enough opportunities so I could finally get it right.

Read the Verse Again

Years ago, when my wife was teaching in the public school, she came home on a Friday, amazed at what she'd seen. She had stopped in the office to pick up her check, but was told the checks were delayed till the following Monday.

The outcry from her colleagues was loud: how could they make it till Monday without their checks? And while we were both aware, then and now, that there are plenty of folks who are getting by from check to check, we were a bit stunned by the idea of well-paid professionals who couldn't forego their pay for three days.

That spoke to a somewhat different attitude toward money than I have, for sure. Even when I was a kid, if someone handed me a dollar, I'd stuff it right into my bank (however, if someone gave me a dime, I took it right to the drugstore down the street and bought a pack of baseball cards).

As I matured -- OK, got older, at least -- and got a few more dollars to play with, I didn't change the way I thought about money very much. When I commuted to college, and later in the working world, I always packed a lunch (incidentally, working folks who buy lunch regularly might as well cut a hole in their pockets). If I saw a magazine I liked, I'd go back to the store 2 or 3 times to make sure it was worth the $2.95. And once I discovered the Entertainment Book, we never ate out anywhere unless it was buy one/get one.

This made loads of sense when we first got married; I was competing in the World's Worst Waiter reality competition, and my wife was still in school, so we were not rolling in it. She was keeping a budget book, like a prudent new bride, recording every penny that went in & out, and I finally had to make her stop. Month after month of going in the hole while not spending much more than rent and a little food had put her on edge -- good thing I still had all those dollars from when I was a kid.

Later, she got that teaching job, and even though I was only teaching part-time, we had (for a young childless couple) a very comfortable income. So of course, being altogether unencumbered, we ate out all the time and took frequent vacations....

No, we didn't. We stayed close to home and ate lots of hot dogs and just generally behaved as if we were going broke. Looking back from here, it's hard to imagine what we were thinking; we could have had a lot of fun. It did keep us in practice for when my wife quit her job and went to seminary, of course -- about a 70% family income cut.

Since she is now a pastor and I'm up to 3/4 time at a very generous pay rate, we're now in a spot where we don't have money concerns. I don't say that in a boastful way; we recognize that we've been crazy-blessed by God, and we try to give back. However, I did want to assert that I have....

I can't even say it. OK: Changed! Over the years I've come to terms with it: it's just money, and it doesn't do any good whatsoever sitting in the bank (especially at the interest rates we're getting these days!). But it's kind of awkward because not all of our friends & family are in the same boat. We want to help, and I'm actually enjoying the opportunity to be generous, but I'm also very sensitive to others' feelings. I don't want anyone to feel I'm trying to big-time them.

Some time back we met some out-of-town friends for lunch halfway in the middle. We had been missing them so we invited them out for pizza, and since we invited I quite contentedly picked up the check. As kind folks with impeccable manners, they were grateful; but I did feel like they thought it an extraordinary gesture. I just did it because I could, and because I'm finally understanding the joy of giving... and because it was the best investment of 20 bucks or so I could imagine: I got back way more than I spent.

It's probably a relief to those around me that I really can change in some aspects. We know that Scripture gets misused all over the place, but perhaps nowhere worse than this: "Money is the root of all evil." People claim all the time that money is bad and sometimes it's thought to be more spiritual to be poor. I can't truthfully say I've ever been poor, but I've certainly had struggles, and I don't think I was way more spiritual. What the verse actually says, for those unaware, is this: "The love of money is the root of all kinds of evil." No question it can pull you off-course... but I thank God he's allowed me to learn you can have money without it having you.

On the Job

We had a kids' birthday party at our house last week, and the conversation turned -- as it so often does on such occasions -- to the question of each guest's favorite animal. One boy replied "tiger", and I had the pleasure of showing him a picture of me, standing next to a tiger.

That photo's a souvenir of my time (6 summers, if you can imagine) working at a nearby amusement park -- sadly now defunct, and there's not even much of it left on the Internet to link to. At the park I filled a variety of roles, from cleaning toilets to singing & acting in shows; it gave me a huge boost in the "weird jobs held" competition. It was in the highly coveted role of singing waiter that I encountered the worst boss I ever had.

He was the manager of the Opera House, the theater/snack bar where I waited tables for $2/hr plus all the tips an average check of less that $5 can generate. Actually he was officially designated the head waiter, but he had the power of scheduling, and he used it with particular vigor against me. I had been there awhile before he showed up, and I made no bones about the fact I didn't think he knew what he was doing (back in those days, I was a bit outspoken...).

More than anything else, he committed what I consider the unpardonable sin for a manager: power was his primary goal and motivation. I'm fortunate that almost none of my subsequent bosses since has behaved that way (especially my present manager, if you're reading this as I know you occasionally do. Love ya! :-). I've found that most bosses I've encountered have been about enabling me to do a better job, and often they take more responsibility than power.

I'm thinking about all this because of something I heard on the radio recently. The speaker was talking about the husband as "Head of the Home"... a concept that I've heard about, and wrestled with, since I was a kid.

When I got married I was very clear that I didn't want to be in charge -- you may have heard the expression that no committee of two elects a chairman, and I've never had any ambition to manage anything (well, OK, maybe the Mets). I figured that any decisions needed could be made together.

All that is still 100% true, but I'm starting to see things from a different angle. I'm realizing that being "head" doesn't mean giving orders or being in control; it's not about power. It's about taking responsibility... being the one to "stand out front" or "take point". It has a lot more to do with sacrifice than with authority.

So once more I find myself at one of those difficult junctures: trying to determine whether status quo is adequate, or whether I need to make a change... and if so, how does that play out in real life?

I had quite an honor some weeks back when my wife asked if she could read my blog. Some she really enjoyed, some were just OK -- but she called me on this one. She wanted to know why I spent the whole time setting up the problem, but didn't really resolve it. Part of it was probably cowardice, but also: these are not exactly true/false questions!

Believe me, I wish I had a nice neat punchline both for the piece and for my life. As you may know, not only is truth stranger than fiction, it's also more complicated.

Building a Rep

I finally get out of my basement, and about all I get for my trouble is a shoe full of water.

The weather in our area has been lovely and halfway summerlike, but as a Remote Employee I have been stashed away in my subterranean office, remote from spring as well. However, this week I'm in the midst of a rare business trip. Naturally, as soon as I mount the basement steps, the temp drops 20 degrees and it starts raining.

Tonight I was out shopping for breakfast -- should I go down to the dining room in the morning and wait for them to bring me 10 dollars' "worth" of breakfast, or should I go to the grocery store and buy 2 days' worth of breakfast for less than that? -- and on my way across the soggy parking lot I noted a sudden sensation of wet/cold on one foot. When I got inside, I discovered a big split in the sole of my shoe. Not to worry, I only have to wear it for 2 more days. Rainy days.

I just don't understand American workmanship these days. I've only had these shoes for 10 or 15 years (OK, it might be 20) and they're worn out already?

The good news is that this week's blog is being brought to you by the Official Hotel of Random Access. I do love me some Courtyard. King-size bed, sitting area, deluxe bathroom, and free wi-fi... can't hardly beat that. The breakfast prices are exhorbitant, but if you hit the lobby at the right time, you can find free cookies. OK, 'free' is a relative term -- I'm on record about the scam of 'complimentary' hotel amenities. By the way, this trip is relatively local to home, so this entry is not also brought to you by the Official Airline of Random Access.

I'm reminded of another trip, almost exactly a year ago, when (just like tonight) I was faced with sports-news hysteria. I am way at the back of the line for the Roger Clemens Fan Club, but is this really stop-the-presses news? I was watching the ballgame, and the ESPN crawl at the bottom of the screen -- which usually features headings like 'NL', 'AL', 'NBA' and 'Golf' -- suddenly sprouted a new category: 'CLEMENS'. There is the sense that he's made his own bed... um, perhaps not the best choice of words... but he may have reached the point where whatever he does will be construed as something horrible -- preceded by his reputation.

And that idea -- like almost everything else -- brings me back around to me. Unfortunately. See, this is actually my 2nd consecutive trip; last Friday, I had to make a flying trip (speed, not mode of transport) to the office where I used to be based. I was getting a new computer, so while the swap was in progress, I walked around to say hi to some people I hadn't seen for several years.

One of my old colleagues told me that someone had said something sarcastic the other day, and he told me, "Whenever that happens around here, I always say, 'Boy, I really miss Mark.'" Then someone else in the conversation, who barely knew me at all, recounted something I had said to bust someone else's chops.

And OK, we all know the difference between an affectionate poke at someone and truly ripping them up... but even I had to ask myself, "Is this really what I want to be known for?" I have over the years built up my Lovable Curmudgeon act; I can always make people laugh by grumbling about this and that, especially about work. The workplace is always fertile soil for complainers -- that's why we laugh at Dilbert.

A while back, I heard someone on the radio talking about being a Christian and representing Christianity to others. The hope, of course, is that others can see a difference in your behavior and demeanor (and hopefully ask, "What's that about?"). I want to be that guy, but I couldn't swear to it at this point. They say that entropy is a powerful force and it's easier to knock something down than to build it... unfortunately, it seems I saved my best workmanship for building a rep.

TFD: Like Looking in the Mirror

I am always mindful of writing for a varied audience -- granted, my 'usual audience' could probably assemble in a standard cubicle, and my circle of acquaintances doesn't reach the level of diversity of the average reality show cast (or war movie, if you prefer). A high proportion of my connections are made through the church, so we share that faith vocabulary; others of my readers don't relate to that topic as much. So while one of my major categories is "Theology For Dummies", I try to balance out my subjects.

Last year during Holy Week, I tried something a little different... I was a bit tentative about combining, you know, crucifixion & jokes. I'm not sure there's a huge overlap between my audience and Monty Python's, but I just read it again and I think it came out all right. It still makes me smile a little, at least.

Anyway, here we are at Holy Week again and I didn't set out to write a "Holy Week piece", but I kind of fell into it by rereading the story. The story of Holy Week is of course focused on Jesus and His sacrifice; but what struck me on this reading was really the story of the people around Jesus:

• Judas is of course the agreed-upon villain of the piece, and he makes such an inviting target. Probably the most famous betrayal in history, don't you think? And none of us would ever do a thing like that. Except... some scholars think he really did it to try to force Jesus to do something miraculous, or publicly declare himself a king. We can't know for sure, of course, but something about that explanation resonates with me. Is it just vaguely possible that the reason that makes so much sense to me is that I'm personally familiar with the concept of Knowing Better Than God? No, Lord, your timing's pretty good, but you'd be better off doing it my way...
• Peter takes a fair amount of abuse too, traditionally. He's the one who takes front & center claiming, "What, are you kidding, Lord? I've got your back!" and then of course, given that blatant foreshadowing, it's seemingly a matter of moments before he's saying, "What, are you kidding? Never heard of the guy!" Now most of us probably don't cuss out somebody who "accuses" of of being Christians... but I know for myself it's not quite unprecedented to make a promise to God about my behavior or my attitudes, only to see that promise slip away when the opportunity comes to follow through.
• You can group the rest of the disciples, whose major contribution to the story really consists of dozing off while Jesus needs them the most. And again, while they come off as buffoons, I don't think it's a huge stretch to see in their failure a reminder that all of us (OK, I'll just speak for myself) tend to fall asleep at the switch when God calls us to do something. For that matter, I can be much more literal and admit that bedtime prayer & reading time sometimes has about the same effect on me as diphenhydramine.

I've heard it said that one way to read Scripture is to put yourself in the story... and all I can say for myself in this case is that it doesn't take much imagination. I think I've probably mentioned this before (since I've written over 110 posts and I've only ever had about 17 ideas) but one of the fascinations of the Bible for me is that I can open it at random and find a story about someone I know. A lot of times it's me, in fact... and not usually wearing the white hat, either....

Service Charge

I've had an idea for a blog entry ping-ponging around my head for several weeks, and I'm trying to figure out just why I haven't written it yet. It could be that it's a pretty complex subject and would take a lot of effort to tackle. Or maybe it's because I don't really have enough connected, coherent thoughts to form a fully-realized post.

I sorta suspect, however, that the reason I haven't written it yet is because it will end up saying things that I don't really want to say about myself. That's despite the fact that I've been willing since the start to be honest, I think (even when I don't come out the hero)... but then again, what are the odds that someone with a blog would be comfortable talking about himself?

Of course, I'm always a bit self-reflective. I am by nature, and the blog emphasizes it. So I have to admit that, depending on the day, recent events, how much sleep I've gotten, and the phase of the moon, I sometimes catch myself feeling a bit put-upon.

The nature of marriage requires a certain amount of self-sacrifice, obviously, and the way we've allotted our responsibilities probably puts a little more "domestic burden" on me than the average husband (although: beware of comparing yourself to those around you!). Some of that is built-in to being a pastor's spouse; I'll always have "extra" evening duties, and weekends are not as carefree as they might be in other households. Just recently I hit a stretch of Solo Bedtime Duties, and it seemed they all devolved into a whirlwind of tears, tantrums, hollering... and the kids didn't behave too well either.

You know I'm always going to make that joke. But the point I was making (before I spoiled it) was that even that one hour daily made me feel miserable & exhausted.

Plus there's the "public" or "church" part of the spouse gig. I like being part of the church, and doing my part, but I'm also a convenient target for tasks others don't want or last-minute stuff... if only because of my physical proximity. I'm always there anyway! And when I'm not, I'm just across the road!

If you're still reading after all that, the point of this is not to be Whiny McWhinerson. What I'm getting at is this:

For me, there's always this constant inner wrestling match over the Stuff I Do. Do I push back and say, "No, this is too much"? Do I push through and do everything... then indulge myself in grumbling and hey-look-at-me, why aren't you appreciating me more?

Or do I see it as an opportunity for servanthood?

And I'm not just setting up an easy target here. The self-aggrandizing conclusion is, "Of course, it's an honor & privilege to serve", blah blah blah -- but the truth is my answer changes day to day. In fact, there are lots of days I'm convinced the right (even Christian) thing to do is to say, "for everyone's sake, things should be different."

But seemingly as soon as I get comfy with that, I start being nagged by Philippians chapter 2:

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who,
being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death— even death on a cross!

And you know, I probably shouldn't quote Scripture (especially the Apostle Paul) in a blog... unless I want to illustrate what it really means to get to the point in a hurry.

What's in a Name

One day, a little over 8 years ago, I found myself on an airplane, desperately trying to come up with a name. I don't mean "a name I couldn't remember", but a name that had never been named before. We were on a flight to Pennsylvania, rushing to try to get there before our son would be born... and rushing to come up with a name before he was born. I think a lot of first-time parents are unprepared, but at least most of them get more than the 3 weeks' notice or so that we got!

Names are tough; we wanted to find a name we liked, and one with some meaning, but one that was also impervious to stupid nicknames. Or too many nicknames -- consider the decision faced by a Robert, who might also be Bob or Robbie or Rob or Bobby (or Robert). Of course, it can be difficult to go to the other extreme... "Mark" is a tough one to come up with a nickname for.

I always impress on my kids the importance of names, especially calling someone by the name they prefer to use as a sign of respect and value. So of course, we have frequent scraps at our house because our daughter likes to shorten her brother's name; he likes to add something to the end of hers.

The Christmas season -- or more properly, the Advent season -- is also a season of names. One of the familiar Advent Scripture passages, one of the ones that's as much a part of the music of the season as "Joy to the World", is the one from Isaiah that prophesies the many names of the coming Messiah: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Prince of Peace.... This past Sunday, we sang, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel".

There's something about that name for Jesus that really gets to me intensely. I have a great collection of Christmas music, and when I hear the "Immanuel" songs, it sometimes chokes me up a little (no tears, of course; I'm way too manly & cool for that). But the very concept that God was so invested in our lives that He came here to be with us... I just find that so profound and moving.

Maybe the best example of that is Our God Is With Us by Steven Curtis Chapman (or see the lyrics here). When he gets to the bridge, and breaks out with "Rejoice, rejoice"... well, I have to confess I'm running up against the limits of my writing skill. That song takes me way beyond myself to a place of worship, joy, and awe at the enormity of what God's done for us.

I should also add that if necessary, you should sell all of your other Christmas music and buy his The Music of Christmas. It's an astonishing meld of the traditional and the contemporary. One of the best things about Advent for me is that I give myself permission to start listening to Christmas music, and that album's always Number 1 (with a shining star) for me.

Throughout this season, keep your ears open for the different names used to identify and describe the Baby who's coming. Make it a goal to discover and meditate on the one that speaks to you the most deeply.

The Sermon I Actually Did Give

I occasionally tend to pontificate in this space on matters of faith. It's pretty safe; I have close to a self-selected audience, and they (you) are not likely to call me out even if I say something stupid or obviously false. However, not long ago, I was asked to do it for real: stand up in front of my actual home congregation and deliver an actual sermon. What follows is substantially the message I gave, edited a bit for differences in audience and medium.

If you've read this space with any consistency, it won’t surprise you to know that music speaks to me as much as, or even more than, the spoken word. In fact, I’ve always had a secret dream to do an entire worship service with songs: songs for the prayers, the Scripture, the affirmation of faith, and the sermon itself. I thought that might come off just a tiny bit presumptuous and self-centered, so instead I based the service I did and the accompanying message around the Bible’s songbook – the Psalms. The "official" Scripture passage I used was Psalm 139:1-18.

Many of the Psalms are hymns of praise to God, so they’re a great inspiration for meditating on God’s greatness. I once learned a mnemonic device that helps me pray: ACTS, which stands for Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving and Supplication. And although it can be tempting to skip straight to Supplication and start asking God for stuff… and it’s relatively easy to thank Him for what He’s done… I don’t think it’s any accident that this form of prayer, like worship itself, starts with Adoration.

Adoration means praising God for who He is – for His nature and not specifically what He’s done. So this piece highlights just a few of the attributes I understand to be part of God’s nature. As always, you're encouraged to enjoy the home version of our game: come up with your own list.

Many years ago, J.B. Phillips – who may be better-known as the writer of the Phillips translation of Scripture – wrote a book called, “Your God Is Too Small”. His theory is that a lot of us get a picture of God in childhood and never really grow out of it. Do you know anyone who sees God as a smiling old white-haired man – content to let the kids go play but not really invested in their lives? How about the severe, irritable God who peers out the window of heaven waiting for someone to do something wrong so he can lower the boom? Or the gentle, mild-mannered God who really just loves everyone and can’t bear to hold them accountable for anything?

Phillips’ point is that it’s hard to be passionate about worshiping a God like that. For God to be relevant in our lives, He has to be big enough that we want to respect and honor Him. It always strikes me that that’s the original meaning of “awesome”: not just “really cool”, but “inspiring a sense of awe.” “Wonderful” means “full of wonders.” One of my favorite quotes comes from Voltaire: “If God created man in His own image, then man has more than returned the favor.” Life is hard, and death is hard, and God will be no help to us if we confine Him to the limits of our own imaginations.

In fact, when I’m afraid of the future, it comforts me to remember that God is entirely outside of time and space. Talk about beyond the limits of your imagination…but David understood this. He says in verse 8, “If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there,” and in verse 11, “darkness is as light to you.” I think that speaks to the way that God is unrestricted by time and space.

Think back to the story of Moses in front of Pharaoh. Moses is about to face the Pharaoh and tell him, “Let my people go!” So he says to God, “If I get up in front of him, he’s going to ask me who sent me – what do I say then?” Do you remember the answer? “Just tell him I Am sent you.” What does that mean? Some of what it means to me is that God is always present tense. As verse 5 says, “You hem me in, behind and before.” So I don’t have to worry about what lies ahead; not only will God be with me when I get there, but He’s already there. He already exists in that future time: it’s all present-tense to Him.

Now if you want the perfect example of good-news/bad-news, take a look at verse 1: “O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.” I can’t help but think sometimes that this would be a great place for a smaller God. A God who was too small to know me completely or to be with me always would certainly come in handy once in awhile. There are plenty of times I really wish God didn’t know what I was doing or what’s going on in my head, and I think that’s why some people have such a small God. He’s a lot less threatening.

Of course, what David is trying to convey is that God, as vast and awesome as He is, knows each of us personally, individually. Sports Illustrated has a feature every week called “Pop Culture Grid” where they ask professional athletes some semi-serious questions. We’re supposed to “play along at home” to see how well their answers match ours. One recent question was, “Who’s the most famous person in your cell?” A professional basketball player said, “Michael Jordan” – which surprised me, since he wasn’t very good; an NFL defensive back said, “My mama.” David’s really trying to tell us that we can be in regular touch with the most famous Person there ever was, and He wants to take all of our calls. Remember the Israelites were surrounded by other nations that worshiped remote gods, even inanimate objects – those people knew they had no shot of having a personal relationship with a chunk of stone or a block of wood. They spent their lives making sacrifices to try to avoid being struck down, so this was not just a theoretical concept for them.

Even a lot of people who believe God doesn’t really care about us can affirm Him as Creator – that would be kind of the Toymaker brand of small God. He builds us, he winds us up, he lets us go; after that, whatever happens, happens. But listen again: is that who this sounds like? "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well."

That’s not an assembly-line God; that’s a God who has His hand in our lives from before we were born. I don’t think any of us would get up on a Sunday morning and go to church if we didn’t believe that, but what do His blueprints for us look like?

Genesis, of course, says that He created man in His own image – “male and female created He them,” as it says in the King James Version. You will note immediately that this means, among other things, that God is not “He” at all, since he created female in His own image. I have used “He” throughout this piece and much of my writing, and I hope that has not posed an obstacle to anyone. When the English language develops a pronoun that works in this situation, I’ll use it!

More importantly, although we’re obviously not identical to God, being created in His image means that we have some portion of His qualities wired into us: the ability to love; the potential for wisdom; the capacity to forgive. I can find myself excusing my faults by saying, “That’s just the way I am. I was born this way – do you expect me to change?” Well, I was born with all that image-of-God in me too… so I don’t have much excuse not to show it.

There’s been a lot of debate recently – I’ve been reading about it in Newsweek – about whether belief in God makes any sense. Bestselling books have been written about why believers are sinply deluded. Now scientists have discovered that there’s a part of the human brain that induces people to search for God, to seek something higher than themselves to worship. The conclusion they draw from this is that’s why people believe in God, because they’re biologically more or less forced to. I think a better conclusion might be that God made us that way – He designed us to want to seek Him.

I came to a realization about giving not long ago. It’s not obvious from observing a 5- and 8-year-old around the house, but God has wired us to be givers. When you get down to it, it doesn’t make much sense that giving money to the church should be satisfying, or that tithing should be more satisfying (try it and see!). But God has made us in such a way that when we give, we feel pleasure in our souls.

My son has a bedtime ritual with me in which he asks me questions. It’s always “Who made…?” It could be “Who made my curtains?” or “Who made roads?” or “Who made Legos?” Sometimes he asks, “Who made the moon and the stars?” And he knows the answer already, but then I have the holy privilege of telling him, “God made the moon & the stars, and the sun, and everything in our world. He made them beautiful, and you know why? Because He knew it would make us happy.” Because He built us so that it would make us happy.

When I think about the way God made us, though, I keep coming back to a C.S. Lewis quote:

A car is made to run on gasoline, and it would not run properly on anything
else. Now God designed the human machine to run on Himself. He Himself is the
fuel our spirits were designed to burn, or the food our spirits were designed to
feed on. There is no other.

A friend told me a story about getting stranded on the road. She was driving along and the car sputtered, and jerked, and then just died. She was mystified because she had just stopped at the gas station. In fact, she had the pump to herself, kind of off to the side; she’d had some trouble getting the nozzle into the tank but by golly she made it go….

As it turned out, the reason it was so hard to fit the nozzle – and the reason the car died – was that she had used the diesel pump. And a gasoline engine doesn’t run real well on diesel; in fact, it won’t run at all until you apply several hundred dollars to it.

Just like C.S. Lewis said, God made us to run on Himself. We can try to fill that God-shaped hole with a lot of things: sports, drugs, relationships, career, even church. But the engine will never run as smoothly and powerfully as it was designed to unless we give it the fuel it was created to be filled with.

I’ve said this before: we’re all theologians. After all, theology is the study of who God is. Everything we think and do and say every day bears witness to who we believe God to be and whether we feel He’s worthy to take a central role in our lives. My prayer is that each of us will be tuned in to God’s presence and work in our lives, and worship Him for who He is.

The Sermon I'll Never Give

This summer, my niece was needling me a bit for not blogging about her graduation ("I must not be very important to you!"). Reflecting on that made me wonder, "What might I have written?" From there, I started to wonder what I would say if I had the chance to address the graduates... which in turn led me to think about sermons.

As a pastor's spouse, I have been called upon to deliver a message a couple of times -- in fact I'm doing one in a few weeks -- and I find it to be a tightrope act. I may be overly sensitive, but I always feel the onus of expectations:

• Some people feel that being married to a minister gives me extra qualifications, at least an extension phone on the God hotline;
• Some are suspicious that I'm secretly up there to be her mouthpiece (maybe even to say things she's afraid to say);
• Some will discount me entirely because I don't have a seminary education.

In any of these cases I feel a burden not to stray into Forbidden Territory -- I try to be commonsense, not "theological", and to foster a sense of community rather than calling people out. I'm willing to be a bit transparent and share my own struggles in an effort to encourage folks to look honestly at themselves.

I've often fantasized about what I would say if magically dropped into a place where I could hit and run with no repercussions of any kind (however, I should make clear up front that I am talking about issues that plague every church I've ever experienced, or for that matter any church you could name) . This really won't be organized into a sermon -- it may have more or less than 3 points, I might have to cherry-pick several disparate Scripture verses, and there's no poem at the end (there might not even be a humorous anecdaote at the beginning), but I think these would be the topics:

• The church needs to stop being just another Neighborhood Organization and start being the Body of Christ, "who, being in very nature God, made himself nothing... he humbled himself and became obedient..." (from Phil. 2:6-8). I am continually frustrated with people who are part of a church and get in a snit when things don't go their way, or leave when they get their feelings hurt, or just generally act as if everything should revolve around them. I have seen plenty of Church Folks who were just as self-important as any jest-set celebrity you could name, and many who were grudge-holders to put the Hatfields and McCoys to shame. If you want to know why our pews get less crowded, one reason is that people don't have to make the extra effort of getting up early on Sunday morning for the privilege of being treated the way they often are within our doors. And for my next act, I'll be going out and applying the above verses to my marriage, and all my relationships....
• The church is broke (or at least many are struggling financially) because we don't understand the basis for giving. I believe that many in our pews toss in a couple bucks a week because for them, it's equivalent to the "suggested donation" -- or even the admission charge -- at a community fundraiser or entertainment event. There are others who decide, "Until my church, and my pastor, do things my way, they won't get a dime of my money." What they fail to acknowledge is that it's not my church or my money. Both are God's, and nothing makes more sense than to take a significant portion of His money and give it to His church. We don't give to support the church we love, even though we do love it; we don't give in appreciation of the pastor (although I hope you do appreciate him/her, and I would say the same regardless of marital status :-); we don't give to fund worthwhile ministries, though I pray your church does exciting and Spirit-filled things. We give because God gave, and continues to give, to us; because we're grateful for His blessings; because it belongs to Him and it's only right to give back; and also because He has wired us to be generous beings and to have wonderful and joy-filled things happen in our souls when we do give.

I can't help but reflect wistfully on the original New Testament church, which is described as "one in heart and mind" and giving "to anyone as he had need." And what was the punchline? "More and more men and women believed in the Lord and were added to their number." (See Acts 2-5).

Theology for Dummies: Sin-cerely Yours

So I've been thinking a lot about sin lately.

It's just vaguely possible that came out wrong, so let me come at it from a different angle. A lot of different inputs, including some reading and a Casting Crowns concert, have me meditating a bit on the nature of sin.

I'll mention first, as I have before, that Mark Hall of Casting Crowns has an amazing gift for boiling down the Christian life -- whether in a song or in his remarks from the stage -- to a phrase that goes straight to your heart. Well, OK, mine. Tell me if this is the way it is for you: when someone says something that's true (not just "factual", but a truth about God, about life, about something that matters), I can almost hear a little "ding" in my head. My belief, or at least my prayer, is that that represents God's gift of discernment in me. I don't think it's just me grooving on something I already agree with, because it's not always a message that makes me happy. Anyway, I find that almost everything Mark Hall says or sings sets off that little bell.

At the concert he was talking about sin -- which in itself is pretty remarkable; not the usual concert fodder, or for that matter talked about much anywhere in the Christian community. A lot of us would much rather hear how much God loves us (a lot of times with the sort of hidden implication that therefore what we do doesn't matter all that much).

But even that thought may lead us off in the wrong direction. Because although I understood this in my heart and I've probably even expressed it as some sort of significant insight of my own in the past, at the concert it struck me again and as if for the first time: sin has very little to do with what you "do" or the "rules" you might break, whether consciously or unconsciously (although one of my basic principles contends that we rarely do wrong unconsciously -- we usually look the wrongness right in the eye and choose to do it anyway, often with the help of a rationalization process that puts our "everyday" imaginations to shame. No, wait; that's just me... nobody else does that).

No (if you remember the original point before the parentheses started sprouting), the real definition of sin is anything that interferes with your relationship with God. Anything that takes your attention away from Him, anything that makes you less likely to listen to His voice, anything that takes priority.

So that can be a rule-breaking kind of behavior; anything we do that we know God explicitly doesn't want us to do -- and again, we usually do know... right? -- does move us a little farther away. Listening to that other voice not only makes the Original Voice seem less important, it also (I think) makes us a lot less eager to spend time with the Speaker. Again, probably just me... but I'd just as soon not be in the presence of Absolute Goodness when I haven't been very good.

But there's a mess of other things that are plenty wonderful that can take me away from focusing on God: jobs, family activities, blogging, church.... Yup, even church activities can make you so busy, and make you emphasize the wrong things. People who are "pillars of the church" are often so invested in making the church "work" as an organization -- and believe me, somebody has to think about those things -- that it can be easy to lose sight of the fact that it's actually one part of the Body of Christ and has higher expectations, literally, for how it behaves.

For me, I'm very involved in the "production" of worship: I have several roles in the music ministry and I help produce the worship PowerPoints. Even more than that, though, I've been occupied for so long with thoughts about How Worship Works that my first thought in any service is, how is this service going? Any glitches? What do we need to talk about fixing? How does that font/color scheme look on the screen? Is everyone singing? Maybe we need to not use this one again....

Matt Redman is a worship leader and top Christian musician who ran into a similar conundrum: he was so concerned with making the music performance perfect that he was forgetting the purpose of worship -- to meet God in person, to experience and enjoy Him, to ... um... worship. He found he needed to stop doing music for awhile in order to meet God afresh, and out of that came his classic song, Heart of Worship.

So I guess my point is that a lot of things get piled up between me and the view of God from here. Some of them are obvious, although no easier to eradicate; others are seemingly benign but can sneak into the way. I want to make sure I'm on the alert for both kinds of obstacles and concentrate on my first task: keep that pathway clear so I can see him and hear Him.

April 1-7, 33

Seems like archeology is continually bringing us updates from the past. Witness the furor over the supposed burial place of Jesus and the wife & kids. And after all, what are the odds that a man named Jesus and a woman named Mary would be buried in the same tomb? Um... pretty good, actually.

OK, never mind that one. However, in the spirit of the Dead Sea Scrolls comes the news of the very recent discovery of Jesus' Day-Timer. It was so recent that scholars have not had an opportunity to translate it; but by an amazing coincidence, I actually majored in Aramaic in college. In fact, I was the treasurer of the Aramaic Club -- what a wacky bunch we were!

I wondered what the entries would look like for this same week back then. Here's my best translation:

Sunday, April 1: Parade -- Grand Marshal (note: the card below was attached)

Monday, April 2: Help apostles study for final exam

Tuesday, April 3: Temple -- help clean up; Exercise (upper-body workout)

Wednesday, April 4: Appear on "Pharisee Jeopardy!" Remember to answer in the form of a question.

Thursday, April 5: Dinner with the guys -- I bring the bread & wine

Friday, April 6: Full workout. *Out late -- stay over at Joseph of A's?*

Saturday, April 7: Don't forget to leave early wakeup call for tomorrow.

Notable Notes

I have noted (and whined, and made excuses) many times in this space about the stress of squeezing 10 pounds of tasks into a 5-pound sack of time, but last week I decided to raise the degree of difficulty. My wife was out of town at a 2-day meeting, I was supposed to be at choir rehearsal, and one of my favorite bands was appearing live less than an hour away. And so the usual dilemma, with some extra monkey wrenches: Fulfill my family obligations by staying with the kids? Honor my church commitment by attending choir rehearsal?

Nah.

I booked a sitter, boiled up some hot dogs for the kids, and took off to the MercyMe/Audio Adrenaline/Aaron Shust show in Albany. MercyMe is one of the leading bands in Christian music these days (at least in the more "mainstream", "radio-friendly" category) and one of the select few to receive my coveted "buy every CD when it comes out" status.

The show had its ups and downs -- more about that in a moment -- but all the way around was well-worth the time, expense, effort & overall disruption. Although I didn't actually quiz the kids about that last item. Eh, let them get their own blog.

I've been attending concerts for something like 28 years now, and whether Christian or.... what? pagan? I guess "secular" is the word I'm looking for -- there are always commonalities.

For example: I've still never quite come to terms with the custom of the encore. It always feels like the band is trying to squeeze an extra ovation out of me (and there's nothing that resonates more with me than compulsory enthusiasm): if you don't clap loud enough, we're not coming back out.... I understand the need for "dramatic tension" -- although it seems kind of self-dramatizing, especially for a Christian band -- but it really feels like it's become almost entirely a cliche.

One unique element: I was struck by the irony of attending the farewell tour of a band that's breaking up because the lead singer can't sing any more. Over the course of 16 years recording and touring (and largely screaming), Mark Stuart of Audio Adrenaline has systematically shredded his vocal cords. It was painful to hear him try to sing; as someone who only sings when I'm awake (I think), I can't imagine not being able to do it any more. And this guy had a serious pipe back in the day. Now he's croaking, or letting the other guys sing lead, or pointing the mike to the audience for them to do the singing.

And what is up with the audience singing?? Why would you pay $25 to go to a show and spend the whole night trying to drown out the lead singer? Why, there were so many inconsiderate people singing around me that I could hardly hear myself sing.

One more commonality, at least for a Christian concert: the Compassion International commercial (I won't say anything snarky about them; we've been supporters for a long time and they do great work) and a sprinkling of sermonizing from the guys on stage. Actually, I was pleased with the way these guys approached it; I've been at other shows where I wanted to leap up on the stage, grab a guitar and say, "Here -- remember this?"

Bart Millard, the lead singer of MercyMe, did leave us with a couple of cool thoughts:

• the reason some people in churches are so hard to be around is that they've seen others find a relationship with God and have their lives changed. Meanwhile, they've "hung around" God but haven't really experienced him -- who wouldn't be bitter?
• we need to soak in, absorb, live in the knowledge that the Big, Big God of the universe... all-powerful and knowing you better than you know yourself... is "madly in love with" you, and me, and each one of us.

I don't need to pay 25 bucks to know that... but it's good to be reminded just the same.

With No Direction Home

One of the best ways to tell whether I'm awake is to note whether I'm reading. While we discontinued the newspaper briefly when the kids were tiny, for a few years now I've had my daily dose of text delivered to the door -- to go with four weekly publications and a houseful of books. Along with the advent of the Internet, I rarely have to fall back on cereal boxes to get my daily fix.

I've also very much enjoyed having a fresh Sudoku arrive every day (two on Sundays!) -- at least in theory. For some reason, our local newspaper is publishing the Short Attention Span Theater version of Sudoku. They are so painfully simple that they never take me more than 10 minutes, and usually 5 or less.

The problem is that the Puzzle Center in my brain is just starting to wake up at that point and still wants to play. So I've gotten into the habit of tackling the crossword puzzle located on the same page. I'm not a crossword maven, but with a mother and aunt who structure their day around the morning puzzle, there's definitely a strand of it entwined in my DNA. The newspaper crossword is not overly difficult, so I've had reasonable success.

My daughter found a way to increase the challenge level, however. Finding herself with the day's newspaper and a pair of scissors (and minimal supervision, apparently), and knowing my fondness for puzzles, she cut out the crossword, sought me out and presented it to me with a flourish.

Unfortunately no one had the chance to explain to her that in order to do the puzzle, dad would also need the clues.

But you know, I see this kind of thing going on around me all the time. The virtue seemingly most prized in today’s world is “tolerance”, which at one time meant “respecting the right of others to have different viewpoints and beliefs”. The new & improved Y2K definition appears to be “believing everyone’s viewpoints and beliefs are equally valid”.

When you carry this to its logical conclusion, there’s no way for parents to teach their kids the difference between right and wrong – if there are no absolutes and it all depends on the situation and “what feels right to you.”

I think those of us who were raised to believe that there are moral absolutes would probably testify that we’ve seen some disturbing and even tragic choices come out of this approach to life. Recently, however, I've found myself feeling sorry for the young minds that have been put in this spot. After all, it’s hard enough to Do the Right Thing when you have some idea what the Right Thing is. It must be a truly helpless feeling to try to make decisions, some of them potentially life-changing, with absolutely nothing to go on. As Rich Mullins wrote in another of my favorite Neglected Classic songs, “The Maker of Noses”:

They said boy you just follow your heart -- but my heart just led me into my chest
They said follow your nose, but the direction changed every time I went and turned my head
And they said boy you just follow your dreams -- but my dreams were only misty notions
But the Father of hearts and the Maker of noses
And the Giver of dreams: He's the one I have chosen
And I will follow Him

I don't lay claim to a perfect record of making perfect choices, but I'm certainly glad that I have something, and Someone, to base them on (the poor choices have more to do with my own Short Attention Span). The puzzle's hard enough to do when you have the clues.