But nothing makes sense. Even with all of us here. Even with a few days and a million, million tears. Nothing makes sense. And I have no truth to offer yet.
But I'm here. And I'll be here. And I love you so.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Here...
All the loves are here. The talking, the planning, the processing, the quiet certainty of our little family. It's here. And I feel like I should write. I feel the need to make words happen. To put ink on paper and to mine out the meaning from all this mess.
Mothers...
All of the young mothers who've come to visit us have been so sensitive. They've all been so careful to ask about bringing their little ones along. So many young loves guarding your heart.
And speaking of mothers, we've got a really great one, you and I.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Silly confession #27...
Admittedly, I look in the rearview mirror more than any driver has the right to. Probably more than any other driver you've ever met. What can I say? I'm an addict. This is usually because I’m speeding. By quite a lot. And I’m constantly on the lookout for a cop to appear and write me a very painful ticket. Hence the preoccupation with glancing behind me.
But I've come to realize that I live my life that way too. Way too fast, like I'm rushing somewhere. And way too distracted by what's in the rearview. I'm in a hurry to get to wherever I’m going; some abstract perfect future in which I feel like I have it together more than I do now. And I'm constantly analyzing the thing that I’ve just done and wishing that I’d done it better; constantly worried that I’ve just done something that’s going to hinder me from getting wherever it is I’m headed just as fast as anyone else. I'm preoccupied with reaching the destination just when I should. I'm preoccupied with what's behind me. And, thus, I'm somewhat absent from where I am. Because somehow I've convinced myself that paying attention to those two aspects of this journey is the key to winding up where I want to be.
But frankly, by the time there’s a cop in my rearview mirror, that painful ticket is as good as written. And by the time I can analyze it, the moment’s gone and its effect has already been had on whatever this future is that I’m rushing toward.
So forgive me for making such an entirely un-youthful and un-dangerous statement. But all I can really do to avoid the cop in the rearview is to slow down and drive more carefully. On the road and off of it.
All I can do is to be present in each moment; engaging with my life as it is and taking responsibility for living in such a way that I become the person I want to be. I’ll never get there in a state of permanent distraction with both the past (that I cannot change) and the future (that I feel must measure up, and measure up fast).
I can’t drive my car looking only at the rearview mirror. And I can’t drive my life that way, either. Intentionality is squandered when we apply it to the past, re-scripting and re-scripting in our minds. Once the moment is gone, our mind is the only place that script will ever play out. And it will only serve to frustrate us with actions that we can’t fix now. What a waste!
I have to learn to be intentional with today, because who I am in this moment is the only me I can change. The future is still there waiting for me and the only way I have to shape it is with a series of seemingly small, present-tense choices. And it's time I set my eyes on those.
So all you go-getters can go for it. Because the race for the win doesn’t work for me trying to become someone of substance. Instead I’m slowing down and fixing my gaze on what’s right in front of me. Because all I really need to do well today, is today.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Like Frankie said...
And now, the end is here
And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I'll say it clear
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and every highway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way
Regrets, I've had a few
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption
I planned each charted course,
Each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way
I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way
Oh no, oh no, not me, I did it my way
For what is a man? What has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows and did it my way
Yes, it was my way
Saturday, June 19, 2010
On the significance of the sacraments...
One of the most challenging seasons I have ever experienced in ministry came when the fellow and I stepped in to meet a need in the children's ministry of our church. I love and enjoy kids, but I don't really know what to do with them. Suffice it to say, it was a rocky couple of months.
That said, it was a season full of learning. I learned so much about joy and beauty and innocence. And I learned so much about patience and discipline and trusting God when you are certain you have nothing left to give.
One moment in which what I learned caught me by surprise came when I was trying to teach the kids why we get baptized and why we take communion. Trying to give expression in the simplest terms of something that is often described in a very complex manner proved to be no easy feat.
But in the weeks and months following that experience, and in light of all of the experiences that this season has brought us, suddenly simplicity has become far less difficult to attain.
It's fascinating to think about all of the things that Jesus never told us to do. He never told us to read ten chapters of the Bible each day. He never told us to pray long, loud, eloquent prayers. He never told us to build buildings with pristine carpet and tastefully selected pews or padded chairs. He never said dress clothes. Or three fast songs followed by three slow songs.
There's nothing wrong with these things in and of themselves. Quite the contrary, I have to believe that church traditions have been established for a reason. Over the years, these things have become traditional because they've been seen as aids in helping people to approach God and each other.
But at the end of the day, we so often forget to differentiate between the mechanisms or vehicles that we use in our pursuit and the pursuit itself.
Approaching God. Approaching each other as we approach Him together. That's it. That's the whole point. That's why we're here.
And when squabbles about the mechanisms and vehicles of that approach create distance between us, then I think it's safe to say that we've lost our focus.
That's what I've come to love most about the simplicity of the sacraments. All theological debates aside, they take us right back to the center of our faith.
In baptism the old, tormented, sin-riddled version of ourselves is laid to rest in a watery grave. And we are lifted up clean, a new creation. We die to self and to this world. We rise to Christ and to His people. Completely forgiven.
In communion, we share a meal and we remember. We remember that Christ lived. That He walked with us, that He ate with us and that He taught us of His Father. And we remember that Christ died. That He poured out His blood and that His body was broken. All to rescue us. To reconcile us to God. And, an unexpected side effect, to reconcile us to one another.
The reminders that Jesus left us of Himself take us immediately back to the heart of God and the heart of our faith: forgiveness. Forgiveness is the heart of who we are. We are a tribe that bears a simple, humble name: the redeemed. Forgiveness is our identity.
And forgiveness is also at the heart of the sacraments.
So perhaps if we practiced them more often and made a point to take note of their meaning, we wouldn't forget who we are. Perhaps if we spent more time remembering that the central reality of Christianity is that God forgives each of us and reconciles us to Himself, then we wouldn't have so much trouble reconciling to those who have wronged us. Perhaps if we remembered forgiveness and restoration to be the heart of God both for us and our competition, for our friends and our enemies, then we would have less contention and more community. Perhaps.
Perhaps if we got back to the basics, we as a people could be more united and less divided. Perhaps we could set aside our petty differences and get about the business of letting a world of broken hearts know about the redeeming love of the Healer. Perhaps the Church could be a more accurate reflection of the heart of God.
So today, I am grateful for the sacraments and for the reminder they bring to this stubborn heart. God's forgiveness has changed my entire world. And He stands at the ready to love and to forgive every single person on earth.
May He make my heart the same.
That said, it was a season full of learning. I learned so much about joy and beauty and innocence. And I learned so much about patience and discipline and trusting God when you are certain you have nothing left to give.
One moment in which what I learned caught me by surprise came when I was trying to teach the kids why we get baptized and why we take communion. Trying to give expression in the simplest terms of something that is often described in a very complex manner proved to be no easy feat.
But in the weeks and months following that experience, and in light of all of the experiences that this season has brought us, suddenly simplicity has become far less difficult to attain.
It's fascinating to think about all of the things that Jesus never told us to do. He never told us to read ten chapters of the Bible each day. He never told us to pray long, loud, eloquent prayers. He never told us to build buildings with pristine carpet and tastefully selected pews or padded chairs. He never said dress clothes. Or three fast songs followed by three slow songs.
There's nothing wrong with these things in and of themselves. Quite the contrary, I have to believe that church traditions have been established for a reason. Over the years, these things have become traditional because they've been seen as aids in helping people to approach God and each other.
But at the end of the day, we so often forget to differentiate between the mechanisms or vehicles that we use in our pursuit and the pursuit itself.
Approaching God. Approaching each other as we approach Him together. That's it. That's the whole point. That's why we're here.
And when squabbles about the mechanisms and vehicles of that approach create distance between us, then I think it's safe to say that we've lost our focus.
That's what I've come to love most about the simplicity of the sacraments. All theological debates aside, they take us right back to the center of our faith.
In baptism the old, tormented, sin-riddled version of ourselves is laid to rest in a watery grave. And we are lifted up clean, a new creation. We die to self and to this world. We rise to Christ and to His people. Completely forgiven.
In communion, we share a meal and we remember. We remember that Christ lived. That He walked with us, that He ate with us and that He taught us of His Father. And we remember that Christ died. That He poured out His blood and that His body was broken. All to rescue us. To reconcile us to God. And, an unexpected side effect, to reconcile us to one another.
The reminders that Jesus left us of Himself take us immediately back to the heart of God and the heart of our faith: forgiveness. Forgiveness is the heart of who we are. We are a tribe that bears a simple, humble name: the redeemed. Forgiveness is our identity.
And forgiveness is also at the heart of the sacraments.
So perhaps if we practiced them more often and made a point to take note of their meaning, we wouldn't forget who we are. Perhaps if we spent more time remembering that the central reality of Christianity is that God forgives each of us and reconciles us to Himself, then we wouldn't have so much trouble reconciling to those who have wronged us. Perhaps if we remembered forgiveness and restoration to be the heart of God both for us and our competition, for our friends and our enemies, then we would have less contention and more community. Perhaps.
Perhaps if we got back to the basics, we as a people could be more united and less divided. Perhaps we could set aside our petty differences and get about the business of letting a world of broken hearts know about the redeeming love of the Healer. Perhaps the Church could be a more accurate reflection of the heart of God.
So today, I am grateful for the sacraments and for the reminder they bring to this stubborn heart. God's forgiveness has changed my entire world. And He stands at the ready to love and to forgive every single person on earth.
May He make my heart the same.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
That atrocious thing - independence...
Dependency. It is not something that we like to entertain in day to day life. We have learned to stand on our own two feet, to rely on our own abilities and understanding and to make our own choices.
We go through the grind. We bark our orders. We rack up our regrets. And we try to change the lives of others with our own limited means. I have seen and I have been this ugly side of leadership. To those who I have wounded struggling to do the work of God relying only on the resources of man, I apologize. I am wholeheartedly sorry. Please forgive me. It was such a mistake.
But for my own heart and for the hearts of every leader, a simple question: why would we ever choose to lead this way?
It must be because we see no alternative option. Because who would ever elect to lead in such a painful, counter-productive fashion if there were another way?
Far too often, I forget that Jesus' instructions to the early church about how to reach the world never left us lacking His assistance. He promised to send us a Comforter, to be with us until the end of the age, to write His law upon our hearts, to fill us with His Spirit and to give us the words to speak. In His comissioning of His followers, there is not a trace of abandonment.
Jesus promises to be present.
While we strive to lead, to speak, to love and to do what He's called us to in this world, we have the full and unmistakable promise of our Savior that He will be with us. He invites us into a state of complete dependency. He never expects us to "make it;" to arrive at a place where we are no longer in need of Him.
Rather, He invites and wholeheartedly encourages us to lean on Him in every moment. To rely on His wisdom, His grace and His leading is the mark of a follower of Him. It is the life that we sign on for.
I am unashamed of my need of Him. I must have Him every moment and I make catastrophic mistakes when I am without His aid. I am not independent. And standing on my own two feet is unwise because far too often they lead me in the wrong direction. Many people have been hurt by those wrong turns in the past and I openly repent. I repent also to myself, for foolishly forcing myself to do what I was never created to: to live and to lead without relying on the Lord.
It is too great a burden for me to bear. And it is not a burden He ever asked me to bear. And I willingly and joyful lay it down at His feet and am met with such sudden relief.
With all of my imperfections and foolishness, I will not posture myself as a perfect example to follow. I will not establish myself as the one you should look to for a model of living for God.
I am broken and imperfect. But my Father loves me. And He is leading me. And I will do my best to follow Him. And the best I can hope is that we can follow Him together, depending on Him to help us do all the things that we alone cannot.
Dependency. The beauty of a God whose love matters in my living; who delights to accompany me in my living. This beauty I cannot contain in words.
It is my joy to need Him.
We go through the grind. We bark our orders. We rack up our regrets. And we try to change the lives of others with our own limited means. I have seen and I have been this ugly side of leadership. To those who I have wounded struggling to do the work of God relying only on the resources of man, I apologize. I am wholeheartedly sorry. Please forgive me. It was such a mistake.
But for my own heart and for the hearts of every leader, a simple question: why would we ever choose to lead this way?
It must be because we see no alternative option. Because who would ever elect to lead in such a painful, counter-productive fashion if there were another way?
Far too often, I forget that Jesus' instructions to the early church about how to reach the world never left us lacking His assistance. He promised to send us a Comforter, to be with us until the end of the age, to write His law upon our hearts, to fill us with His Spirit and to give us the words to speak. In His comissioning of His followers, there is not a trace of abandonment.
Jesus promises to be present.
While we strive to lead, to speak, to love and to do what He's called us to in this world, we have the full and unmistakable promise of our Savior that He will be with us. He invites us into a state of complete dependency. He never expects us to "make it;" to arrive at a place where we are no longer in need of Him.
Rather, He invites and wholeheartedly encourages us to lean on Him in every moment. To rely on His wisdom, His grace and His leading is the mark of a follower of Him. It is the life that we sign on for.
I am unashamed of my need of Him. I must have Him every moment and I make catastrophic mistakes when I am without His aid. I am not independent. And standing on my own two feet is unwise because far too often they lead me in the wrong direction. Many people have been hurt by those wrong turns in the past and I openly repent. I repent also to myself, for foolishly forcing myself to do what I was never created to: to live and to lead without relying on the Lord.
It is too great a burden for me to bear. And it is not a burden He ever asked me to bear. And I willingly and joyful lay it down at His feet and am met with such sudden relief.
With all of my imperfections and foolishness, I will not posture myself as a perfect example to follow. I will not establish myself as the one you should look to for a model of living for God.
I am broken and imperfect. But my Father loves me. And He is leading me. And I will do my best to follow Him. And the best I can hope is that we can follow Him together, depending on Him to help us do all the things that we alone cannot.
Dependency. The beauty of a God whose love matters in my living; who delights to accompany me in my living. This beauty I cannot contain in words.
It is my joy to need Him.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Find a Voice...
All creatures of our God and King
Lift up your voice and with us sing,
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou burning sun with golden beam,
Thou silver moon with softer gleam!
O praise him! O praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou rushing wind that art so strong
Ye clouds that sail in Heaven along,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
Thou rising moon, in praise rejoice,
Ye lights of evening, find a voice!
O praise Him! O praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
...
Creation... Carriers of beauty... Bearers of the image of majesty... Go ahead...
Speak.
Tell the story that we have forgotten.
Speak.
Remind us of the Hands, the brushstrokes of Eternity that gave you your shape, your color, your light. Trace the image of Eternity in the eyes of those drowning in the stale weight of now.
Awaken in weary hearts the love of beauty and the hope for truth. Remind us that we live in a place still infused with the magic spark of heaven. A place shaped by the Everlasting God. A place that bears the beauty of His heart.
As we gaze up at last in childlike wonder, come right along and fulfill your purpose.
Measure the days. Indicate the changing of the moments.
Remind our hearts that we did not just happen, that we were knit together by skilled Hands. That the very Breath of eternity quickens who we are. That we are our Father's children. And that Him in us never fades.
Remind us that we were made... Made by the same God who made you.
In all your breathtaking beauty, speak.
And tell us to look up. To turn our eyes heavenward and remember that our Father is never absent from even the smallest moment. The He lives. That we live.
And that though you and all the heavens should grow old like a garment and though He should change you like a cloak, He stands forever and His years will have no end.
Listen.
The heavens are speaking. Hearts of men, hear the wisdom of the ages.
Hear them as they whisper: He is God Forever. God before we began. God long to outlive our simple light. He is the Everlasting One. He is the Eternal Beauty, Unfading.
Men of earth, incline your ears, life up the eyes of your hearts.
And Ye lights of evening, find a voice. Oh praise Him!
Psalm 102:25-27
Alleluia!
Lift up your voice and with us sing,
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou burning sun with golden beam,
Thou silver moon with softer gleam!
O praise him! O praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou rushing wind that art so strong
Ye clouds that sail in Heaven along,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
Thou rising moon, in praise rejoice,
Ye lights of evening, find a voice!
O praise Him! O praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
...
Creation... Carriers of beauty... Bearers of the image of majesty... Go ahead...
Speak.
Tell the story that we have forgotten.
Speak.
Remind us of the Hands, the brushstrokes of Eternity that gave you your shape, your color, your light. Trace the image of Eternity in the eyes of those drowning in the stale weight of now.
Awaken in weary hearts the love of beauty and the hope for truth. Remind us that we live in a place still infused with the magic spark of heaven. A place shaped by the Everlasting God. A place that bears the beauty of His heart.
As we gaze up at last in childlike wonder, come right along and fulfill your purpose.
Measure the days. Indicate the changing of the moments.
Remind our hearts that we did not just happen, that we were knit together by skilled Hands. That the very Breath of eternity quickens who we are. That we are our Father's children. And that Him in us never fades.
Remind us that we were made... Made by the same God who made you.
In all your breathtaking beauty, speak.
And tell us to look up. To turn our eyes heavenward and remember that our Father is never absent from even the smallest moment. The He lives. That we live.
And that though you and all the heavens should grow old like a garment and though He should change you like a cloak, He stands forever and His years will have no end.
Listen.
The heavens are speaking. Hearts of men, hear the wisdom of the ages.
Hear them as they whisper: He is God Forever. God before we began. God long to outlive our simple light. He is the Everlasting One. He is the Eternal Beauty, Unfading.
Men of earth, incline your ears, life up the eyes of your hearts.
And Ye lights of evening, find a voice. Oh praise Him!
Psalm 102:25-27
Alleluia!
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