Tripping

Just another manic Monday

2010-04-05T15:01:00.002-04:00

I was in the dentist's office today, waiting for Noah, when I heard the "Manic Monday" song. Growing up in the 80s was fun.

Anyway, YES!, I managed to semi meet my deadline. I will give you the gory details in the weeks to come. Unless you are a formula writer, this endeavor is far harder than it appears.

We'll talk tomorrow. Many thanks to those of you who have remained loyal through the stoppage - you can stop emailing me now. I'm alive. And, Jared, I owe you an email.

My apologies

2010-03-04T11:14:00.002-05:00

I am working furiously on my book, hoping to have it to my agent by March 30th. Bear with me. I miss you too.

Up (and downs) in the Air

2010-01-15T08:00:00.001-05:00

Last night, one of my closest friends took me out to celebrate my birthday. Yes, my birthday was in October, but we have both been so busy that we just got around to it.

We went to dinner and talked about where we come from. We shared our family history, and I realized that as we both talked about grandparents and old situations, there were many times we said something like, “I’m not exactly sure what happened there. No one ever talked about the details.”

After dinner, we went to see “Up In The Air” a new George Clooney movie. It was a very sad tale, really, about isolation and loss and secrets.

It’s amazing the secrets we carry within us, isn’t it? Whether it’s simply refusing to verbalize an opinion or staying mum about something that we did in our youth (or yesterday) that we are ashamed of, we just keep things to ourselves. Often we have fantasies, or dreams for ourselves, that we never tell anyone. Mostly I think we internalize those out of fear that they’ll never come true.

I have been working on a book for 2 years. I told everyone about it, and even got an agent fairly quickly. Things were humming along, and parts of it went to focus group and everything. When the process stalled, I started to keep things to myself. I’m not sure if it was embarrassment or a sense of failure or what – but for some reason I kept all those feelings to myself – fear, disappointment, questions.

Now that things are humming again (yeah, you’ll have a book in 12-18 months!) I am trying to examine why I am so open with success and closed with failure. I sense, after our conversation last night about family history, that is critical for our children and our world that we start to express our inner selves a little more.

Someday, when my great-granddaughter is out for her birthday with a friend, I want her to be able to articulate who I was and WHY I was. Of course, she won’t know everything, but perhaps it will be an encouragement to her life to know the ups and downs of mine.

Safety

2010-01-14T08:25:00.002-05:00

I currently sit on the Safe Schools Advisory Council for the school district we live in. It is a large district, with over 3300 students in the high school that only houses 10th, 11th and 12th grades.

After the Columbine incident, many schools have taken a proactive approach to school safety. Even though I fully support having a plan in place, as I sit and discuss things like “armed intruder drills” in our elementary schools, I can feel my heart breaking.

How did we become so troubled?

I also serve on a school committee that advocates the Olweus Program. It is labeled an “anti-bullying” program, but I see so much more happening. One of the key components is building empathy. The program has designed routines and activities and ideologies that promote empathy.

EMPATHY: noun; the intellectual identification with or vicarious experiencing of the feelings, thoughts, or attitudes of another.

For the world to ever be safe, empathy is the key. Now, if you’re a Christian, you may be thinking, “The world just needs Jesus!” Well, yeah, but what was He about? He is the consummate example of empathy = descending to earth to live as a man. Talk about walking in someone else’s shoes!

Empathy takes time and effort, it is intentional. I want to have this empathy flag that waves in front of my face every time I am tempted to feel judgmental or jealous or even annoyed. And, frankly, I do.

The Spirit of God is my empathy flag, and He reminds me of grace and compassion. He encourages me to remember that my perspective is limited, my point of view is self-centered and my outlook can be self-serving. Then He gently tells me again that the grace I have received is the grace I should dispense.

Giving and receiving grace. Everybody’s safe.

Look up

2010-01-13T06:42:00.004-05:00

I have been attending a lot of basketball games in recent days. All three of my children play, my oldest on two teams, and so the schedule is pretty packed.

The last two nights have been Mia’s team. If you have never seen a basketball game involving young girls you really haven’t lived. My husband, the coach, is incredibly patient as they learn and develop the motor skills necessary to play.

One of the phrases that he yells out often is, “Look up! Look up!” Girls (and young boys) have a tendency to look down at the ball when they are dribbling – part of learning how to control it – but they fail to see the court and their teammates and the basket when they do. Steve is encouraging them to dribble without watching, to keep their eyes set on the entire game – a skill that requires practice.

Over the last two nights, the phrase has been ringing in my ears: Look up! Look up!

It says in the book of Philippians chapter 4, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

Don’t watch yourself dribble today.

Practice looking up.

Straight away

2010-01-11T09:47:00.003-05:00

I am writing today while sitting in the waiting room at the orthodontist’s office. My son, JJ, is getting his SECOND set of braces put on, after wearing his first pair for 2 ½ years.

The process of getting braces put on is two-fold. The week before the wires and bands, little tyrants called “spacers” are placed between the teeth to make room for what’s coming. As you can imagine, both steps in the braces process, spacers and wires, HURT. JJ says that, for a few days, it feels like a constant toothache.

Pain is an interesting phenomenon, really. Think of the lengths we go to in order to avoid it. And, yet, if I read my Bible correctly, pain is absolutely INTEGRAL to becoming like Christ.

When they placed JJ’s spacers in last week, he continued to be AWARE of their presence – mainly because of the discomfort they caused. Often in my own life, when my relationships are out of sorts or broken, there is a discomfort – a pain – that reminds me of a problem. I suspect this is a very good thing, even though I do not like it. Sleeplessness, a disturbance in my spirit and the inability to forget are the impetus we need - to act, to change, to respond. Pain is God’s way of keeping us alert.

When JJ learned he would need another set of braces, I’ll admit he cried. Funny though, when he was younger and knew he was getting braces, he was actually excited. What’s different this time? He KNOWS what it’s like from experience – he anticipates the pain he will have to endure.

True for me, too. I know, without doubt, that the way of Christ is death and resurrection. Things must die – attitudes, habits, people, even really GOOD things – in order to make way for the new thing that God wants to do in our lives and in the world. Yet, after we experience this death a couple of times, we become gun-shy. Though we know it’s right and good and best – it HURTS. We anticipate the necessary painful process as we grow closer and closer to God, but it is still hard to welcome it. Learning to accept it straight-away, instead of practicing avoidance techniques, is a result of experiencing the freedom and wholeness that comes from completing the process.

Embracing pain as the cleansing, growing and teaching agent that it is can be difficult. God knows that – remember He went to the cross – proof positive that temporary pain creates a path for healing and redemption.

Oh, and straight teeth.

Pride cometh before the fall...

2010-01-05T21:45:00.004-05:00

I am really crazy about my children. As a matter of fact, I must admit to some pride.

My eldest humbled me yesterday, however.

I heard some rustling yesterday morning about 5:00 am. I figured someone was using the bathroom and allowed myself a few more minutes to doze even though I am usually up at that time.

I woke with a start at 6:15 am, realizing I had overslept, and ran into my son’s room to wake him as well. He was under the covers as he is most mornings, so it never occurred to me that he had been up and around already.

Minutes before the bus was to arrive, he asked me if the printer to the family computer is working. I explained that it is, but is running low on ink, so he’d better use Dad’s printer. I then innocently asked why he needed to print something when it was almost time to catch the bus.

I won’t bore you with every sordid detail, but suffice it to say that Noah had gotten up at 5:00 am to write a major English paper that he was supposed to be working on for the entire Christmas break. And, yes, he was back in bed at 6:15 am.

The paper was based on “Our Town” by Thornton Wilder. Just like its character, Emily, Noah was asked to ponder the important things in his life that he takes for granted – things that he would realize are precious if he suddenly died.

Hmmmm. I can immediately think of a variety of things he could choose from, not the least of which is his mother’s steadfast love and attention.

What do you suppose Noah wrote about?

SHOWERS (yes, the kind where you use shampoo), WEARING CLOTHES (there was even a forced reference to those poor naked countries where people apparently are forced to work in the nude) and HANGING WITH FRIENDS AT SCHOOL.

I have been purged of my hubris. Thank you, Lord.

Picnic anyone?

2010-01-04T08:22:00.004-05:00

We had a lot of holiday revelry at our house over the past two weeks. Between our friends and family (and our kids’ friends) we had parties, holiday gatherings and sleepovers.

I have decided to deal with the aftermath piece by piece. I woke early this morning to tackle my kitchen, but right before I turned on the dishwasher, I decided to run downstairs and see if I could find any stray dishes I had missed. Sure enough, there were two soda bottles on a video game shelf that I had not seen earlier, and I grabbed them.

It wasn’t until I was back on the steps that I realized that the bottles were covered in ants. You may be wondering why it would take me so long to see it, but frankly, I was not EXPECTING ants. For heaven’s sake, it is way below freezing in the part of the country were I live, and ants on a soda bottle in my family room did not even occur to me. As a matter of fact, I was borderline shocked at the discovery.

As I rinsed the bottles upstairs, I pondered how the little critters got there. All ants should currently be hibernating, right? Or do they die each year? I must do some further research – or call an exterminator.

This may be a crazy stretch for you, but right at my sink I had the strangest notion that Christians should be like ants.

The grace and kindness and patience we are to embody in the world should seem so out of place, should almost shock those who touch it. Christians are out of place in many ways, but not the ways we’ve chosen.

Case in point: I have a friend on Facebook who is an old pastor friend of mine. He taught a class I was a student in years ago, a class I enjoyed very much. He has since taken a church in Texas, and so I have not seen him in quite a few years. I do read his FB updates, however, and apparently he believes Texas is “God’s country.” His view of Texas must corroborate his view of being a Christian – and he often makes scathing commentary on the rest of us being Socialist or not standing up for family values or whatever is itching his conscience at the moment.

For some reason, American Christians believe that being the vocal moral conscience of our nation is the way to influence change – or why the Bible says we are to be in the world but not of the world.

What if – and I say this after washing them down the drain – we are to be more like my ants? What if our love and graciousness is to be so tangible that it is simply out of place in a world that lives below freezing? People certainly aren’t expecting it, it may even produce further research.

Merry, Merry Christmas

2009-12-15T19:49:00.004-05:00

Make Peace.

See you in January.

Feelings or lack thereof

2009-12-14T07:11:00.000-05:00

I had the strangest dream last night. It involved old friends, some sad news, and the name of an old infomercial product that evaded me throughout the dream – one that I intend to Google later today.

Funny, though, I wasn’t sad about the sad news. The others weren’t over-wrought, mind you, but they showed decent sorrow. Me? Not a bone of decent sorrow in me.

The person that had died (yes, it was a death scene) was someone I know, but just a casual acquaintance. People that I know well know her – so I am kind of connected through mutual knowing, but not by common experience or time spent in friendship.

When I woke up, I took some time to marvel at my lack of feeling. Someone had died, after all, and her death had affected those I love – even if it hadn’t really affected me. It was just a dream, but I wondered what was wrong with my heart.

The feeling reminds me of how I can see stories on the news, or hear truths about the living conditions of people around the world, and somehow stay disconnected. Someone once told me that we can’t possibly take it all in or we’d be emotional wrecks, but I think it should disturb us that things don’t disturb us.

So, as I brushed my teeth this morning, I watched the water come on and prayed for the millions in refuge camps who have no access to clean water. I didn’t stand there and feel lucky or blessed. No, I felt the inequity. I felt the responsibility to act.

Look at your water today and ask God for a heart like His.

O mummy dear

2009-12-11T06:59:00.006-05:00

J.J. has been working on a project for the Ancient Egyptian Fair at his school today. You can see from the pictures, that he made a mummy. He also wrote a paper entitled, “Ancient Egyptian Mummification.” He was never one for flowery titles like his mother.

As I edited his paper for him, I learned so many fascinating things. For instance, I knew that the Egyptian embalmers removed the internal organs and put them in canopic jars, but I did not know that they left the heart in the body because they believed it to be the center of feeling and the essence of the person. Apparently, a person was going to need his or her heart immediately in the after-life, so nobody dared take it out.

The brain, however, was a different story. A long spike was pushed up the nose of the corpse, the brain was smashed, and then removed with the spike. Often times, the brain was simply thrown away because it was considered generally unimportant.

Now, we know that our brains are important, but it got me thinking.

How many times have I let my “better judgment” be an obstacle to acting on a compassionate impulse? Or how frequently do I let fear undermine an empathetic urge? Often times, thinking things through has proved my downfall – and at other times, impulse has landed me in a shipload of trouble.

Perhaps there are legitimate reasons to throw the brain away.

Peace

2009-12-10T15:03:00.000-05:00

"True peace is not just freedom from fear, but freedom from want."

President Barack Obama when accepting the Nobel Peace Prize today.

Me and Karl

2009-12-09T06:39:00.004-05:00

Growing up in the good ol’ US of A, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Communism was a great evil that needed to be eradicated from the face of the Earth. The Cold War was a pressing necessity, and when the Berlin Wall fell, I had the same sense of pride and eagerly participated in the “Go Capitalism!” pep rally like everyone else.

Now, I think I am a Communist – or a Marxist at the very least.

I spent one week on a cruise ship. What I observed in the dining room was enough to make me rethink the whole world, probably because the whole world was around me.

The wait staff represented 67 different countries. Our waiters were from the Philippines and Jamaica respectively – Ricky and Andre were their names. They were very hard workers, and during the first meal I decided to learn about them.

Both had families back in their countries that they were away from for 6 months at a time. Andre would disembark once a week, on Wednesdays, and jog to his kids’ school to check up on them briefly before rushing back. Both spoke multiple languages (far more than the one that I can barely use properly) and they were intelligent and fascinating men.

On Day 2, I asked them why they do this job. Ricky smiled thoughtfully and essentially explained that his sacrifice provided opportunities for his children that they would otherwise miss out on.

I began to pick up my own dishes by Day 3 – uncomfortable with being served in this way. Unless we are disabled, putting our own napkin on our laps should be a no brainer also.

There was a group at a table near us that continued to attract my attention. Using my keen observation skills, I determined that they had saved for quite a while for this trip. I will not go into further descriptive detail, but just know that they were no multi-millionaires.

The way they treated the wait staff, however, was appalling. They acted as if they were the royal family (actually, the royal family has far better manners) and were so demanding. They each ordered multiple entrees every night, sometimes just having a single bite, and wasted an obscene amount of food. You realize, I suppose, that I am really holding back on these folks trying to exercise grace – but it isn’t easy!!

They felt like someone owed them something. I’m not sure why, but they were fine upstanding examples of why the world hates Americans.

I started to wonder what Ricky and Andre thought. By Day 5, I was brave enough to ask.

“Oh, Wendy,” Ricky said with a smile, “there are people like that all over the world. Unfortunately, they all vacation here.” We both laughed.

As I ponder social inequities, I recognize that they have caused both problems – both Ricky being far from his family and people trying to feel important and acting like jerks. I hear the argument that we provide jobs and income and it all makes the world go round, but somehow somewhere something is terribly wrong.

I am not escaping the hypocrisy of my own presence there. Out of guilt and appreciation, I left them a huge tip. Did I help or hinder?

I’m not really a Communist. No, I am in favor of a dictatorship – a benevolent one where God is in charge. I wonder what that would look like?

Onward

2009-12-07T08:21:00.003-05:00

We talked abouth THIS ARTICLE at church yesterday. If you don't have time to read it, essentially a group of Christians, calling themselves the "Christian Army," marched in a town not too far from where I live in order to protest the removal of the nativity scene in the town square.

I have always been intrigued by our use of certain terms. Even that hymn that says, "Onward Christian soldiers, marching as to war..." was one that I just stood and let everyone sing around me.

No need to be militant about nativity scenes. If you want them that badly, put them up in your own yard. Instead, be just as intentional about love. Use your energy differently.

As Pastor Jim said yesterday, set an injustice straight this season - a real injustice where people are suffering and unheard.

Or maybe take that free ham you won with your supermarket points and hang it on someone's door knob - anonymously. Lots of people are struggling financially this year.

Last week, the principal at my son's school said something intriguing to him. He said, "You lead by doing, not by telling."

Amen.

Let's all put our weapons down this year.

And BINGO was his NAME-O

2009-12-03T19:31:00.003-05:00

I have a very conservative heritage. There were no playing cards allowed in my grandmother’s house, and my parents did not allow dancing at my wedding. Lest you find them prudish, they are great people who are lavish with their love, and they truly felt like there were some temptations that were better avoided.

On my honeymoon, I met a 73 year old Jewish woman from Florida named Myra. She and her husband had recently sold the chain of discount liquor stores that they owned, and so they now took cruises several times a year in their retirement. I met her on the pool deck on the first day.

We became fast friends, and later that afternoon, Myra invited me to go play bingo on a lower deck. I had NEVER played bingo before, as it was considered gambling in my home, but I was a grown and married woman now, AND the idea was intriguing, so I tagged along.

It is now 17 years later, and even though I have managed to resist the temptation to play every Tuesday night at the local Catholic church, I must admit I became obsessed with winning bingo on that trip. I never missed a chance to play (neither did Myra) but I chalked my persistence up to the fact that I needed a break from the Caribbean sun by the time 4:00 pm bingo rolled around.

Since I am in confession mode, I will tell you that every vacation that I go on, if there is bingo to be played, I participate. I even dragged my children into the obsessive pit last week with me.

I have probably played a total of 27 games of bingo in my life. Considering I have lived approximately 15,330 days, that is pretty insignificant, but in all that time, I have NEVER won. Every game I am convinced that I will win, but I never do.

We traveled with another family on our vacation last week, and my husband had warned them ahead of time about my vacation bingo addiction which they found very amusing. The first evening of our trip, they tagged along, much as I had done with Myra years ago. Would you believe that their 9 year-old daughter won the $500 first night jackpot?? No kidding.

To make matters worse, her mother (my friend) won $98 the next night AND won a free string ray excursion. We had already chosen that particular excursion, so the ship happily refunded her pre-payment as part of her winnings.

I already suspected, before the trip, that I was unlucky, but I could no longer ignore the cosmic confirmation of my unluckiness anymore.

So, because of my background, I was tempted to wonder if God kept me from winning. I already have that natural guilt-o-meter built in, but to assume that God would intervene in a bingo match to teach me a lesson is an interesting perspective, isn’t it? Does God even care about bingo? Probably not. Does God care about how I use the money and resources that He has given me? Definitely.

Which, of course, brings me to my point. I think sometimes, in our efforts to always do right, we can consider God to be a cosmic kill joy or we imagine that He would thwart our fun. I don’t think God was terribly upset about bingo, but I know He wants me to think about the time and money I was wasting – and, really, for what?

It’s a great life question really – one that we should ask before playing bingo or performing brain surgery…

For what?

Myra lived quite a few more years after my honeymoon, and we exchanged Hanukkah/Christmas cards every year until she died. Wonder what she’s doing now every day at 4:00 pm.

Let's face it

2009-12-02T00:42:00.000-05:00

While I was on vacation, I won a free facial. Let me try to explain the problem with that.

I have RIDICULOUSLY sensitive skin. Even very expensive, all-natural products bother my face, and so I walk around with the complexion of Winston Churchill most of the time.

Never one to pass up on FREE, however, I decided to explain to the woman at the salon about my ever present ruddy situation – thinking that she may have some helpful hints to help me.

I was treated like royalty upon entering the place, handed a refreshing glass of mint water, and invited to wait in a sound proof room that was pumping in classical music. Delightful.

A gorgeous woman from South Africa then came to collect me, and take me to a treatment room. The room was immaculate, quiet and painted in soothing colors. I marveled at my good fortune, sat on the treatment table, and waited to begin.

The gorgeous woman was named Chane (SHANAY). We spoke at length about my hyper-sensitivity problem, and she nodded with confidence. I was in good hands.

As the facial began, I was invited to lie down upon a table and was covered in warm blankets. Irish flute music was playing, and the lights were dimmed. All the creams and clays smelled so great, and I almost fell asleep as Chane wiped and examined and pampered.

Afterwards, I sat back up and took a moment to wake up. Dear Chane was smiling at me and asked if I was ready for “a little chat.” Sure, I thought, why not? Everything still smelled great.

Suddenly Chane’s face turned grim. Whatever the news, it wasn’t good.

“Your face is in serious trouble,” was how she began. “You seem like such a lovely person, why wear a face that doesn’t reveal your beauty?”

PAUSE: At this point in our story, I was feeling more disbelief than actual hurt. I took a quick look around the serene room for the Candid Camera.

Chane went on, “The circulation around your eyes is very poor. You obvious laugh a lot, because your laugh lines are frighteningly deep. And, honestly, I would like you to see our Botox specialist. It’s a free consultation, and I really think it would help solve many of your issues.”

BOTOX is such a fascinating word, isn’t it? It’s on par with CELLULITE and GIRDLE and GRAVITY.

After more scary facial revelations, Chane handed me a paper with all her recommendations written in tidy handwriting. If I had purchased all of her suggested products (some for everyday, some for monthly use and some quarterly) I would have spent $ 2,138 on face creams. I think I added a quarter inch to my laugh lines just then as I imagined my husband’s face when I explained the bill.

All of a sudden, though, right there on the table, it wasn't funny. I had the most grippingly sad moment for women who actually spend their time trying to be younger. Someone must follow all these instructions or they wouldn’t exist, right? I suddenly felt very weighted in the light room, and if there are sadness lines, I’m sure I started on them. Preying on insecurity, beauty experts clean out our wallets and our sense of self.

Sure, I want to look nice – who doesn’t? But there is something deeply troubling about that much self-focus.

I smiled and thanked Chane profusely for her time and attention. I assured her that the whole experience was terribly relaxing, but went on to explain that I love my lines. I laugh out loud freely and often, and I guess it shows.

I think it’s worth it to mention that the products destroyed my skin. Later that evening, I could feel the burning and tightness beginning. Days later, I am currently walking around with huge red and scaly patches all over my face, and Winston Churchill is actually prettier than me right now.

Prettier. Not happier.

Where to start, where to start...

2009-11-30T20:44:00.003-05:00

I have been away with my family. It was a great time.

I observed SO many things that I want to discuss with you that I'm not even sure where to start, but let me just give you some hints.

I think I'm a Communist.

A woman told me I need Botox to my face.

I saw the best and worst of humanity.

I did not win even one game of BINGO. I am officially the unluckiest person I know.

And, after I finish the laundry, we'll talk about it all week. See you tomorrow.

Obvious to what

2009-11-16T00:30:00.000-05:00

“… those of us who have the nerve to call ourselves Christians will do well to be extremely reticent on the subject. Indeed, it is almost the definition of a Christian that he is somebody who knows he isn’t one, either in faith or morals. Where faith is concerned, very few of us have the right to say more than—to vary a saying of Simone Weil’s—“I believe in a God who is like the True God in everything except that he does not exist, for I have not yet reached the point where God exists.” As for loving and forgiving our enemies, the less we say about that the better. Our lack of faith and love are facts we have to acknowledge, but we shall not improve either by a morbid and essentially narcissistic moaning over our deficiencies. Let us rather ask, with caution and humour—given our time and place and talents, what, if our faith and love were perfect, would we be glad to find it obvious to do?”

— W.H. Auden

Branching out

2009-11-12T08:36:00.006-05:00

I keep learning from my children, and at the risk of sounding like a bragging mother today, I need to tell you about last night.

J.J. was in a play.

Now that may not sound very earth shattering to you, but let me explain. I used to be an actor – many moons ago now – but I could never get my children to even sing in the church choir – especially J.J. No amount of coercion or bribery would convince him to stand up in front of other people, and so I just let him choose for himself.

When he came home from school one day and declared, “I got a part in the play. I am the prince. I sing a solo and I have to wear tights,” I was pretty sure I would have a coronary right on the spot. This was no small step into performing. No, for a nonexhibitionist – this was a leap off a cliff.

I suspect it helped that two of his buddies from the baseball team were in it too – another fact I marveled over. What was happening to their well defined cleat wearing roles?

Last night during dinner, as we prepared to leave for the show, I asked J.J. if he was nervous, and he said exactly this:

“I think I’m always nervous when I try something new, but I chose to be the Prince, so I’m going to suck it up and go out there. It’ll probably be great once I get started.”

Later, after his thrilling performance (thrilling being his mother’s word) I thought about that response. My friend Dave, who I do not see nearly enough anymore, sent me an email the other day and he essentially talked about the price of being a true follower of Christ. He wrote, “I’ve never felt more excited about the gospel, but I feel I’m now amongst an incredibly small minority that feel this way. Most feel that they liked me better the way I was.”

It’s an old story, but the truth is that Christians want things to be easy and comfortable, and that desire seems to be in direct contradiction to the life of Jesus and His words. Being a follower of Christ demands venturing into uncomfortable, unfamiliar and brand new places – both literally and figuratively.

When God asks me to have a look at myself, I am often forced to face things about my personality and my bias’ that are disturbing to me. I would often like to think about cotton candy instead, but I recognize that if I dare to go there, God has something great for me in the end – growth, healing, better relationships.

My little baseball Prince reminded me of the truth:

I think I am always nervous when I try something new, but I chose to follow Christ, so I’m going to suck it up and go out there. It’ll probably be great once I get started.”

So, like J.J. and his baseball buddies above, I'm still branching out.

Learning to lose

2009-11-10T07:46:00.001-05:00

I will admit that I have gone completely the opposite way of Winston Churchill. You may remember his famous quote:

“Show me a young Conservative and I'll show you someone with no heart. Show me an old Liberal and I'll show you someone with no brains.”

Labels bother me though. When I was younger, I was naïve and I bought into the whole Christian-conservative-family-values-war-hawk front. I was never right-wing, mind you, because I always had enough in me to question everything. However, I do not think I wear the word “liberal” well either. It, too, has many troubling aspects.

I want to be a Christian. How that forms my thinking and forces me to interact with the world is a result of Scripture and my relationship with Jesus.

For instance, in my Bible reading lately, I have been really wrestling with Mark 8:34-36. The same kind of Jesus’ ideology can be found in other gospels too, but let’s just look at what Mark recorded:

34Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. 35For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. 36What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?

Crazy challenging words, and I think we have come to think that Jesus was being figurative – but I suspect that He was being quite literal and thorough actually. Remember that many of His listeners died for their faith – as did He – and there is something very deep and profound here for us.

One of the arguments that I hear against promoting peace around the world is that it would expose us to danger at home. Our foremost concern seems to be protecting not only our lives, but our WAY of life here in America. We are motivated by fear, yes? And for some insane reason, we believe that WAR brings about PEACE.

Now apply the words of Jesus to our thinking. What if being vulnerable and promoting peace (i.e. less money on weapons, less emphasis on posturing, more on education, food, clean water) does in fact open us up to danger but is indeed the way of Jesus anyway? What if He is telling us that defending our way of life by any means necessary is an ultimate forfeit of our souls?

I do not have answers. I’m just thinking.

Hmmm...perhaps someone is messing with me?

2009-11-05T08:05:00.001-05:00

Bearing gifts

2009-11-03T00:13:00.000-05:00

If you have followed the blog for some time, you know that we have adopted 4 stray cats. I never had cats growing up, and I am learning what fascinating little animals they are.

They are constantly bringing me gifts. Usually, they bring mice indoors and leave them in my slippers. One even left a full size rabbit under Mia’s bed last Spring.

This week, however, they have been baffling me. Last Friday, I left a bag of Halloween candy downstairs in the family room – which is probably the farthest point from my bedroom, and each morning when I wake up there are little candies by my bed. None of the candies are open, but they keeping picking out the same kind.

Let me be sure you understand. There must be 20 different kinds of candy – Sweet Tarts, Reese’s, Laffy Taffy, Snickers – but they have been digging through the bag and selecting the mini Hershey bars – Krackel bars and Dark chocolates .

I find this so amusing, that I continue to leave the bag of candy unattended, just to see if it will keep happening. Is it the color? Is it the smell? Did Hershey pay them a fee for product placement?
I was sitting and laughing with my husband about it, watching our beloved Phillies, when Mia noticed that one of the cats was playing with something in my closet. She was rolling around with my shoes, shaking something back and forth. I got up to check, thinking it was chewing my belt, when I suddenly realized the belt was moving – all on its own.

The Visible Invisible

2009-11-02T06:54:00.002-05:00

We had a bout with H1N1 here at the Melchior’s. That is not a new or unusual tale, because MANY households are experiencing this nasty flu.

When my kids are really sick, I am reminded of the fragility of life. I sometimes imagine the invisible war going on all around us – the microscopic germ that can wreak complete havoc on a huge body vs. the antibodies within our bodies that fight to ward off more attacks. It’s like a game of Risk.

Faith – believing in something you cannot see – can seem a little risky too. I wrestle with doubt, just like everyone else, and believing in the unseen isn’t a popular choice in our culture either. Oh no, we are far too advanced and self-sufficient for invisible things, aren’t we?

Here’s the thing, though. God is really not invisible. Unfortunately, however, some who claim to represent Him are wreaking havoc and they seem to be the ones who claim the spotlight – ensuring their visibility. They remind me of the flu.

There are faithful people of God quietly making His presence tangible all over the world – digging wells to find water, feeding hungry children in urban centers, rescuing women from human trafficking, honestly loving their neighbors – all clearly in the name of Jesus.

Just because God doesn’t clamor for your attention doesn’t mean He isn’t there. Have a look around today.

Oh my God?

2009-10-20T00:26:00.000-04:00

There is a new documentary entitled, Oh My God?, that is already playing at film festivals and will hit the U.S. in November (select theatres). The director, Peter Rodger, told reporters at the Jerusalem Film Festival, “My goal was to find out what this entity that goes by the name of God means to people.” He went on:

“I was fed up with the childish schoolyard mentality that permeates this world, what I call the "My God is Greater than Your God" syndrome. By throwing out the question in an interview as 'What is God?' instead of 'Who is God?' it makes the interviewee look at God from the outside in rather than from the inside out.”

Hmmm. Interesting questions.

Let’s personalize it a little. Would you ask, “Who is Wendy? or “What is Wendy?” and how would I feel about either question?

I completely agree with Rodger’s idea about the childish schoolyard mentality, but I must disagree with his thesis that asking WHAT instead of WHO uncovers truth.

When I was a pastor to 20 somethings, I used to say over and over to them, “Always start with God. Don’t begin with your own perspective or circumstances or learning, because your conclusions will end up faulty. Find out who God is first, then see yourself in light of Him – not the other way around.”

What is God? God is the Great WHO, the Great I AM. It is amazing hubris on our part to think that we can define Him on our whim or point of view. God does not exist to fit our individualized need for a god, He exists to expand our smallness and give us a taste of His power and eternity. We were made by Him remember? Oh how we love to think we invent Him though.

Rodger’s documentary interviews several celebrities, one of which is Hugh Jackman. He says something in the film that made me smile:

"If you put Buddha, Jesus Christ, Socrates, Shakespeare, Arjuna, Krishna at a dinner table together, I can't see them having any argument."

I agree. God has no need to prove Himself, just the fact that Christ joined us for dinner is enough.

Look for the signs

2009-10-19T07:54:00.003-04:00

It’s going to be a long week. I have been having trouble sleeping. Combine that with the fact that our Phillies are playing into the later hours, and I have been all but useless the last couple of days. Of course, my schedule is jammed packed, so it’s been challenging to stay alert.

Last night, as I watched our beloved Phillies beat the Dodgers, I sat in front of my TV at home. At the stadium, however, the frenzied crowd chanted various phrases including the traditional ones like, “Charge!” and “Here we go, Phillies, here we go!”

However, every time Manny Ramirez came to the plate, the chants became less traditional. You will remember that Manny was caught using steroids earlier this year – actually I think it was labeled a ‘female hormone’ - but either way he was given a 55 game suspension by the MLB, a suspension he already completed. I have been told that Philadelphia is a particularly brutal town to be the away team, but I have no other frame of reference.

I was intrigued by the taunting of Manny, even signs pointing out his error, all on national TV. Now, many of us would claim that it goes with the territory, kind of like you do the crime you do the time, and that’s how I felt at first.

Then I imagined myself walking down the street with people carrying signs outlining all my indiscretions.

“Don’t deny you’ve told a lie.”

“No need to repeat, Wendy’s a cheat.”

You get the idea.

For some reason, we love to continue to punish people, don’t we? Forget the macro example of Manny Ramirez, how about in our homes? Do we revisit people’s (spouse, children, family, neighbor) sins over and over? Perhaps we do not chant, but does our behavior toward these folks suggest that forgiveness is a long way off – or forgetness will never come???

I suspect that I am not going to convince an entire city, one that is pretty revved up right now, to stop taunting Manny, but that same city has reminded me to let others off the hook – to practice tangible forgiveness.

“No need to hide, I’m on your side.”

Hammurabi the Hammer

2009-10-14T00:14:00.000-04:00

I was studying with J.J. for his Social Studies test last night and we reviewed Hammurabi’s Code. For those of you who have been out of 6th grade for a while, Hammurabi was the leader of the Babylonian Empire and his written system of laws and rules is the earliest we have ever discovered.

Hammurabi was an “eye for an eye” kind of guy – with an interesting exception. Punishment did indeed match the crime, but the importance of the victim also influenced the severity of the consequence. In other words, if an ancient surgeon failed to cure a person of the higher class, his hands were cut off.

As we studied, J.J. mentioned how so many of the places mentioned in his lesson were found in the Old Testament of the Bible – we learned that Ninevah had a large and impressive library (remember Jonah trying to avoid his trip and being swallowed by a fish?), we learned about the Assyrian warriors and we talked about the Mesopotamian calendar being based on the flooding of the Nile River.

The more I learned about Hammurabi, and thought about the people who lived under his code, I began to see why the way of Christ is so hard to believe. We as people just cannot imagine that sort of grace, can we?

Think upon it – the UNMERITED favor of God…the forgiveness of sin without eternal penalty...regardless of who you are.

It’s still true, I believe. Even a casual glance at politics, law enforcement and even global relations can move us farther and farther away from the way of Christ and it gets harder and harder to get a taste of Jesus while we are being swallowed by it all.

Let’s allow God to challenge our limited perspective. Can we see the severity of the world for what it is and live under a different code? The way of Christ is the way of amazing grace - without exception.

Give and receive a taste of it today. Cut off the rest.

Novacaine and hangovers

2009-10-13T07:28:00.002-04:00

I am not sure if I am suffering from a Phillies hangover or if I am having trouble recovering from yesterday's dental work, but either way - my mind's a blank.

Hoping I can face the Dodgers with a temporary crown.

Thank you, Kristin

2009-10-08T07:24:00.002-04:00

Something interesting happened the other day, and at the risk of my friends being afraid to relate to me for fear our interaction end up on the blog, I’m going to tell you about it.

My oldest son had a game yesterday afternoon. It was an away game, and we had to travel about 20 miles to get to the other school - this requiring that I pick my younger children up early from school. Normally, they would be fine with it, but both of them had subjects yesterday afternoon that they did not want to miss, so our only option was to find a willing friend to care for them after school.

Mia chose her BFF, and so my husband called and made all the arrangements. J.J. chose his buddy, the E-man, and I called his mother (who is my buddy) to see if she minded having J.J. for a couple of hours.

After I asked her over the phone, she responded with the most interesting thing. She said, “Oh that would be fine. Thank you for calling and asking.”

Now you may not see what I see in those two sentences, but for a moment I felt so blessed. Here I was, asking for a favor that in some way inconveniences my friend, and she THANKED me for the opportunity.

I want to be the kind of person who is TRULY THANKFUL for the chance to serve, the opportunity to be inconvenienced in order to make another person feel cared for. It is deeply profound if you think about it, because even as Christians we know that serving another person is what Christ modeled for us, but how often is it a forced behavior and not an involuntary outflow of a Christ-filled heart?

I understand that loving and serving and being inconvenienced is sometimes hard, and I even know that it is a choice to pursue such a path. But it’s not just good for the world to serve, it is good for me. I am being shaped and matured every time I dare to do it.

I want to be thankful for the heart that is being made inside me as I serve the world outside me.

Beefing it up

2009-10-07T06:17:00.004-04:00

When I was a kid, we would travel to Canada to my grandparent’s home for Christmas. When we arrived, we would sit down to a roast beef dinner that my Grandma had lovingly prepared in anticipation of our visit. I can vividly remember how dry the roast was, and how much gravy it required.

I grew up believing that Grandma overcooked beef. As a matter of fact, it was sort of a joke with me when I cooked something too long, I would make some remark about how it resembled my Grandma’s roasts.

It wasn’t until I became an adult and I was driving to Canada myself one trip, that I realized how off schedule I was. In order to get there by car, I drive through Syracuse and Buffalo – both of which are famous for snow – and I was almost 2 hours later arriving than I had promised.

Hmmm. I applied this new knowledge to my childhood trips and realized that, no, my Grandmother did not enjoy leathered food, but she had been readying the supper for the time we claimed we’d arrive. I can almost hear her contemplating the problem, “Well, if they actually do make it on time, they’ll be hungry as bears….”

In truth, her overcooked roast was MY fault all those years, not her error in cooking judgment. I had it way out of context.

This may be a stretch for you, but that little piece of learning has helped me so much relationally. When I am ready to “decide” about a person or a situation, especially when someone behaves like leathered beef, God helps me remember that I probably do not see a complete picture. I simply do not have all the information and, admittedly, my understanding is all too limited by my own point of view.

Life requires a lot of gravy. Love anyway.

Am I smarter than a 4th grader?

2009-10-06T00:08:00.000-04:00

My 9 year old daughter, Mia, had a Science quiz yesterday. As we were reviewing the information that she needed to regurgitate, I came across the most interesting sentence for 4th grade curriculum.

The notes were based on “working in a Science Team.” There were suggestions about listening and completing your tasks well. There were different team roles spelled out, like “Task Manager” and “Skill Builder.” I was impressed with all of these.

It wasn’t until I reached a section entitled, “Special Team Skills” that I stopped short. Third, on a list of three, the following skill was spelled out:

Criticize ideas, not people.

I paused momentarily and my daughter asked why I stopped reading. I looked up at her and smiled.

“Mommy is learning from your Science notes,” was what I said. This truth pleased my daughter.

Talk about a special skill, huh?! How often have I criticized a politician or friend or family member instead of questioning their ideas?

Admittedly, “Are you crazy?” is a common question I ask my husband.

Second on Mia’s list was:

Entertain lots of ideas before coming to a conclusion.

Sheesh. What ever happened to graduated cylinders and dissecting frogs?

Just like in Science, I think it is more than important to have a discerning mind and sharp intellect. Some ideas are just bad ones – in our government, in our culture, in our homes - and should be challenged. But as Christians, do we challenge ideas or do we contribute to the hostility and defensiveness of the world by criticizing people?

Once again, we return to the idea of defending the space to love someone over defending our “morality.” Honest dialogue is critical to the healing of the world, but if no one feels safe enough to talk, no one feels safe enough to change.

Hoping for a gassy decade

2009-10-05T07:04:00.005-04:00

Yesterday was my birthday. Birthdays are funny things, aren’t they? I tend to do more reflecting than I usually do on my birthday and this year was no exception.

I also ran out of gas yesterday. Running out of gas is an ongoing issue with me, although I must say I am far better than I was in my 20s and 30s. I think it is only the second time this year I have needed rescuing and my friends, Beth and Kristin, faced the death defying traffic with me.

You know, in my life I have done all sorts of things. Some things have been admirable and some have been terrible (dear David Letterman). Most situations I have caused (like not stopping for gas) and others I have fallen victim to. Regardless, a lot of forgiveness has been required – a lot.

One of the most difficult things to do is to forgive one’s self. Even Christians, who know they have been forgiven by a gracious God, can struggle with letting themselves feel free from their own judgment. Our pasts, and our presents, can be haunting things.

Here’s the thing, though. Just like my gas situation, God and I have watched me change. Over the years of knowing Him, I have learned to look for redemptive things in the people around me, and sometimes I even find them in me as well. Sticking close to Him has helped me deal with shame, and truly live forgiven.

I am not what I was in my 20s and 30s. Yesterday I was 42. Maybe when I’m 50, I will have a gas-filled decade.

Live forgiven.

Absence makes the elbow grow tender

2009-10-01T08:36:00.002-04:00

Sorry to be absent. Noah has another elbow problem from playing football that I am trying to get sorted out. I honestly feel like I can't win with these boys and these bones.

Grace under water pressure

2009-09-28T00:55:00.000-04:00

On Saturday, my dear friend Beth and I, and our husbands, were in charge of the 6th grade car wash to raise funds for J.J.’s class trip. Let me just begin by telling you that if you are ever asked to lead a 6th grade car wash – don’t do it.

It was only four hours, but in that span of time I had such a myriad of feelings that I probably can’t explain them all to you.

One thing, however, that I think is worth mentioning is that very few of the kids could work hard.

Hear me out: I LOVE FUN. As a matter of fact, I prefer fun to most other things. I am all for bubble fights and hose squirting and general soap sudsy revelry. I am both happy to participate in said fun, and to allow it. Yet I had some sense on Saturday that there should be some actual car washing going on since we were taking people’s money.

Now, there were a few kids, I must say, who were great workers. They also had lots of fun, but then when a car arrived, they scrubbed and hosed and dried. The majority of kids, though, had excuses and arguments against putting out any sort of effort at all, and I began to wonder if I was chaperoning a school dance or an actually fundraising activity. The even crazier part was that even after they were (gently) encouraged to help, they still did not jump in to participate. At one point, I considered prompting them with a high pressured power washer.

You know what? I want kids to be kids, yes, but I somehow think it is important that they put forth some effort for what they want. These particular kids are going on an out of state class trip, one that will cost quite a bit of cash, and I do not think it is unrealistic for them to help raise such cash.

Perhaps too many parents are just writing checks for their kids’ activities these days. Perhaps a little elbow grease would do us all good. Perhaps I am old fashioned and out of touch.

My children claim that they do far too many chores. I claimed the same when I was a kid, but somehow I survived.

Thank you, Mom and Dad, for teaching me to work.

Offense

2009-09-24T07:59:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was our middle school football season opener. The team lost 12 to 8, but it was a decent showing for the first try. My son, Noah, is on the team.

I was on the sidelines, trying to figure out which parents belonged to which players. First of all, with all the padding and helmets, it’s hard to tell which kid is which, but then to pair them with parents I’ve never met is quite a challenge. I have heard my son say some of these player’s names during his tales from school series, and I was eager to meet some of them.

I watched one particular woman who was there with 4 children, ranging in ages from about 15 to 2. The littlest one, a girl, was obviously adopted from China. She was sitting in her stroller so calmly, eating her Cheerios, that during half-time I approached her and leaned over to tell her what a good girl she is. She smiled broadly, and showed me that the Cheerios were all gone.

I then stood up and introduced myself to her mother, a smiling and friendly woman. She told me her name, and I immediately knew who her son was. She told me how the little girl had special needs and was just learning to speak English. I listened to her story – about how she had 4 children of her own and still adopted the sweetheart eating Cheerios – and I instantly liked her. She was open and gracious.

As she continued to talk, however, she started to tell me about the Bible curriculum her husband does with her children. Now, at this point I had only been listening and had not shared that I was a follower of Christ. Telling me about curriculum was fine, but as she continued about a plethora of other biblical activities, pausing to watch my face instead of the game, I realized that she was sort of “fishing” with me, wanting to see how I would react.

All at once I knew I was an outreach project on the sidelines. She was going to either invite me to church or tell me about Jesus.

I know I could of told her about myself right away, but I wanted to see what she was going to do, how she planned to close the deal. I was curious. And even though she was a completely lovely person, all the overwhelming Bible talk was hindering my ability to yell, “Go defense!”

Here’s the thing, dear Christians, I was already so impressed with her mothering and her choices and her open smile, that I was naturally drawn to her from the beginning. It was only the first game, and she has plenty more chances to get to know me. Our exchange ended up being so forced and overwhelming, that we both were uncomfortable and I felt like I needed padding and a helmet.

I never did tell her that I used to teach an Evangelism class. I’ll save that for when I get to know her a little better.

completely empty

2009-09-23T14:06:00.002-04:00

My kids have this funny thing they do. Often, after playing in a game somewhere, they bring their empty water bottles back to the car with them. On the ride home, they stick the bottles out the window, and depending on the position you hold the bottle, and the speed of the car, you can produce different sounds. The kids are getting so good at it, that they actually had some harmony going the other day. J.J. thought it was an A and an F, but who’s to say.

About two weeks ago, we were driving home from the tennis courts, and Noah had his bottle out the window, trying to make the lowest pitched note he could. It was just the kids and me, and we all smiled as he experimented with it for about 2 miles or so.

We stopped at a red light at an intersection near our home, and suddenly I was completely doused through the driver’s side window of the car with a liquid I later discovered was soda.

Quite shocked, I turned to see a man in a red pick up truck in the left hand turn lane. He screamed something like, “That’ll teach you to try and throw water on my truck…” but my completely perplexed look must have caught him off guard.

“That kid over there,” he said, referring to Noah. “He’s trying to throw water on my car.” He was a VERY angry man.

“The bottle is completely empty,” was my feeble reply while I came to grips with the truth that I was covered in Sprite or Sierra Mist. “He’s just playing a game.”

“Tell the little f****r to play in front of someone else.”

Naturally, the red light refused to change to green. My children and I sat there in stunned silence, just wanting to get away, and he continued to look at us and make sneering remarks. When the left turn arrow turned green, instead of drive away, he sat right there – still staring at us. For a minute, I was afraid he was planning to follow us when our light turned green, but the car behind him starting honking its horn so persistently that he peeled away, screeching his tires the entire way.

The moment still makes me sad. My kids were frightened, I was sticky, the man was enraged.

So much for harmony.

Corny songs and just reminders

2009-09-22T00:56:00.006-04:00

So, last week, I got a song stuck in my head. No, that’s an exaggeration. I got two lines I wasn’t sure of and a fairly shaky tune of some remote song I remember from years ago stuck in my head.

My brain chose to “sing” it incessantly, making up lyrics and stanzas – even though I knew the root of what was inside me was vaguely familiar.

I sang my version of said song for a couple of the baseball moms this weekend, and everyone else had some distant memory of it as well, but we couldn’t seem to pinpoint an artist or title.

Yesterday, on iTunes, I typed in the few words I thought were correct, and sure enough, there was the fine (but immensely corny) song by the Bellamy Brothers, “Let Your Love Flow.”

The chorus goes like this:

Just let your love flow like a mountain stream
And let your love grow with the smallest of dreams
And let your love show and you'll know what I mean it's the season
Let your love fly like a bird on the wind
And let your love bind you to all living things
And let your love shine and you'll know what I mean that's the reason

After I finally relieved the insane guessing game inside my head, and even chuckled a little at the answer, I thought of the verse of Scripture in the book of Amos that says:

But let justice roll on like a river,
righteousness like a never-failing stream!

I started to think about a mountain stream after the rain – how powerful and strong and sweeping it is.

And, as corny as it sounds, I felt immense hope at the thought of love and justice and righteousness like that.

Not a bad thing to have rolling around in your head, or rolling around on the Earth, even if the details are hard to articulate.

Broken

2009-09-20T19:19:00.004-04:00

I may not be around on Monday because the accident prone Melchior boys need to go back to the orthopaedist - ok, just J.J. He broke his left thumb diving for a baseball today, so we did the whole Emergency Room thing, yada yada, and need to head to the orthpaedist in the morning.

Scary, but I've been there so often that I actually know the correct spelling of ORTHOPAEDIST.

When we were headed home from the hospital, via McDonalds (the sure cure all supper), J.J. wanted to call some of his teammates to tell them that he would be out 4-6 weeks, but then he looked at me and said, "You'd better do it, Mom. I think I'm going to cry."

It made me feel broken too.

Vocab test

2009-09-18T07:35:00.003-04:00

This morning, before he got on the bus, I helped my 8th grader study for his first vocabulary test of the school year. Boy, did he have difficult words. I mentioned this while reviewing them with him.

“I don’t think I use any of these words in every day conversation,” I noted. “I’m not even sure I know what convivial means exactly.”

“You use words like this,” my son replied, “maybe not these exact ones, but big ones.”

“Really? Nuh uh,” was my well spoken response.

“Mom, sometimes people don’t know what you mean, at least I don’t. The other day you said it was a ‘taxing’ situation and I was sure it had something to do with money until I figured it out.”

I laughed, but you know what? I want to be an easily understood person. Of course, that doesn’t mean I have to use the vocabulary of an 8th grader all the time, but the words and inflections and posture I choose can either be easy or difficult to relate to.

I want to be easy (in the most appropriate sense of the word).

Time to take a vocab test. As a Christian, do I choose words and language that that creates distance or safety? Judgment or acceptance? Defensiveness or peace? Am I cool or warm?

…or perhaps I should say, am I supercilious or convivial?

“Lazarus, come forth….loose him and let him go.”

2009-09-17T00:18:00.000-04:00

I am reading a work of fiction entitled, “The Lazarus Project.” Truthfully, it got great reviews and the cover was cool, so I bought it. I have only just started, so I have no idea whether I recommend it or not.

The author, Aleksandar Hemon, has a beautiful command of language – that I do know. On the second page, he writes about a man visiting a street he has never been on before:

Someone peeks from behind a curtain of the house across the street, the face ashen against the dark space behind. It is a young woman: he smiles at her and she quickly draws the curtain. All the lives I could live, all the people I will never know, never will be, they are everywhere. That is all that the world is.

I have often sat and contemplated all the people I do not know. Sometimes, when I am in busy traffic, I watch the drivers fly by and marvel at the fact that they all have names and facts and circumstances and people that they love. I mean, how many people do you think are peeing at this very moment? All over the world, peeing right now?

There is something so bonding and so isolating about being a member of humankind, isn’t there? It is a mixture of knowing you belong because of shared experience, but also wondering how to avoid being lost in the sea of it all. So many people, so many names, so many feelings – generations upon generations.

Maybe some of it is answered by choosing to draw the curtain or simply smile back.

Rescue

2009-09-16T12:21:00.003-04:00

I saw a commercial on TV for Lending Tree recently. It depicted a man, who apparently has financial difficulties, looking at his own reflection in his car window. Even though he was in a suit and tie, his reflection showed him dressed like a super hero – just like the Green Lantern.

The general idea was, instead of being helpless during financially stressed times, take your future into your own hands. The tag line read, “YOU TO THE RESCUE.” Well, you and Lending Tree, of course.

I smiled at this particular thought – you to the rescue.

Then I had breakfast with my mom this morning. It was a really nice time together and we proceeded to solve the world’s problems like we usually do. I really love my Mom.

One of the ideas we discussed was how we, as Christians, have come to believe that God gifted us in particular ways to help solve problems – in the church, in the world, in our lives. While I think it’s true that God does not put us in a canoe without an oar, I also suspect that we have come to rely on our own problem solving skills and sense of logic far too much.

Hear me out. GOD HAS ALREADY SOLVED THE WORLD’S PROBLEMS. He always goes first - goes ahead. Wendy’s ingenuity, or lack thereof, is really not a factor unless I am using my gifts to follow His already paved way. Does that make sense? There is not only satisfaction for my creativity, thinking and skills in His plan, but there are real, honest and working solutions as well.

So, where I do agree with Gandhi when he said, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world,” I also must insist that the pattern for that change – the template, if you will – has already been discovered.

Yes, me to the rescue in the world. But only after I acknowledge Who has rescued me, grabbing on to the life preserver and letting it drag me in the well worn path of Jesus.

Speaking of love and dogs

2009-09-15T00:02:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was a good Monday in Philadelphia. Our Phillies are leading their division, our Eagles had a big win Sunday, and I actually saw a dog wearing a Michael Vick jersey. All is well in The City of Brotherly Love.

I am coming to the conclusion that the world is so complicated that it may be naïve to believe that I have an informed opinion about anything at all. This leaves me in a pickle, frankly, because the natural next step is to remain opinionless, but then that often is interpreted as apathy to the rest of the human beings I coexist with. Don’t ever encounter a group of Christians without being armed with an opinion, believe me. Accusations of pluralism and relativism aboundeth.

So, then I look to the Scriptures for some sort of mandate to inform me, and there I find Jesus saying that the greatest commandment is:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Opinions and discernment and judgments are all tricky things, aren’t they? Sometimes we rationalize one to be another, and at other times we ignore the need for clear perspective.

When I am confused about which is which, I try to love. Letting God fill in the blanks, either way, just seems best.

I wonder if they are selling Vick jerseys in doggie heaven?

Spam

2009-09-14T00:22:00.000-04:00

Last spring, my sons joined a free fantasy baseball league online and used my email address for their contact information. Since that very second, I have been inundated with spam. I have won the lottery in the UK several times. I have been promise that Viagra will give me the much needed boost I need. I have been invited to study online to become a cosmetologist. And I have been guaranteed to lose 50 lbs. this week using the same method Oprah did.

Spam must work or it wouldn’t be so prolific. But it sure is annoying.

I nosied in on a back & forth on Facebook last week that was interesting. I did not comment myself (amazing self-restraint, huh?) but the whole thing left me puzzled.

A Christian friend of mine posted something about being proud that her 1st grader was saying the Pledge of Allegiance every day, and that the words still included “Under God.” Nice and no big deal, right? WRONG.

Another gentleman, an agnostic, took opposition to her post and made plain his feeling that people shouldn’t be forced to say something they simply do not believe – after all, “this is the United States of America.”

A firestorm began, with tons of folks jumping in. I read the comments with interest, especially the Christians defending their faith. I read everything from, “You have chosen to put intellect over faith, but I have chosen to put faith over intellect…”

Sheesh. I hope the two are not mutually exclusive.

Then there was, “I will pray that the Lord Jesus reveals Himself to you….:” without any discourse or acknowledgement of what the agnostic man believes to be true.

Naturally, there was the whole “Christian nation” and “God Bless America” business as usual – even a little sprinkling of “our founding fathers built this nation under God…”

It almost seemed like spam, but it certainly wasn’t working.

Then, in an unrelated post, a pastor friend of mine posted this on Facebook: Welcoming diversity doesn't just mean inviting other folks to the table - it means giving up our unilateral right to choose the menu.

Please don’t hear me watering down Truth. There is Absolute Truth. But just like spam, a little research reveals our biases weren’t truth at all.

I hope the Lord Jesus reveals Himself to us all.

Rambling on

2009-09-11T09:51:00.003-04:00

So, today is 9/11. For Americans, this day is burned into our memories. I noticed on Facebook a few minutes ago, that lots of folks are posting comments like, “We will never forget” and many are thanking the men and women in our military.

9/11 was a horrific day to be sure. And Pearl Harbor. And the Oklahoma City bombing.

And the day an atom bomb fell on Hiroshima.

My son’s middle school hosted a First Friday Celebration this morning. Parents were invited to attend homeroom and first period, and then join the administration in the cafeteria for refreshments and conversation. We observed a moment of silence in homeroom to remember.

Right afterward, I watched the students interact with one another. One particular young girl was wearing a T-shirt covered in peace signs – kind of a retro 60s sort of deal. Funny though, even as she wore the peace symbol, she wasn’t making peace at all in the classroom. The teacher had to speak with her a couple of times, and it was obvious that she was a bit of a bully. The girl sitting next to her seemed to me that she was afraid to look up – hoping to stay invisible lest the “peaceful” girl noticed her presence.

I sat there and thought about Jesus’ words about Peacemakers. It’s not enough to be against war, we must be FOR peace. We must make it. Peace is not merely the cessation of hostilities, it is actively and intentionally promoting the well-being of others.

I, too, am thankful to the men in women in our military and I recognize the realities of our world. But, on a macro level, I must wonder if making bombs constitutes making peace. What would constitute making peace?

The same is true for war protestors. Are they peacemakers in their everyday lives? The end does not justify the means and so protesting something that we do not make creates not only a systemic problem, but an individual one as well.

I will never forget 9/11. But the memory must teach me something.

No answers, just ramblings.

Peace be with you.

Easy answers?

2009-09-08T21:29:00.003-04:00

CLICK HERE and read an interesting article.

Thoughts?

Propoganda

2009-09-08T06:56:00.002-04:00

My children start school today – but just barely. Our local teachers’ union announced last week that they would strike because they were unhappy with the contract proposed by the school district. In Pennsylvania, there is a law about how much notice the union must give the community, so last Friday a judge ordered the teachers to show up today.

In this dispute, as in every dispute, there are two sides to the story. I try to educate myself with the “facts,” but honestly, when you read the information that both sides are disseminating, the facts are hard to discern. I learned last week that the school board is spending $7,500 a month to the Public Relations firm it has hired to create the right image during the negotiations.

When discussing the same letter, or the same contract items, the two sides are so different and the language used is so inflammatory that it’s hard to believe they are talking about the same thing, let alone imagine an eventual resolution to it all.

I started to think about this particular phenomenon and I think it is pretty common. You know what I mean - do we actually manipulate each other to the point of deceit, or do we really believe that our perspective is valid and true even if it’s not? I suspect both are sometimes correct.

I want to be the kind of Christian that sees relationships and communications differently. When challenged or afraid, I want to hesitate – to pause and simply consider another person’s point of view – before fiercely defending my own position. I think there are even times that I do not need to defend at all, but I can go ahead and be misunderstood in order to love someone well. Easier said than done, I know.

Imagine not needing any PR.

I think I’ll go on a propaganda strike.

Really scary stuff

2009-09-04T14:35:00.000-04:00

Labor Days

2009-09-04T07:35:00.003-04:00

Labor Day weekend has officially begun at our house – the last hurrah of summer. The kids are asking if they can work the phones and have a bunch of school friends over to swim and have the final big baseball game in the yard before climbing on the bus next Tuesday.

I considered cleaning my house last night, but figured that was a futile task with kids coming, so we grabbed ice cream and went to my parents’ house to watch the Phillies game.

I love having my parents close by. My children saw both sets of their grandparents yesterday, and I was thinking how important that consistent interaction is in their lives. Generations of love and investment, all of which reinforces who my kids are in the world and who they belong to. One of the things that I say to my kids all the time is, “Remember who you are and Whose you are.”

I’ve never been able to figure out the correct way to spell Whose or Who’s or whatever, but mostly I say it anyway. I capitalize it because my children know I am not only referring to their family, but I also mean God. I want them to understand now, that no matter what happens or where they find themselves, they are grounded and they belong to Someone.

Giving birth to them was a treat, and raising them is even more, but ultimately they were gifts that were loaned to me – to us, their family. Letting them grow to be what God intends, guiding them to discover their own path, is the greatest task I’ve been given.

And modeling how God feels about them, well, that’s a labor of love.

Anticipation

2009-09-03T00:44:00.000-04:00

I have been holding out on you a little. We found out, in early July, that my husband’s 44 year old brother has Stage 4 cancer in his liver, lungs and colon. His name is Chris, and my husband shared a bedroom with him for 18 years growing up.

His family has wracked their brains for where this may have come from with no clear answers, only a cloud of questions and bewilderment. Chris is a crazy healthy guy, an exercising nonsmoker, so his diagnosis brought shock and disbelief with it.

I began to fervently pray, anticipating what God will do.

Here’s the thing though – later this week, after 8 weeks of radiation and chemo, Chris has a scan to determine where things stand. As I wait for the results of that test, my anticipatory prayers are themselves embattled. I want to have the kind of faith that anticipates ANYTHING that God allows, whether healing or otherwise. I want to be the kind of Christian who recognizes a bigger picture than the here and now. I want to really get it, you know?

But as I watch my husband, his parents, Chris’ wife & children suffer in anticipation, my yielding to God’s will falters a little and I find myself wanting to dictate to Him the right thing to do. Please make Chris better.

And even though this isn’t even close to being about me, I tell God that after Diana’s death, I’m just not sure how much more my heart can bear.

I want to see it with God’s eyes. I even sometimes do. Jesus healed some people, and He walked by others. I can’t always answer why He did so, especially when disease seems to be sitting in my lap this year, but I can acknowledge that it is true. My struggle then, is not with why God allows suffering, but why He chooses to intervene when He does – or doesn’t. And not just in my world, but in the world.

So, while I attempt to answer the unanswerable, I will declare my anticipation – believing my heart will follow.

Huge

2009-09-02T04:29:00.003-04:00

My family and I went to dinner last night with one of the most treasured people of my life. My Aunt Genny is 86 years old now, but you’d never ever know it. Beyond being physically well, she continues to be the model for grace in my life.

My mom was an only child and my father’s family was in Canada, so people from the church were I grew up “adopted” us as their own and we called them aunts and uncles. Aunt Genny, short for Genevieve, was one such person. When I consider what a heart after God's own is like, I have hers as an example. In recent years, she has moved to South Carolina to be near her daughter, but she is here for a brief visit.

After dinner, she wanted to visit another old friend, a man I called Uncle Seth, and so we hopped over to his place unannounced. He was pleased to see us and we learned that he had recently suffered a stroke and was recovering. He was still his funny self though.

When I walked into Uncle Seth’s home, I had an experience that I have had several times in recent years. Have you ever visited a place where you haven’t been since you were a child, only to discover it is far different – smaller, changed – from what you remember? Stepping into Uncle Seth’s kitchen was like being in a time machine in some ways. Even though his wife, Aunt Betty, has died – her drapes and pictures are all the same ones that I remember from childhood. I used to stay with Aunt Betty when I needed to stay home from school because I was sick, and even last night I could picture the couch were she had me rest, her Chihuahua snuggled up with me.

And yet, if you had asked me to draw a picture of the place before I visited, I would have seen something much larger than what is really there. In my mind’s eye, I still see it as a child, and my perspective was much smaller then.

I stood there, thinking it all through, and listened to Aunt Genny and Uncle Seth catch up. One thing I know, using my grown up eyes, is that the influence these people have had on my life is not small at all. As a matter of fact HUGE comes to mind.

Not one of them was educated beyond high school, and Aunt Genny was recalling an assembly line job that she worked for many years. They never had much to show for their efforts – small homes, modest furnishings, practical cars. In some ways, now that they are growing older, the world may not notice their seeming ordinary lives. But what their faithfulness meant to me was nothing short of miraculous.

And here I am, in the middle of the night, wondering if my life reflects the impact they have had on me. I want to be sure their time and effort has come to fruition in my heart and in my person, and being with them has reminded me of what is true, and real, and HUGE.

I don’t want to be a grown up with a still small perspective.

Sharpened

2009-09-01T00:13:00.002-04:00

We bought school supplies yesterday.

Each of my children walked through the store deciding what they needed in order to have a productive year. I walked around imagining the supply drawers in our kitchen – now full of broken crayons and markers without caps and dried out glue sticks from last year’s school escapades. I filled my cart with new items – including poster board – and couldn’t wait to get home and clean out.

At the register, J.J. asked why I had gathered all “this stuff.”

“Mom,” he said, “Most of this we won’t need until we are assigned a project or book report. That won’t happen for a while yet.”

I looked at him and smiled because I remembered the times when he and I were out late at the store the night before a project was due – frantically trying to find the right color construction paper because he had “forgotten” to mention the supplies he would need and I did not have them on hand.

“I guess I want to be prepared,” I answered him. “It’s nice to be ready ahead of time.”

As I continued to think about his comments, I realized that I read my Bible for some of the same kinds of reasons. Yes, I love the poetry and storytelling and drama it provides (it really is a work of literature) but reading it everyday also somehow prepares me for things – for life.

It’s not that I face every situation able to quote the scripture that is relevant, but by reading my Bible often I begin to innately know the story of God – the way of God – and His heart. In essence, it supplies me with what I need even before I need it.

It’s so much better than a frantic search the night before.

Fresh starts and other tastes of grace

2009-08-31T00:51:00.000-04:00

Noah will begin 8th grade in a week. He did really well last year in his middle school debut, except for his last marking period math grade. His effort reminded me of the last ember of a firework – it begins so bright and brilliantly, but fizzles and falls in its final moments.

Mom was on Noah – I mean, on him. Poor kid must have felt like I was literally riding on his back. I asked him everyday about his homework and test scores and study habits…and priorities and future and self-respect. Where did he think failing a math test was going to get him? Did he think Harvard wouldn’t be looking at 7th grade math tests? When he is thirty-five, and working as rat infested sewer inspector, this math test would haunt him each day as he trudged through the human waste wondering where his life went wrong - I reminded him gently.

O, how I love my kid.

Yesterday, Noah looked at me and smiled. “Ready for school to start?” he asked. I found his question particularly amusing since it is him, as opposed to me, who has to get back into study mode, but then I understood his meaning.

We are on this journey together, my son and I - grades, adolescence, misunderstandings, unnecessary freak outs and grade point pressure, sometimes winning, sometimes losing, sometimes really screwing up. Another mother told me this summer that she calls Noah “The Ambassador of Goodwill” on the baseball diamond. As he played first base, she watched him greet each batter from the other team with a handshake and a, “Good hit!” I didn’t tell her about the math test, or how sometimes his mother forgets how wonderful he is.

I think it’s the same way that God feels about me. Sometimes His chest is bursting with joy as He watches me love someone well and at other times He shakes His head as I fail the test.

But we’re on this journey together, my God and I.

O, how He loves His kid.

Sleepovers

2009-08-28T00:54:00.001-04:00

I have been having downstairs sleepovers with my kids. Perhaps it’s because I am keenly aware that the end of summer is looming, but I have wanted to be near them nonstop.

Last night, during one such sleepover, a noise outside woke me. Actually, it startled me. It was the sound of a soda can hitting the bricks outside, and for a moment I was convinced that someone was lurking just beyond the window.

When I was in college, I would go with friends to scary movies. Back then, I enjoyed horrifying myself and could quickly forget the images I had seen. Even though I no longer find them entertaining, I have not forgotten how the main characters in these flicks always moved toward the disturbing sound or danger instead of choosing to FLEE the scene – which is what any normal and sane person would do, right?

Funny though, I jumped right up to investigate the errant can last night, turning on the outside flood lights and loudly warning the potential intruder of his/her pending capture at the hand of my well-developed martial arts skills. Later, after letting the can knocking cat back in the house, I pondered my bravery.

And there were my three children, the same ones I was having a Can’t Get Enough of You Sleepover with, and I knew I would face any midnight feline to protect them.

Then I watched the news and learned of the now 29 year old woman who had been abducted in 1991 (at 11 years old) and kept in a back shed by a sex offender for 18 years.

She, and her mother, have experienced a real life horror movie.

As a Christian, I should not quickly forget the images I see, and instead of flee, I must move toward the disturbing. Simply praying, “God, please meet that person’s needs,” when I hear of an illness or tragedy or horror is insufficient. Instead, perhaps, I should pray, “God, am I the answer to that person’s prayer?” and then get myself moving.

It’s kind of like martial arts love – wildly attacking injustice with crazy swinging Grace. No need to fear whatever is lurking just beyond, God is already there.

God Cogs: Sweating it out

2009-08-27T01:28:00.001-04:00

Great emails yesterday. I do appreciate your ideas so much, and one particular person’s thoughts have been rattling around in my head since.

“Why would I choose to die?” she wrote. “Why would Jesus make following Him so hard?”

GREAT questions.

I’m not sure I can be completely coherent, because I’ve only thought about this for one day, but let’s give it a whirl, shall we?

I don’t think Jesus intended for it to be hard. It is hard, that I will agree with, but the real problem is that the WORLD is not what Jesus intended it to be. There was a plan in place, originally, that did not include all the crap that goes on – the selfishness, the violence, the competition – you know, all the stuff that makes for good TV.

Resisting the flow of the culture (i.e. dying to desires) is like swimming upstream or trying to master the Wipeout course (Weds 8/7c on ABC). Dying to what I impulsively or logically think is right makes space for God’s thoughts and God’s ideas to fill me up. The new, eventually, becomes the norm.

Ah, but here’s the rub. The CHURCH is also influenced by this wave, and so she has gotten a little off course. In many places, she has forgotten the central message of Grace, opting instead for a behavior modification program. YES, my behavior changed when I became a Christian, but the difference was the result of a heart change that occurred when I encountered Grace. I could never follow a code of conduct, but I can love someone in order to realize the peace that Jesus dreamt of. Out of love for Him, I am learning to love others.

I know lots of folks who grew up going to church but are no longer interested. I most often hear phrases like, “It really works for my parents, but it’s just not for me.” Or sometimes I hear, “The church is too concerned with things that I don’t think God is overly upset about.”

In many ways, I agree. But again, God intended something different for the church than she is. He longs for it to be a place where you really tell the truth about what you think and feel – a place of safety. Too often, well meaning parents dressed their children for church and told them it was a place to “behave” out of reverence for God. Never did you speak of what was really going on inside you, because church was like a place where you were on your best behavior. Some of us got so good at modifying our behavior that we survived adolescence at church, but we became so weary and so tired of it in adulthood, that we no longer can muster the energy to sit in a pew. Funny, but none of our resistance is really about whether God is real or not – it’s mostly about finding a real way to connect with Him.

Remember that Jesus gravitated toward bad behavior. He longed to redeem not just the circumstances, but the person that was drowning in them.

Choosing to die, then, is more about opening space up inside me than opting for a martyr complex. Sometimes people say that they became a Christian because of the promise of heaven. Ok, I think heaven will be cool, but I embraced Jesus because I wanted real life – life that starts here and now. Dying to ideas and behaviors that are contrary to His ideal simply makes room for real life.

Sweat

2009-08-26T00:00:00.000-04:00

The other day I was considering how I have been in a two year grieving process. I have experienced so many endings, including the loss of my friend, and sometimes I have felt as though I must have used up all my beginnings.

I talked to God about it, and He brought to my mind all the things that have been born in me over these months – new things born in my heart and mind.

For instance, my time in the ministry ended, but my understanding of the Church could not be more fresh or honest. Some dear, dear friends have gone away, but my appreciation for real community is sharper and more clear since. Diana has died, but her generosity of spirit continues to remind me who it is I am made to be. All of these endings have made new spaces in my life – spaces that I have no doubt God has plans for.

Letting things die in order for the new to be born often takes blood, sweat and tears – but it is the way of Christ. Death and new life. Out with the old, in with the new. It’s narrow stuff.

I will consider today how dying is spacious and how intangible the new can be.

And how much, in the end, I am loved.

Where I've been

2009-08-25T19:24:00.007-04:00

This is a picture of my kids with their new cousin, Levi Samuel. My sister gave birth last Saturday, and the week before I watched her other children so she could rest and prepare. We had lots of fun, but I was up to my eyeballs in stuff and couldn't seem to get to my blog. Here's a picture of the whole gang now:

Good lookin' bunch, huh?

Risky business

2009-08-17T00:06:00.000-04:00

In Cooperstown last week, I saw this banner on the side of the Cooperstown airport. It amused me so much, that I took a picture of it the morning I was leaving town. I wasn’t sure how, but I knew it did more than make me laugh, it stirred something in me that I could not define.

Then I was listening to a sermon yesterday about Solomon. It was fairly interesting, but it was what the pastor said at the start of the service that kept my wheels spinning.

She talked about the risk involved with following Christ. I wondered if I, as an American Christian, have reduced my faith to such a degree that I have come to expect that it should make me safe.

There is no such guarantee with Christ. As a matter of fact, He declared that following Him required that we walk the narrow way – the road less traveled – and most of us long for the comfort and security of the wider path. Less obstacles, less pot holes, right? I guess that’s why Jesus followed up by saying that few would find it.

Perhaps a good question to ask ourselves is, “When was the last time I was really uncomfortable, inconvenienced and had to DARE to walk as Jesus walked?” If you can’t remember the last time that following Christ cost you something, you made need to reflect a little on what it is you are really following.

Recently, for me, it cost a little of my reputation. It really was hard, because I hate being rejected by anyone at anytime. I also am known for being pretty open and accepting amongst my non-believing friends. But this time, I just couldn’t agree when asked directly, and there have been whispers behind my back about my close-mindedness ever since.

The other thing to remember is that when risk is involved, failure often follows. I have grown to suspect that God overlooks some of my errors because He loves my passion. When Peter jumped out of the boat to walk on water, Jesus grabbed him when Peter started to sink, then later Jesus said that He would build His church on this same sinking Peter. God is interested in the heart, so don’t be afraid to try because you are afraid to fail. Real failure is never risking at all.

So, today I am lamenting 41 years of relatively safe following. I hope that the years ahead will be risky business.

Play ball!

2009-08-07T07:55:00.005-04:00

My oldest son, Noah, is playing in a week long baseball tournament in Cooperstown, New York next week. I will have limited (if any) access to the Internet, so I may not talk with you next week.

I have been reading a book entitled, Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder. It won the Pulitzer Prize for non-fiction, but more than that, it is one of the more life-changing and thinking-challenging books I have read in MANY moons.

I highly encourage you to pick it up and begin. I would like to discuss it in the weeks ahead.

No name nukes

2009-08-06T00:17:00.001-04:00

So, two things have struck me so hard lately, and both are sort of related, so let me see if I can articulate what I’m thinking.

I know this guy named Richie. Well, know is a slight exaggeration, but I see him every week when he makes a delivery to the place where I work. He stays and talks for maybe 10 minutes every Wednesday, and those 10 minutes have proved pretty revealing.

Two weeks ago, we were discussing the 2 reporters who we being held in North Korea. “Bomb the whole country,” Richie said. “Just nuke them off the face of the planet, they’re so crazy.”

I paused (briefly) and asked about all the innocent people who lived in North Korea (I didn’t think it was the right time to tell him that I had tremendous feelings of mercy for the perpetrators too).

“I don’t give a s*** about innocent North Koreans. I am only interested in America and what keeps us safe.”

As I reviewed all the logical arguments I could have expressed, even simple ones like the fact that we live in a GLOBAL economy - so getting rid of everyone else means getting rid of ourselves – I soon realized that logic was playing no part in our discussion, so I dropped it.

Yesterday, I read THIS article in the Washington Post about the homecoming of the same two reporters. Besides criticizing Bill Clinton and never mentioning the names of the two women who were imprisoned, the writer John Bolton has a lot of opinions. We probably can’t pick each one apart, but like Richie he espouses this:

“Negotiating from a position of strength, where the benefits to American interests will exceed the costs, is one thing.”

Again with the strength thing. Again with the power thing. Again with us and them thinking.
Christians: We are not about power. As a matter of fact, we’re not even about self-interest! Our Jesus was not motivated by fear or self-preservation or by the need to have the upper hand.

He did what was right for us (there is no them), and He did it out of love.

Welcome home, Euna Lee and Laura Ling. He knows your names.

Agree or Disagree?

2009-08-05T00:01:00.000-04:00

The fact that early Christians were completely unlike us in terms of world view and cultural context is an unsettling result, to be sure, for those accustomed to read these writings as sacred Scripture, and in particular for Protestants who traditionally emphasize that anyone at all can read and interpret that Bible. The truth of the matter, for those readers without knowledge of ancient languages, ancient cultures, and other such subjects, the meaning of the Bible is at times not all clear, while at other times it can seem to clearly mean things that it is unlikely to have meant in its original context. The possibility of misunderstanding a reader today in a Western cultural setting is at least as great as the chances that the same individual will experience a cultural or linguistic misunderstanding if traveling to a foreign culture. By emphasizing these points, I do not wish to discourage interested individuals from reading the Bible in English translation – far from it. it is important, however, for all readers to understand that they are having the Bible interpreted for them by those who have translated it into their native language and are then engaging in interpretation themselves through the act of reading. The books they are reading derive from a very different world, and therefore one should not cease reading but should utilize the multitude of books and other resources that scholars have made available, expressly with the aim of helping readers make sense of these ancient texts. Having done that, one should then go on to express one’s conclusions about what these writings mean with an appropriate humility and tentativeness, aware that what seems obvious to a reader today may not have been what seemed obvious to a first-century reader.

James McGrath in The Only True God (page 100)

Help stamp out dirt

2009-08-04T05:33:00.003-04:00

When I was in the 9th grade, I played the part of Cinderella in a play entitled, “The Truth About Cinderella.” It was a spoof of the well-known tale, and Cinderella suffered from an OCD – compelled to clean and clean and clean – a trait she had inherited from her late mother.

I don’t remember all the lines or lyrics, but I do remember a few bars of one particular song that revealed the life lessons that Cinderella’s mom had taught her:

Scrub the windows and the doors
Wash the hearthstone and the grates
You could eat off Mamma’s floors
Which saved dirtying her plates
She reminded me as I clung to her skirt
To help stamp out dirt!

It’s funny, but I’m pretty far away from 9th grade, but I still have the tune and those lyrics run through my brain when I am tempted to over-achieve. It’s interesting, but as I have gotten older, and stopped trying to clean up my own messes, I make less of them.

It’s the same truth we always talk about. If we try to yank up or weed out the things in our life that are dirty, we often end up experiencing continued failure. Continued failure ultimately leads to a sense of defeat – the place where we stop trying altogether.

God offers us a different way. He does the cleaning, the changing, and we just cooperate. And, amazingly enough, the less I strive the more I thrive (catchy, huh?).

Cooperating with God does require that I point my feet in His direction, which is an act of my will, but the power to be different does not come from within me. Determination and perseverance are not nearly enough, as anyone who has tried long-term inner change will admit. But my small and weak will, partnered with His big and strong power, can help stamp out dirt.

Raising Killer Kids

2009-08-03T07:26:00.004-04:00

All the facts remain uncollected, but at the funeral of pregnant Kenzie Marie Houk, it was widely believed that her fiancé’s 11-year-old son shot her to death with a hunting rifle he had gotten as a gift for Christmas. Police in Lawrence County, Pennsylvania have young Jordan Brown behind bars and have charged him with two counts of first degree murder in the February 20, 2009 deaths of Houk and her unborn baby. In Pennsylvania, like the vast majority of states, it is legal to charge a child over 10 years old as an adult and to seek a sentence of life without parole. If convicted, the child serves his time in with the adult male prison population.

The Lawrence County District Attorney has held televised press conferences. His theory is that jealousy over the new baby, and desire for his father’s attention, drove Jordan to commit this “callous, cold and calculating” crime. Members of Houk’s family claim that the boy, back in December, said he wanted to “pop” Houk in the head, which is exactly where she was shot. With Jordan as the reasonable suspect, he has been remanded to callous, cold and calculating adult prison.

There is scant precedent for raising children with rapists and murderers, but there is some. According to the FBI’s Uniform Crime Reports, ten children in the U.S. between the ages of 9 and 12 were convicted of murder in 2007, compared with 542 teens aged 13 to 16, and 1,966 teens aged 17 to 19. A few states do not allow life sentences without parole for preteens, ten states have no minimum-age limits, and all the others fall somewhere in between. Currently, 3 convicted preteens (who are now teenagers) are serving out their sentences among the general prison population, one in New York and two in Florida.

Jordan’s situation gives Christian ethics a strenuous workout. Old Testament law would instruct an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Fortunately, Jordan is still waiting for his 12 year molars, so strict adherence may not prove too difficult. On the other hand, the temptation to forget the sanctity of Kenzie Marie Houk’s life, and the life of her unborn child, in favor of fiercely defending the childlike innocence and potential rehabilitation of Jordan Brown should give us pause as well. Her family’s pain is very real.

And then there are the questions. Who gives an obviously angry 11-year-old a hunting rifle for Christmas? Was the gun locked away safely? Was the father really neglecting the son in favor of the girlfriend, breeding jealousy and discontent inside his son? Was there abuse of any kind going on in the home? After Jordan made the shocking comments in December, did the adults involved intervene and seek help for the child? Does an 11-year-old boy truly understand the consequences of his actions and/or should parents be held responsible for the choices their children make? What should punishment look like? In addition to losing his freedom for the rest of his natural life, do the potential atrocities a young boy could experience at the hands of adult criminals constitute excessive penalty?

And the unavoidable query: How does a child become a killer?

In theory, Christians are interjectors of love and truth into a crazy world. We represent the Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven, so merely shaking our heads in disbelief is not enough when presented with tragedy of this magnitude. But what is true and how do we rightly love?

Perhaps God’s command for us to “act justly and to love mercy” can help. JUSTICE and MERCY, two words that can seem incongruent in our culture, yet represent the very heart of our Savior. Advocating for revisions in the U.S. justice system that provide adequately for child offenders is entirely appropriate and necessary, because one thing in the midst of this unclear situation is perfectly clear: An 11-year-old boy does not, under any circumstances, belong in an adult prison among full grown male convicts. Regardless of whether Jordan is a good kid who made a terrible mistake, or a troubled one who will continue to make terrible mistakes, his pre-teen future in a maximum security prison must offend both our sense of mercy and justice.

Yes, we recognize the need to protect the community at large. Yes, we mourn the loss of Kenzie Marie Houk and her baby and fully comprehend the value of both their lives. But grace also insists that we shield Jordan Brown, and other children like him, from realities 11-year-olds shouldn’t even know exist.

The questions warrant ongoing discussion. Jordan warrants more.

Summer Break

2009-07-12T23:46:00.000-04:00

I think I'm going to take one. See you in August. ?

S.W.A.K.

2009-07-09T00:19:00.001-04:00

My boys are sleeping at their buddy Mark’s house tonight. As I said goodbye, I leaned to kiss them and both were awkward in their responses. No – “awkward” is not the right word – more like refusing or resistant, I guess. They didn’t want to kiss their mom in front of their friends.

Ouch.

Kind of helps me understand how God feels when I fail to acknowledge/love Him.

Towering

2009-07-08T00:17:00.000-04:00

So, while in Toronto, we went with my cousin Wayne and we took the kids to the CN Tower. If you’ve been there, you know that it is really cool, and you are able to go 147 stories (1465 ft) up and look down. There is even a glass floor where you can stand as if you are standing on air and the rest of the world is far below.

Toronto is one of the biggest melting pots I have ever experienced. While we stood in line at the bottom of the tower, waiting for the elevator to take us up and away, I heard so many different languages, saw so many different skin colors and native dress, that I felt very global and cosmopolitan. A group of adults with Downs Syndrome were in line too, and one gentleman reached out to grab my hand across the ropes as I smiled at him. I marveled at us all there lined up, so different but somehow connected.

After we arrived at the top observation deck, I looked down at the world below and I could no longer make out all the differences in people or hear all the noises we make. When I was a kid, I imagined this to be God’s perspective – looking down on the world from far above in heaven – watchful over His Earth. I was always impressed that He knew so many languages and could pay attention to so much going on at once – a fact that also made me wonder if I ever got lost in the shuffle because He was such a great distance away.

Towering as I was last Friday, I had new insight into Jesus and His coming to Earth. God’s desire to connect, to join us at the bottom and touch, to jump in line and speak our language so we could understand His heart, must have been so great that He just went ahead and did it. Sometimes I think we only remember that He came to die, but oh, His arrival was multi-dimensional and multi-purposed. Frankly, His death was certainly important, but His LIFE – then and now – is the real story.

You and I are not lost in the shuffle. Is there distance between God and us? Yes, for sure. But His decision to descend, to break the glass floor, closed the gap forever. He is here and He is now and He hears your noise.

Time capsules

2009-07-07T00:40:00.000-04:00

While at the Family Reunion last week, my sister passed out pieces of paper with questions and fill-in-the-blanks. At the top it read, TIME CAPSULE, and apparently our written musings will be buried and then resurrected in 10 years time. She brought a colorfully decorated oatmeal canister for this burying/storage purpose, and so after we each wrote our answers, we were instructed to roll them up and put them in.

I had a terrible time with this activity. I just could not imagine what I would want recorded and reopened in 10 years. Now some of the blanks were easier to fill – favorite books, favorite movies – but even then I knew I had so many things that I marvel at, the thought of choosing one or two was daunting.

Others were impossible. “Tell us something about your current self.” I stared blankly at my page, even attempted to copy off my Aunt Ruth’s paper, but if I had plagiarized and written, “I love to do crafts and Siamese cats” it would have been an outright lie, so I went with, “I am currently great looking, thin, well-educated and easy to get along with.” It’s important to be truthful when capsulizing.

I’ll admit my answers were lame, and after I stuffed my paper into the Quaker Oats can, I took some time to consider the future. It was more than wondering who would be at the next reunion (would there be more children? Less loved ones?) it was a deep consideration of Jesus’ words, “Behold, I make all things new” (Rev. 21:5).

It really isn’t okay to stay the same. If, when our time capsule is opened in 2019, we are all exactly as we were last Saturday something will be terribly wrong. Jesus is making things new, He is changing and restoring me and His world, and by definition it means I should be different in some profound ways by then. I should be even more like Him as He reconciles who I currently am with who He intends for me to be.

When I pastored the 20somethings at our church, I used to tackle this issue like this:

Sometimes I think that we have a Friday Night Self and a Sunday Morning Self. Friday Night Self is outrageous and anything goes whereas Sunday Morning Self is a pretense of self-control and loveliness with others. We resist church (or what we view as the hypocrisy of it all), and the things of God, because we view the gap between our two Selves and we think, “I could never make the huge leap from Friday to Sunday.”

But the truth is, God isn’t asking us to. Yes, there are choices and bad decisions that we make on Friday that God wants to redeem, because often those choices hurt us and others. But He’s not much interested in the Sunday pretender either. What God really longs to do is to reconcile the two Selves midway – help us make better choices AND be a terribly honest and imperfect person too. That's why He bridge the gap between Friday and Sunday - death and new life in just three days.

Maybe you do not have a Friday Self and Sunday Self, but I’d venture to guess there are parts of you that seem impossible to fix – or perhaps you simply want the comfort and security of staying the same.

Time to capsulize. Write down the truth about who you currently are (a journal, a notebook, whatever) and start to cooperate with God. Don’t bother with the oatmeal canister because change will come in far less than 10 years. God can’t wait to start working.

The Longness of Things

2009-07-06T09:03:00.000-04:00

I have been out of town. My Dad doesn’t like me to announce when I am going away on my blog, because he is fairly certain that all of you will conspire to rob me. That would have been okay – as long as you fed the dog on your way out.

I have been in Toronto, where my family is. As a matter of fact, we attended a family reunion while there. All of us in the same place.

I have no doubt that as the week goes on, I will pick apart our family idiosyncrasies and interactions to death (don’t you wish you were related to me??) but today I want to talk about the car ride up and back.

It is long. I don’t think I realized it as much as a kid (perhaps I forget) but as I get older it bothers me more. On the way north, we drove through rainstorms and hour long delays at the border and we were very close to being in a serious accident with a gentleman who was far more interested in his cell phone conversation than driving. The trip is usually nine hours, but we arrived twelve hours later, and my rear end was making it clear that it no longer enjoyed sitting on the middle hump in the back seat between two children. When I fell into bed at 2 am, I had fairly serious questions about whether it had been worth it.

Then I saw my family, and the longness of things became even more real. I have belonged to them a long time, and even though you would be hard pressed to believe we are from the same gene pool, there is something very deep and true and long that exists between us.

I enjoy great intimacy with some of them, and some I must confess are mysteries to me, but the longness between us is there – drawing us to meet in a park by Lake Ontario on a beautiful day to eat and play badminton and admire each other’s babies. And for one day the long becomes short and we are in each other’s presence – the ties that bind us have reeled us in close.

I have no doubt my rear end will brave the trip again – not too long from now.

Preference vs. Reverence

2009-06-25T08:32:00.003-04:00

I think one of the greatest challenges that the local church faces today is getting over herself. Maybe I shouldn’t say “today” because the church seems to have had this difficulty ever since it formalized (i.e. became an institution) which was a long time ago.
Problems inside the church have been a continual distraction for her.

I can remember when my church was going through a large building program. There was a group of people appointed called “The Decorating Committee.” You wouldn’t believe what they went through – trying to get along while they tried to choose carpeting – all while people less than five miles down the road didn’t have enough to eat.

I think worship wars are another great example. Even though I refuse to call that hour when we gather to celebrate Christ “worship” (we can talk about that later), the problems that occur when you change a person’s Sunday morning service are amazing.

We must be careful that we do not confuse preference with reverence. I vividly remember a Christmas Eve about 5 years ago when the teens participated in our services, and they did a little something unusual. I loved it – probably because all I could see was young people giving their whole selves to the work of the church – but OH the flack I got after that night. One woman in particular called what they did “irreverent” for Christmas Eve.

That woman may not have liked what she saw, but irreverent is a stretch. If you explore worship throughout history – and I mean BIBLICAL examples of how people celebrated God – you may be amazed. The very first “worship” experience in Scripture was led by a woman and involved DANCING and TAMBOURINES. Now you may have stood by the side of the recently parted Red Sea shaking your head disapprovingly if you had been there, but your personal preference doesn’t mean that God didn’t like the noise.

There are biblical references to drama and music and dancing and prayer and eating and a wide variety of instruments – all included in the gathering of believers. And, as much as I love the organ, there is not one single verse that insists every church have one and use it at all times. The exact same is true for guitars.

Pain Relievers

2009-06-24T00:17:00.001-04:00

I had a headache yesterday, which is actually a very rare occurrence for me. While I waited for the medication to work, it struck me how interesting pain is.

I could hardly think about anything else as my head pounded and I marveled at how just one thing could influence every other thing I was experiencing – how one part of me could profoundly affect the whole of me.

My kids’ report cards came in the mail (they were great!) but I had difficulty expressing the joy and pride I felt in my heart because of what I felt in my head. I walked through my yard to enjoy the flowers, but the colors seemed less vivid because the bright sun bothered my eyes. You get the idea.

I think we can see life in the same way too. Sometimes when there is one thing out of whack, it is easy to feel like everything is out of whack. Not necessarily so.

Remember the old saying, “Be patient with me, God isn’t finished with me yet”? I do believe that God sees us as works in progress, but often we see the areas of our lives that need work and we conclude. “I’m a mess!” or “I’ll never get there!” At other times, we are experiencing a pain – physical, emotional, spiritual - and it affects how we see the whole world. It taints how we see everything and everyone around us.

Take a deep breath and live in Grace today. God knit you together in your mother’s womb and ordained your days – He knows you. He knows you better than you know you.

And He knows just what medication you need.

No touching

2009-06-23T00:17:00.001-04:00

My cousin forwarded this ESPN story to me, and I read it with amazement. Basically, a softball coach did a really small, but perfectly legal, thing. You should read it so that I can make my far out and leaping analogy to the church. Go ahead – read it – then come back.

The point is too clear to pick it apart any further, right? This article perfectly explains my phrase, "I'd rather be righteous than right." Perhaps we, the church, should consider a little rule breaking ourselves?

Beauty Shoppe

2009-06-22T00:19:00.000-04:00

My daughter and I played Beauty Shoppe on Saturday. It was very rainy here, so we all had to do indoor activities.

Beauty Parlor is a funny game, really. As I painted nails and curled hair, I wondered how we all got to the place where we put so much importance on how we look. So, I tried a little something new:

Every time I painted a toenail, Mia and I thought of a way that God makes us beautiful. In other words, as I applied the hot pink, she said, “God makes us patient” and with each stroke of the hairbrush, she would smile with, “God helps us forget each other’s mistakes.”

It was great really and maybe worth your time when you stand in front of the bathroom mirror tomorrow morning. With every tooth brushed and every lash curled and every whisker shaved – it might be helpful to review how God is making you beautiful. Take a minute to pause and focus your priorities.

More like a Beauty Stop than Beauty Shoppe.

Rocky Roads

2009-06-19T05:42:00.003-04:00

Last night, J.J. and I visited with my Dad for a while. Soon, Dad was making tea and getting out the treats. He and J.J. had Rocky Road cookies, but I don’t like chocolate, so I opted out.

I wish I could opt out of the rocky road that I am travelling right now. Many thanks for your emails and phone calls to tell me you love me and/or care. Just thought I would share a few things.

Rocky roads are a normal part of life – even the Christian life. They grow us and challenge us and they are often a time when God reveals His presence in an extraordinary way if we let Him.

Difficulty occurs when we experience a rocky road without having a clear idea of who God is and how He operates. I heard someone say this week, “God is really messing with me,” in response to a deep struggle she is facing. If we do not start with God in our lives – learning His heart and His ways – we will misinterpret His motives when hard times come.

So, whatever you and I are facing, let’s be clear: Our God is about restoration. He is applying His grace and love to the world (and our lives) in order to reconcile us to Himself and to each other. He is also eternal. He sees a far bigger picture than we can imagine and, not that He doesn’t care about how we feel, but He invites us to look beyond the bumps and sharp turns on our journey. He invites us to look for HIM.

And, just as a simple reminder, God is good. If we know this, then we trust Him – and then there’s no need to opt out.

Most Wanted

2009-06-17T00:03:00.002-04:00

On Saturday morning, I got up at 5:15 am to start the laundry. Here’s the thing – the day before I had asked my kids to clean up their rooms, which led to a mile high pile of both clean and dirty clothes in the hamper. Naturally, the clean was not discernable from the dirty (the one winter coat in the middle of June was a dead giveaway) so I decided to just wash it all.

I sat down to fold, and turned on the TV. Since I don’t like my kids to watch some of the stuff I watch, (begs the question: why am I watching things I wouldn’t want my children to see?) I often DVR more grown up shows. One such show is Without A Trace, an FBI drama where people seem to vanish into thin air and become missing persons.

I had 5 episodes saved, and I started with the earliest while I loaded and folded.

After 4 straight episodes, I remembered that I didn’t have any breakfast food in the fridge but I had a bunch of kids sleeping over with mine in the family room. I headed to the supermarket.

In the parking lot, I experienced the craziest paranoia. I viewed other shoppers cautiously, the cart collector guy took on a suspicious hue, and the sight of one particular late model leisure van had me convinced I was about to be abducted. In other words, after filling my head with danger and fear, it was what I experienced – even in a perfectly familiar situation and place.

After laughing at myself, I considered how true it is that what we spend our time doing, the people we choose to hear, and the places we regularly visit have a profound effect on who we become. Basically, we are what we eat.

Ah, but here’s the rub. I think that sometimes Christians think that God asked us to all huddle together in a church in an effort to stay safe – or at least near the stuff that is good. If I spend all my time here, then I will not be affected by less than desirable influences, right?

A great exercise is to ask yourself to name the top 10 people you hang around with. Are they all associated with the church? You may think you are in a perfectly familiar situation and place – but I sense danger.

If the church huddles indoors, the hands and feet of God will not go where they are needed and the gospel will be left without a trace. Christians become missing persons and I don’t think that is what Jesus most wanted.

Communicating and other impossibilities

2009-06-15T08:07:00.002-04:00

I have experienced two full weeks of difficulty with communication – both on my part and on the part of others. I was reflecting on this phenomenon last night and I realized that good communication (dare I hope for great communication?) is one of the hardest things to achieve.

When a bunch of folks, or just two married people, try to express themselves, we often forget all the unseen stuff that contributes to the words and style. Ego needs, past hurts, previous experiences, points of view, needs to be recognized (and the beat goes on and on….) all play a part in every word, facial expression and forms of body language that we use. It makes it hard to not only talk, but to understand, doesn’t it?

For me, I am having trouble communicating for a variety of reasons. My friend has died and I can’t quite get my arms around it, so I find myself being angry with unsuspecting living people who are surprised at my responses. I am surprised myself.

I have also been witness to a group of coaches that are so poorly communicating that chaos is ensuing – all because everyone must have his way in a fairly simply solved situation. It still surprises me how quickly things escalate to criticism, sarcasm and power-playing. BUT, if I am truthful, my inner scathing responses to what I perceive to be their outer scathing responses are contributing to the problem, not making peace. Ugh! Makes you want to live under a rock and never relate again.

SO, today, I am disallowing another two weeks of difficult talk by working on uncovering the stuff that contributes to it. If I know that I am grieving, maybe I should talk about that sadness and not transfer all my unsettled feelings into other conversations. Avoidance doesn’t really work, although I think backing away has its merits until self-control can be established.

I really do long to understand you, to really hear and absorb your ideas. I may not agree, but I can always extend the love and respect that you deserve.

On a side note: if you are a believer, I believe that we need to spend time praying for the people of Iran today. God is there and He is working – do not doubt it.

Naked truth

2009-06-11T06:16:00.003-04:00

When I am without a book, I am about as uncomfortable as when I wake up from those dreams where I am walking around naked in public (you know, the school bus, the supermarket…). Bookless, I wander around unsure what to do with the very little extra time I have and I constantly wonder what I am missing.

I recently finished a great work of nonfiction, so as I meandered through my book shelf desperate for a temporary fix until I could acquire a new book, I glanced at my collected works of Flannery O’Connor. O’Connor wrote fascinating fiction, most of it taking place in the sweltering South, and since the humidity has be HIGH here in Philadelphia, I decided to pick old Flannery up.

Her best known work is probably Wise Blood, a tale about a disturbed young man named Haze whose late grandfather was a screaming traveling evangelist. Haze spends much of the book convincing himself, and the other characters, that he does not believe in Jesus. At one point, he stands before a crowd (not unlike his late grandfather) and declares, “I’m going to preach a new church – the church of truth without Jesus Christ Crucified. It won’t cost you nothing to join my church. It’s not started yet but it’s going to be.”

As I continue to reread Haze’s struggle, I am struck at how like him we all are. Often we believe or disbelieve things in REACTION to someone or something else, not because they are true or not. Haze’s Bible thumping grandfather left him faithless, but his struggle had nothing to do with whether Jesus is a fact or not.

I do not want to be a reactionary believer, or a reactionary skeptic. Absolute truth is not popular these days, but that does not mean it’s not a fact. If we begin to seek truth, instead of responding in involuntary ways based on experiences, we may be surprised at what does and does not ring true deep within us.

Strip it all off.

Inside Out

2009-06-10T07:06:00.005-04:00

I’m sure, if you live in the north or east, that you struggle with the same seasonal issues I do. I was off on Monday, and there was so much work to do OUTSIDE my home that I never accomplished anything INSIDE. Sometimes it’s the opposite and we have clean underwear but the tomatoes are being choked by weeds in the garden.

This inside vs. outside battle is one I struggled with in the church as well. There are certainly different opinions about which needs greater attention – the people of your parish or the people in the community around it? Many times I think that pastors opt for the inside life because it means less complaining in their ears (congregants get pretty upset when their needs aren’t met whereas unbelieving people in the community just die without God – a no brainer right?)

Ah, but here’s the real problem. When people mature INSIDE it should be an involuntary response of their spiritual lives to care for others OUTSIDE. We shouldn’t be able to help it. And, frankly, as we grow up we should complain less too.

I would even take it one step further. I do not believe that real community can be formed inside if we aren’t serving the world together outside. I think most churches form community using strategies – you know, form once-a-week small groups based on age or interest, give them a set of questions to answer and – VIOLA! Community is formed.

Hmmmm.

If I read the New Testament correctly, both the disciples in the Gospels and the early church spent much of their time SERVING others. Yeah, they hung around too, but they had a unity of purpose based on their compulsion to be agents of healing in their world. Out of these choices a community was formed that was so intimate and so tight that even when put to death for their faith, not one person ever recounted the reality of Jesus, His death and resurrection - what they had experienced together. And their commitment to being outside wasn’t a biannual service day when everybody wore matching T-shirts and stacked shelves at a food pantry, it was the primary concern of their lives and gathering.

I don’t know. I know how complex it is. After all, we need clean underwear, right?

Kicking & Screaming

2009-06-08T07:19:00.003-04:00

A few years ago, a Will Ferrell movie called Kicking & Screaming came out in theatres. We laughed and laughed, mostly because we play in community sports leagues, and it was about a generally nice and gentle man who lost his head while coaching his son’s soccer team.

The phrase “kicking and screaming” has been running through my lost head lately. It is unfortunate, but sometimes God has had to drag me into His future kicking and screaming. I hope that I never get to experience His Jonah-level persuasion techniques (remember the storm and the fish stomach for three days??) but I can imagine Him shaking His head and smiling – “Need a little push, do we?” It is not necessarily rebellion on my part, it’s more like thick headedness. General stupidity and basic humanness – a generally nice and gentle woman who loses her head.

Today, I am grateful for a God who pursues and pursues – who continues to work in a world that is kicking and screaming against Him. I am thankful that His love endures forever and that He never gives up. How great that I can live with the knowledge that He is working all things together for our good, even when we have to be dragged into that goodness.

No storm necessary, Lord. I’m moving...................albeit slowly.

The force with us?

2009-06-01T00:40:00.000-04:00

There have been ample unfortunate examples in the recent news of Christians and violence. Yesterday, an abortion doctor was shot at his church. Studies have shown that evangelicals are more likely to support torture in the interests of national safety than non-believing people. History is riddle with instances like the crusades – moments when Christians believed that violence and/or force was justified – even violence in the name of Christ.

Hmmmmm.

If we believe that Jesus was God and that part of the reason that He joined us on Earth was to reveal the heart of God to humankind – then we need to look very closely at what He did and did not do while He was with us.

Jesus was born during one of the most politically oppressive times in history, a time when torture was the norm (the crucifixions alone…). Isn’t it interesting that despite the political climate of His time, Jesus did not spend all His time training or raising an army to protect Himself and His people?? Why not?

I fully recognize how complicated this issue is. Do we become like sheep to the slaughter and allow our enemies to hurt us? Is the death of one doctor justified if he was killing thousands of babies? Didn’t the God of the Old Testament wipe out whole nations in a moment?

Your thoughts?

Friday Chews

2009-05-29T00:44:00.001-04:00

Who besides an imbecile would live a life that bears all things, that believes all things, that hopes all things, endures all things? It is completely unreasonable. It is completely stupid in its excessive irresponsibility. Only dysfunctional idiots endure all things.

Inhabitatio Dei

National politics is like the Roman circus in first century Rome. It is entertainment to keep us distracted from the real issues.

Stanley Hauerwas

A quick calculation yields this result: African pirates will have to kidnap one Westerner per hour for the next 1,431 years to equal the number of Africans kidnapped by Westerners between 1501-1866.

William Jelani Cobb

If you drink, don't drive. Don't even putt.

Dean Martin

Glory, glory days

2009-05-28T00:14:00.004-04:00

SO, a funny thing happened last night. My son’s baseball team had a fundraiser at a local ice creamery raising money towards their upcoming trip to Cooperstown. The kids had a blast scooping the ice cream and serving their friends. We were fortunate enough to have a great turnout.

As we were preparing to leave, I noticed a woman talking to my husband across the courtyard. Something about her body language caught my attention, and I watched her with interest as she spoke to him and a group of team parents.

Turns out, she had gone to college with Steve, who was apparently quite a stud back in the day. The woman was regaling the group with stories about my husband and his basketball team – about how they used to steal food from her sorority refrigerator (quickly forgiven, of course), about how TALL they all were in comparison to everyone else and numerous other BMOC antics that she remembered fondly and in detail.

I watched as my husband feigned blushing and pretended to not remember how great he used to be, and I found this to be even more amusing than her gushing. Tempted to contribute to the conversation by revealing his humanness (you know - snoring, smelly sneakers - the basics), I stopped myself short.

Steve is great, I thought to myself, he was and he is.

Sometimes I am reminded of all the things I used to be or wanted to be or dreamt of being and these thought/memories can leave me momentarily unsatisfied with what IS. Oh, when my thighs were thin or what if I’d not given up acting or how cool would it be to live in a center city loft apartment… Ever have these moments?

I think dreams are great things. Scripture is full of times when God gave His people a vision for something bigger than they were able to see on their own.

I know that God’s dreams for me are so much bigger than what I call a dream. Peace on earth, free flowing forgiveness, restored relationships, minds and bodies healed. Opening my life up to His kind of dreaming, instead of being distracted by the temporary things that catch my eye, may help me stop myself short when tempted to be dissatisfied with what is.

God is great. He was and He is and He always will be. Glory days.

Comfort food

2009-05-27T00:08:00.000-04:00

I have found myself eating a lot of comfort food lately. There is definitely something about the familiar that can ease the mind, isn’t there? But it’s about far more, I think.

The sense of being FULL, or should I say THE ABSENCE OF EMPTY is a big deal too. For me, it’s been the loss of a friend, but there are other things that have left spaces as well – and the artificial filling up with green bean casserole brings a temporary plugging up of the vacancies.

In a realer, more permanent sense, this is the same journey we are on with God. He is filling us up – helping us know safety and wholeness despite our nagging hunger – past and present. Thing is, real fullness takes time, it’s a process even if we want it NOW.

Put down the fork. He’s working.

I'm a hypocrite in print

2009-05-26T00:30:00.001-04:00

Unfortunately, my home town has joined the growing list of towns to have a teacher accused of an inappropriate relationship with a student. You can read about it HERE if you’d like, but the cliff notes version (if that’s even possible in these terrible scenarios) is that a female math teacher in our public high school has been charged with having sex with a 17 year old student.

Honestly, the whole thing (true or untrue) breaks my heart on so many levels – the teacher is married with three children of her own, the 17 year old boy will never be the same, and the community now has enough gossip and scandal that we will be able to stand in judgment and appear pious in comparison for many, many months. But I digress…

When the story broke, it was on the front page of our local newspaper. Now, if I were extra ambitious I would scan it in to show you, but you’re just going to have to believe me when I tell you that the second paragraph read like this:

Heather Zeo, a Mennonite, has been charged with one felony count of endangering the welfare of a child and four misdemeanor counts of corruption of minors…

As hypocritical as this is, after I blogged about religious garb last week, it really upset me that the first descriptor used was Mennonite. If she had been Baptist or Catholic or Jewish – do you think it would have been included? Highly doubtful.

Naturally, the article when on to include information about her faith, including a testimony on her website and the fact that she recorded a CD of Christian music. You see what I’m getting at, right?

We love a hypocrite, don’t we? Oh, the joy of exposing the fallen zealot! From Spitzer to Edwards to the classic Jim Bakker, we get real pleasure in uncovering sin. And we always seem to forget our own sin in the midst of our holy vigilante behaviors.

In moments like these, I am reminded of two things:

1. Christians, there is a lot at stake, not only in how we respond, but in how we live. We wear more than our own reputations. FLEE if you must, but don’t fail to understand what a big deal your behavior really is.
2. We are all hypocrites. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. Showing grace when you are the victim makes forgiveness when you are the perpetrator all the more likely.

I’m sorry, Heather. I’m sorry for you and your student and the rest of us, too.

Friday Chews

2009-05-22T00:16:00.000-04:00

I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird religious cult.

Rita Rudner

Don't worry about people stealing an idea. If it's original, you will have to ram it down their throats.

Howard Aiken (1900 - 1973)

If God lived on earth, people would break his windows.

Jewish Proverb

Just once, I wish we would encounter an alien menace that wasn't immune to bullets.

Unknown, Brigader Lethbridge-Stewart in "Dr. Who" – In remembrance of Diana

Attached for growth

2009-05-21T00:32:00.001-04:00

Noah finally got his latest cast off yesterday. He was pretty excited because he knew it meant that his baseball season would resume.

Unfortunately, the news wasn’t so good. Noah’s growth plate in his right elbow has prematurely attached itself to the bone, which can apparently cause one of two things to happen: hyper-growth or stunted growth. We are headed to a specialist, but Noah’s still pleased that he can play in the meantime.

The whole thing has made me consider this idea: is it true that whatever we attach ourselves to affects our growth? I can remember my parents telling me when I was young to choose my close friends carefully because I would become like the people I spent most of my time with. When you’re young, I think this is true.

It is still true in some senses. There are certain environments and relationships that can cause us to hyper-grow – places and people who push us and love us into becoming all that God intended. And there are some spaces that stunt our growth.

But here’s the bigger question. Let’s assume the church is a hyper-growth place (which, I do realize, is up for debate). How do we avoid living “in the church?” I suspect that since we think it’s an environment that is safe and positive and healthy we tend to hang out there.

Not what Jesus did.

Churches that are program heavy, that try to be all things to all people (offering multiple sports leagues and full-service opportunities) are actually growth stunting environments, in my opinion. Not only are all these programs taking place inside the church, they require massive amounts of volunteers – who are now hanging out in the church.

Jesus is in the streets. He was 2,000 years ago, and I believe He still is today. Is it possible that we’re wrong about growth environments? What does "in the world but not of the world" ultimately mean?

Reevaluating my attachments.

You are what you wear

2009-05-20T00:39:00.001-04:00

Last Friday, I had some very precious friends coming for dinner. It was a warm day, so I figured we’d eat outside – not to mention the fact that my house is still in a state of chaos from the repairs, etc. When I ventured into the back yard earlier in the day to prepare, I decided we needed some hanging baskets of flowers to improve the “not quite worked on” state of the deck area.

I buy flowers at a busy local greenhouse near where I live that is owned and operated by a Mennonite family. They are very nice and the flowers are beautiful. I turned into the familiar parking lot, and passed their business sign – a sign that is surrounded by scripture placards. One side of the placard read, “Lord, increase our faith” and the other read, “Purge yourself of all unrighteousness.”

Now, I have always been intrigued by a couple of things when shopping there. First, the owners’ home is at the front of the property, and their wash is always hanging out – bras and very large women’s underwear included. I have always found this to be a bold and amusing decision – and, frankly, it earns them a strange sort of respect from me.

Secondly, I marvel at the amount of hard work the women do – all in skirts and clothing that covers almost everything. There are no tank tops allowed – and you know how hot a greenhouse is!

Religious garb is an interesting choice, isn’t it? Traditional Mennonites, Amish, Hassidic Jews, devout Muslims (etc) all wear clothing that immediately identifies them as religious. As I looked through the geraniums, I began to ponder the reasons behind the uniforms.

I considered modesty and tradition and all the other reasonable conclusions, but I could not get away from the fact that I suspect that sometimes religious garb is simply to make a statement – not unlike the placard.

I selected more flowers than I intended to buy and made my way to the line. It was long, so I stood there for a few minutes and observed the woman working the counter, dressed in a long sleeved gray dress and head covering. You know, she never smiled, she never greeted a customer warmly, and she scolded a woman on her cell phone for holding up the line.

I stood there in my shorts and asked the Lord to increase my faith.

After

2009-05-19T09:15:00.002-04:00

Last night, I actually took something to help me sleep, something I never even did when I suffered from ongoing insomnia. I was in bed, I have a viscous cold, I had buried my friend, and I had eaten Peruvian-Asian fusion food for dinner. After these things in combination, I was somehow disturbed.

There is such an interesting AFTER moment, isn’t there? Sometimes after is full of disappointment when the experience was exciting and long-anticipated. Often after is exhausting, or after can even be a relief. I am in my own after moment.

I recognize Diana is in her own after moment too – the after-life. At the graveside I read a passage from the late Cardinal Bernardin’s book, The Gift of Peace, where he writes, “Many people have asked me to tell them about heaven and the afterlife. I sometimes smile at the request because I do not know any more than they do. Yet, when one young man asked if I looked forward to being united with God and all those who have gone before me, I made a connection to something I said earlier in this book. The first time I traveled with my mother and sister to my parents’ homeland in northern Italy, I felt as if I had been there before. After years of looking through my mother’s photo albums, I knew the mountains, the land, the houses, the people. As soon as we entered the valley, I said, ‘My God, I know this place, I am home.’ Somehow I think crossing from this life into life eternal will be similar. I will be home.

What I would like to leave is a simple prayer that each one of you may find what I have found – God’s special gift to us all: the gift of peace. When we are at peace, we find the freedom to be most fully who we are, even in the worst of times. We let go of what is nonessential and embrace what is essential. We empty ourselves so that God may more fully work within us. And we become instruments in the Lord’s hands.”

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
St. Francis of Assisi

The whole prayer is an after prayer. After sadness, joy; after pain, pardon; after darkness, light.
I want to be an after person.

Funeral today

2009-05-18T06:39:00.002-04:00

This day we commit Diana's body to the ground looking for the blessed hope and glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body. Titus 2:13, Phil. 3:21

Shiny well soul

2009-05-14T00:01:00.000-04:00

Last night, I attended Noah’s Spring concert at the public middle school he attends. I usually enjoy these concerts immensely.

But before the concert began, I sat in my seat very tired, both physically and emotionally. The loss of Diana is a heavy reality, one that is making it hard to move my arms and legs. I haven’t been able to hear either, and I have missed most of what people are saying to me. Falling asleep seemed like my best bet.

Then came the moment when the curtain opened and the instruments reflected the light in a hundred different eye-catching flashes. The brass is always so shiny and exciting looking – and my attention was suddenly brought into sharp focus for the first time in over 24 hours. I even felt a moment of anticipation. What will I hear, now that I am listening?

And then, at his public school, Noah’s band began to play what was listed as “Hymnsong with Philip Bliss” in the program, but if you know your church music, you know it as, “It Is Well With My Soul.”

I was completely present for a moment, and that single flash of clarity reassured me that I will regain my hearing as the days pass. Smiling in the dark, I gave God props for His blessed tactics – tubas and truth.

It is well, it is well with my soul.

An ear to heaven

2009-05-13T00:26:00.001-04:00

Every single night, for almost two years, my daughter has asked God to heal my friend Diana of her leukemia. He finally answered Mia's faithful prayer, because Diana died yesterday.

I have no doubt that Diana already has heaven on its ear. I hope God likes to play Scrabble and watch reruns of Dr. Who.

Thank you, God, for the extraordinary privilege of knowing and loving her. And Lord? I could use a little healing today too. Something feels broken.

Homemade cards and other reproach producing paper

2009-05-11T00:18:00.001-04:00

I hope you had a great Mother’s Day. I recognize that it can be a tough day for some people. I had a friend who once told me that one of the hardest moments of the entire year for her is when she stands in the Hallmark store and tries to find a Mother’s Day card that is true.

I woke up yesterday and shortly after my daughter was leading me into a room to present me with a homemade card. It is gigantic, made on large size art paper, and here is what it says:

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY
I LOVE YOU
Let me name all the nice things about you…
Marvelous
Outstanding
Magnificent
You’re kind, sweet, you help us when we need it. You think of us first, you forgive us! But most of all you always have time for me and more.
Love, Mia xoxoxoxoxo

It was beautiful, but somehow it gave me the strangest feeling inside. I truly long to be all the things my daughter believes that I am, all the things she needs me to be. Did you ever read a card that way?

Fowl Quiz

2009-05-08T00:10:00.001-04:00

Anybody know what kind of bird this is?

Be still

2009-05-07T00:04:00.000-04:00

My friend Diana has been worthy of many a blog post here. Her antics are somewhat unmatched in my life for she is all craziness and fun and love and emotion. We have battled her cancer together, and it has been a long and strenuous road – yet not without laughter and really great moments.

Diana is loud and funny and over-reactive. Never shy about making a scene, I have heard her say outrageously kind and loving things to perfect strangers in elevators and watched her do extravagantly generous things for the people in her life. She is a force of nature, for sure, and God made her that way.

She is also one of my very dearest friends in the world.

On Tuesday, Diana had a heart attack after her bone marrow transplant last week. She is alive, on a ventilator, but remains unconscious. When her brother called to tell me, the world seemed very quiet all of a sudden.

God keeps reminding my heart to “Be still and know that He is God.” Not SIT still or FEEL still – but BE still – make stillness a part of the essence of me through His abiding presence in my very person. Stillness and sadness are familiar friends in the Kingdom - kind of like death and new life.

Diana has a signed DNR. I do not know what that means for the days ahead, but as my friend lies in her bed very, very still, I will join her in my spirit.

Fifty words or less

2009-05-06T00:19:00.000-04:00

My friend mentioned to me at work today that there were a lot of obituaries in the local paper today. Obituaries are fascinating things aren’t they? I always read them – sometimes before the headlines.

Summing up one’s life in a few paragraphs is a great exercise for the living, but is usually only done for the dead. Information about clubs, education, family members, hobbies and religious affiliations are all crammed into 50 words or less, but often what is not said is even more telling.

My husband has this theory that as the generations pass, your life gets summed up in one sentence by your great-grandchildren. For instance, since he is 6’7”, Steve predicts that his great-grandchildren will say, “He was tall.”

I was fortunate enough to have my great-grandmother with me until I was 40. Her name was Hannah and I wouldn’t know where to start to tell you about how great she was. It would require far more than one sentence. The verse that she used to pray was III John 2 & 4, “Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as they soul prospereth….I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.”

Let me sum her up: Hannah walked in truth.

I wonder what my great-grandchildren will say?

Same old, same new

2009-05-05T00:09:00.001-04:00

If you’re visiting the blog for the first time today, you have not been privy to my gruesome house stories. You’re blessed, believe me. Suffice it to say, I have had oil and water problems downstairs that have caused quite an adventure.

The problems have also forced me to clean up. Part of the problem took place in the furnace room that held a lot more junk than furnace. Now that I can finally move things back into place, it has proved to be the perfect occasion to sort through all the stuff I have been moving from place to place for 25 years but haven’t looked at.

I have found some pretty interesting stuff – some funny, some sad, some too embarrassing to discuss (even for me). One thing I uncovered were the journals I kept while in London.

Smiling as I opened them up, I recalled how faithfully I wrote it all down, not wanting to forget a single moment of my time there. There were pages and pages of musings and memories and QUESTIONS. So, right in the middle of the clutter I was supposed to be organizing, I sat down for a read.

I am sort of please to tell you that the questions I had in the late 80s are different than the questions I have today – well, most of them anyway. And yet, I discovered that I am still the same in many ways. Some excerpts as examples:

“Starting tomorrow I begin living on rolls, old crackers, flat Coke and anything I can get Cindy to pay for.” Cindy was my roommate. I have never had money in my pocket, thus my husband’s insistence on keeping the checkbook.

Then there’s this one:

“Deserving comment is Andy’s first sexual experience. Apparently, the couple in the flat next to ours just got married. Andy keeps waking everyone up, telling us to listen. How he will function as a normal adult someday is beyond me.” Last I heard, Andy is married with 3 kids. Guess I was wrong about the normal adult thing.

One of my favorites was:

“Sometimes I’m afraid I’m not bright. I’m afraid I sound as ridiculous as some people sound to me, and I just don’t know it.” A classic, huh?

Yet I did discover some moments when God was growing me up. Moments like:

“It is truly wonderful when you become so comfortable with someone that you can scratch your butt in front of her. That’s how I feel with Cindy. Heavens knows we’re different! She’s the planful [sic] bossy sophisticate. I’m the disorganized dreaming bum. It pisses her off when I get an A without studying. It pisses me off when she tries to mother me. But she NEEDS to organize, to KNOW and to instruct. She feels important and needed by me if she’s showing me the way. So, because I love her, I let her tell me, even if I am already quite aware of the proper direction I should be taking. On the other hand, she sits through all my performances and gives me honest critique. She will stay up all night and help me memorize lines that I procrastinated learning. And even though she says, ‘I told you so’ and I say, ‘Get off my case’ – we stick with each other. It’s friendship for real.”

Twenty years later, I have found better words than “pisses” to express my feelings of relational frustration, but I am still trying to choose the harder, more narrow path of real love and community. Even when it ticks me off.

Achoo Swine Flu

2009-05-04T00:04:00.002-04:00

Talk about the swine flu is everywhere, huh? I’ll admit, wherever I go, people are chatting about it - especially if someone sneezes. We are on the alert, in the height of allergy season. I am not making light of what is happening in Mexico City, though, because I have no doubt it is frightening and anxiety-producing.

What I am most amazed about it is how fast bad news travels. We live in a world of global mass media and high speed everything, don’t we? I sit absolutely dumbfounded about the many communication tools we use to disseminate a message almost instantaneously – and nearly everybody gets the message.

Good news doesn’t travel as fast. The word Gospel, the name we use to describe the life and ministry and MESSAGE of Jesus, (as in the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John are the gospels) literally means Good News. Even though the message began with one man and spread to the whole world, it wasn’t exactly quick and I would suggest it still isn’t – and shouldn’t be.

Another profound way that the movement of Christ is counter-cultural is that it requires real time and investment. If you are a follower of Christ, I think it is critical that you understand this for many reasons. Sometimes Christians make sweeping statements about the current culture, criticizing relativism and secularism (you know the drill) but there are other, more subtle ways that we can be tripped up. When everything around us happens quickly, we become quick.

Last Friday night, I heard a young pastor speak. I wanted to jump up and cheer as I heard him talk about his ministry and his people. Years ago, he was watching Oprah (yeah, that scary new age influential brainwashing superhero) and God spoke to Him. Oprah was talking about her work in Africa – AIDS relief and education – which she and Bono pioneered and the world (including the church) followed. The young pastor was so impressed by the individual stories of suffering, that he decided to talk to his congregation about it.

They began travelling to Africa. He said it this way, “We did not go to ‘take Jesus to them.’ We knew Jesus was already there, so we went in a posture of learning and humility, wondering if there was any way we could help.” I usually say it this way – God is already present, ask Him how you can cooperate with what He is already doing. Helps Christians rethink the troubling crusader mentality, huh?

Anyway, the pastor and his people have been going back and forth ever since, partnering with Africans to form a non-profit organization, Zimele, that has now assisted thousands of people with AIDS and their children. The pastor said, “I feel like it’s my second home,” and he is of Asian descent!

Their work is not quick and no one in the global mass media has noticed. It must be really, really good news.

Friday Chews

2009-05-01T00:27:00.000-04:00

Illegal aliens have always been a problem in the United States. Ask any Indian.

Robert Orben

Remember, Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in high heels.

Bob Thaves, "Frank and Ernest", 1982

Anything too stupid to be said is sung.

Voltaire (1694 - 1778)

You talk to God, you're religious. God talks to you, you're psychotic.

Doris Egan, House M.D., House vs. God, 2006

Bird at hand

2009-04-30T00:04:00.000-04:00

I had a weepy day at work on Tuesday. My boss and I sat and discussed real life (she is my boss/friend) and real life can be hard, you know?

One of the topics we discussed is my future. I am making some pretty tough decisions right now about returning to ministry and my thoughts and emotions are swirling about. Being a receptionist at a concrete shop has been good to me in many, many ways and I have learned some valuable things – things I will never forget.

I had a conversation recently with an old colleague, one that I served as a pastor with. He questioned my concrete status saying, “It’s such a waste of your talent. God wants you to be so much more.”

Hmmmm.

One of the biggest issues I struggled with when I served the church full time was work/life balance. I made huge strides my last two years in ministry toward a healthy approach because I was blessed enough to have another friend/boss that insisted on me being a whole person. He would actually walk into my office when he knew I should be leaving to catch my kids off the school bus and say, “Why are you still here?” with a loving smile. A great work ethic has never been my problem, until it became a source of pride and identity.

I guess the real answer to my old colleague is, “I am already being it.” Yes, my book is still in the works and I may (or may not) return to ministry and I answer the phone at a concrete shop, but those things do not define me. I have finally let God have so much of me that I long to BE a servant – regardless of where or how or who or if anybody even notices.

The picture below was one I took yesterday out of my kitchen window. If you look closely you will see that I have a robin who built her nest right in my holly bush. I stand at my kitchen sink, making dinner or doing dishes, and we stare at each other. Both of us are serving our children and I’m the only one who sees her and she is the only one who notices me. She is one of thousands of robins in the area doing the same old thing, and I am one of thousands of mothers doing the same old thing. I whisper to her, “You are great,” when I am finished. She doesn’t smile or say anything back, she just keeps sitting on her eggs – being exactly what she was made to be.

Writers, Believers and Atheists, O My!

2009-04-29T00:16:00.000-04:00

Proceed cautiously today. I am providing you with a link to a very interesting book review. Once again, Terry Eagleton has written a piece worth thinking about, but the site and the reviewer are unapologetically liberal, so please know that in advance.

Eagleton’s new book, “Reason, Faith and Revolution: Reflections on the God Debate” is not what you may think. His book begins, "Religion has wrought untold misery in human affairs. For the most part, it has been a squalid tale of bigotry, superstition, wishful thinking, and oppressive ideology." As the reviewer writes, “That’s quite a start, especially when you consider that the point…is to defend the theory and practice of religion against its most ardent contemporary critics.”

You can read the review for yourself HERE, but I think there is something very valuable to be learned from the whole exercise.

I have been seeing bumper stickers lately that say, “Dissent is patriotic.” Let’s not get into all that today, but the concept is interesting. Those who question the church are not necessarily opposed to her (or pessimists or trapped in relativism or whatever accusation is currently popular) – as a matter of fact, questions often are formed from a deep-seated love.

So, read with love in mind. Eagleton asserts that much of atheism is built on the fact that religion has been unproductive – okay, horrible – for the human race. Although there are cases where this is true, it does not in turn prove atheism (or disprove faith), does it?

Let’s welcome questions, from all sorts of places and people. Honest feedback, if we can resist defensiveness, can only help us see our blind spots.

Loosing faith

2009-04-28T00:04:00.000-04:00

Last night, I read THIS intriguing article entitled, “Americans not losing their religion, but changing it often.” Feel free to click here and give it a read if you’re interested.

The writer bases his conclusions on “a huge new survey by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life.” Basically, the survey suggests that Americans are migrating – but the article also suggests that we are migrating within Christianity. The better title for the article may have been, “Americans not losing their denomination, but changing it often.”

Here’s what I think. We are not losing faith, we are loosing it. Those who long for the “good old days” – you know, those days when church and country were “priorities” – may have tainted memories. Obeying an institution and fulfilling a duty does not a Christian make, and frankly, if the old days did produce Christians, America would look very different than it does today. Please don't read criticism of the past here, please read a honest reflection toward a hope-filled future.

People seem to be trying to embrace the real Church – a community of believers who love God and the world without condition. This kind of faith will let loose on the world as it expresses itself with extravagant love, outrageous forgiving and irrepressible generosity of spirit – all in response to what Jesus has done.

I have never been in danger of losing my faith, but I certainly am trying to loose it.

Eye opening irritants

2009-04-27T06:58:00.007-04:00

My son, J.J., spends his summers with red, bloodshot eyes. The first year this happened, I became worried about eye infections and chlorine and other medical journal possibilities. When his problem persisted, I took him to the doctor and discovered that there was another source of his problem – baseball dust. Already this year, and it is only late April, J.J. eyes look like something out of slasher film because the infield dirt that he plays in all the time is an irritant for him. His mother needs to buy some eye drops - a remedy to help him out a little.

Yesterday, I was sitting watching my older son’s travel team play. Yes, his arm is in a cast, but we have been sitting with these players and parents for years now and a strange sort of community has been formed. I wanted to be there.

During a particularly exciting part of the game, another mother asked me a question and I snapped at her. I mean, I totally expressed my frustration and the tension I was feeling (about all kinds of things, not just the baseball game) in my voice and I hurt her feelings – in front of others. It only lasted a nano second, but I still couldn’t get it back.

Everyone on the bleachers got quiet all of the sudden. I took a deep breath, and I apologized. I meant it, too. I asked her to forgive me and I admitted that I it had nothing to do with her. Another mom asked me if I was okay because it seemed so out of character. The whole thing made me sad.

I thought about that moment for a long time and I realized that part of my apology wasn’t true. This particular woman - the one I was harsh with – irritates me and that’s the truth. The things she says and the way she says them, get in my eyes and under my skin and they have for years. The moment on the bleachers was a build up over time and I decided to investigate why.

Here’s what I discovered: Many of the traits the woman possesses, the ones that irritate me the most, are ones that I know that I also possess. They are the very things that irritate me about ME, the things that I suspect irritate the people that are around me a lot. She’s loud (I’m loud), she’s free with her opinion (I’m free with my opinion), she’s hard on the players (inside my mind, I can be too), etc, etc, etc… You get the point. Even though we may not say the same things or think in the same ways – the very moments that I find irritating about her can reveal truth about me. With so much dust in my eyes, it’s no wonder I can’t see it all clearly.

I have decided to pray for both of us with intentionality in the days ahead. I suspect it may prove even more eye opening, or maybe even the remedy to help me out of this a little.

Happy 70th Birthday, Dad. We LOVE you.

2009-04-24T00:21:00.001-04:00