The End of the World, take two

We have been through another one of those times when there was an expectation, at least on the part of some people, that Jesus would return.  There were the typical snide and cynical responses; no one seemed to be overly concerned about whether this could be a reality, some thought it a good opportunity to get out of something they would rather not do.  I remember that feeling.  I remember walking around the days just prior to finals while I was in college and praying that if it was time for Jesus to return, I was okay with that. 

The thing is, we don't think Jesus is coming.  Oh yes, we say that we think Jesus is coming, but we don't think Jesus is coming.  We don't think we are going to die, that Jesus will return, that there will one day be a last day.  We have long lost that feeling of expectancy, that we might turn a corner and run into Jesus unawares.  We feel offended when death takes one that we love, as if there was ever a chance that one day it would not.  We believe we are immortal and when we come face to face with our mortality, we are shell shocked and outraged. 

Recently, I have the scary experience of being in the general vicinity of a tornado.  It did an amazing amount of damage to the area around me, there was a terrible loss of home and lives.  I was ashamed that I had been spared any suffering really, beside inconvenience.  Survivors guilt, I think we call it, is real.  When you see how much others have lost and you are safe and secure, it is deeply humbling.  But beyond the guilt response, it was the drive out of the area that has left the deepest impression.  I drove through some of the prettiest spring countryside, beautiful colors, brilliant sunshine peaking through brand new leaves.  Then, I would turn a corner and there would be uprooted trees, scattered bricks, roofless homes, naked foundations, vacant wandering people, gathering up possessions.  Then, another turn and the devastation was out of sight again and a darling home with a beautiful landscaped lawn moved into view.  How can that be even possible? Yet, this is the way life is, only mostly we can pretend it is not.

Last week I lost a friend to death.  His death was a relief as the diseased that riddled his body made breathing difficult and frightening and it was a blessing when he didn't have to draw a breath again.  He was a planner extraordinaire.  He continued planning while he was no longer able to talk by writing notes and asking questions.  He had more drive and more energy than anyone I have ever met, and had the unique gift of allowing people to retain their dignity when he offered help.  I sat during at his funeral, looking at a picture of him, his eyes sparking with life, and thought about how he had fought through heart surgery with indignant impatience knowing he had always taken care of himself.  How dare his heart behave so badly?!  By the time I knew he was sick this time, he had already taken months to deal with it and had come to some sort of understanding.  If he was to die, he would die as prepared as he could be.  He planned his funeral, he picked the music, he got his affairs in order, he no doubt left a detailed plan for his wife to follow.  Somehow he made death a part of his plan for life.  I can tell you that though I will miss him dreadfully, and I am sure that the hole he leaves behind will never be filled in quite the same way, I am confident that he is happy and content today.  He is at work in the eternal kingdom, getting the lay of the land, and figuring out what needs to be done.  I hope he met my dad, and they talked about me.  They would like each other, I am sure. 

One day one of the predictors will get it right, Jesus is coming back, you know.  I can't help but wonder if I lived with this reality as a part of my daily plan, as my friend Wendell lived with his death as a part of his, that my life would run on deeply different lines.  Would I really sweat the small stuff that keeps me tossing and turning these days...I think not.

I am thinking it's time to pack a bag.  I wish we would all get ready!

So, how much am I worth, anyway?!

Somewhere deep inside of all the grown ups I know, is a little child who never quite grew up.  Along the way, some of the injuries life inflicts seem to prevent us from being able to fully grow up as whole people, and that inner child keeps those wounded spots alive and kicking, I guess until God heals them up.  My inner child can be so darn rude, popping in at the most inconvenient moments, and helping me act just like a small child in a grown up body.  What a terrible combination.  The only reason I can still go out in public is that my inner child has many friends.  We all hang out together in the ashamed section.

Most of the people I know have moments when the small child within them comes out to play with the small child in me.  Sometimes this results in hysterical laughter until my eyes water and one of us needs to make a bathroom run.  Sometimes this results in dead silence when the inner child is asking those outrageous questions or making those uncomfortable statements that are hard to answer. Sadly there are times when the children throw horrible fits that cause even more damage.   They may be children, but they now have grown ups tools to make sticks and stones look puny when compared to the words they can use.

My inner child can certainly throw a fit, almost always over the same unresolved issue: do I have any value?   I wish I could remember a time when it was pointed out to me as a  wee small child, or an adolescent, or whenever it occurred,  that I have no intrinsic value.  I don't know where it comes from, but my inner little one is fairly sure even when counted together, we are not worth a nickle.  So sure that is true that there has been a full scale government conspiracy type of cover up to develop deep protective layers to keep that sneaky little truth from going public.  When those barriers are threatened, woe be unto anyone who walks into the crossfire.  Messy, messy, messy.

I remember learning  somewhere that the chemicals that make up the body were worth about $10.  I am hopeful with inflation it's more like...you know...$12.  But even without counting the $12, I am aware that I am a precious child of God, worth so much that Jesus laid down everything to establish a way for the love of God to flow through the sin and death to life and redemption.  I know this, I have taught it, and I stand by it with absolute conviction that, while I do not even know enough about the nature of God to fill a thimble, I know this.  I have had personal revelation, scriptural basis, affirmation from the community of believers, and two thousand years of tradition to back up this position.  John Wesley would be proud.

So the question remains, how can I know this so well intellectually,  and still have this renegade little monster inside of me yelling "man the cannons boys, this is war" at odd moments.  The ego says I am smart enough to figure this out, after all I can figure out all manner of things.  I have spent much too much time pondering, studying, contemplating, praying, poking, interviewing, and even googling and still nothing!  I don't have a clue.  I only know this, reason isn't the solution.  The fear is so deep seated that prune as I may, I cannot weed it out.   I do not have a white flag, but if I did, I would be waving it. I surrender, which I think was probably the smartest thing I have done yet.

Two years on a journey into spiritual formation is teaching me this: with God truly all things are possible.  God needs no help from me, but if I am able to adopt a daily rule of life that keeps me centered in God's presence, leaning on God's power ,and trusting in God's grace, the journey may be more fun and certainly more peaceful.   In the last two weeks I have mastered nothing, but become much more aware of the reactions when they occur.  I am finding that noticing helps!  It may even lead to anticipation, and who knows, one day to discovering where the sore spot used to be is just a little bruise.  Maybe that little one inside of me, still worried about discovery, might grow up.  You know, to an adolescent.  Then I could buy the convertible,  play rock, and roll real loud, and maybe get blond highlights. 

So how much am I worth?!  Priceless.

Good Friends

There is just not anything in the world as good as when you find someone who loves the stuff you love.  I don't mean who loves you, though that is just pretty cool too!  I mean those people who find the same things funny without having to explain why.   Who make eye contact with you, when something funny has just happened, and you both fall out laughing, or bite your lip to keep from doing something.  Isn't that delightful?

Or the people who love to go shopping with you, for the same things you like to go shopping for.  Who are happy wandering aimlessly, or love finding the bargain.  Who will notice you wearing, or carrying, or decorating with that one of a kind, on sale today only item and relive the joy of discover with you, over and over again.  Isn't that amazing?

Or the people who have read the same books you have read and have the same response or questions or articulate perfectly for you what you thought.  I think people who can summarize my thoughts are worth their weight in oil (if that is more precious than gold these days).  I want to applaud!  They always make me sound smarter than I am, and how wonderful is that!

Or how about those people who know how to brew the best coffee.  I love those people!  I love the first sip and the delightful surprise at how awesome this particular coffee tastes.  I think these people have some secret recipe or perhaps they have a brown thumb, but their coffee is worth driving to get and their conversation is always as good as their coffee.  I love these folks, aren't they remarkable?

I guess my favorite folks are those who are as comfortable as a old pair of shoes.   Who always seem to fit and who make me fit, who can talk for hours or not at all, who will always tell you if you have green stuff in your teeth or it you need to pull up your zipper, and some how not make you feel stupid.  I love that you can tell them the outrageous thing you have just done and they laugh with you, or cry with you, or just love you in your horror.  I believe these people belong in the beatitudes; as blessed are you who make others at home, for yours is the heart of God.  I know God dotes on them.

Since they are so delightful, I am left to wonder why it is there are not more of them.  Why are they as rare as diamonds and when you find one, it's all you can do not to  handcuff them to your side so you wont lose them ever again.  I am confused why the Body of Christ is not a vast sea of like-mindedness and shared vision and this kind of relationship that feeds the soul so much.  Surely this is what the Body ought to do for one another.  Paul says the same kind of thing in Philippians 2:

¹ Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, ² then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. ³ Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, ⁴ not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

I confess freely that I am not more like-minded than anyone else.  I like things my way, I am not always tender or compassionate, and I am not at all sure I value others above myself.  I try, really I do.  I walk into a conversation all gracious, and kind, and caring, and I walk out at times feeling frustrated, violated and fed up.  In those golden moments when the opportunity occurs for me to connect, as Paul calls me to do, it is always  a blessing, a gift and a life affirming moment, and I want more, more, more.  How is it that I forget all this so quickly when the environment isn't so conducive for fellowship?  Is it that I am called to create this for others, rather than worry if it is being created for me?  Is it that my pride keeps me from making the attempt to be like-minded?  Is it that when broken people collide, without the grace of God, injury occurs from the jagged edges? 

Maybe the secret is in delighting in being the kind of person others can laugh with, who can summarize thought well, who feels like a pair of comfortable old shoes to the world around them.  Wonder how letting Christ be Lord of my life, and letting others just be fellow pilgrims, would change how we interact.   Maybe it truly is in giving that we receive, in seeking that we find, in dying to self that we find life in Christ.  Having the same love, being in the same Spirit, having the same mind, all centered in Christ, sounds like the  Just maybe.

Coffee, anyone?

The Kingdom of God is like...

The Kingdom of God is like waking up one day, realizing you are completely naked and discovering so is everyone else.

The Kingdom of God is like going to get some Dove dark chocolate and having the joy of giving your piece away to the neighbor who looks like they need it.

The Kingdom of God is like picking up the biggest boulder you and find and because you are carrying it for a brother, finding it's weight can be managed.

The Kingdom of God is weeping with those who weep, questioning with those who question, searching with those who seek, finding peace is the tension.

The Kingdom of God is the moment when you realize all that you thought you should run from, you should be running toward.

The Kingdom of God is the middle of the Oreo, getting through the crusty edges to the sweet center.

The Kingdom of God is the outrageous laughter that wells up inside in the middle of the tears that later no one can explain.

The Kingdom of God is in the dark and the scary and the lonely and the broken just as much as it is in the sunlight and the joy and the laughter and the unity.  Both contain God but not all of God.

The Kingdom of God is in the moment when some one you love needs something, and you discover you have it.  And you realize you have it because some one you love would need it.

The Kingdom of God is in the silence, and in the breaking of the silence.

The Kingdom of God is in the redemption, in my life time and beyond it.

The Kingdom of God is in the annoyance of the big fat wood bee, and all of the imperfections that insert themselves into my world.  Oh that I might conquer the fear and learn to stand still with them.

The Kingdom of God is under the umbrella of a imperfect stranger, in the ridiculous sunglasses of companion, in the repetition of a story. 

The Kingdom of God is in the small circle of friends who love deeply, and in the large crowd who loves not at all.

The Kingdom of God is in the release of those I love, into the Hands who love better.

The Kingdom of God is the moment that God sweeps me up into His arms and we dance.

Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done. 

Amen, and Amen

Saying Goodbye

I am not good at saying goodbye.  Ask anyone you like.  They will all say the same thing...I talk too long at the door, I have one more thing to say, I say I will be in touch, we will see each other again, yadda yadda yadda.  The act of 'this is the end' is very hard for me. 

Strangely enough, being in 'the end' is less hard for me.  Once the goodbye is over and the initial wave of grief hits me, living the goodbye is easier.  I don't mean I am not connected with friends and don't miss loved ones who have moved, graduated into eternity, or have just stopped communicating.  I just mean when the door closes, the door closes.  I don't typically stand on the outside beating on it, or checking back to see if it is open now, or it the lock is wobbly, or try to slide stuff under the door.  I just move on, sometimes with anger, frustration, resentment, or relief, joy, gratitude.  Why do you suppose I can't close the door all that well, but once it is closed, that baby is closed?!

I am at the end of my journey in the Spiritual Formation Academy.  I am looking around the room thinking some of these people will never cross my path again.  I am wondering how it will be in a few days when I drive away for the last time, what the last communion service will be like, how I will say goodbye to the darling people who have moved into my heart.  I am also wondering what it will be like when I no longer think of these folks all that often, or at all.  When the relationship changes, we lose touch and I am no longer current in their lives.  Will the place that they held remain?  And if it does not, why do you suppose that is?

Many seasons in my life have come to a close.  High school, college, neighborhood groups, navy  communities, church communities, small groups, classes.  I enjoyed them fully when they were active and on going.  I would have said I was fully invested in these communities; I can still name many of the participants, tell the stories, remember the significant moments. I believe my life and my heart were touched and yet, the season passes and I am not pining for those folks, or that place or even a do over of the time.
Is this a good thing, or a bad one?

I am inclined to see it as good, after all I am living in the present moment, looking ahead to what lies next.  No looking back, pressing on.  I am pretty sure this is scriptural and that of course settles the matter.   I hope it is not that I dislike pain and so avoid it at all cost.  I hope it is not that I am too shallow to let things impact me deeply.  I sure hope it is not that my attention span is so short, I can't focus on anything long enough to get broken up.  Surely it is not that I am an experience junkie, having drawn out of an experience all that I could, I drop that one off and look for a new one.  I am pretty sure none of those negative things could be true of such a deep, nurturing, bonding, fully focused being such as my self.  It is the hand to the plow thing, it is the taken hold of that which Christ took hold of kind of thing, I am sure.  Almost completely.

But just in case, just in case, I am praying about those other things.  Just in case I am afraid of suffering and sacrifice, I am  going to ask about that.   Just in case I am too eager to move on to the next thing, when a moment spent reflecting on this one, I am going to ask about that too.  I am willing to ask the questions, the jury remains out about my ability to hear the answers.

In this moment, all that matters is that God is God, I am not, and God is up to the challenged of opening the eyes of the blind, even the blind like me.  Saying goodbye this time could be a new experience.  It might become a hello of an entirely different kind.

PUSH

The story is told of a man who is visited by God.  God takes him outside his cabin and points to a large bolder.  God tells the man to push against the boulder until God passes his way again.  The man is puzzled but obedient and each morning he rises early and he heads outside to push against the boulder.  He takes a small break for lunch and returns to push the boulder until sunset.  Day after day after day the man pushes the boulder until months go by, finally a year, then two.  One day, God returns and he finds the man exhausted, feeling defeated, sitting in the shade of the boulder.  God inquires why he has stopped pushing the boulder,  "Day after day," the man replies, "I have pushed against this boulder.  I pushed the boulder in the sunshine, in the rain.  I pushed when people came to visit and when I was alone.  Faithfully, I have pushed this boulder and in all this time, the boulder has not moved.  Today I have given up.  I cannot move this boulder."  God inquires gently, "Who asked you to move the boulder?" 

I just need to say that I am not fond of this story.  I know it is a parable of sorts, and of course it makes a good point.  We often assume that when we are given a job to do, some results ought to occur.  After all, what kind of a job is it to stand and push against a boulder.  Surely one must expect that with time the boulder would move and we would see the results of all that hard work.  Who could expect us to find great fulfillment simply in pushing? 

Who asked you to move the boulder?  A very good question, of course, just an infuriating one.  I know that when God asks us to do something, God is not required to explain the request,  God is God after all and we are not.  It is just hard for me, really close to impossible, to do a job I have been asked to do that seems to make no sense.  No logical, practical, measurable, valuable, even intangibly rewarding sense.  Push the boulder, push the boulder, push the boulder.  Why, why, why?

Since it seems that I am often given jobs like pushing against boulders and see little or no results of this labor, I am re-examining this little parable to figure out how I might push with more joy and less frustration.   First thing I note is that God comes to see me.  This is pretty astounding, and well worth pondering.  After all, who am I that God would come to visit?  I am no one, except for the identity I have in God.  I am His child and for no reason, God loves me abundantly and unconditionally. He entrusts me with His presence and is willing to give me a job.  This is just pretty awesome, actually. 

Then I think about what it means to be assigned a responsibility by God, or called into service, as we like to say in steeple speech.  I like to think I am called into mission and ministry, I am just not always clear that I know how.  I am often confused because I thought I was called to make disciples and further God's kingdom.  Maybe  I was called to keep trying to make disciples and further God's kingdom.  The difference is small but important: I keep pushing, God covers the movement part. 

Finally, I think about how tired I get sometimes.  I don't get a little weary, or that really satisfied tired.  I get empty tired, like when you have been sick for a little while and you begin to wonder if you will ever feel good again.  Its an ugly tired and it leaves me wondering if I made up the whole call thing.  Why is that?  Why do I get that tired, and build up resentment ,and focus on the minor annoyances instead of the major joys.   I think I forget about being faithful and obedient, and instead focus on the results of all that pushing that tell me I am doing a good job.  My attention span is limited, God seems to be slow in returning, and I wonder if it matters at all that I go on pushing this ridiculous boulder.  Faithfulness and obedience are not really qualities that are prized in the world I am surrounded by.   I am burning up and out because I am trying to make my culture fit into my relationship with  God.  It cannot work that way, I know that.  Yet, still I repeat the same mistake over and over again. 

Then God stops by to see me again. " Dear one", God says to me, "why are you heart sick and defeated?"  "It's this darn boulder God, it wont move, it just sits there day after day.  I have read all the right books, I have worked long hours, I have pushed with creativity, and intelligence, and passion and vision.  I am your most reliable pusher.  I don't take made up holidays off, I am always looking for ways to push better.  And nothing, it isn't budging!"  "Yes, I see that", God responds to me.  "But honey, who asked you to move the boulder?"

Dawn's Early Light

Darkness had fallen almost completely. The world slumbers on, except for those pockets of nocturnal life. I am glad for the silence and stillness, glad for the quiet and peace and wondering how long it will last. It is my moment for reflection, thinking about the day, thinking about tomorrow, thinking about nothing really. The silence has become a great friend to me; I enjoy it so much I cannot bring myself to keep much noise going. I have not grown so that the activity and fast pace of life are not appealing, they are and continue to keep me rolling out of bed with joy, and yet this quiet, non-efficient time when I am just zoning out, allowing my mind to wander over things that pop in and pop out of my head, is becoming equally appealing.



Tonight I am pondering priorities and wondering how one chooses which things will take precedence over a world of options. I love to feel special, loved, cherished; I wonder how often I extend these precious gifts to others. I love to write, recording random rabbits that hop through my thoughts. I am disturbed at how seldom I do any writing. I love to read, to enter into imagination and solve mysteries and fall in love and make new friends in the adventures of life. I am surprised at how little fluff I am reading these days - it's all reading for class and teaching. I love the stuff I love! But somehow, even though I know I love the stuff I love, I do not do the stuff I love as much as I once did. Why on earth is that?



It is not that the stuff I love is bad. I will admit there are things that I love which belong on the bad list, but not even half of it would fall under a questionable column. It is not that I am much too important, and much too busy, and much too elite to be above my favorite things. It is not that there aren't opportunities, or all the words have dried up, or the books have all been read. It’s not that I no longer value them as important; after all, in the scheme of things, who doesn't want to be lost in a sea of words the lure you away to the place of adventure, and love, and fantasy, and issues that are not yours to solve. Sounds a little like heaven, doesn't it?



So why am I not doing those things I love so much? Perhaps because the people who want me to do productive work carry more authority in my mind. Keeping them happy, and thinking warm fuzzy thoughts about me is so much more important than me having warm fuzzy thoughts. Or worse, maybe I like the warm, fuzzy feeling from others thinking warm and fuzzy thoughts. As Charlie Brown would say, "Good Grief"! This is so far from any kind of reality, how on earth could this be a reason for giving up doing some of things that I love? Everyone knows that you cannot keep the world around you warm and fuzzy. The same people who yelled "Hosanna, Hosanna" on Sunday were back on Friday yelling "Crucify, Crucify". If you find that hard to believe, just look around you. Have you noticed how the same boss that loves you today can fire you tomorrow? The people who are you friends, and think you are amazing; who one week later think you are hard to get along with? Without sounding whiny, the reality is, it is foolish to spend my valuable time that could be spent in Wonderland working two more hours to make someone happy, who I can't really make happy after all.



Maybe that isn't the only reason. Perhaps I do not do the things I love so much because I lose perspective. I don't realize in my business how many opportunities to love someone else slip through my fingers. As I run onto the next item on the list I don't notice that Sally is having a bad day, Howard’s son is doing poorly in school, and Linda is still sick and lonely. It is only when I stop and think 'hey, no one has loved me today' do I realize how many days it has been since I have loved someone else. Yet, when someone asks me what is new, I find it hard to answer the question. If I am so busy, so productive, so important, shouldn't I have something to account for my time?



A third possibility might be that I do not always like the things I discover when I stop to enjoy the silence, read a book, write a thought, love someone else. It's then that I wonder about growing older, life getting away from me, unpleasant memories from the past. It's the place when I meet the me that is real and alive and not always the person I can imagine myself being. Yes, it's the place of the fluffy comforters and soft pajamas, but it is also the place of fear, of regrets, of disappointment that the fairy tale doesn't always come true. Business keeps all of those thoughts at bay; non-structured time encourages them on. Maybe there is some intentionality to running with all my strength to avoid whatever it is that I seem to need to avoid. If there is truth in that, that is even more sad and ridiculous. Isn't the reality the reality, whatever I might do to avoid it?



The list goes on and the time spent wonder why I am not playing, keeps me from playing. So I am going to sleep with the stronger conviction that tomorrow needs some play time, as does the day after that. I am going to choose to make those things that I love a real part of my life. I bet I make some people mad. Lord, help me to realize I would have made them mad anyway! I am going to keep my focus on the 'main thing' and trust God will flag me down when I have gotten to looking at the storm too much. I am aware that there may be some nasty little demons, who will visit my silence and stillness, and I will be putting my trust in Jesus who said, in this world we would have some nastiness, great news though: he beats the world every time. I think he can give me some victories too.



Good night moon, good night stars, good night dear ones. This is peace.