A rainy day reflection

We’ve all seen it. When an unexpected (or even an expected) rain shows up in the middle of an active day, people respond in comical ways to the prospect of being negatively impacted by getting wet. It’s an interesting thing to observe, not because of the face value cause-effect, but because of all the little things that lie beneath the surface. It can be stress inducing. But it doesn’t have to be.

Basically, it seems we can correlate our tolerance for getting wet in the rain with our determination or ambition to accomplish things regardless of circumstances. This correlation is not static by any means. There are days when we are more willing than others to endure the discomfort and changes to our physical appearance that result from getting wet. I’m just saying, our reaction to rain reflects so many things going on inside us.

I remember a time when my youngest was a preschooler and we had to go to Target on a rainy day. (This may have been more of a stormy day than just a rainy day.) I had one umbrella and hands full — handbag, shopping bags, and my little boy who held my hand as we ran to and from the store. When it was said and done, his pants and shoes were soaked. “How on earth did you get so wet?” I asked, implying that he should have been drier since we were both under the umbrella. “The rain has a little helper, Mom,” he said, “and its name is wind.”

Indeed, it does.

Recently at work, I was having a conversation about our human nature in reaction to doing difficult or uncomfortable things, particularly doing those things over a sustained period of time. Our purpose was to figure out ways to coach our team through an intense growth spurt. In that conversation, I used the image of a sudden downburst of rain to describe our general resistance to that sort of discomfort and change in circumstances. Most of us do not want to get wet. And we avoid it for myriad reasons, not the least of which is the way it changes our appearance – picture the “drowned rat” we refer to so often. We are far more willing to endure the inconveniences and discomfort of an absolute soaking when we have significant incentives that override the negative feelings about getting wet.

Soaked!

Today, my son and I were downtown having lunch together when the bottom fell out of the sky. The rain wasn’t just heavy, it was torrential. We had no particular reason to hurry and nowhere in particular to go afterward, so we weren’t stressed. And we didn’t have umbrellas. As we left the restaurant to head over to a nearby coffee shop, we passed several folks huddled in the foyer of the restaurant, waiting for the rain to pass. And, on the street, there were various mixtures of folks with umbrellas, makeshift umbrellas, and nothing (like us) to limit our getting wet. While in the coffee shop, it occurred to me that getting wet in the rain is a purely physical experience – a sign of life, if you will – with mental and emotional implications. In other words, the way we perceive getting wet unexpectedly in the rain drives our experience of it entirely. And we can change our perception of things.

The Birth of a Tradition

Christmas is a time of year chock full of traditions. It may hold some of the only traditions I follow, actually. I’ve even built my own family tradition of Special Day during the Christmas season – a day spent doing fun things with each of my kids as my gift to them. Special Day and Christmas Eve worship service are my hardcore traditions.

This year, it seems that a new tradition was born. It wasn’t planned. An invitation was made and it was accepted by a community of people dear to me. The invitation was radically simple: will you join me in decorating a really big tree that sits on a busy highway? Let’s add lights that offer hope and joy to passers-by; ornaments to honor loved ones.

And boy, did they accept! The tree that sits on property that belonged to my grandparents, then to my parents, now belongs to me. I had a dream that prompted me to seek owning it. That dream continues to develop – seeds of renewal and growth for a community I love.

I don’t present myself as a sad or grieving person. I do, however, carry a deep and abiding pain related to the death of my firstborn son nearly 5 years ago. Life, for me, splits into two segments: before Josh died and after Josh died.

What I learned in making an offer to use this tree to remember loved ones is that 1) there are many, many people who feel the sting of loss during Christmas in my small hometown, and 2) there’s something very healing in coming together to remember our beloveds who are no longer with us. And a Christmas tree is apparently a GREAT place to bring all these emotions and people together!

As we celebrated Christmas huddled as a group in the dark around our adopted tree, all of us who placed ornaments in honor or memory of a loved one felt a special presence this year. We heard his or her name spoken. We saw their light shine. We sang carols together. We felt sad together and we felt joy together. That is the definition of love and the definition of community.

And, before we parted ways, we agreed to do it again next year. That big but ordinary tree is now a symbol of love, joy, community, and Christmas spirit – <snap!> just like that!

It isn’t you, it’s your ego

Very often, the first thing you see in a situation doesn’t define it well. You think you’re dealing with a certain issue, but the real issue is hiding behind the one that shows up first. Maybe several layers behind.

Current example, I have found myself bucking hard against opinions over the last several weeks and months – unsolicited, random opinions in particular. I have become more and more outspoken about my notion that opinions are the lowest form of human communication. Opinions are like body odor to me: we all have them and we should avoid airing them onto others.

Why such contempt for opinions? Well, I thought it’s because I see opinions as nothing more than preferences. Your preference isn’t right or wrong. It’s just a preference. My preference isn’t right or wrong, either. It’s just another opinion. Weighing and reacting to opinions is a royal waste of time. I am highly protective of my life energy, so I avoid spending any mental or physical energy on futile exercises. I recommend the same for you.

But that’s not the whole story either. I’ll dive a LOT deeper than that, so come with me if you can handle it. I say that because getting to the deeper issue will get too personal and likely uncomfortable. It’s actually not personal opinions that I dislike reacting or responding to. It’s the ego hiding behind it. It’s the egocentric expectation that an opinion should somehow change what the recipient thinks, says, or does. It’s the egocentrism that is unable to acknowledge that there are myriad opinions and preferences and there isn’t one correct one. It’s the self-centered attempt to rid the world of anything one person doesn’t like or prefer or appreciate – at least the small sliver of the world that person occupies.

In Christian teaching, the ego is our enemy. The ego represents the false-face we develop and present to the world – our avatar, if you will. Following Jesus *requires* a complete turning away from the self-serving ego in order to follow the way of Love. Where ego seeks to satisfy itself and to defend itself and to grow itself in the view of others, humility seeks the exact opposite. We cannot feed our ego and our faith at the same time. We cannot follow our ego and Christ-in-us at the same time.

So, it’s not your opinion I’m bucking. It’s your ego.

If egocentric opinions are unwanted and unhelpful, then what does a humble opinion look like and is it more desirable? It looks more like constructive feedback. It considers the whole group, not just one person’s preference. It is offered only when requested for the purpose of growth, not thrown out unsolicited like a belch to relieve one’s personal need to release noxious gas. Constructive feedback is just that: constructive. It builds others. It builds communities. Humility is necessary in any community context because humility embraces its own transformation while the ego desperately resists it.

One's Ego Can Only Aggravate This Crisis - La Prensa Latina Media

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Speculation and anxiety

I’m an anxious person. It’s odd that my demeanor is typically that of a calming presence because underneath that smooth facade is some serious duck-paddling.

I struggle with what you’d call high functioning anxiety. It isn’t debilitating – it is, however, exhausting. At my worst, I avoid thought-provoking down time by busying myself to heroic levels. At my best, I exercise or take naps. In all cases, my anxiety feeds on the aloneness I find myself in during this single/COVID time in life. When I’m alone, my thoughts lead me to unanswerable questions.

It seems to me, as I listen to every American anchorperson on TV tonight discuss the outcome of today’s election in speculative terms, that speculation is the root of worry and anxiety. When we can’t know something, we fill in the gaps with speculation. We tell ourselves stories based on speculation – many of which are absolutely untrue – and we believe those lies we’ve developed.

If you’ve practiced this form of self-torture for any length of time, then you know how hard it is to undo. At the same time, once you learn to recognize the destructive pattern, you begin to see it more and more, making it possible to undo.

Anxiety has been and continues to be fed during this season of elections-wrapped-in-a-pandemic. Folks who aren’t typically bothered by anxiety are affected. Folks who suffer with it are manifesting some of their worst symptoms. So, how do we manage?

For me, it begins with making peace with the unknowable. Do I still imagine the worst case scenario? Absolutely – it’s how I’m wired. Rather than holding my scenarios as prophetic truth, though, I look at them as manifestations of my anxious worrying. I can set them aside. (I actually imagine the quantum theory range of possibilities and realize how arrogant it is to believe in my ability to accurately predict future outcomes. Please.)

Even more broadly, I believe in a loving and faithful God. I have questioned how to reconcile that love with some of the dreadful ways I’ve suffered in this life. But, when I remember the darkest times, I also remember being most certain of God’s love and presence when life was most uncertain. Awareness of the presence of God in Christ has been the hallmark of the most un-anxious times in my life.

As events unfold, I encourage you to see speculation for what it is and not to seize any of it as truth or fully predictive of outcomes. Feed what is good; talk about what is hopeful; live in a way that enacts love. Love wins while speculation predicts loss.

What is Necessary

We can prove our resilience without testing one another’s vulnerability.

I think and look back during our current pandemic, rising to its heights in the US during this Holy Week, to previous seasons of Lent. I really only started paying attention to Lent over the past 16-ish years. We didn’t observe Lent when and where I was raised, so, I don’t have that many seasons to remember.

As I learned to practice Lenten disciplines, I started simply. Of course, I’ve given up the standards over the years: soda, sweets, etc. During one of the earliest years, I gave up pork and beef; honestly, I haven’t eaten either since. I’ve also tried the add-on approach, adding a spiritual discipline during the 40-day season. Those are also meant to become lifestyle changes.

This year’s Lent has been unusual to say the least. Our congregation shared practices for each day that offer ways to give and receive love. Beyond paying attention to our in-house schedule of loving deeds, I haven’t been very intentional about my Lenten focus. Maybe because being under a “shelter in place” order feels a lot like working through spiritual disciplines.

For now, my most pressing focus is the daily process of deciding how to answer the question, “what is necessary?” as a guide to what I must do in order to support my household while being a good citizen. I’m a very conscientious soul, so you won’t find me walking around any of the places that do remain open. I try to order everything we need for our time at home to be delivered. If it can’t be delivered, I order for curbside, zero-contact pickup. Then, I obsessively wipe off items with alcohol or bleach wipes, quarantine pantry items to a certain section before folding them into use, bring no boxes or plastic bags inside, wash all produce, and, of course, wash my hands many multiple times throughout the day.

From The Jungle Book; “The Bare Necessities”

But there remains that question of what is necessary. It’s clear from this experience that I have not lived as simply as I thought I did. I’m used to getting whatever I want, whenever I want it, frankly. And not everything I want is necessary. Granted, I have done lots of internal work over the years, taming what I refer to as my “wanter.” Still, I’ve had to catch myself, every single day, and redirect my own thoughts and behaviors away from what I want towards what is necessary. And this is coming from a person who lives quite simply in comparison to our cultural standards. I can imagine how challenging it might be for someone who has never considered a simple life as any sort of goal or standard.

Answering the question of what is necessary has implications during this time of global pandemic far beyond a typical Lenten fast. When we choose what is necessary, we face potentially deadly consequences – not just for ourselves but for those we love most. We don’t know how we might be affected if we are infected … it’s a gamble. The odds are good that we’ll be ok but the risk is steep. If I blow my Lenten fast and eat chocolate, no one gets hurt. If I blow the shelter in place order and get sick, the potential for my own hurt as well as posing a danger to others, including my own child, is too great a risk.

So, I look forward to Resurrection Sunday and all that it signifies for those of us who love and follow Jesus: victory over death, an assurance of eternal life, promises of Christ’s reign and our co-inheritance in His kingdom … We have nothing to fear and everything to celebrate! And I will celebrate with my congregation by conference call this week. Because, while Jesus has already ushered in the kingdom of God on earth through his own ministry, death and resurrection, we, the Church, remain in this in-between time, waiting for the full restoration of creation.

So, how do we honor God best during this global crisis coinciding with our Christian celebration of the defeat of death AND the defeat of the FEAR of death? I think this is precisely where we are … Jesus rose from the dead and our day is coming. For now, though, we see our loved ones die. At this moment, we are seeing way too many beloveds dying at an alarming rate. We hear folks saying “faith over fear” as a motto. This doesn’t imply that we should test God by behaving in ways that risk lives during a known, deadly pandemic. It means that we know that death is not the end and we don’t live in fear of it. Life is precious. We humans are a peculiar mixture of resilience and vulnerability.

We can prove our resilience without testing one another’s vulnerability. Faith and grace and hope and love are our soul’s champions in this time in-between. We must employ them in all of our thoughts and prayers and behaviors each day for as long as this trial lasts – and beyond. These godly characteristics are as necessary as anything that might draw us away from home or that we might have waiting in our online shopping carts. But faith, grace, hope and love are necessities with something none of the items we scramble to buy will ever have: eternal value.

Deadly Denial

Watching a pandemic unfold was never on my list of things I expected to experience in my lifetime. As this global Covid-19 tragedy has unfolded, we all have witnessed the best and worst of human responses and reflexes.

The best responses have been thoughtful, based on true and identifiable patterns, and inevitably include a heavy dose of firm but kind guidelines. These are the first responders, enlightened leaders and caregivers who have learned that faith and fear coexist in tragic times but they know how to feed faith while facing fear.

The worst responses have been reflexive, impulsive and resistant to guidance by experts or authorities. These represent our most egoistic selves, wanting to distance ourselves from anything that might ask us to change, to say no to our wants, or to put others ahead of ourselves.

At the heart of our reflexive and impulsive responses is a fear of losing control or other personal/perceived losses. More pointedly, our most negative responses are based in denial, which in other circumstances, might serve us well by buying time for us.

But in the context of global pandemic, our tendency toward denial is, very literally, deadly.

I understand denial. I was trained in it, groomed in it, conditioned for it, and have lived in it and fought my way out of it for much of my adult life. It’s insidious once it becomes a default operating mode.

Denial has a breaking point, though. In relationships, it becomes unsustainable when something happens that reveals the truth in a way no one can deny any longer. There is a very fine line between holding out hope for the best outcomes and resisting the truth when it makes itself known. Denial – resisting the truth – is, at best, a ticking time bomb.

Horses for Sources website image

In our current crisis, we do not have the luxury of time. Denial – whether from elected officials or from spiritual leaders or from each and every one of us just trying to live our lives – is deadly in this context.

In the days ahead in this 2020 Lenten season, as those of us living in the United States witness staggering losses and grief that none of us were prepared to face, I challenge those among us who are predisposed toward denial to snap out of it. If you practice giving things up for Lent, add denial to your list of things to give up. Face the grim truth of our circumstances and make the commitment to make the difficult decisions that will force you to change your plans. Allow this time of massive disruption to CHANGE YOUR MIND. Be transformed into a lover of truth, even when the truth is HARD. Be responsible to your neighbors and people you don’t know, even when it means your life is made less comfortable.

As people of faith would anticipate, God is at work in this global pandemic. God is at work through people and in ways we cannot predict. Our responsibility to love our neighbor as ourself has never been more evident than during this time of ordered stillness. Choose to be a life giver, not a ticking time bomb, as you make choices that acknowledge our reliance on the best of human responses as a matter of life and death.

Blessed are the peacemakers

I am asked to preach more often these days and I appreciate the opportunity. Not for the opportunity to “tell folks something” (as my was-band accuses me of liking to do so much,) but for the opportunity to study and grow. I approach sermon-writing like research … I do lots of studying and comparing and observing and praying and listening to the text first before I try to write anything.

The Lectionary text for this weekend comes from the opening verses of Jesus’ “sermon on the mount” in the Gospel of Matthew. Preaching from a sermon preached by Jesus is an exercise in unpacking … and an exercise in packing-in as much as possible within a 20-minute sermon.

There is much to unpack in these 12 verses of “blessings” pronounced by Jesus. These pronouncements give us perspective on living well in the kingdom of heaven – a life that is beginning for us even as we live here on earth. How are we to reconcile the traits – poor in spirit, meekness, pure in heart, merciful – with what we are told are necessary to “make it” in the world into which we are born?

Image result for symbols of peace

For instance, “blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called children of God:” how does peacemaking square in our culture today? Here is a paragraph from my sermon on this particular subject:

Blessed are the peacemakers, says Jesus, for they will be called children of God.  Peacemaking is a different thing from avoiding conflict, by the way. Peacemaking is an intentional and ongoing decision to work toward peace and then maintain it. Eugene Peterson paraphrases it as “showing people how to cooperate instead of competing and fighting.” Peacemaking involves actively confronting thoughts and actions that would destroy lasting peace. Peacemaking is a work of justice – recognizing the sources of conflict and making things right. In a world that lusts for power and wealth, blessed are the peacemakers, for in the kingdom of heaven, they will be called children of God, known this way because they express the character of God.”

What is the American Christian ethos when it comes to peace-making? Are we seekers and builders of peace? Or are we eager to fight and compete? Do we support unjust systems that breed ongoing conflict, or do we seek to shine a light on corruption and land in places where true peace can develop and grow? Peacemaking is HARD WORK and too few of us are following Jesus in earnest in this regard. Dare we call ourselves “children of God” when we rush toward conflict, war or violence against our neighbors in any of its many manifestations? Does this express the character of God as modeled through Jesus, the Christ?

Blessed are the peacemakers, says Jesus, for they will be called children of God. May we all, prompted and guided by the Holy Spirit, seek to enact PEACE in our corner of the world, today and every day, as a testament to our commitment to Kingdom principles above any principles taught and promoted in this world. And may we be given wisdom to see and know the difference!

 

 

Can I Stop Now?

This is for all of us “weary ones” who do far more than we should because to stop “doing” would mean to start “being.”

Can I stop working multiple jobs in order to have a supposedly comfortable living? When I started this pace over twenty years ago, no one told me the toll it would take on my ability to rest. No one warned me that I might forget how to relax and have fun. Surely there are better ways to ration your days.

Can I stop doing things for my child that he is perfectly capable of doing for himself? Can I stop that now that he is entering young manhood? I haven’t seen that it leads him into any reciprocated acts of service. It merely trains him to expect me to do everything. What would happen if I just stopped? I’d lose some aspect of my sense of purpose, that’s what. I need to lose it, though, and find better aspects of purpose. His own senses of adequacy and purpose require me to stop.

Can I stop feeling guilty for the ways I might have chosen poorly in my past or acted without any thought at all towards consequence? I have adopted a hyper-responsible persona to cover up that side of myself … my history … but I don’t want to always be the responsible one. I don’t seek or endorse recklessness. But I do seek freedom for myself and for those in my sphere of influence. Can I stop being repressively responsible now?

Can I stop fearing loss now and start using all of my resources fearlessly? I’ve lost things I can never get back. I cannot remake my firstborn son, though I wish with my whole heart that I could. I cannot return to my youth and fix any of the things I broke. While I sit, empty, feeling the weight of my losses, slowly but surely I forget all the treasures I’ve hoarded or hidden away, the gifts I’ve been given that are surely meant to be of great value to me in this life. Can I stop fearing loss now and boldly put all of my gifts to full use?

Better yet, can I stop chasing “improvement” or “success” and find contentment in merely being, whether I accomplish any more accolades in life or not? Can I let go of dreams of how life was supposed to be and embrace every day enthusiastically for what it offers?

Jesus not only gives us permission to stop these behaviors. Jesus invites us into the way of rest and contentment:

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

Matthew 11:28-29 (NRSV)

Can I stop?” is the wrong question. Rather, the question is, “Will I go in the way Jesus invites and teaches?”

Weary friends, we can’t afford not to.

You get what you ask for

I’m not always good at asking for what I want, nor saying much of anything directly. You should have seen how long it took me to write that sentence.

I’m a dreamer, that’s for sure. My dreams usually pertain to creating something or otherwise improving something. I believe dreamers can change the world – at least dreamers who aren’t afraid to fly. But, my wings were effectively clipped years ago.

Over my lifetime, I explored some things my heart was drawn to explore whenever I escaped the margins of my tiny, enclosed, inherited world. But not until fairly recently did I explore without looking over my shoulder, fearing some form of retribution.

I was raised not to gamble, or play cards for that matter. Life was framed in terms of avoiding a long list of behaviors, words and activities deemed either sinful or else unbecoming. As a teen, I had to sign an agreement to be “prudent and circumspect in my behavior at all times.” Expectations were high for behavior but low (or at least unspoken) for achievement. These days, I’ll buy a lottery ticket now and then, but only if the payout is exceptional. I won $2 in the last one for $1 billion, so I broke even.

It took me a really long time – several decades – to break free from some of the weight of unnecessary chains of fear that I inherited. I’ve grown away from a theology that sees God as Supreme Punisher of bad deeds to a theology that sees God as Love and Mercy and Grace that I could never adequately describe but revealed in and through Jesus Christ. I don’t think God’s love is withheld if or when we behave badly. The goal of God’s love is not my suppression, but rather, my fullness and freedom to be all that I am. If I respond well, then I’ve received Love well.

Part of the difficulty I’ve had in asking directly for the things I have wanted includes the fear of being rejected. My experience in childhood and young adulthood was to be rejected when I did things that were deemed unacceptable. What I thought and felt was often in conflict with what was acceptable for me to do or be. That cycle would manifest itself as me seemingly not knowing what I wanted. But the truth was less that I didn’t know what I wanted and more that I couldn’t reconcile what I wanted with what I was allowed to think, say, be or do. I was afraid, and I still fight that conditioning on most days.

In the 10th chapter of the Gospel of Mark, Jesus asked blind Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus had a quick and ready answer: “Rabbi, I want to see!”

If Jesus were to ask us the same question, I expect many of us would have to ponder it much like we would ponder the 3-wishes offer from a genie, or what we’d do with our winnings if we won a lottery. What do we really want? And further, what do we want God to do for us?

Bartimaeus, it seems, knew what he was missing by losing his sight. Several translations indicate his request was not only to see, but to see again.

Nothing can clear away years of false walls and chains like an identity-shattering loss.

No one wants to suffer. And no one who has experienced great suffering wishes it on anyone else. However, speaking as someone who has experienced great suffering, I can suggest that it is, perhaps, the most effective catalyst for spiritual growth. Suffering can be fertile soil for our faith to grow – and not just in the sense of increasing, but also in the sense of correcting false ideas and beliefs.

Are you someone who has difficulty in expressing what you want – either to God or to others with whom you are in relationship? Until you experience a faith that believes in God’s goodness and unchanging love, you may remain unable to clearly express what you want or need, producing frustration within you as well as around you.

May your fear be replaced with confidence in God’s love for you, and may that confidence lift your wings to fly toward the desires that have been planted inside your heart! Beyond that, may you grow in all of your relationships in such a way that allows you to express plainly what you need from God and from others, based on a faith in the love that connects us all.