"It's Not Safe"

One of my favorite movies is "Finding Nemo."  There are so many memorable quotes and extradorinary life lessons from that movie.  Who would have thought a film about a bunch of fish could have so much to offer?

I show the first ten minutes or so of this film to my freshmen class and then ask them to apply it to their own lives as they begin this new part of their journey called "college."   Aside from the fact that the beginning of the film is terrifying (really - a barracuda eats Marlin's wife and all but one of their 400 "children"), there are some great moments after that. No matter how often I watch it, I still laugh when Sheldon sneezes and says, "I'm H2O intolerant," and  Tad remarks, "I'm obnoxious" in a tone that proves his point.  I love the way that Pearl makes Nemo feel less self-conscious about his "lucky" fin by drawing attention to her own imperfection (a shorter tentacle), and Mr. Ray promises Marlin, "Don't worry.  We're going to stay together as a group" (even though it doesn't quite turn out that way:)

But what I mostly hope my students catch from this short clip is that Nemo is actually leaving home for the first time in his life (not unlike many of them), and going out into the large ocean (the world, or in their case, Greenville College), and while it's exciting and new and full of adventure, it is NOT always safe.  In fact, it can be frightening -- lonely -- painful -- disheartening.  Because often in order to learn and grow, we must be challenged and stretched.  And that is usually not fun, and it is often not safe.

In the process of teaching, I am always learning.  And I've discovered something about my own life. I have played it safe.  And I am getting tired of playing it safe.  We all have our own unique "ocean" and I have been afraid to truly venture out into mine.  And I'm tired of being afraid.  I'm tired of counting the cost before I do something that I feel passionate about -- something I might even be called to do.  Our goal is not to be safe.  Jesus did not promise that we would be safe -- not in this life.

In John's Gospel, Jesus comforts His disciples with these words, "Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Trust in God; trust also in Me."  Wonderful words.  Comforting words.  But what is most striking to me about this passage is WHEN Jesus speaks them. It is the night of Jesus' arrest.  In just a matter of hours their Master, their Rabbi, the one they left families and friends and occupations to follow, will be arrested, tried, convicted, and hung on a cross.  And yet Jesus says, "Do not let your hearts be troubled."

In this same Gospel, on that same fateful night, Jesus tells His disciples that they will be persecuted -- hated, thrown out of the synagogue, even killed -- all for the sake of the Gospel -- the Good News of Jesus Christ and God's love for the whole world.

Fear can be crippling.  Fear can keep us from doing what is best, what is right, what needs to be done.  And the things we fear tend to reveal what we value the most.  Comfort.  Security.  Our reputation.  Family.  Friends.

Jesus said, "Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Trust in God; trust also in Me."  The world is not a safe place, especially if you truly want to follow Jesus, because the Gospel is intended to shake up things -- take us to places where change needs to happen.  That might be thousands of miles away.  Or it might be right in front of us.
 
It's not safe out there, but we MUST go.  I am tired of playing it safe.  I am praying for the courage to love Jesus with my LIFE.  No matter where that takes me.  No matter what the cost.  Because in the end, nothing else matters more than that.  Nothing.

Greenville College -- Another Beginning

For all current and former students, faculty, staff, and administrators of Greenville College, this is especially for you:

Last weekend we concluded our annual Fall Faculty Fellowship at Greenville College.  It's a kind of "jump-start" to the new year, a "torch lighting" before the games begin, a "pep rally" at the beginning of the new season (have I used enough metaphors yet, or would you like more??)

Gathering the faculty before the school year begins is something that many colleges and universities do.  And I have had the privilege of being a part of GC's Faculty Fellowship for many years.  However, it didn't hit me until today that this was my 25th time.  I am beginning my 25th year of being a part of this community of faith and learning.  A quarter of a century.  Half of my lifetime.

But this one felt differently to me.  Maybe it was because we had a great topic and an excellent outside speaker.  Shane Hipps, author of Flickering Pixels: How Technology Shapes Your Faith, shared with us about the evolution of technology and how it impacts our culture and faith.  Fascinating stuff.  Maybe it was because the food was especially good (really, Libby and her crew provided pretty incredible meals).  But I think it was something else.  I think it was me.


I think it was me, recognizing again, and somehow for the first time, what a privilege it is to be a part of the family of God, and a member of this particular group of people.  It was me, realizing that my recent health issues have caused me to view life a bit differently.  It's difficult to fully describe, but I'm seeing the forest for the trees more often.  And some things that used to seem vitally important just don't anymore.  I'm looking for things that will last beyond this lifetime.  I'm seeking wisdom from those who have walked this journey longer than I have -- those who truly know what I yearn to know -- those who know what it means to be content, to be at peace, to rest in the presence of God.  Those who truly know that, in the end, everything really will be alright. And in this particular community of faith, I have found these people.  Precious people.  Saints.

It was also me, being so grateful for all the young faces -- those who come with fresh ideas and the optimism of youth. Those who love the Lord with passion and enthusiasm.  Those who still have a bit of mischief to work out -- who are still kids at heart (actually, in our community, that describes some of our older folks as well!).

And it was me, watching in amazement as those my age, my friends, took on mantles of high leadership at Greenville College (including the Presidency) with an inspiring mixture of humility and confidence that can only come from God -- so inspiring that I heard many people say throughout the weekend, "We are in such good hands."

It was me, taking the time to stop and look around and be amazed at people.

We are not a perfect place.   It grieves me deeply when I think of those who came to us and didn't experience the loving, caring community we aspire to be for all who come.  I have often wished we could have a "do-over," especially for these former students.  Sadly, we cannot.  But we can learn -- we must learn -- to do better.


Because what really matters is people --  people, made in God's image.  And at Greenville College I have discovered a group of people who are sincerely trying to be a community of faith and learning.  A group of people who are sincerely trying to be a college community that loves God deeply, and loves the students with whom we are entrusted.  

It's a new year, and while Chaim Potok may be right in saying, "All beginnings are hard," I am especially thankful for this new beginning because God has granted me a new perspective.  It is a privilege to be here.  It is a privilege to walk among these people who love the Lord and love one another, even if we're not perfect.  And it is INDEED a privilege to welcome 1,000 or so students to walk with us, and with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

And so, "Let the games begin!"

Life is...Messy

Life is....messy.  And most of us walk around not knowing what to do with the mess.  So we try to hide it, because when we compare ourselves to others, at least on the surface, it seems like we're the only ones who have a mess.  But the truth is, everyone else is hiding theirs, too.  We say we're the body of Christ.  We say we are a family.  We say we will support and love one another, no matter what.  But in actuality, we don't really mean it.  We're so far from being a true family.

One of the courses I teach is on youth ministry.  When we discuss the youth of today I tell my students, "Youth ministry is messy, because youth are messy.  But if you're going to truly minister to youth today, you've got to be willing to love them as they are.  Don't be afraid of the mess.  Jesus wasn't."  Much of the mess of today's youth is visible. They come with their loud music and piercings and tattoos and skateboards.  They come with their defiant attitudes and irreverent questions.  They come with all their "baggage," but if you truly love them, if they find in you someone they feel they can trust, then they are often willing to show you their baggage -- addictions to drugs and alcohol, sexual promiscuity, violence, depression, low self-esteem, loneliness, shattered dreams, hopelessness.  Many of them are desperately hoping for someone to trust with their "mess."

But it's not just our youth that are a mess. The truth is, most of us are a mess too.  We just get better at hiding it as we get older.  We use a variety of methods, some requiring more energy and expertise than others.  Henri Nouwen knew this fact over twenty years ago when he wrote,

"Beneath all the great accomplishments of our time there is a deep current of despair.  While efficiency and control are the great aspirations of our society, the loneliness, isolation, lack of friendship and intimacy, broken relationships, boredom, feelings of emptiness and depression, and a deep sense of uselessness fill the hearts of millions of people in our success-oriented world."

Our "success-oriented world."  For all our successes, what have we achieved?  We are hiding behind our accomplishments, our images, our idea of how a "Christian" should look and act.   But are we really less lonely?  Do we feel true connection to others?  Can we be ourselves -- REALLY ourselves -- with our brothers and sisters in Christ?  Has God's love so filled us and each other that we can share our mess without fear of judgment, criticism, or rejection?

I think we need to start figuring out how to truly love each other.  Jesus Himself urged us, commanded us, to love one another.  Our love for each other is our greatest witness to the world, our greatest testament to the power of God's love, working in and through us.

But a word of caution:  it's certainly not a perfect formula.  Being vulnerable -- sharing your mess -- is risky business.  It sounds good in theory -- as the body of Christ, we allow God's love to fill us so that we can truly love one another, unconditionally.

Here's the problem.  We're not perfect.  We're a work in progress.   All of us.  So, if you truly love someone, eventually it will hurt.   If you truly put your trust in someone, eventually they will let you down.  Because as human beings, we will fail each other.  We will let each other down.  I've known this truth for quite a while, and because of it I decided to become somewhat of a professional at hiding my mess.  Hiding can become an occupational hazard, especially for people in ministry, because people in ministry aren't supposed to have any messes.

I've experienced pain.  I've experienced rejection.  I've been hurt deeply by those I love, and I have also deeply hurt others.  So, we have a choice.  (This journey is FULL of choices).  Do we work harder at hiding, or do we choose to love, to search for others who dare to be real, who dare to be honest, who dare to believe that we can become what Jesus prayed we would become -- ONE in Him.

I AM finding these people.  There ARE followers of Jesus who dare to believe that this love of God can change the world.  Followers of Jesus who have experienced the love of God in such a powerful way that they are forever changed.  Followers of Jesus who understand that the only way to true healing and wholeness is by unpacking the mess and allowing the grace and love of God to work.  Followers of Jesus who are willing to risk loving and being loved.  Because ultimately, God is holding us all in His loving Hands.  And He is calling us to go out, into the world He loves, because it's a mess out there.  As Nouwen says,

"In our world of loneliness and despair, there is an enormous need for men and women who know the heart of God, a heart that forgives, that cares, that reaches out and wants to heal.  In that heart there is no suspicion, no vindictiveness, no resentment, and not a tinge of hatred.  It is a heart that wants only to give love and receive love in response...whose only desire is to say with our whole being to our brothers and sisters of the human race, 'You are loved.  There is no reason to be afraid.  In love God created your inmost self and knit you together in your mother's womb'" (Psalm 139:13)

I Want to Be A Kid

When did I become a grown-up?  Really, was there a specific date?  Did I sign some form?  Was it when I graduated from high school or college?  When I got my first full-time job with my own apartment?  Was it when I started paying for my own car and health insurance?  When I got married?  Or was it when I had children of my own?


When we're young, we can't wait to be grown ups.  I have three teenagers who often tell me that they can't wait to be older -- to have more freedom to do what they want -- to be "in charge." But what they don't understand, what most of us don't understand when we're young, is that freedom comes with a great deal of responsibility. 


Honestly, sometimes I just want to be a kid again. I want to play with all the cool toys that came out right after I was too old to play with them.  I want to be a kid again, whose only responsibility is to clean my room and try to be nice to my little sister (which was often quite challenging).  I want to look forward to new shoes and clothes and school supplies (none of which I had to pay for personally). I want to be the one who doesn't have to think any further into the future than the weekend.  I want to be the one whose main concern is what my mom is making for dinner and whether or not we'll get enough snow for a snow day (which didn't happen very often in Chicago).

Yep, I want to be a kid again.  The one without any real responsibilities.  The one who gets to ask all the questions, instead of answering them.  I want to be the one who gets to ask questions like, "What happens when we die?" and "What will heaven be like?" and "Why are there such bad people in the world?" and "If God can do anything, why doesn't He stop bad things from happening to good people?" and "How could God let that family suffer the loss of two sons in less than a year?"


OK, truth be told I really don't want to be a kid again.  Sure, it has its perks, but I don't want to have to learn all those lessons again.  Not just the ones from school, but also all those "life lessons".  You know the ones.  And I have NO desire to go through the teenage years again.


However and wherever and whenever it happened, I'm a grown up.  And grown ups have responsibilities.  Lots of them.  And sometimes they are overwhelming.  Sometimes they almost take your breath away.


And then, almost by surprise, I am reminded that I am still a child.  I am God's child.  HE is responsible for ME.   As a shepherd protects his sheep, so the Lord protects me.  I listen for His voice, and He calls me home, back into the fold where there is shelter and safety and peace.  I belong to Him, and He has promised to do anything and everything to protect me from harm.  He doesn't promise that life will be easy.  In fact, He pretty much guarantees that it will not.  But He is the Good Shepherd who loves His sheep more than His own life.  I can rest in this fact -- I will always be His child. 

I Hate Change

I'm cleaning my office....again.  It's amazing how much stuff I can accumulate in just one year.  But I love the fact that I can clean out this place.  It's the one "corner of the world" (in my case, literally -- I have a small windowless corner office) where essentially I have complete control.  My kids don't leave their clothes all over the floor, or their dishes on my desk.  If there are dishes on the desk, they are MY dishes, thank you very much.

My friend and colleague next door is also cleaning out his office, but for a different reason.  He is retiring.  And as I typed that last sentence I got a lump in my throat.  I will miss him.  Honestly, I don't like this at all.  Things aren't supposed to change like this.  People aren't supposed to leave.  I've grown accustomed to his voice and dry sense of humor.  I value his input.  I even like the fact that his number one strength is "belief" which means there is no way on earth you're going to change his mind on quite a few issues.

But it really doesn't matter what I think.  He didn't consult me before he decided to retire.  He is going to leave -- whether I like it or not.  He is going to leave, and it has nothing to do with me at all.  He is leaving because change is a part of life.

Change.  The passage of time.  Just when we think we have "all the time in the world," we discover that no, we don't. The clock really is ticking, and it's not going backwards.  This is a one-way journey.  We can't go back and fix things, make a different choice, or go another direction.  No, time travel is only in the movies.  And this is real life.

I wish I had known this earlier.  I wish I had known, when I was back in my 20's, that life really is shorter than you think.  I might have done things differently, taken more chances, traveled more, explored more.  I wish I had known this when my children were younger.  I might have spent more time just holding them as babies, taking in the wonder of new life, delighting more in their first steps, laughing more at their jokes, carefully answering their endless questions. I wish I had known -- maybe I would have done things differently.

And then again, maybe not.  Sure, I made mistakes -- lots of them.  Sure, I have regrets -- some big, some small.  But I think that most of the time, I truly did the best I could under the circumstances.  I couldn't slow things down back then either.  I couldn't stop the changes.  I couldn't freeze the moments.  I just had to live them, and do the best I could as the person I was then.

Because while circumstances and situations have changed in my life, and people have come and gone, and my "babies" haven't been babies for quite some time now, I have also changed.  I am not the same person I was.  My 51 year-old self would likely handle the toddler years differently than my younger self did, but my younger self did the best she could.  My 51 year-old self would likely have handled things differently just a few years ago, or even last year, but again, I think I did the best I could as the person I was.

This journey is all about change.  Like it or not.  And actually, I am very grateful that I'm not the same person I was years ago, or even last year.  I am grateful for the changes that have occurred within my heart over the years.  Most of all, I am exceedingly grateful that God has been with me through all these changes (some very painful), patiently loving me as He shapes and molds and  conforms me more and more into the Image of His Son.

We are all on this journey.  Sometimes we travel in large groups.  Sometimes in small groups.  Sometimes with just one other person.  And sometimes we must travel alone -- with God alone.  All the places we travel, the struggles and trials we face, the experiences we have, and especially the people we have the privilege of traveling alongside, however briefly -- all of these change us.  I am so thankful for the precious people God has given me as traveling companions.  And I look forward to the day when we all reach our destination -- together.