Why Do We Lie to our Children?

I'm not a Scrooge.  I'm not a cold-hearted, tight-fisted, greedy man, who despises Christmas.  I adore Christmas.  All the mystery and wonder and joy and love of Christmas is overwhelmingly beautiful to me.  But it has absolutely nothing to do with the man in the red suit.

So I have a question:

Why do we lie to our children?

I've done it.  To all three of ours.  I've lied my way through Christmas.  And when it came time to open presents, I made sure that Santa's reputation remained in tact.  He gave them decent presents.  

And I'll admit that  I love "The Santa Claus," "The Santa Clause 2," and "The Santa Clause 3" movies.  "Miracle on 34th Street" still makes me cry.  And I never, ever get tired of watching "Elf."

But look at some of the characteristics we ascribe to the Jolly Fellow:

"He sees you when you're sleeping.  He knows if you're awake.  He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake!"


Santa sees me?  I'm not sure I want him watching me as I sleep. 

And now there's "The Elf on the Shelf."  Honestly, I find him (or her) to be a bit more disturbing. He moves all over the house, but only at night when no one can see him.   He is always in view of the children, keeping an eye on them (for Santa, of course).  He can't be touched, or he'll lose his "magic."  And on Christmas Eve he is "magically" taken back by Santa on his sleigh.

I hope I'd be willing to offer hospitality to anyone in need, but I think I'm drawing the line when it comes to the elf.

The mystery, the wonder of Christmas is all wrapped up in Santa and his little elf on the shelf. 

Wait!!!  That's the mystery???  That's the wonder???

No, no, no!!!


God became a HUMAN BEING.  God came HERE.  "The Word (Jesus) became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood" (John 1:14, The Message).  Why?  Because He LOVES US.  God sent Jesus, God came to live with us, because He loves us so very much!  There is NOTHING more mysterious, nothing more amazing than the fact that God CAME HERE.

God sees you when you're sleeping.  God knows if you're awake.  He watches over you.  He who neither slumbers nor sleeps WATCHES OVER YOU.  Fear not.  FEAR NOT.


THIS is the mystery.  THIS is the wonder.  THIS is the joy.  THIS is LOVE.

Now, I know there's a much more beautiful history to Santa Claus, or Saint Nicholas, than most of us take the time to discover.  Nicholas was born during the third century, of wealthy parents.  They died while he was still young, and he used his whole inheritance to assist the needy, the sick, and the suffering.  He became known throughout the region for his generosity to those in need and his love for children, and he had a reputation for secret gift-giving.  It's a beautiful life-story, that has morphed into the Santa Clause we know today.


What happens when our children grow up and they realize that much of the mystery of their Christmas was, in fact, a lie?  What happens when we tell them, "Well, Santa Clause isn't real, but Jesus is -- that whole 'other' part of the story, that's true."  So, we lied, AND, we told the truth?

I realize being anti-Santa is about as counter-cultural as being anti-baseball, or anti-ice cream, or anti-Facebook.  I don't want to be "anti" anything.  I just don't want to give a fictitious character credit for the love and joy that TRULY is Christmas.  God deserves all the credit.  And that's the Truth.  And THAT Truth is ETERNAL. 

EMMANUEL -- God is WITH US!!  Jesus moved into the neighborhood and He STAYED in our hearts.  Because God loved us so much that He gave His One and Only Son -- not to condemn us, but to SAVE us.

The Good Stuff

We got married in the 80's.  One of the first things my mom told me to do, after I announced to her that I was engaged, was to go and pick out our china and silver patterns.  Dishes and silverware.  Both formal and everyday.  So I did what I was told (well, it was a joint decision).

For almost 30 years we've lived with the choice of our "everyday" dishes -- Pfaltzgraff Yorktowne.  Dozens of chips and cracks and broken plates later, these dishes are still in our cabinet.  My children are as familiar with these white dishes embellished with blue flowers as they are with the wallpaper in their bedrooms and the carpet in our living room. The image has appeared before them every day since birth.  It is with them forever.






But I doubt whether any of my three children could describe our "formal" dinnerware.  In fact, the other day I walked by the buffet where we keep the "good" china and silver and I stopped.  I stopped and opened the drawers to look at the silver.  I opened the cabinet to look at all the dishes and cups and other items.  I couldn't remember the last time we'd used them.  And then I asked myself two simple questions:

 

What are we saving them for?

 For what "special occasion" are we waiting?  

Recent circumstances of life have caused me to take serious inventory of what is most important to me, and what I believe God wants me to prioritize in my life.  Not surprisingly, it has nothing to do with dishes and silverware.  It has everything to do with people, and time, and love.

I've come to the following conclusions, for now:

1. Every day is special, and a special occasion occurs when people gather together.  Family, friends, strangers.  When we get together, it's a special occasion because Christ is present.
2. Things are not meant to be "saved" -- things are meant to be USED.
3. I don't want the legacy I leave my children to be made of china and silver -- I want it to be the love I shared with them that overflowed from the love of Jesus within me.
4. God has given me this day -- THIS precious day -- and I don't want to waste it.  I want to be used by Him to speak truth and show love to others.
5. I am convinced that my greatest regrets will be the things I have NOT done and the words I have NOT spoken.  I am praying for the strength and courage to limit those regrets now.

And on a practical note, we're going to start using the good stuff.  Maybe not every day, but on a more regular basis.

Just don't tell my mom.

Maybe We Should ALL Be Minions...

Lately I've been taking life pretty seriously.  There are good reasons for this.  Lots of good reasons.  But I suppose that could be said for many of us.  The other day I posted a quote on my Facebook page from Edmund Burke, an Irish philosopher.  He was speaking about how adversity is a "severe instructor" but it "strengthens our nerves and sharpens our skills."  It was Saturday afternoon.  A beautiful day outside.  And I was posting about the benefits of adversity.

Within seconds someone commented on my post.  I assumed they were commenting about how true, deep and challenging the quote was to them.

Nope.  To the contrary.  This friend told me it was time to lighten up.  Now I've written a post on this very blog expressing how I don't like people telling me to lighten up.  But she was right.  Actually, she told me I needed to go and get an ice cream cone with sprinkles and skip all the way there.  I haven't skipped in years -- so I'm pretty sure I would have looked ridiculous.  Maybe that was the point.

Instead of skipping to the DQ to get an ice cream cone, I decided to go to the theater and watch "Despicable Me2" for the second time.

The first time I saw "Despicable Me2," the majority of the crowd was over the age of 12.  There were a few kids scattered around, but in general it was a more "mature" crowd.

But not this time.  This time the average age of the audience was around 6.  So, although there were lots more trips to the bathroom, there was also a lot more laughter.  Which was great, because now I could laugh out loud and blend in.  Really, how can you watch the minions doing ANYTHING and not laugh?


And I love the girls, especially Agnes.  This is one of my favorite moments in the film:



Agnes:   I know what makes you a boy.
Gru:    Uh… You do?
Agnes:   Your bald head.
Gru:   Ah, yes.
Agnes:   It’s really smooth.  Sometimes I stare at it and imagine a little chick popping out.  Peep-peep-peep.
Gru:   Good night, Agnes.  Never get older.




With all due respect to the rest of the characters,  though, everyone knows it's really all about the minions.  They are so easily distracted!  In the middle of an important assignment, they see a butterfly and drop everything to follow it.  A bright light in the sky immediately captures their attention -- and their trust, unfortunately!  They're constantly going down rabbit trails.   But most of the time, the distractions, the rabbit trails, bring them joy.  They walk around with an openness to wonder and simple surprises.  They are the opposite of taking life seriously!



As I was watching "Despicable Me2" I actually thought of Lamentations 3:23, "God’s mercies are new every morning. Great is Your faithfulness."  The Hebrew word for “new” as used here means “fresh, new thing, to rebuild.”

The application here is pretty exciting -- and extremely encouraging!   Because what this Scripture says is that every morning, EVERY MORNING, God's mercies are fresh and new.  Every morning, God is doing something new in our lives.  He is rebuilding.  His fresh mercies are flowing through us.   

Maybe God's mercies are actually IN the distractions -- the butterflies and stars.  Maybe God is trying to show us that He is doing something NEW all around us, but we're just not walking around with an attitude of wonder...and expectation...and hope.  Maybe we should all be a bit more like the minions!

What is Real??

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room.  "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse.  "It's a thing that happens to you.  When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful.  "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse.  "You become.  It takes a long time.  That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.  Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.  But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

Some of the best theological insights come from children's books.

"Real," "authentic," "genuine," "transparent," these are all buzz words in our culture.  And particularly within the Christian community.  We want people to be "real" with us.  We want "authentic" worship.  We want "relevant" preaching from people who are "genuine" and "transparent."

But what does it REALLY mean to be real?  Technically (in other words, the dictionary definition), real means true and factual, not imaginary, artificial, or fraudulent,.  "Real" is an adjective --  it describes a noun.  At the end of The Velveteen Rabbit, the Rabbit becomes a real rabbit. 

So what kind of real are we looking for?  What does a real person look like?  And how does one become a real person?

You can't plan or program "real."   Real isn't about having the right "experience." Real isn't something for which we train, study, or prepare.  As the Skin Horse tells us, Real is about BECOMING.

As followers of Jesus, Real is something that happens INSIDE us, within our heart and soul.  Real is the process of letting the love of Jesus invade our hearts more and more until gradually, over time, His love takes over and we begin to love as He loves.  We begin to see others as He sees them. 

I do disagree with the Skin Horse on at least one point, though.  When the Rabbit asked him if becoming real hurts, he said "sometimes," and then added, "when you are real you don't mind being hurt."

But I think you DO mind being hurt.  At least I do.  As much as I value the lessons that pain and suffering bring, I do not always enjoy them.  Having most of your hair loved off and your eyes popped out and your joints all loose, well, that doesn't always feel good.  I would much prefer to keep my hair and eyes, thank you very much.

But becoming Real means that, even though you do mind being hurt, you choose it anyway.  Because at the heart of becoming Real is love.  Love is the main ingredient necessary to achieve "Realness." And to find out what love is, look at God.  God demonstrates for us in very real, tangible ways what love is.  And He makes it clear that if you really, truly love, pain is inevitable.   Being hurt is part of the deal.


Love requires sacrifice.  Love requires vulnerability.  Love requires humility.  Love requires putting the needs of others before your own.  Love requires opening yourself up to all the pain and disappointment and suffering that is a part of being human. And that means eventually losing all your hair and your eyes and maybe a limb or two -- or at least having your heart broken many, many times.

If you're on this journey of faith and truly seeking to know and love the heart of God, then your desire is to become more like Jesus.  And becoming more like Jesus means becoming Real.  Because Jesus was -- and is -- very real.  And He looks at our shabbiness -- all our scars and brokenness -- quite differently than most of the rest of the world.


"Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.  But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

Be assured,  Jesus understands.   Fully.  Completely.  As no one else can.  And He loves us -- not in spite of our shabbiness -- but because of it.

Being around real people is such a privilege.  Sometimes you have to work a little harder to find them, because they're not trying to get anyone's attention.  But if you invest some time, and you know what to look for, you can discover them. They are truly beautiful.   There's nothing "fake" or "artificial" about them.  They're not trying to impress anyone.  They don't have to.  They know they are loved.  And that's all that matters.

"You Can't Handle the Truth!"

Colonel Jessup:  "You want answers?"

Kaffee:  "I think I'm entitled to them."

Colonel Jessup:  "You want answers?!"

Kaffee:  "I want the truth!"

Colonel Jessup:  "You can't handle the truth!"

(from the film, "A Few Good Men," 1992)

Talk about riveting.  This scene from "A Few Good Men" is one of the most powerful exchanges of dialogue ever filmed.  David meets Goliath.  A young, inexperienced Lieutenant against a seasoned Colonel.  Two compelling characters, both absolutely convinced that they are right, yet having to comply within the courtroom rules -- until now.  The tension and emotion build until it can no longer be contained.  The gloves finally come off.  The anger comes out.  And so does the truth:

"I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago and you curse the Marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know, that Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives! You don't want the truth, because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall. You need me on that wall. We use words like "honor", "code", "loyalty". We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it! I would rather you just said 'thank you', and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to!"  (Colonel Jessup)

The truth.  In the case of "A Few Good Men," it was the truth about what happens "behind the scenes" in some military settings,  presumably for our good, for our protection.  And, presumably, we're better off not knowing about it.  We have the "luxury" of not knowing.

Contrast this scene with one that occurred over 2,000 years ago, recorded in John's Gospel.  Jesus is explaining to the disciples what is about to take place.  His earthly life is rapidly coming to an end.  He knows the future.  He knows the cross is literally hours away.  He knows what will happen to Him, and he also knows what will happen to His disciples.  He begins to give them a "behind the scenes" look into their future.  But then He stops.  He stops and says this:

"There is so much more I want to tell you, but you can't bear it now." (Jn 16:12)

In other words, "you can't handle the truth."  But Jesus doesn't speak these words in anger, He speaks them with great compassion.  He doesn't want to overwhelm them.  But He does want to prepare them, and encourage them with the promise of the Holy Spirit's coming. 

When I was younger I thought there would be great benefits in knowing the future.  But that was a long time ago.  Now, when I look back on the most painful, most difficult, most crushing and discouraging times in my life, I realize that it would not have been helpful to know they were coming.  Indeed, my heart could not have born the weight of knowing. 


As parents, we don't tell our children everything that we know will happen to them in their young lives.  When they have their first case of "puppy love," we don't tell them that their hearts will likely be broken several times over the years as they move in and out of relationships.  When they experience the first death of someone close to them, a grandparent or other older adult, we don't tell them that they will experience the death and loss of dozens of people close to them throughout their lives -- and that WE will eventually be on that list.  No, we tell them what we know they can bear.  We tell them what we believe they need to know the most.  We tell them that we love them, and that God loves them, and nothing can ever separate them from God's love for them.

In much the same way, I know I can't handle the truth -- at least not the whole truth.  My heart cannot bear it now, not all at once.  I can hear Jesus saying to me, "There is so much more I want to tell you, but you can't bear it now," and I want to hear these as words of comfort and hope.  There IS more to come, because that's how life works.

But as life comes, so does grace.  As life comes, so does the power and presence of Jesus Christ, bearing it with me.  Life is not about dodging bullets, avoiding pain, ignoring suffering.  Life is about living in and through it all, one day at a time, trusting in God's grace for the day -- for the hour -- for the moment.

Great is Thy faithfulness!

Great is Thy faithfulness!

 Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided.     Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!

"At least it's not cancer," (the well-meaning misuse of words)

"At least it's not cancer."

Disappointment and discouragement, set-backs and trials, suffering, illness and death.

If you are a human being, you will experience these things -- probably all of these things --  eventually.  Whether you are a follower of Christ or not, they are part of the human experience.

Our family is going through a pretty difficult time right now.  I will save the details, but suffice it to say that this is a particularly challenging chapter in our lives. 

And, we live in a small community.  I grew up in the Chicago area, where I could go to the mall, the grocery store and the hardware store and never run into a single person I knew. But in our small community I can't drive through McDonald's without someone mentioning that they saw me -- and at what time -- and who I was with -- and maybe even what I ordered.

It's just the nature of small towns.  I get it.  And most of the time, I truly appreciate it.  My children have always known that if they got into any trouble, I'd probably find out about it within an hour or less.  But they also know that if they were ever in an emergency, help is available right next door -- or across the street -- or down the block.  Within this small town are people who know them and care about them deeply.  And that is priceless.

However, forget about anonymity.  There is no hiding.  But that means there are also lots of people who care.  And the people who care have a sincere desire to be encouraging and helpful when others are struggling.  Those who love us want to offer something -- usually some words of encouragement -- to let us know they care.

But here's where it gets interesting.  Words.  Put the right ones together and you have a novel, a poem, a song.  Words can be very powerful.  Words can change the course of someone's life.


As important as they are, you'd think we would be required to take multiple classes on how to use them.  Not just classes on how to write sentences and paragraphs and thesis papers.  But classes on how to REALLY use words, and use them WELL.

For instance, what classes teach us what to say to someone who is struggling?  What classes teach us what to say to someone when their son, or daughter, has just died?  Where do we learn what to say to someone who has lost a job, or to someone who is going through a bitter divorce, or to a family that just lost all their possessions in a tornado? 



In the difficult times of life, I have discovered an important truth.  When it comes to words, quality is much more important than quantity.   In fact, sometimes no words are necessary.

It is the MINISTRY OF PRESENCE.  It's not a new concept at all.  As followers of Jesus Christ, it is one of the most powerful ministries we can perform.  It means we show up.  We come alongside our brothers and sisters in Christ and "bear one another's burdens."  It means that THEIR burdens become OUR burdens as well. 

We don't offer words like, "Be positive!" or "At least it's not cancer," or "When God closes a door He opens a window," or "God must have wanted another little girl in heaven," (Lord, forgive us!) -- but instead we offer Jesus.  We simply love by being Christ to others.

Don't get me wrong.  I think words are very important.  And while some of them should NEVER be spoken, there are other words that we need to hear, at the right time.

When Mary's brother, Lazarus, died, the first thing Jesus did when he saw Mary weeping was He wept Himself.   Jesus did not deny the pain.  He did not ignore the sorrow.  He was present to it all.

And then He said, "Lazarus, come out!"

The ministry of presence means that we will BE THERE.  We will experience it with the other person.  We will stand with them, sit with them, walk with them, cry with them, fight with them, work with them -- we will BE WITH THEM.  We will remind them that they are never, ever alone.

Pick Me! Pick Me!

We've all been there, probably on multiple occasions.  We're back in elementary school and it's recess time.   The teacher says we're going to play a game and we need to choose up sides.  So the teacher picks two captains.  "OK, you two pick your teams, one person at a time."  And the agony begins.  Hearts start racing.  Some with excitement.  Some with panic.  Some with sheer dread.

"Pick me!  Pick me!"  comes the refrain from the eager kids.  With their hands raised high, they exude self-assurance and confidence.  They refuse to be left out.  Their animated, relentless chants demand notice -- and so, sometimes out of sheer annoyance, they are picked early.

Then there's the "I'm your friend so you'd better pick me"group.  This group doesn't really have to say anything.  The silent code is powerful enough between the chosen leader and his/her friend group that the leader simply must choose his/her friends.  That, or face the dire consequences later.

And then, depending upon the selected game, there's the gifted/talented/"ringer" kids.  These are the ones any leader would be absolutely foolish not to choose.  Friend or not, if you want to win, you gotta pick them.


Finally, there's the "left overs," the kids who already feel like outcasts but now they are on display for all to see.  Most of the time they are grateful just to be ignored.  But now they can't even take refuge in their anonymity.

So what brought me back to those days on the playground?  Why do I have such a vivid memory of my young peers, huddling together, hoping someone would pick them for their team? 

As I'm working on finishing my grades,  I'm looking over my class rosters.  The semester is over, and I am so very thankful that I got to know so many students.  But it saddens me that many of the names are much less familiar to me.  I saw their faces, but I never really got to see their hearts.  I read their papers and graded their tests, but I never had the privilege to hear all their stories.  And I truly wanted to hear their stories.


I just hope they know how important they are.  Whether they sat in the back or the front.  Whether they tried to hide in the corner or sat prominently in front by the podium.  Whether they eagerly answered every question or lived in fear that they would be called upon, I hope they never felt excluded.

There are no outcasts in the Kingdom of God.  Jesus made it very clear that those who wish to be great in His Kingdom must actually be the most humble.  Leaders must be servants.  Those who take up the rear will ultimately be at the front.  Love for all.  Concern for all.   Attention for all.  That's the Way of Jesus. 

Jesus sees the unseen -- those who are hiding in the shadows, hoping no one will notice them, and yet secretly praying that someone WILL.  As followers of Jesus, we need to pray for eyes to see -- ears to hear -- hearts to love -- not only the ones who are right in front of us, but especially the ones who often go unnoticed.  The "left overs."  The Kingdom of God belongs to them.

It's not about getting an "A" (although I do like "A's"!)

I've been a student and I've been a teacher.  Sometimes simultaneously.  I really enjoy both.  While each role has its unique rewards, many are shared by both student and teacher, such as:

• those moments when real learning takes place and there's this incredible sense of connection and transformation

• when a quiet student finally speaks out in class and everyone realizes what a gift it was

• when the weather outside is absolutely beautiful, so the tennis courts become our classroom 

• when the semester is over, all papers are turned in, exams taken, and all grades submitted.  

But sometimes, the rewards are a bit more one-sided, such as giving and taking exams.  It is by far more fun to give an exam than to take one.  Now if you ace the exam, then it might be more rewarding as a student.  But almost universally, from a teacher's point of view, it's more fun to give than to receive.

There's an art to putting together a good exam.  I'm not claiming to be good at this art.  A good exam engages students with the material learned, making them process, analyze, and apply it more broadly.  If you can create an exam that can do all this AND is easy to grade, you're not just an artist -- you're a Michelangelo (or DaVinci, or Rembrandt, or...) 



I had a professor in college who wrote some very challenging exams.  I still remember them (and it's been many, many years!) His multiple choice questions were legendary.  He had a way of composing them so that you not only had to know the correct answer, but also why the other answers were incorrect -- or what you could do to make the other answers correct -- or why one answer was more "right" than another.  On the day he handed back the exams, we were allowed to "argue" with him over the answers -- arguments which we rarely, if ever, won.   Truthfully, I think he thoroughly enjoyed those days!


In John's Gospel, the disciples gave Jesus a sort of "multiple-choice" question when they encountered a man who was born blind.  Their question had only two possible choices.  "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents?"  The man was blind.  There had to be a reason.  These are the two possible reasons:  A)  the man sinned,  or  B) his parents sinned.

There's a great deal more that could be said about the connection of sin to disease, and I acknowledge the importance of that theological discussion.   But I'm more fascinated with Jesus' response to their multiple choice question. 

"Which is it, Rabbi --  A or B?"  And Jesus responds,  "C."  Jesus rewrote the question!

Isn't that what following Jesus is all about?  We so often see the world, we see our problems, through such limited eyes.   Just like the disciples, we see limited options -- limited possibilities.  And sometimes none of them look promising.  But they're all we have.

Until Jesus enters the picture.  And He rewrites the question.  How can He do that?  Because He is God, that's how.

He turned water into wine.
He gave sight to the blind.
He fed the multitudes with just a few loaves of bread and two fish.
He rose from the dead.
He promises to never leave us -- ever.

Following Jesus means there are ENDLESS possibilities.  Following Jesus is the way of HOPE.  It's not about being right or wrong.  It's about loving Him, loving others, and being open to all the possibilities.
 

Honestly, I want to be bored...

I guess I was naive.  You see, I assumed that as I got older, the world would start to make more sense to me.  There would be fewer questions.  The clouds would slowly disappear and the bright sun would dissolve all the shadows -- the questions, the inconsistencies, the uncertainties.

I assumed that all my experiences (some of which have been more painful than I care to admit), would not only have helped prepare me for any future struggles, but would have also granted me a sort of "protective wisdom" for my mind and heart.  A wisdom that carefully deflected any unsettling information because, of course, I've already been down most of those roads before so there is no need for me to face the pain and discomfort again.  I've already learned the lessons.  I will prayerfully and lovingly sit with others who are going down these paths.  In fact, it will be my honor to travel with them.  But spare me the internal dissonance and in-congruence. I've been there.  I've done that.



In short, I assumed I would find the "settledness" that had eluded me for most of my life.  Not just answers to the deeper questions, but also a sense of peace concerning the ones that cannot be answered.  I assumed that by this time I might even be a little bored, and would need to seek ways to keep my mind engaged.


Nope.  But I wish.

As I look around at my closest traveling companions on this journey of faith, some of them are pretty settled.  Some are not.  I am blessed to have both kinds in my life.

But I am MOST blessed to have those who will put up with all my "unsettledness" -- the ones who will sit with me and listen to my questions, and who don't bail when we disagree or when the questions become uncomfortable, or when they hit too close to home.  The ones who will love me enough to listen, and to push back.  Those fellow travelers, those fellow followers of Jesus Christ, are rare and priceless gifts.

There is no shortage of "experts" in our world today.  There is no shortage of people who will tell you what to believe on any and every issue.  People who will tell you how Christians should act, what Christians should believe, how Christians should worship, how Christians should vote, who Christians should marry, where Christians should live, how Christians should spend their money, what movies Christians should see, what movies Christians should NOT see, what Christians should drive, what Christians should eat, etc., etc.



So who's right?  Who is the REAL expert?  It depends upon who you ask.  So, instead of agreeing or disagreeing with the experts, I'd rather affirm a Truth.  What should Christians do? 

 Christians should love.  

 In an attempt to discredit Jesus, to test Him with a trick question, the Pharisees asked Him to pick out the greatest commandment in the Law.  This was His reply:

 "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." 

And interestingly, even though they didn't ask Him for the second greatest, He gave that to them as well:

"Love your neighbor as yourself." 

In all my unsettledness, I have become more and more settled upon this all-important truth for MY life -- I want to follow Jesus Christ.  I want to follow this miraculous Human Being, God "in the flesh,"  who changed all of history.  

I would really like to be bored.  But I'm not sure that's an option for me.  I don't feel as though God has granted me permission to stop asking questions. Even if it hurts.  Even if I'm wrong.  Even if I'm right.

It can seem very lonely at times.   But I'm becoming more and more convinced that I'm really not that alone. I'm pretty sure there are others out there who are finding "settledness" an elusive dream.  We will probably not all agree on the answers to the questions.  For that matter, we won't all agree on which questions even need to be asked.

But as followers of Jesus Christ, we can agree to love Him -- and to love one another.   In fact, on this we MUST agree.

I just won't grow old...

Last week the board of our local hospital and nursing home announced that they are closing the nursing home.  The primary reasons given were economical -- on the national and state levels.  It was a very difficult decision for them to make, they said.  But for the future of the hospital, it was necessary.

There are currently 62 residents who call this particular location "home."  One of those individuals is my father-in-law.  As he slipped further and further into dementia, my mother-in-law continued to take care of him.  Never have I witnessed such devotion or sacrifice in another individual as I have in my mother-in-law.  She literally gave all she had to this man, her beloved husband.  When she simply could not do it all herself, family members and caregivers helped.  Still she gave.  She gave until she could give no more, until her husband needed a level of care that could no longer be provided at home.  And so, finally, he became a resident of this nursing home.  She could at least rest in the fact that she did everything she could -- now he was at a different "home," but he was home.  He was comfortable, and that brought her great comfort.

I sat at her kitchen table last weekend with other family members as she spoke of her pain and frustration at the closing of his "home."  While my heart broke with hers over the news, I was most disturbed by one particular comment she made.  "No one cares what I think.  I'm just an old person."  

Yesterday I encountered another elderly woman in our community and I listened to her as she spoke of the closing.  She made a comment that disturbed me even more than what my mother-in-law said.  "There is no one left to trust anymore.  I am afraid."


On my way back from North Carolina a few weeks ago I was waiting at a crowded gate in the Charlotte airport.  An elderly couple walked up. Without hesitation, a young, executive-type 20-something man jumped to his feet and motioned for them to sit down.   It seemed like an instinct for him.  As if royalty had walked into the room and the only appropriate response was to rise and give them his seat.  I wanted to run over to this guy and tell him how proud I was of his action, but I feared that he would see this as patronizing -- so I just smiled, and thanked God for him, and prayed that my children would be like him. 

Life presents us with many choices.  Some are of little consequence and carry little or no moral or spiritual value. What shirt should I wear today?  What should I eat for lunch?   Other choices bear greater weight, affecting our families and friends. 

 

And some choices go far beyond our personal circle of loved ones.  Some affect other families, entire communities, and beyond.  Often these decisions are made in board rooms, conference rooms, capital buildings, chambers, and oval offices.  Often these decisions carry a great deal of weight - and have significant moral and spiritual value.  

I understand that these are difficult economic times for our state, our nation, and our world.  But we certainly didn't get here overnight.  Collectively, WE made decisions over the course of years and years.  Those decisions impact what is happening today.  We can blame "government." We can blame "the economic situation."  Except that WE are the government.  The government is comprised of PEOPLE.  

 

There's a phrase that keeps coming back to me.  It's nothing overly profound, but it HAS given me a different perspective on this journey of faith I'm traveling.

It is possible for good people to make a poor decision.

Another one that is closely related,

  Good people can disagree about what is the "right" decision.

God has used these simple insights to remind me that I cannot just sit back and be silent.  This extremely "non-confrontational, avoid conflict at any cost" person that I am needs to change.  I am responsible.  He is expecting ME to be a voice for Him -- for those who feel they have no voice -- for those who feel afraid -- for those who believe there is no one who is trustworthy anymore.

This post is a start.

 

God's heart is for the poor, the neglected, the helpless, the weak.  Scripture overwhelming affirms this truth.  God's heart is for the 62 residents of that nursing home, and for the millions of other older Americans who are being overlooked by our funding choices -- as a nation, as a state, and as a small community.






Hubert Humprey once said:

"The moral test of government is how that government treats those who are in the dawn of life, the children; those who are in the twilight of life, the elderly; and those who are in the shadows of life, the sick, the needy and the handicapped."

Most of us will grow old.  And one day, most of us will be at the mercy of others to decide our fate.  But for now, I'm praying for the courage -- and the humility -- to seek after God's heart, wherever that leads me.  To rise in the presence of those who are older than me and give them the honor they so richly deserve.

I am here, we all are here,  in large part because of the faithfulness and sacrifice of those who came before us.  We trusted them, and they delivered.  Their lack of trust in us should not only grieve us.  It should compel us to action.

Gaining and Losing - Celebrating the Life of Deb Noyes

Yesterday's chapel was a memorial service, a celebration of the life of one of our faculty members who left Greenville College much too soon.  Even more heartbreaking, she left her family -- her husband and children and grandchildren -- her siblings and her mother.  

Dr. Debra Lynn Noyes died on December 12, 2012

 at the age of 58.   

We chose to have her memorial service during our regular chapel time because she was one of us.  She was a member of the Greenville College community.   And it was only appropriate to celebrate her life during a regular gathering that has helped define Greenville College for over 100 years -- chapel.  

As we gathered yesterday we were reminded that the Greenville College community reaches beyond those of us who currently work and study here (students, faculty, staff and administration) -- but it extends to families, churches, alumni, and friends across the country, and even around the world.  It extends to generations past, and generations to come.  As we gathered to honor and remember Deb, this fact became very clear. 

Unfortunately, the majority of our current students didn't have the privilege of knowing Deb Noyes.  She taught in our Education Department, and unless a student was an Early Childhood major they likely wouldn't have had a class with her.  She was exceptionally kind and patient, treating her students much like her own children, passing on to them her expertise and love for working with the youngest in our school systems.

Many among our faculty didn't have the privilege of knowing Deb very well.  Honestly, we have limited times of interaction with each other.  We gather for Fall Faculty Fellowship before the school year begins, but after those two days we are off and running.  Unless we work in the same building or department, or happen to be on the same committees, it is unlikely that we'll see one another very often. 

And yet, we are all still part of the Greenville College community.  Whether we work in the Education Department, or the Religion/Philosophy Department, in the Dining Commons or the President's Office, we are in this together.  "This" is the Greenville College community.  It's certainly not a perfect place.  And it's certainly not the only place, or the only community to be a part of.   But it's ours.  

And yesterday, it was such an honor to claim Debra Noyes as one of us.  It was such a high privilege for us to know that we're part of the same community from which Deb came, and to which Deb gave so much of herself.  Two of her former students sent letters to be read -- letters that expressed such love and appreciation for all she gave to them, especially the intangible life lessons that they now pass on to their own students.  One former student drove hundreds of miles just to be with us and personally share her story.  And many others are continuing to express the countless ways in which Deb has positively influenced them -- both professionally and personally.

Yesterday was a time to remember the life of Dr. Debra Noyes.  It was a time to celebrate how God has used her life to impact the lives of many, many others.  It was a time to stop and look around at our community -- not just those present at the service, but all those who stand with and for us.  

Most importantly, it was a time to glorify God because this community belongs to Him, and He favored this community by granting us the gift of Debra Noyes.  It was a time to focus upon the fact that Greenville College exists primarily to be a Christ-centered community of faith and learning. We must always remain so.   Jesus Christ must always be at the center.  It is our faith in God that sustains us, and our love for Christ that unites us.  

It was Mark Noyes, Deb's husband, who most powerfully reminded us of that fact.  It was Mark's faith, in the midst of his great loss, that inspired us to have faith and to keep Christ at the center.

And we not only welcome Mark's words, but take them to heart.  Because Mark is an important member of our community, too.  

We will miss you, Deb Noyes.  You were one of us, and you can never, ever,  be replaced.  Our community is forever enriched because of you.  The legacy you leave has eternal value.  Which, of course, is the very best kind.

Who told you that you were special??

"No other person has ever been born - nor will there ever be one - who is just like you.  Yes, God created you to be different from everyone else, and that's why you are special."  

(from an evangelistic track by Good News Publishers)

"You are special.  You are unique.  There is no one else like you. "

Hold it!  Stop the tape!  

With all due respect to Mr. Rogers (I loved him), let's follow this reasoning to it's logical conclusion.  I am special.  I am unique.  God created me to be different from everyone else. There is no one else like me.  No one else who thinks like I do.  No one else who has had the same experiences as me.  No one else who sees the world like I do.  No one who can really understand me.  No one who can truly relate to me.

I am alone.

On the surface, "you are special" seems like a great message.  Who doesn't want to hear that they are special?  Who doesn't want to believe that they are unique?

I've gone through most of my life with an acute awareness of my uniqueness.  In fact, this has led me to believe that there was no one in my life who truly understood me.   No one.  And I've sort of self-righteously attributed that to the fact that I'm special.  I'm unique.  No one else sees the world like I do.  No one has experienced what I've experienced.  Therefore, how could they possibly understand?  I am a deep ocean.  I am an impenetrable fortress.  No one can fathom the mystery of "me."  

REALLY???  Where in the world did THAT come from?? First of all, it's not as if people are lining up for the chance to explore the depths of me!  I am under no such delusions!  But secondly (and much more importantly) I'm just not as unique as I thought I was.  Which is actually a bit painful to admit -- and humbling. 


I do believe that God created each of us with unique personalities and characteristics.   Trust me.  I've taken the major personality tests -- the MBTI, the MMPI, the Keirsey Temperament Sorter, the 16PF (I majored in Psychology).   I've taken the Strengthsfinder, and several spiritual gifts inventories. 

With the Psalmist, I overwhelmingly affirm that we are "fearfully and wonderfully made" by our Creator. I know that we come from diverse backgrounds and life experiences, and these all shape who we are today.

But I've lived long enough to encounter hundreds of people.  And I've had the privilege of hearing the stories of dozens and dozens.  The more I hear, the more convinced I am of our similarities, not our differences.  We share so much in common with each other.   Sure, we're "packaged" differently -- introvert or extrovert, ruled by our heads or ruled by our hearts, go with the flow or stick to the schedule.  And life experiences have forever changed us -- in some cases, dramatically. 

Yes, we are all unique.  AND, we are all alike.

I think it's time to stop playing the  "you are special, you are unique" tape over and over again.  At least in my case, I've heard it enough. 

Instead, maybe we should play the "we belong to one another in Christ so we should strive to be of one mind and heart" tape more. 

Because as followers of Jesus Christ, we really do belong to one another.  Which means we have a GREAT DEAL in common.  But are we still special?  We're created in God's Image -- of course we're special!  We're just not alone.

Rejoicing At My Incompetence!

“Theological formation is the gradual and often painful discovery of God's incomprehensibility. You can be competent in many things, but you cannot be competent in God.” 

(Henri Nouwen)

I love learning.  When I'm doing any kind of research on a topic (even if it's just to decide on a convection oven), it will often lead to another topic (how does convection technology really work?) and another (who founded the KitchenAid company?) and another (what happens to food when it is microwaved vs baked?).  If I'm not careful, an hour or two can pass by rather quickly.  For those who know about Gallop's Strengths, the answer is yes, I have "Input."


I love learning about God.  Something within me comes "alive" as I'm learning about theology and spiritual formation.  I love the study of Scripture.  The process of digging into a Biblical text with good commentaries is so energizing to me,  revealing truths about God that I never knew before. 


I am privileged to work at a Christian liberal arts college where learning is seen as an act of worship, and intellectual development is encouraged as a way to love God with our minds.  Jesus affirmed this when He reminded the Pharisees to "love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind" (Matthew 22:37).


I rejoice with my colleagues when students truly engage in learning.  I'm all in!  And I'm so thankful for the privilege of teaching because it allows me to be a part of the process. The added bonus is that I get to learn as well.


But in my quest to learn, in my sincere effort to KNOW God, and in my seemingly relentless pursuit to try to figure out everything I can about God, I sometimes forget this most important truth:

 "You can be competent in many things, but you cannot be competent in God."

At the end of the day, there is no theological framework, no philosophical argument, no scientific formula, to fully explain God.  In fact, at the end of the day, our human attempts at explaining God are feeble, at best (destructive, at worst).


Rather, at the end of the day, I think it's the poets and song writers who do it best.  They are the "wordsmiths" who capture the emotions that I hope and pray I will always have when I truly consider who God is.


While I still love the great hymns of the church,  I also appreciate the worship songs of today.  Some are better than others (which is also true of hymns), but most of the time these songs truly bring me into the Presence of God. 


These are the songs that use words like "amazing," and "indescribable."  They cry out,  "I'm desperate for You!  I'm lost without You!"  They remind me of the important truths I need to hear, such as "oh, how He loves us," and "You never let go, in every high and every low.  Lord, You never let go of me."


Here is yet another place where our college students often become my teachers.  I love to watch them as they worship the Lord with sincere abandon.  I am humbled and encouraged as they proclaim their undivided love for Jesus Christ.


I love learning about God.  But I want to fully embrace the fact that I CANNOT BE COMPETENT IN GOD.  I want to remain IN AWE.  I want to stay AMAZED.

  AMAZED          

You dance over me,
While I am unaware.
You sing all around,
But I never hear the sound.
Lord, I'm amazed by you
Lord, I'm amazed by you
Lord, I'm amazed by you
How you love me.

How wide, how deep, how great is your love for me!

(Phillips, Craig & Dean)