Permission to be human...

I am so thankful to my brothers and sisters in the faith who have 

granted me the grace to be, well, a human being.

To Henri Nouwen who gives me permission to FEEL, and feel DEEPLY.  When I read Nouwen's works I am less alone with these feelings because Nouwen understands and is somehow able to beautifully articulate exactly what I am experiencing (how does he do that?). Nouwen confirms what I want to believe -- what I NEED to believe -- that feelings of despair and depression and loneliness are not wrong or evil, they just ARE.  And while God can and will teach me a great deal from difficult times, emotional pain is real, it's a part of my faith journey, and I don't have to deny it or "get over it." I can still love Jesus and still be His follower in the midst of these feelings.



To Richard Middleton who gives me permission to read the Bible and enter into the story and discover, once again, that the Bible is an account of real people with real struggles who were desperately trying to figure out how to follow God in the midst of the battle.  In his chapel address entitled, "Can We Trust God In the Midst of Radical Disappointment," he demonstrated that yes, indeed, we can trust God, AND we can be brutally honest with God as well.  Jeremiah certainly was.  So was David.  And Job.   And many others.  I am so very thankful for permission to be brutally honest with God.






To Rachel Held Evans and others who have given me permission to THINK and ASK QUESTIONS and be UNSETTLED most of the time.  Honestly, there are many days when I would love to be settled.  There are times when I long for all the "right" answers.  But I long to be honest and transparent with God more.  I long to be filled with His love and compassion more.  I long to be moved by what moves Jesus more.  I long for these things far more than I long for settledness.  At least in this life.













There are others in my life who give me permission to be a human being.  They are true gifts from God.  They are truly my brothers and sisters in Christ.  They don't try to fix me, or move on quickly to the "application" phase of my journey ("So, what is God trying to teach you through this?")

Instead, they allow me to be me, while together we turn towards Jesus Christ.  And I am most thankful that we serve a God Who knows what it is like to be us -- who knows what it is like to be a human being. 

Why I like Justin Bieber

I used to hate country music.  Fortunately, I grew up in the Chicago area where country radio stations were scarce (at least they were back then) so I could easily avoid listening to it. But then I moved down to Southern Illinois and began dating someone who regularly listened to country music.  Because I loved him, and because many of my friends down here also liked country music, I started to listen as well.  And I started to appreciate some of the artists.  And eventually I started to like some of it.

I've never fired a real gun in my life.  If I had to shoot an animal for food in order to stay alive, I would likely die of starvation.  But my son loves to hunt.  He would do it everyday if he could.  And I love my son.  So I've learned quite a few things about hunting and guns and deer (I'll even eat deer meat, if it's disguised in sausage).

I knew very little about the game of soccer, until my daughter became the "keeper."  Suddenly I wanted to learn everything I could about this game -- sweeper, mid-field, forward, wing-back, off-sides, corner kick, penalty kick -- all new to me, but I'm learning.   I'm learning, because my daughter is the goalie and I love her.










Justin Bieber?  Really?  OK, so my other daughter loved Justin (thankfully she's grown out of this stage!).  As hard as it was, I started to listen to his music.  And as hard as it is to admit now, I actually liked some of it.  I liked it, because my daughter loved it.  I invested my time and energy into the Bieb's music because I love my daughter.







When we truly love someone we look for ways to get to know them better. One of the best ways to get to know someone is to discover what they love and then invest our time in that.  We value others by showing them that their interests, their dreams, their passions are all important to us.  What inspires them, inspires us as well.  What is close to their heart becomes close to ours as well.  That is, if we truly love them.

I've changed in many ways over the years because of the people in my life.   I've come to appreciate a multitude of things -- music, sports, art, coffee, poetry, photography, and yes, even Justin Bieber -- because I've encountered people with different interests than mine and I wanted to get to know them better.

I love Jesus Christ.  But what is the measure of that love?  If my greatest desire is to follow Jesus as closely as I can and to truly live my life as a demonstration of my love for Him, how do I best accomplish that?  I believe one way is to strive to know as much about Him as I possibly can. 

• What is Jesus passionate about?  

• What inspires Him?  

• What are some of His greatest interests? 

• What is closest to His heart?

I think I know some of the answers to those questions, but there is still so much more to know.  And I want to know, because I want to love the things that Jesus loves.  I want to be inspired by the things that inspire Jesus. I want to be moved by the things that move Jesus.

Jesus is passionate about the poor, the sick, those on the margins, the forgotten.  Jesus seeks out those who are outcasts.  Jesus values the very people that many of us see as unimportant or worthless --  or worse still, we don't even see them at all.

If Jesus is God in the flesh, then to know Jesus is to know God.  To know the heart of Jesus, is to know the heart of God.  I am seeking to know.  And after knowing, may I have the courage and the resolve to be changed -- to actually DO SOMETHING with that knowledge.

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!