Come, See For Yourself

The Shepherds' Candle is the one we lit in our Advent Wreath this past Sunday. As the new flame strengthened, we were challenged to quietly name - and give thanks for - all those who have shepherded us. You've been led and encouraged, nudged and nurtured by lots of folks. Their influence has helped make you who you are and will continue to shape you throughout life.

Of course, the Good Shepherd is the the most transformational presence in our lives. In fact our life is hidden in Him. Thinking of that great truth, I want to encourage you to hear the invitation first offered to the shepherds at Jesus' birth as an invitation from God's heart to yours ... because it is. God sent a whole covey (as we say in the country) of angels to announce the great good news in song to the shepherds who were just minding their own business in the field that night. "Jesus is born for you!" is what they heard. Part of that good news was the invitation to go and see for themselves what God was doing. Come and see.

Well, curiosity may have killed the cat, but it changed the lives of those who dared find their way to the Christ child to see for themselves. We may not be able to see, except with our imagination, what it was like to peer over into that trough-now-baby bed and look God square in the eye, but we can see plenty if we're willing to go, look. It will probably still be an unexpected, upside-down kinda thing. I mean, if God would make the Prince of Peace to be a baby who's gonna need help with toddling, potty-training, navigating bullies and girls and siblings and more ... well, God's liable to do anything!

I figure the invitation for you and I to come and see for ourselves is really the invitation to look around at the new thing God is continuing to do all around us, maybe even through us and in us. Forgiveness, hope, courage, love, purpose ... all of those things are really God's doing. Of course, daring to open your eyes wide to the reality of God all around means you'll see God for who "He" really is. You ready for that? 'Cause God's probably a lot different than you expected. We expect what's comforting and comfortable, not what will rock our world. (But again, God sent you a Baby King ... who else woulda thunk it?!) A second part of seeing reality is actually seeing the reality of others. The shepherds coulda looked at that teenage mama and that blue-collar dad and seen themselves; they were just ordinary, low-rung folks, too.

There is great danger, though, in hearing that invitation as your own and daring to respond like the shepherds did. Those shepherds took a big risk in going to see what God had done and there will be risk for us, too. They were just doing what good shepherds do when ... who was going to mind the sheep when they decided to end the shift early and head into town? Did one get the shaft and have to stay behind? Perhaps one was glad to be a chicken for once and volunteer to hold down the fort, I mean the flock, while the others took a peek. At any rate, they risked the safety of their flock and their reputation, at the very least. How would YOU explain the angels singing to you about a Baby born to be King and to save the world from sin? They decided that the Holy Child was more important than their sheep. At some point in our journey, you and I will have to set aside what is very important to be able to respond to God. The folks who love us the most may be the ones who give us the most grief. It's a risk.

The second risk ... you're gonna have to do something with what you see and hear. Of God and of other people. When we're courageous enough to come and see, that unfolding story somehow draws us in ... and it's our story. When you see people hungry in your community, until you help get food in their bellies you'll choke every time you sit down to more than plenty. The same is true for every other reality that you might peer into just 'cause you're looking for God.

I'm so very grateful for the shepherds that have come alongside me to get me through the wilderness and safe to a new pasture or paddock. If you've been one ... I love you. Now, what I want to have the courage to do and be is a shepherd. But, not just any shepherd. I want to be the kind that can leave the field behind when I hear God singing to me (even if just for a moment or two) to dare go and see. Go with me?

No Little Places, No Little People

Yesterday, as a part of our Advent observation, we lit a candle in our Advent wreath in honor of Bethlehem. A little place, really, especially compared to Jerusalem. At the time when Jesus was born, it was no center of commerce or culture; Bethlehem was known only because of its fertile hills and valleys. It was known as the Land of Bread. Should be no surprise - but it is, admit it - that the Bread of Life was born there?!

Anyway, Bethlehem was little. And you know what we think of little places and little people. Very little. Which brings me to my next thought. The unlikely choice of Bethlehem as the debut of Emmanuel is God's good news spoken into our little-ness. Hardeman County is almost the poorest county in our state. The ravages of drug and alcohol use/abuse, astronomical joblessness rates, the inability or unwillingness to parent the children you've given birth to ... there are tons of details that point to the smallness of our little town. That is, if you're comparing us to other towns and cities in this nation (or even this world) and noting what we have and don't have to offer. But, I believe that there are no little places and no little people in God's eyes. There is something Divine happening even (or especially) in places like the one where I live and pastor. It may go unnoticed by all for a while, and by most forever ... but ignorance doesn't negate the Divine.

God picks teenage girls who struggle but still stand on Divine strength and courage to say, 'but God has something for me to do.' God chooses wise, blue-collar, carpenter-type folk who'll do the right think not because they've been educated to do that, but because they'll be true to their heart ... especially when their heart belongs to God. God breathes and acts and speaks through those who will dare to see the BIG hope and possibility in all of life. A teenage mom-to-be and her soon-to-be carpenter husband are the ones God chose to bear Emmanuel to the world first. And, God is choosing you and I today, crazy as it sounds, to bear Christ to family, friend, neighbor, and stranger alike. You may feel small; people may even tell you they think you're too little. Doesn't matter. In God's eyes, there are no little places and there are no little people.

Waiting

Waiting ... I don't like. That's probably not what I'm supposed to say (seeing as how "patience" is a fruit of the Spirit, evidence that God is working in your life). And, I don't believe it's because I've been coddled by a culture that now provides drive-up windows for just about everything. In the Western world, we've been taught and told in many ways that it's up to me/you. I've been encouraged to trust is my own ability and to deepen my stick-to-it-iveness for that very reason ... it's up to me. There's something pretty deep inside each of us that understands where I'm coming from. When was the first time you told your mom or dad, "no! I do it myself!"? Whether it's your struggle or not, I own it ... I hate to wait.

So you'd think Advent would be a stretch for me. Advent is that season of preparation and waiting all at the same time, believing God's promise of Love coming to us as Savior and Friend is a true and dependable promise ... even before we see Him in that manger or feel Him in our hearts. Advent is glorious to me! So, it grieves me when our church families want to sing the Baby Jesus right into the manger from the get-go. What's your hurry? O.K., so we know more Christmas hymns than we do Advent hymns ... learn some new ones. And, learn to wait.

Shauna Niequist released a book about a year ago Cold Tangerines. The first chapter of that book was an honest confession that much of her early life was waiting for life (as she hoped, expected it to be) to begin. You know, waiting for the end of junior high so that the real life of senior high would start; waiting for graduation from high school or college, waiting for the perfect job or the perfect life partner ... Shauna's realization was that beautiful life moments that were real and full and beautiful were passing her by because she was not waiting well.

I was struck today when I read her most recent blog post ... again about waiting. Even as I was finishing her thoughts, my own ran away with me making a list of all the things I have been or am waiting for. I sat yesterday with a family and we waited for 6+ hours during risky heart surgery to hear that their loved one was holding his own. And, they continue to wait for one more good day to be added to the first. I am waiting with young adult children who see their mother's alcoholism destroying her life and theirs; we wait for their courage to love their mother in a tough and tender way that will bring hope and healing, and for their father to join them in a commitment to love her to health, not death. I am waiting for a very private couple to find courage enough to speak aloud the reality of their coming days as they face cancer that they might wait through tests and treatments not alone, but with the company of friends who long to love them well by standing close.

There a jillion other things I am waiting for you; I am confident that you're doing your own waiting right now. As Shauna pointed out in her blog today, how we wait probably says more about us than we realize. If I trust in God as my constant companion, capable and willing to bring about my best for His glory ... then I wait patiently and confidently on Him. See? I want to challenge each of us to commit to learn to be better waiters this Advent season - to let the season really be about the Gift named Christ, not how many you can cram under the tree; to let the season be about preparing your heart and home for Jesus' residency and not just fleeting company of family and friend; to get excited about the coming of Christ for you, for me and not just about getting what you'll get and getting through the holidays.

I don't know what you're waiting on, but I'm pretty sure you're waiting on something, or someone. But, how will we wait? May each moment of this season be an opportunity for you and for me to wait on God's presence. It is our Divine Promise and one that can be depended upon. As I wait for healing, for restoration and reconciliation, for courage and for comfort, I will do best to wait on the One who is the Source of all good things and whose timing is always just right.

How will you wait for all things you hope for?

God's Confetti ... Revisited

I know that, in my last post, I drew no correlation between my tree that's so beautiful to confetti, especially God's confetti. That's exactly what I think of when I see the leaves falling. It's a little sad, to think of such glorious beauty falling to the ground only to be trampled or composted. But, they fall with such grace ... almost as if there's joy and dancing in their letting go to the wind and inside the rhythm of the season.

I probably shouldn't make this confession, but I'm gonna. There's something else about falling and fallen leaves that makes me giggle, a little like confetti. When Bo and Luke Duke (or any of the good guys, for that matter) would drive the streets and back roads of Hazzard County, there was always a multitude of fallen leaves kicked up into the air. It didn't matter what season of the year it was, the General Lee or Daisy's jeep even Uncle Jessie's old truck sent these once-dead-now-alive-again treasures dancing through the air. I think I live in Hazzard County ... lots of reasons give me that pause. Primarily, it's this - everywhere I go, I am the one these days kicking up dancing leaves wherever I go. You will not hear me shout "yee haw" out an open window and welded door. Neither will you hear my horn toot 'Dixie' ... but you might hear me giggle thankfully for God's confetti.

God's Confetti

Everytime I go to my back door, this is the sight that greets me. I love this tree! The brilliant yellow of the leaves tinged with greens and reds and a little orange here and there is both regal and wild. I love this tree because it's beautiful this time of year and because it's mine. Well, kinda ... it's actually God's first; and some would say it belongs to the church since I live in their house. But, it's mine for no other reason than this: I've stopped long enough to receive it's beauty in this moment as a gift from the One who created it. And, so it is mine. Shauna Niequist posted a picture a year ago and again just a week or so ago of a red tree on their property. Along with the picture comes the lesson she's learned of being so busy with what seems to be important in the moment that you miss the gift of that glorious beauty. (In case your curiosity gets the best of you, www.shaunaniequist.com.)

That challenges me to think that the miraculous is happening all around me all the time I miss them just because I don't see. And, I think Augustine got it right (the quote of the day; take a look) ... you wanna see more miraculous stuff you gotta start thinking about the possibilities differently. This isn't just about paying better attention to the beauty of my corner of creation, although that's a great place to start. Maybe my next miracle, or yours, starts with deep gratitude for the ability to see or hear or smell or taste or touch the very ordinary stuff of our lives that makes living such a rich experience. Maybe, just maybe, our next miracle starts with holding out hope for a resolution, or reconciliation, or renewal, or restoration even though the world would tell us our circumstances add up to none, zip, nada.

I choose today to be deeply grateful for my tree ... and every other reflection of and avenue to God's glory. They are miracles and they are mine just by being open to receive them. And, they are reminders that the "impossible" is very possible at any season, in any situation, for any body. You don't have a tree like this? Not anywhere? You can have mine until you find your own!

Mad Skills

I'm over it, really I am. I bet you got the business, too, about things going on your "permanent record" when you left high school for the big, bad, real world. I don't mean to be a goodie-two-shoes, but I didn't have to worry about fighting or skip days showing up. I did worry about whether I could hang on to my algebra and geometry skills or those dates from history for the moment I would need 'em ... and 'they' told me a lot that I would absolutely need and use those jewels a lot.

I don't know if I could legitimately keep algebra/geometry skills or historical dates on the list of all I'm capable of or expected to do, but I have come to the realization that I do have some mad skills. Individual athletes and teams as a whole are touted in every pre-game projection and post-game recap for their mad skills. And, you have them, too!

I saw that McDonald's commercial last night naming the abilities and gifts of the Washington Redskins and Dwight Howard ... and laughed. Not AT them, but at the recognition of all that I've been asked or expected to do in this normal week of work/ministry. In addition to being preacher, teacher, pray-er, listener, counselor, etc., I have held my ground as:

• a GPS service (when I friend called for directions in a town that neither of us live in)
• a transportation manager (when a church member asked me to explain why the church parking lot was laid out the way it was and how we would fix a loading/unloading zone dilemma)
• a soil specialist (when church members asked me, yet again, what the construction guys were doing with all that dirt ... they were smooshing in down as tight as possible because good surface AND subsoil compaction is necessary for the stability of a structure, just in case you need to know)
• a psychologist (when a church member asked me to chime in on why a teenage daughter is exhibiting a fresh penchant for obsessive/compulsive thought patterns and behaviors)
• an event planner (when no one else seems to be able to open the closet door to see if we have enough plates/napkins/cups for the next spaghtetti dinner
• a chauffer (when no one else could bring themselves to run the van to our church picnic so everyone - meaning those who don't drive - could participate, too!)
• a social worker (when those riding your van are special needs adults who've been allowed to have way too much sugar and other stimulation ... just before you arrive to pick them up and promise to take good care of them for the whole afternoon)
• a referree (when representatives from two ministries within the church are jockeying for position on the church calendar)

And, I'm not even going into the afternoon as a tour guide! I never dreamed while I was in seminary that saying "yes" to Jesus would mean doing all that stuff.

I heard Maya Angelou, in an interview this morning, say that gratitude saved her life. I needed to hear her say that. I was almost ready to choose an attitude for the day that is much different from that one. But, to be bitter and resentful about all that I've done is to overlook my skills ... and God's faithfulness. You've heard the cheesy saying: If God brings you to it, then God'll bring you through it. I choose to believe that God is not just helping me get through anything that comes to me, but to show OUR mad skills in the middle of it - God's power and my openness to that power.

My guess is that you'll have something come up today or tomorrow that you had no clue you'd ever have to face or handle. I can't wait to see your mad skills! Go get 'em, Tiger!

Let's Do The Happy-Dog-Dance!

You might not be able to tell from her picture, but my Grace is a happy dog ... with a capital "H" and a lot of wag. She greeted me at the door last night with such enthusiasm that the disappointments and frustrations of the day melted away instantly. Though I had left her alone for almost 12 hours with nothing to do but watch the squirrels through the back door, my Gracie didn't hold it against me. She was REALLY glad to see me. She does this jump-in-the-air, twist-slightly-to-the-right, kick-my-back-legs-up-and-smile thing that brings nothing but joy, obviously to her AND to me ... especially since I couldn't do that in a million years if I tried (at least not all at the same time).

After she inhaled a treat and made a couple of fly-by's for poochie smooches, she headed for the back door and I remembered another canine incident just a week ago ... and, it was anything but joyful. Well, I have to admit I laughed so hard that I snorted. But, there was no joy in the moment for any of the parties involved except for me and my across-the-street neighbor. Here's what happened ...

I was standing in my front yard, talking with a neighbor about life and all it was holding for each of us and our families. We both noticed something out of the corners of our eyes, and commented almost at the same time ... "Is that what I think it is?" Seems another neighbor was "walking" her dog. Now, before I continue, just let me say that the sort of dog-walking business I'm about to describe does happen frequently in our neighborhood. It got started by a fairly new family who owns a mastiff-ish dog who is larger than most human beings I know. And, they "walk" their family pooch in the Turner-and-Hooch fashion sans the control stick - they let Bowser (I've changed his name to protect the innocent) run in front of the car until his little, I mean, huge heart is content while they simply try to keep up. But, what my neighbor and I saw instead was yet another neighbor driving maybe 3 miles an hour with a long, rhinestone-encrusted leash draping out of the window, attached to the driver's hand and to ... the collar of her sweet and exhausted dachshund who's legs were moving so fast to keep up they were a blur!

I was stunned, but not so as to miss the joylessness of the moment for most involved. The driver just got busted by her neighbors for being lazy enough to walk her dog that way; the dachshund surely found no joy in being seen in that position. And the poodle in the passenger's seat ...

I didn't mention her? Oh, yeah, the OTHER family dog was SITTING in the passenger's seat taking it all in. Unless I'm exaggerating a bit, I think I even saw a bit of a smirk on her face as she watched her friend/companion on the busy end of the leash. I believe that any attitude accompanied by a smirk can never really be joy; that would just be too nasty.

Anyway. I was aware last night as I watched Gracie flit around the backyard then bounce back into the house - and into my lap once or twice - that moments of pure joy might be a matter of perspective. The running dachshund might possibly have been tickled to run into two human beings that saw something wrong with that whole picture. Too, Gracie could have pouted about the long hours just watching, not chasing, the squirrels. But, she chose to do the Happy Dog Dance over seeing a long-lost friend and a milkbone.

She makes those kinds of choices a lot ... she dances over cheese, over the 5-year-old on the other side of the fence who sometimes scratches her ears, over hearing a fellow canine bark on T.V., on seeing her "Granny" and her "Tita." I want to make those kinds of choices, too. To dance more over the stuff life holds or brings me. Now that I've made that commitment, please cut me a little slack. I may be dancing more on the inside than the out, at least until I can get the twist and smile thing down at the same time.

I hope you find something to Happy-Dog-Dance over today!

Beauty Broken

It's been a while. And, to tell the truth, I'd rather be back where I've been than sitting in front of this computer. No offense.

I was blessed to spend a few days at the Gulf Coast, repairing my soul (and napping, to tell the truth). I love it all - the sound of the waves crashing against land, the feel of the constant breeze on my face and in my hair, the feel of sand and water tickling my feet, the taste of the salt on skin once the wave is long gone, and so much more I can't name it all. Like Jacques said, I'm caught in that net of wonder and just don't care.

I learned something valuable about myself and about you while I was there. Shells were everywhere! And, thick. There was a two-hour stretch when I channeled my Granny Georgia who could look for stuff, behind high in the air, for hours. I must admit, though, that my first two days there I didn't really take notice of a shell ... if it was broken. I wanted to see that illusive picture of perfection - the curves and the colors, the minute details, and the secret story of how it got to be where it is. I made a comment to one of my friends - sharing this time away - about the disappointment in the brokenness of a beautiful scallop shell. And, her response caused my mind and my heart to flip. She said, "That's what I love about 'em. Not one of 'em are perfect ... like us. Makes me feel better about my own brokenness, to see such beauty inside in spite of what's happened to them."

What I learned about myself is this: I don't want you to see my broken edges or the weak spots, because you might see only that ... when, what I want you to see is my glory - the curves and colors of my life, the minute details of who I am and the sometimes mysterious story of how I got to be me.
What I learned about you is this: Somehow pain and beauty are often hand-in-hand and being courageous enough to look at your pain will help me discover the depth of your glory - the curves and colors of your life, the minute details of who you are and the sometimes mysterious story of how you got to be you.

Needless to say, of the three tons of shells (not exactly) that I brought back, not very many are 'perfect.' But, the rest, are breathtaking in their own way. I never cease to be amazed at the hidden beauty revealed because of a crack here and a missing piece there. In a world that values (and sells) perfection - as if it really exists - what release there was and is because of my days on the beach! I am praying that you and I both can learn to love the cracks and missing pieces and, especially, the surprising glory revealed, too!

If I close my eyes and relax, I can almost hear the waves coming in ...

"Reading" Our World

A friend sent this by email to me. Don't know where it came from or who deserves the credit (or blame) for it. Could be the result or part of some great scientific experiment or the result of one with too much time on his/her hands. Anyway, see what you can do with this ...


Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe out of 100 can.
I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulacily uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to resarech at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are; the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig, huh?



I'll tell you why I was struck by this exercise... I celebrate the amazing capability of our minds and I am intrigued by the implications and possibly transferrable 'truths' to the work of our spirit ... or 'reading' moments, circumstances, relationships. How incredible it is indeed that eyes can see scrambled letters and the mind not only reads them as if they weren't, but wraps itself around the concept that they represent!

Jesus, when questioned about the greatest commandment, quoted the Shema which is found in Deuteronomy 6:4-5. Only, he added to it. (Gasp!) Jesus tells us that we are to love God will all our heart, soul, MIND, and strength. (Mark 12:28-31) To love God with my mind is not dependent on understanding everything I hear or read or experience of God (and that's a good thing!). If this business of understanding mixed-up words translates to the work of my spiritual mind, then there's hope! And, I guess for you, too! I can come to understand God in Divine fullness even if I can't explain or immediately identify all of God's expressions and revelations. That journey toward understanding requires practice and stretching and, at times, a little discomfort. Foundationally, it requires faith - trust that God wants to be known by us and trust that knowing God adds to our existence. (I happen to believe that knowing God IS life.) And, if you happen to believe, like me, that God made each of us on purpose, with purpose, then we should acknowledge that God is not surprised (but, rather, tickled!) by this amazing feat of the mind to be able to see unclearly, but understand with conviction.

At least one difficulty in adding faith practice or spirit to the working of the mind is that we practice mistrust so much in our everyday living. I mistrust you because someone like you hurt me once - intentionally or unintentionally, the wound is still unforgettable. You mistrust me because you question your own ability to accurately perceive the circumstances of the moment due to the fact you misread someone else at another time.

Where does all this wondering and wandering lead me? My heart breaks over the inability or unwillingness of many supposed spiritual leaders in my community to see - clearly or conceptually - the reality of this second poorest county (economincally) in the state of Tennessee. So, can you teach someone how to read jumbled up letters or jumbled up lives and see the bigger picture? Can you see unemployment, hopelessness, poverty, lack of education, exclusion and marginalization of God's children and envision spiritual health, wealth, and hope? Today, I'm not so sure ... except that it seems God wired us with the capability. Maybe we just haven't decided to try.

A Magic Circle

This is an adaptation of an article I submitted this week to the Bolivar Times on behalf of the Hardeman County Ministerial Alliance. I share it with you for two reasons: one, that the call to unity in the Holy Spirit be fresh in your ears and two, that you be encouraged or challenged (whichever one you need) to really see and know your community.

While visiting a friend this summer, we headed into downtown Asheville, North Carolina, to enjoy a pleasant evening. During dinner in an outdoor cafe, we could hear what sounded like a drumbeat carried on the breeze (much like Gilligan and the gang used to hear). Curious, we asked our waiter what the sound was and he told us about a drum circle that was probably gathering in one of the small parks downtown. Even more curious, we finished dinner and began walking toward the sound. The beat got louder and more intricate with every step. When we turned the last corner, we saw over 300 people in that small downtown park - everyone playing his own drum or her own tamborine, some simply clapping their hands or swaying to the music. It was amazingly beautiful to see every socio-economic status, every race, every age represented in this strangely magical circle. Both men and women, single and attached, some alone and some with their children - and everyone together. I still haven't figured how they did it - how they knew where to gather and on what day, what time would they start, and who's in charge? Nobody could tell us, they just heard it was happening. Some, like us, because they heard the music. Some, because they heard it from someone else who heard it from a friend that a circle would be forming. And, how did the rhythm change so smoothly, with no interuption at all? I mean, was somebody in charge and everybody knew it but me and my friend? Or, was there enough trust and shared responsibility in that huge crowd of so many different kinds of folks making music that it just happened?

As the rhythm changed the first time, I realized how intoxicating the experience was - not just the music, but being a part of it all. So intoxicating, that in the dancing and keeping the rhythm we were drawn almost to the very center of it all. As the rhythm changed for the third time, the picture in front of us, capturing us suddenly came into sharp focus. There we all were, a "rainbow" of personalities, persuasions, and backgrounds working together for a common good and enjoying it, enjoying one another!

That should be the goal of Christians whatever our persuasion or practice because it is the call of God. Paul urged the Christians at Ephesus - and us today, no matter where we are - to "make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace." (Ephesians4:1-3) One person, one church, one agency will never be able to tackle alone all the difficulties that besiege our communities. Unity does require effort and commitment that comes from a choice to work side-by-side with others even when they are different from you or me. That choice gives nod to the belief that our common denominators - love for God, love for our neighbors, concern for our communities - will always be stronger, louder than our differences.

Our communities need our hope, our strength, our boldness, and most of all our love. The following statistics are just some shared by local community professionals in Hardeman County, Tennessee, which happens to be the third poorest county in the state of Tennessee. My guess is that you'd be just as shocked and heartbroken as I was to learn the reality that I and my neighbors live in:

• 70% of all youth who come before juvenile court test positive for drug use
• 1 in 10 adults struggles with alcoholism/problem drinking and its consequences
• Hardeman County, though we are one of the smallest areas in the District, has the second highest criminal case load and child support docket in the 25th Judicial District
• Only 66% of the county's population has a high school diploma
• 1 in 4 individuals live below the poverty line

Can you imagine the power of our work to stand against the decay and disillusionment that affects our communities, if we will stand together? Can you imagine the beauty and power that would begin to characterize our life together, if we would but trust one another - different as we may be - and share responsibility and leadership toward God's promise of hope and new life?

I really wish that you'd been with us that night in the middle of the drum circle where half the world showed up! And, I pray for the gathering of another magic circle ... and the other half deciding to come, too!

Big Little Things

John Lennon once said that "life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." I didn't plan to get sick this week, but, hey, life happens! I also realized (while I was lying on the couch, trying to breathe and not to cough) that the little things that get forgotten in our planning and in our busyness are really the biggest things of all that go into making a life. Shauna Niequist, in her book Cold Tangerines, challenges all of us to consider that we just may have been waiting for life to begin (once I graduate from high school or college or seminary, once I step into the career I've dreamed of or into the arms of, you know, him or her, or once we have children or that new home ...) and we're missing the best life ever. It's happening, but we just don't realize how good it is. Cold tangerines are one of the big little things for Shauna Niequist. A rediscovered big little thing for me? Grape popsicles. And, once the list started in my head, I couldn't believe how many treasures I'd forgotten!

• Laughing with a friend so hard that one of you snorts
• the smell of fresh peaches in the summer
• the luxury of curling up with a book on a rainy day
• the sound of waves crashing against the shore
• the feel of the sun on your shoulders and the wind in your hair
• the taste and cool comfort of a grape popsicle (or a push-up!)
• the feel of walking barefoot through the grass
• or, how 'bout letting mud squish between your toes!
• the intoxicating warmth of holding hands with someone you love
• the sound of a kid's belly laugh
• the intimacy of bread broken with friends
• what happens in your head and your heart when THAT song comes on the radio

See, the list goes on and on. I'm still working on mine and I'd LOVE to hear some of your Big Little Things. This is another one ... just watch and I'll bet you can remember the last time you did this! Go to www.youtube.com/watch?v=yNy9jTeolUk

Better yet, stop what you're doing and savor one of those little things. Not just as a memory, but as a now moment. Hold your baby's hand, walk through the lawn barefooted, invite a friend over (or out) for dinner, share a laugh together with someone special ... go ahead and snort. What we find is that we're sharing life. Life will never be buried underneath the list of things to be done and life will never be better once we're done with those things. Life IS those things ... and what we make of them and who we do them with or for as we go along this journey.

Jesus' promise to us is that in His coming to us, to be with us and just like us, we could know the abundance in life that God intended for all of creation. Abundance isn't a quantity issue as much as it's a quality issue. And, grape popsicles or a trip through the sprinkler or holding hands with someone you love is as rich as it gets. My guess is that if you'll work on a list of the Big Little Things in your life, you'll discover just how rich you are!

Hidden Beauty

I learned something today that makes me just plain mad. Did you hear? The little girl who stood so confidently before the world Friday night at the opening of the Olympics, ushering in children who represented every cultural faction of China was actually a pint-sized milli-vanilli. Lin Miaoke was lip-synching with her perfect pony-tails while the little girl who was really singing with her precious and strong voice was hidden from the world because she wasn't cute enough! At 7, Yang Peiyi has the voice but the packaging isn't right, so we push her to pretend she is something that she is not, expect her to hide herself because she's not enough.

What makes me even madder is Anne Curry's response as the story was reported on the Today Show, broadcasting from Beijing. The video loop finished with a full-face picture of the hidden girl with a shy smile and slightly downcast eyes. And Curry promptly says, "I think she's cute."

It's not about being cute! It's not about being cute enough or presentable or acceptable. It's about each of us, every one of us being valued for who we are! Why wasn't her clear, powerful voice enough to invite her to sing to the world? What lesson will each of those girls learn about their own value as human beings? You're pretty enough, but just stand there ... we don't need to hear from you. You sing like a bird, but, well, those teeth ...

I was (who am I kidding, I still am) one of those girls ... you know, never quite together. A hint of a cowlick here, a pimple there, braces on my teeth, pudge everywhere and worried about who might notice or care. There have been moments in my growing up - and I'm still doing that, by the way - when the evaluation and approval of others was/is of ultimate importance. And, thankfully, there are other moments when I can celebrate that I am who I am and the little things like pimples (still) or arm flab don't define me. I'm not defined by my lack of athleticism or a huge vocabulary, just like you're not defined by the vocation you pursue or your birth order position. These things about me and you (that grow out of comparison with someone else, really) are not mistakes ... they just are.

Don't get me wrong, I haven't arrived at some enlightened place where it no longer bothers me when you disapprove. I'm just saying that I've had and have good folks in my life who remind me that I'm more than my appearance or my choices or my abilities ... and lack thereof. I hope these little girls have someone in their lives to tell them much more that "I think you're cute!" I hope that you have someone in your life who encourages you to stop hiding yourself for fear of not being enough. My prayer is that each of us not only can come to grips with our own pricelessness but also of one another, even and especially in our difference. In her book, Looking for God, Nancy Ortberg cautions us with this wisdom: "The reason molds work so well for Jell-O is that gelatin is a substance without form of its own. But people aren't like that, or at least we shouldn't be. Molds are rigid, predetermined boundaries that create shape but leave no room for movement. Great for Jell-O, disastrous for people."

I believe there's a deep truth that you and I need to hear, to be reminded of, and to embrace:

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Wonderful are your works; that I know full well. Psalm 139:14

My hope is this: that Lin and Yang, and every other little boy and girl in this world can hear and believe the truth that they matter just because they are. And, that you know and appreciate yourself full well as an amazing creation, wonderfully made (pimples, arm flab and all!).

Pretty Evil

The painting is Salome Dancing before Herod by Gustave Moreau. It's beauty and bold statement took my breath the first time I saw it, when a portion of the Armand Hammer museum exhibit traveled to Memphis. I encourage you to look at it in closer detail than what this picture/post may allow.

Hang with me while I give you the backstory to my sharing this painting with you. I'll get back to it.

I just returned from a week-long continuing education event that was quite disappointing to say the least. There were wonderful moments sprinkled through the six days that felt like a hundred. One of those? Experiencing "The Dark Knight" on an IMAX screen with a group of friends and colleagues. (There's something fabulously weird about being face-to-face with a 5-story tall Batman jumping off buildings!) Our animated conversation at the close of the movie was about lines and moves and surprises and special effects. And, without fail, we all had a strong response to The Joker. Ledger did an amazing job of creating, presenting a character that was larger than the actor playing the part. And, as weird as it sounds, I rather liked The Joker. He had a strong grasp of the truth, lived from a place of understanding that was boldly discomforting but attractive to everyone - those characters in the movie with him and those of us watching from our seats. Our conversation included the question of what drives the darkness of The Joker - some pain from his past, perhaps, or pure evil?

Pan to the painting by Moreau. If you took a moment to look, the opulence of the scene is unmistakable and intoxicating. Did you connect with the story Moreau is translating for us: Salome dancing before her step-dad/uncle in honor of his birthday. He was so taken by the performance that he popped his mouth off before he thought and offered the girl a reward of up to half of all he had. Young and unprepared for the spot she was in (who would be?), she deferred to her mother's guidance. Since her mother hated John the Baptist for telling the bold, hard truth about the life she was living, she told the girl to ask for John's head ... and she did. (Matthew 14:1-11, the Sandra translation)

Did you notice the panther in the bottom right corner of the painting? Sleek and beautiful, powerful ... and waiting like a panther waits. What struck me when I saw Moreau's work for the first time is that evil is just like that. Beautiful, powerful, sleek (or, slick), and waiting for our moments of weakness, blindness, ignorance, misplaced good intentions, self-absorption, denial, fear, ... Sometimes, it seems, evil pounces on us with no provocation; sometimes we invite it in as if we didn't know what we were messing with. Maybe we don't.

If evil always looked like The Joker, we'd know right away to steer clear because of it's ugliness. But what it evil acts like the Joker - wise or funny or promising or weirdly attractive? All the more reason for us to not get so caught up in the dance, performing it or watching it, that we're not aware of the panther in the room and its true nature. No need to stop dancing or finding joy in the beauty of it all, no need to be afraid ... just don't pet the panther, if you get my drift.

I spent the first three hours of my morning weeding the beds in front of my home. That should probably be embarrassing - that it took three hours (and I'm still not finished) - but it's been that kind of spring and summer. With another ceu event taking me away from home for a week, I was afraid of what I would find when I got home if I didn't do something now. So, I headed straight for the jungle, er, I mean flower bed.

I wasn't there long before I discovered some very sinister things happening at ground level. There's basically one weed to blame for the whole jungle - a weed that, from a fairly small (and rather innocent-looking) sprout sends runners in every direction imaginable. And, those runners cling to soil, other plants, brick, whatever it can get its little suckers on as they "run." My fingers were raw in no time flat, tracing runners and making sure that root and all was gone from every little place this thing had traveled.

Pause for a moment. I heard once that people who work with money and are trained to detect counterfeits (without the handy-dandy little pen) never focus on what the fake might be like. They know and real stuff so well that when the "feel" is off or the color isn't quiet right or some other detail is even a hair different, they know. They focus on the real stuff and that truth makes it easier to detect the lie. All that to say this: in my teaching and preaching, I don't focus much on sin. Not that I don't believe it's real, sinister, and deadly. I figure that knowing the Truth so well, recognizing God's grace and love in the most surprising places/ways will illuminate the cavities in our souls and lives.

All that said, my encounter with the weeds this morning was all about sin. I couldn't get it out of my mind as I worked hard to find all the suckers and dig out all the roots. One thing - a thought, an action, an attitude, a secret, you know - can look like such an innocent sprout. But, the next thing you know, runners are headed in a million different directions and sticking to everything they can get to. The next thing you know, that one innocent- enough lie (betrayal, poor choice, insensitivity, you name it) is making its presence known in most every other thought, choice, action, and attitude.

I couldn't take it any more ... that's why I weeded that bed today. My prayer is that I can learn to tend to the bed of my soul before the jungle sprouts ... from that one cranky, mean weed. I want, need the courage to see the weedy little choices and words and actions for what they are. And, more courage still to let 'em be ripped out by the roots. There is such beauty and harmony and health in that bed - and in my spirit - when it's cared for like it should be.

Happy gardening to you, too!

Surprised by Grace!

What amazing grace flooded my world - and my office - today! I looked at the clock above my office door for the umpteenth time this afternoon and discovered that the door frame was also framing the faces of very special people from my past. There, surprisingly, stood my youth leader and her daughter whom I used to babysit. And beside that young woman were her two daughters - full of life and joy and love (and mischief ... after all, I know their mother AND their grandmother!) As Margaret and Jennifer, Haley and Madison came into the room, so did amazing memories and the easy conversation of old that helped create them. The hope we used to share in the Body of Christ we absolutely knew as family filled the room, too, as we talked candidly, quickly about our faith journeys and our spiritual needs. Something else was palpable in the room, too ... a sobering soreness that remains from the loss of great men who, once a vital, integral part of our life together, are now a part of the Church Triumphant. I'm glad, though I can't explain how it happens, I know that it's true that in God's economy, the best of Daddy and Wayne still fill our hearts and any room we occupy. My greatest surprise today wasn't seeing the faces of such special people, 'live' and in my presence; it is the discovery of a long ignored quiet, but powerful river of hope and purpose running through me - all because a youth leader told me with conviction that who I am matters (not just to her, but to God!) and, then, trusted her children to my care.

Who, in your seasons past, can you recognize now as conduits of God's love and grace, mouthpieces of Divine truth and wisdom who have helped you become who - and how - you are? Being loved on by and loving in return such amazing people (who will really always be a part of me, and me of them) was such an unexpected and awesome twist on today ... kinda makes me want to be the one to show up in another old friend's doorway or mailbox or voicemail. How 'bout you?

A First Look

I remember looking out the front window of our Parkway Village home that summer day as the rain poured down outside (and in my heart). My sadness over a friend's move several states-distance away seemed to be echoed by nature herself and I consciously recognized for the first time that I, we seem to look on life through a window that offers a differing view with every new hope or reality, dream or disappointment. Some views are drastically different; others only slightly so. It was only a year or so later that I was looking through that same window in our home with great anticipation for a beau to come pulling up in front of our home, to come for me. At times the window is framed with hope or someone else's idea of what is, what should be; at times the panes of glass are cloudy with a different kind of pain or with simple ignorance. But, the constant is the two-fold purpose of a window, any window. It is, simply, to let Light and Wind in, and to let me and you see out. With great excitement and a little anxiety, I'm hoping that you'll help me see more clearly and allow me to share with you just what I see ... through my window.