You are more than you know

Hello Blogging friends! I realize it has been 5 days since my last post. I have been feeling quite uninspired in life lately--especially in the area of writing. However, I've missed posting...and I came across something that I found really interesting. While doing sermon research for a "Sermon on the Mount" sermon series, I read this and thought it was very moving (but don't really have a place for it in my sermon). So, I wanted to share it with all of you, out there in cyberspace. This is the text of a radio broadcast from "30 Good Minutes": The Chicago Sunday Evening Club. Be blessed...and I will write again SOON!

taken from: http://www.csec.org/csec/sermon/shea_3922.htm#anchor610088

"You Are More Than You Know" by John Shea (bio below)

"You Are More Than You Know"

Bryce Courtenay, in his autobiographical novel The Power of One, begins with a chilling and yet wonderful episode. It begins with a six year old boy. He is an English little boy. His father has been killed by a rogue elephant and his mother has gone into a sanitarium after the killing of his father.

It takes place in the late 1930s in South Africa, and that leaves the little boy to be raised by his Zulu nanny and because he is six years old and he should go to school, she ships him off to a boarding school, but the boarding school the boy finds himself in is a boarding school of all Boer boys, B-O-E-R, and the Boers and the English hate each other for very, very good reasons.

Well, when he finds out that he is the only English boy in this Boer boarding school, he begins to have a bed-wetting problem. Night after night in his anxiety and fear, he wets his bed and it is not long before the other boys find out, for they have to drag his mattress out in the morning and put it in the sun, and so the older Boer boys form a "kangaroo court", and at night they drag him out and they tie strips of rags around his eyes, and then they have a mock trial, with a mock verdict and a mock sentencing. And since the punishment must fit the crime, they make him crouch down on the ground, where they all urinate on him. This does not happen once; it happens many times.

Finally, there is a break in the school year and the little boy goes home and falls into the arms of his Zulu nanny, and he cries and he cries and he cries and he cries and he tells her these terrible things that are happening to him at this boarding school. And she tells him to hush, that she will put the word out and the great medicine man Inkosi Inkosikazi will come and with one shake of the bleached bones of an ox, he will cure this boy of the terrible problem of this "nightwater."

Well, the boy waits patiently, and four days later there comes down the dirt road of their farm the largest black buick the boy has ever seen. And out of it steps the oldest man the boy has ever seen, clad only in a loin-cloth and with a rug tucked under his arm. He walks over to a tree; he puts the rug down. He sits down on it. The farm hands have all gathered around in hushed silence at the great medicine man. And he looks up and he sees the boy and he says, "Boy, come here!"

And the boy comes and sits down on the rug next to the medicine man, and then the medicine man looks up at the farmhands and says, "Bring me five chickens!"
And five chickens they bring. And the medicine man takes the first chicken and he grabs it up-side the head and he tips it upside-down, and he draws a circle in the dust with the chicken. And then he sticks the beak of the chicken in the middle of the circle and the chicken falls dead asleep.

Five times the medicine man does this with five chickens. And then he goes back and he sits down on the rug next to the small boy, and leans over to him for the first time and says, "You see these people here? They think this is magic. It is not; it is a trick, and I will show you how to do it." And then the medicine man looked up at the people and said, "Take these five chickens. Kill them, pluck them, cook them; we will eat them tonight." And the mesmerized farmhands leave with the five chickens. And the medicine man leans down a second time to the small boy, and says, "Before I teach you the trick with the chickens, there is this unfortunate business of the night-water."

Well, the boy's heart began to sink, but before it could sink too fast the medicine man said, "Close your eyes," and the boy closed his eyes. And the medicine man said, "It is night. The moon of Africa is bright. You are standing on a ledge. Beneath you there are three waterfalls. The first one plunges into a pool; it sweeps over that pool, plunges into a second pool; it sweeps over that down and plunges into a lake. And on the lake there are ten black rocks leading to a beach of white sand. Do you see it?"

The boy nodded that he did see it, and the medicine man said, "Then hear it!" And there rushed through the boy the sound of water. There was water in his mind and water in his body and water in his heart. There was water on both sides of him. There was water underneath him, water above him. And in the thunder and crash of the water that was everywhere came the voice of Inkosi Inkosikazi, the medicine man, and it said to him, "You are a young warrior. You stand on the ledge above the waterfalls of the night. You have just killed your first lion. You wear a skirt of lion-tails. You are worthy to be in the honor guard of Shaka himself. Now here's what you must do, my little warrior. You must dive, and when you hit the first pool you will go to the bottom and you will count '3-2-1' on the way up and you will be swept over that pool. You will go to the second pool; you will go to the bottom. You will count '3-2-1' on the way up. You'll be swept over into the lake. You will jump on the first black rock and you will count '10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1' to the beach of white sand. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded that he did. The medicine man said, "Then, my little warrior, dive."
And in the imagination of his heart, the boy left the ledge. He hit the first pool, 3-2-1, swept over into the second pool, 3-2-1, swept over into the lake, 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1, until he lay exhausted on the beach of white sand, with the thunder and crash of the water inside him and outside him. And once again, the voice of the medicine man returned. It said, "You have crossed the nightwater. There is nothing more to be feared. If ever you need me, come to the ledge above the waterfalls of the night, and I will be there." Then the medicine man leaned down to the boy and said, "Open your eyes!"

The boy opened his eyes and the medicine man said, "Now, the trick with the chickens."
The story continues in Bryce Courtenay's own voice, only now he is a man looking back on that time: I went back to school. I never again wet my bed, but that didn't stop them. They were Boers; I was English. Night after night they'd drag me out, but they could never make me cry. And I knew this bothered them, for I knew they had little brothers who were six years old and they knew how easy it was to make a little six year old boy cry, but they could never make me cry. For when they tied the dirty strips of rags around my eyes I would take three deep breaths, and there I was on the ledge above the waterfalls of the night, the voice of Inkosi Inkosikazi in my ears. It said, "You are a young warrior. You have just killed your first lion. You wear a skirt of lion-tails. You are worthy to be in the honor guard of Shaka himself." And it was then I knew that the outer me was a shell to be pushed and provoked, but inside was the real me, where my tears joined the tears of all the sad peoples of all the earth, to form the three waterfalls of the night.

That's a little piece of gold from Bryce Courtney, but I think it's a little piece of gold that Christians understand. The young boy finds that he is more than the things that oppress him. He finds a space within himself that is transcendent and powerful.

To me it is reminiscent of how Jesus addressed the crowds in the great opening of the Sermon on the Mount in the Gospel of Matthew.

Matthew tells us that when Jesus saw the crowds he went up onto a mountain, and his disciples drew close to them and he sat down and began to teach them. How would he teach? Would he tell them that in the past there was a great tradition that they had lost sight of, a covenant that they had broken and must return to? Would he say that in the future, like John the Baptist, there was someone coming with a winnowing fan to hit the threshing floor and split the wheat and the chaff, or someone coming with a torch to burn the earth, or someone coming with an ax to chop the tree? Would he tell them to return to the past? Would he tell them to fear the future? No, he just looked at them, the crowds, everybody, and he just said to them, "Blessed are you," and he said to them, "You are the salt of the earth, and you are the light of the world."

He took them right in the present. But he saw more than this blessedness of salt and light. He saw people in trouble, people who were in trouble but didn't know that they were more than they knew, didn't know that they were a blessedness, a salt, a light, didn't know there was a space of the ledges above the waterfalls of the night in each person. They were poor in spirit. They lacked zest and passion. They had lost the energy to live, and yet he told them that there was still a blessedness in them, that if they tapped into that blessedness, that they could find it again and out of their poverty of spirit they would come into a richness of spirit known as the kingdom of heaven. And he saw that they were mourning. And he said still there's a blessedness in you even when you're mourning and when you're grieving. And although grief, when we're in it, oftentimes feels that it is the whole of who we are, when Jesus saw people in grief, he saw that there was still in them a deeper blessedness that they could touch into, and from that deeper blessedness they could find a space where comfort would come. And sometimes he saw people who were too meek; they lacked assertiveness in life. They didn't lean into their problems and difficulties. But even then there was a blessedness that was there that would teach them a way beyond meekness into inheriting the earth.

Jesus knows people more than we know ourselves. He sees things in people that we ourselves sometimes miss. So many things we are. So many things attack us and pull us down. We are many things; we are a series of roles. We are a psychological history. We are a body that may be giving us pleasure, or may be giving us a lot of pain. We find ourselves in the throes of lacking spirit or mourning. We find ourselves no longer being salt. We find ourselves a light that has gone out. And in these cases, we sometimes lose hope and lose confidence. Our wounds become our definition.

But then Jesus sees us, the crowds, all of us. He doesn't miss the wounds; he doesn't miss the salt that has lost it's flavor. He doesn't miss the light that has gone out, only He says that there is something deeper - a light that can be rekindled, a salt that will not lose its flavor, a blessedness that has the power to push into every negative situation and bring about newness, possibility, a way beyond it.

We are so many different things. Sometimes we have to consult the vision of someone who is not us, who sees deeply into our lives and can tell us truths that maybe we have forgotten. It is said in the Gospels that Zacchaeus, the little man in the tall tree, learned to see and love in himself what Jesus saw and loved in him, and that Peter learned to see in himself what Jesus saw and loved in him, and Magdalen learned to see and love in herself what Jesus saw and loved in her.
Perhaps we should do the same thing, because we are more than we know, but Jesus knows the more we are, and what he sees in us is a blessedness, a salt, a light. He sees a ledge above the waterfalls of the night.

Biography: John Shea is a writer, storyteller and Roman Catholic theologian from Chicago. He was formerly Director of the Doctor of Ministry program at the University of St. Mary of the Lake, and has taught at the University of Notre Dame and Boston College. John is currently a Senior Scholar in Residence at the Park Ridge Center for Study of Health, Faith and Ethics, and a research professor at the Institute of Pastoral Studies at Loyola University of Chicago. He lectures nationally and internationally on topics of theology, storytelling and ministry, and is the author of many books, including Starlight: Beholding the Christmas Miracle All Year Long.

The Movement of God

I have been receiving random messages from two young missionary women in Africa: Jessica Orr and Randi Blick. Now, it could be that I am just getting old and don't really remember all the people I am supposed to know (most likely case). Or, it could be that I am meant to pray for these random girls and their ministry (probably also the case). At any rate, I read the report about all that God is doing in their lives and in their ministries...and I wept. I hate to admit it, but I think I've become cold and lifeless in my faith. Yes, there are moments of passion and intensity, but it's been awhile since I felt as "on fire" as these girls obviously are. It sparked something in my soul. I remember reading something in seminary about the "healthy soul", about how in seasons of coldness, the healthy soul "longs to long again". That is where I am right now...and this email made that longing all the more palpable to me. I want to share it with you, my blogging friends, for several reasons: 1) to gather your prayers for these women and their ministry 2) to see if anyone can remind me of how and why I should know who they are and 3) to inspire your souls with the greatness of who God is and what He can do in hearts that are willing and open to Him.

The email:
What does 'Jesus given and broken for a dying world' look like in our day? How does Jesus answer the questions of a dying world? These are the questions we often find ourselves asking here in Africa.

When Randi and I (Jessica) were attending the Holy Given School of international Missions in Pemba, Mozambique, Africa in 2006, Heidi Baker and Lesley-Anne Leighton gave a call for those who would give their lives as missionaries among the poor. We ran up and fell once again on our faces in the dirt as Jesus showed us more of Himself. We gave our lives away because we have come face to face with the one we know as all together worthy under a large church tent in Mozambique.

During the last month of the school, God spoke to both Randi and I to stay in Africa and begin to walk out our callings-to begin to use what had been placed in us. All we could respond with was,
“Yes Jesus!”

We have only glimpses into what this will mean for our lives and where He will take us-and while in Mozambique, those glimpses started forming a larger picture.

We love Jesus and we really have fallen so much more in love with Him while in Mozambique. We will carry with us His glory, but we will also carry with us the sounds, the sights, the children, the music, the ocean waves, the loud church services, and the times when the Holy Spirit fell on us so strongly that we found ourselves face down in the dirt for hours being changed and transformed. We will carry in our hearts the people and places of Mozambique.

While there, we have caught the simplicity of the Gospel. We will now preach not only from what we have been taught and heard, but from what we have seen. We can remember our first week in Mozambique, our outreach to a village with Heidi where we saw two deaf children hear, a mute child speak, and a blind man see. We saw Jesus in the dirt.

We have seen Jesus in the people here of Africa and they have been some of our greatest teachers.

Today we find ourselves in Tanzania, East Africa. Arriving in Dar Es Salaam, God worked two miracles as our feet touched the ground. The visa office would not give us a visa into the country because we did not have flights out, but after we talked to the leader in Swahili, he graciously gave us three month multiple entry visas, the exact visas we needed! In arriving, we also did not know where we would stay and right on time, an African family invited us to live with them in their home. Again, God met our needs.

The next morning, we were invited to minister in the largest Assembly of God Church in Tanzania. In our new African outfits, we headed for the large TAG church of over 3,000 members. Friday evening Randi preached on having the heart of God and intimacy. As the Holy Spirit came, we each found ourselves on the floor of the large church as He ministered to all who were there.

Sunday morning, I was to preach two services. One of the messages that we really caught while in Mozambique was about being called to the altar and giving our lives away that Jesus would receive the reward for His sufferings. That morning God spoke to us that we could do nothing apart form Him. He told us to get on our knees in front of the large church and pray and worship until His presence came, and not to preach until that happened.

We dropped to our knees and began asking for God’s presence to fill the church. It was not long before He showed up.

As I invited the people to get desperate with me and cry out for His presence, the Holy Spirit began falling all over the building.

Later I preached on offering our lives up as living sacrifices. People crowded the altar to give their lives away and all we could do was weep. God feeds the hungry.

The second service was a time where God wanted to do something much different. As we walked on the platform, the Heavy presence of God came into the building. People were crying out-some were face down on the floor. As I went to stand up, I could not get off the floor. My translator was so touched by the power of God that He could not translate. It was holy chaos.

People again rushed the altar. Many were saved and others giving their lives away, encountering the one who is altogether worthy.

The next evening we headed to a house owned by a Muslim family. We were invited and not long after we arrived they asked us to pray for them. Two members of the family were healed and two met Jesus!

We have no idea why God would use two young women like us, but as we watch Him touch the people of Africa, we are falling in love with Him even more.

We do know, however, that we want the heart of Jesus. We want to see what He sees. We want to hear what He hears. We want to feel what He feels, and do what He does.

Doors have opened up for us to minister in Tanzania, Uganda, Sudan and Kenya-and we are expecting God to come in each place we find ourselves.

We are currently in Arusha, Tanzania after a stop in Tanga and an eight hour bus ride from Tanga to Arusha right at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro.

Great News! Randi’s brother, Nate will be joining us in late February for our time in Uganda, Sudan, and Kenya. He is amazing and we are excited to see what God will continue to pour out.

We love you all very much and Miss you! Please continue to pray for us as we are here. For health, and for more intimacy with Jesus.

Much Love,

Jessica and Randi

Blogsite: www.xanga.com/Jessicaorr

Jesus Take The Wheel

So, we finally got our first real snow of the winter (at the end of January!). My whole way home from church, I was actually praying, "Jesus, take the wheel!". This song sums up my day, literally! Enjoy :-)

Faith Comes By Hearing

I had a voicemail at church the other day, telling me that I could get a free audio New Testament for every adult and teen in my church…and a children’s version for all the kids. All I had to do was call a certain number to let them know I was interested. So, of course, I called the number!

Apparently, this organization, called “Faith Comes by Hearing” has made it their mission to get the audio Bible translated into as many languages as there are people without Bibles. If you partner with them, you do get the free audio New Testaments they promised. I must admit, the phone call seems slightly shady, in retrospect—but it did get me to call them and they didn’t really lie (they just left out vital information, i.e. that you need “sponsor” some of the Bible translation). With all the mail and phone calls churches get about ministries, programs, and products, I guess you have to do something to set yourself apart.

I was really impressed by what they do. They translate the whole New Testament into an audio version, into languages that have no access to Scriptures (because nothing has been translated into that language). It is similar to what Wycliffe Bible translators do, but this is an audio version. And, they have this amazingly cool thing called “The Proclaimer” that they give to people. Some stats about the Proclaimer:

• The Scriptures are programmed on a microchip already installed and will not erase or wear out from frequent playing.
  The battery will play 15 hours and can be recharged enough times to play the entire New Testament over 600 times.
  The Proclaimer has a built in generator and solar charger to charge the battery.
  The solar charger, in addition to charging the battery, will run the Proclaimer even without battery power as long as there is sunlight. In other words, as long as there is a sun in the sky the Proclaimer will play the Son’s Words.
  The sound is digital quality and loud enough to be heard clearly by groups of 300.

Apparently, there are approximately 6,600 unreached people groups—no one knows for sure how many people that is, but this particular organization figures it at 1.7 billion people. An unreached people group can be defined as: “a group of people among which there is no viable indigenous church movement with sufficient strength, resources, and commitment to sustain and ensure the continuous multiplication of churches”. Most of these groups have no Bible in their own language. Imagine that! I can drive 10 minutes to the local Christian bookstore and choose from hundreds of different Bibles: in a multitude of translations, colors, with various maps, devotionals, and other helpful resources. Imagine not having any copy of the Bible in your language…how awful would that be?!

Faith comes by Hearing (http://www.fcbh.org/) allows churches the opportunity to sponsor a whole audio NT in a particular language…or you can sponsor one book of the Bible (which is roughly $950…but that includes all the translation, the technology, and getting it to the people). I think the whole thing is pretty amazing…especially considering that just because a Bible is translated into a certain language does not guarantee that people are literate and will actually be able to read it. “Faith Comes by Hearing” has statistics on their site about Americans and their literacy levels. I can imagine, in contrast to a nation which considers itself highly educated, that things might be a lot worse (in terms of literacy) in other parts of the world. These statistics are part of the organizations rationale for the need of AUDIO, rather than print, New Testaments.

DID YOU KNOW?

• Only 40% of Americans know that Jesus delivered the Sermon on the Mount.

• Fewer than half of American adults can name all four Gospels.

• Adults under the age of 30 and people who attend small churches express greater difficulties with Bible knowledge than older adults.

• People who attend small churches express greater difficulties with Bible knowledge than members of large churches.

• 43% of American adults function at or below basic literacy levels – making them incapable of meaningful Bible reading.

• People who are functionally illiterate process information differently than people who are literate – they require story telling and dialog, not exposition, to understand and retain information.

• Only 54% of Protestant adults read the Bible each week.

• 65% of adults who identified themselves as Bible readers have never read the entire New Testament.

• In a survey of more than 500 pastors, 47% cited “lack of time” as the main reason more Christians don’t read the Bible.

• Americans spend, on average, 2 ½ hours in the car each day.

• There are now 75 million unchurched Americans.

• More than half of unchurched people consider themselves Christian.

• By the year 2010, an estimated 10% to 20% of Americans will obtain religious information exclusively or primarily through the Internet.

• 85% of American adults own at least one type of personal computer.

• Apple Computer Inc. has sold over 42.2 million iPods since introducing the product in October 2001.

• By 2009, total iPods sales in the U.S. are expected to top 65 million.

• 40% of people born between 1984 and 2002 own mobile music players such as iPods.


It is interesting food for thought. It makes me grateful for the privileges I have had in my life. I am a Christian today because of the Scriptures. It is the Gospels that led me into a saving relationship with Jesus Christ. My heart breaks for people who do not have access to the only Message that will give LIFE.

“For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”
~Hebrews 4:12

Dog Parks and the Pleasure of God

Note: For those of you who might get bored reading about my dogs, I apologize. I promise I will make some kind of spiritually provocative point by the end (at least I will attempt to make one!).

Recently, I have been out of the house a lot, leaving my dogs all alone and cooped up. Don’t feel too bad for them, though, because they have more toys than most small European countries! So, to give my dogs a treat, I decided to take them to the dog park just a few minutes away. We had not been there yet…since it has rained CONSTANTLY ever since I discovered the park. I thought today might be a good day to check out the park, since the last two days have actually been sunny, and cold, so the muddy ground is relatively frozen (most places…not so much at the dog park, it turns out).

Anyway, I loaded the dogs into the car…and I think they would have been just as excited to only take a car ride. There are so easy to please! Once we got to the park and I got them out of the car, they were wound up like little kids on Christmas morning. Cesar (the “Dog Whisperer”) says that dogs can sense your emotions, so I am wondering if the dogs got so excited simply because I was so excited. Really, I was the one who felt like it was Christmas morning! I couldn’t wait to see how happy they would be once they got to run around like crazy, wild beasts. We live in a townhouse with no back yard, so every time we are outside, it is on a leash (just for the dogs, not for me). I’ve never seen them “run free”!

Once we got inside the fenced dog area (which was HUGE!)…it was sniffing heaven. About 30 seconds into the whole operation, I gave up any hope of leaving without all three of us being caked in mud. Ariel and Pepper ran and pranced and jumped. They were so cute; I could not stop laughing.

For a while, we were the only ones there…then a couple other people and their dogs wandered inside. I worried that my “children” would not play well with others. But, true to their individual personalities, Pepper ran up and personally greeted everyone and their dog, while Ariel hid behind my legs! Once Pepper had paved the way, both she and Ariel played with some “new friends”. Again, it was very cute!!!

By the time we left, we were ALL completely covered in mud…but my “mud puppies” were happily wagging their dirt covered tails all the way back to the car. I had to give them each a bath in the sink before they were allowed access to the rest of the house. My dogs—who think baths are torturous—were so blissfully happy, they didn’t seem to mind the bath--ok, they didn’t like their baths, but the dislike was not as extreme as normal!

I think I had just as much fun as the dogs. We played fetch. We made new friends. We romped and frolicked in the sun (and praise the Lord for a day without rain…what a miracle!). I took such delight in my dogs’ delight. That may sound odd. I mean, I know they are just dogs (they don’t know that, however), but I love them. They are the light of my life. Watching them playing and excited and happy…it made me happy--deep-down in your bones happy

It reminded me of an experience that I once had with some humans. I remember being out at dinner with my dad, step-mom, my little brother, and my best friend several years ago. My brother was young enough that he still found me incredibly amusing; I am very entertaining in the “junior high boy" world. The more I made him laugh, the more I wanted to make him laugh. That is my nature: the more of an audience I have, the more I put on a show! At any rate, I got my brother laughing so hard that he was crying…tears streaming down his face, right in the middle of the restaurant. I couldn’t stop myself; I was on a roll and his continued laughter only prodded me onward. I remember catching sight of my step-mom out of the corner of my eye, as she watched him laughing. She had the biggest smile on her face, and was laughing, too…but more than that, there was a look in her eyes: the look that a parent has as they watch their child being truly joyful. She was happier to see him delighting in an experience than if she had been the one receiving the delight.

My experience at the dog park and that memory make me think that God must take great pleasure in our pleasure. By “pleasure”, I don’t mean the kind of fleeting pleasure that the things of this world offer us—like the pleasure that sin brings: instant, transitory pleasure…the kind that feels good in the moment, but when you think back on it, you cringe with shame. By pleasure, I mean enjoying everything that is good, right, pure, and enduring: laughter, close relationships, love, creation, and sunny, muddy, running play-times…the kind of pleasure that you think back on and experience again, knowing that it was a good, life-affirming, life-giving thing.

I think of God as one who laughs at our laughter…with a twinkle in His eye—the twinkle that only a Parent can have when His child is fully alive, living the depth of the moment, arms open wide to the Grace that is all around us. When God made this world, He looked at it and said, “That’s good stuff”. When he made us, “He said, “That’s even better!” (my personal paraphrase). He loves us and delights in us…and most fully delights in us when we are joyously, freely open to receiving His gifts and His love.

For some reason, it makes me think of a quote from “Chariots of Fire”. I leave you, tonight, with this quote. May you live—fully, abundantly live—the life God gave you and, as you do, may you feel His pleasure.

“I believe God made me for a purpose--for China. But He also made me fast! And when I run, I feel His pleasure. To give that up would be to hold Him in contempt. …to win is to honor Him.”

~Eric Liddell, “Chariots of Fire”

American Idol

I gave into cultural pressure tonight and finally watched a season premier of "American Idol". Being at the office all day today, I had the radio on, and the DJ kept talking about how he and his wife (whom he described as "the prettiest woman in the world"...very sweet) had a date on the couch for the premier. Admittedly, I have seen the show on occasion, but only at the end of the season (after all the people who cannot sing are gone!).

I just don't get it! What is the entertainment value in watching people embarrass themselves? How far removed are we from Ancient Rome, where the main entertainment was the suffering of others for the amusement of the crowd? Couldn't that be a description of AMERICAN IDOL?

I felt so badly for those people. However, my feelings of compassion co-mingled with frustration at their lack of self-awareness. The people they show are not just bad singers, they are TERRIBLE. Seriously, how can these people not be aware of how horribly they sing? Has no one been honest with them before? Have they ever asked for honest feedback?

When I took voice lessons--for years on end--the teacher taped each session and I had to listen to the tape during the week. There were sessions that sounded worse than nails scratching on a chalkboard. It was the height of humiliation, listening to myself butcher famous Italian arias. There were things that I knew had gone poorly in the lesson, but it was not until I listened to the tape that I realized how bad it really was. The tape never lied! I could not deceive myself about my talent--or my need for improvement--while I listened to a tape.

So, did these people watch themselves on TV tonight and realize, for the first time, how out of tune they were? What an awful way to find out that you have no talent...on television!!!! The thing that bothers me most is that every one of those people had to have some friends and some family: would no one be honest with them? It infuriates me that we feel the need to lie to people, so they will have great self-esteem. Then these deceived ones think they have talents that they don't...and they end up on shows that exploit them for entertainment value. A few honest people along the way could have spared these people the years of costly psychotherapy it will take to recover from their public humiliation and shattered dreams.

I truly appreciate the people in my life who are honest with me. That doesn't mean the truth is always easy to hear...or that I always receive it without getting my ego bruised. But I do appreciate it! I don't want to be the same person I am right now, forever. I want to get better...to be better. But humans--me included--are prone to self-deception. Left to my own devices, I can convince myself that I am approaching perfection. Thank God for the wonderful, loving people in my life who have been honest with me and told me the things I needed to hear, when I most needed to hear them. That is my definition of a true friend. The world is filled with "yes men". I am NOT a 'yes man' (one of the MANY reasons that I will never be bishop or president! I am too politically incorrect!).

Speaking the truth--in LOVE--is, perhaps, one of the most valuable things we can offer to one another. Let's be honest, Simon (on American Idol) is the epitome of honesty...but he is a jerk in the process. If you are too much of a jerk, sometimes your message is overshadowed by the jerky-ness. You don't have to sugar-coat the truth...but you don't have to bludgeon someone with it, either.

Now, those pitiful Idol contestants are having to re-envision who they are and what their dreams should be. What they heard from the judges was different from what they'd been told all of their lives. Their identities were shaken up...which, in the long run, isn't such a bad thing. Reality is NOT the end of the world (who knew a reality TV show could actually help people understand what is real?!). But, the fall those kids had to take wouldn't have been as drastic, if people would have been pro-actively honest with them from the beginning.

By the way, of all the people I know who can sing, I think that my young friend, Gwen Smith, would ROCK on American Idol!!! If being on that kind of show wouldn't steal your soul and take your focus off of what is most important, I would recommend that you try out, Gwen. I would sooooo vote for you. And, in response to the comment you last left on my blog, my lock-in experience was bittersweet...because it made me think about being with you guys, at a lock-in in Lima, exactly one year ago...and I missed you all A LOT!

While Martin Luther King Jr. was a flawed man (who isn't?!), he was a man with mighty gifts. I believe that God used him in powerful ways in this world...to bring about the Kingdom. He is truly one of my heroes...he and Gandhi. Don't get me started about Gandhi, though. I could talk for hours about him.

The effects of sleep deprivation on the mind of the Tina

Note: This particular blog contains a bunch of random thoughts: some interesting…some provocative…some, just the product of an old person who stayed up all night!

Well, my blogging friends…I can’t explain why the Martin Luther King, Jr. video never posted to my blog. I tried to post it 4 times…and then got tired of doing the same thing, in the same way, with the same result (didn’t someone claim that as the definition of insanity?) It really is an amazing speech--so I encourage you to go to http://www.youtube.com/ and search for “I Have a Dream Martin Luther King Jr.” and you will find it right away. I can’t say I had ever heard him actually give the speech in its fullness before. I had seen snippets…and one time, in college, someone gave the speech as a chapel presentation. To which, one of my friends was horrified, saying, “What did that have to do with God?” Again, the self-obsessed side of evangelicalism rears its ugly head. We believe that unless a talk/sermon contains the “four spiritual laws”, it is not about God. Our faith is so myopic at times.

Now, for the lock-in. I want to know who came up with the idea of locking a bunch of teenagers in a church, filling them up with sugar and caffeine, and letting them stay up all night? The funniest thing to me is that those kids were drinking coffee! Coffee…at age 13? This was not good coffee, mind you, it was instant (combined with hundreds of packets of sugar). Back in my day, kids drank Jolt and Mountain Dew to stay up all night, not coffee (have you officially passed out of youth when you start saying things like, “Back in my day…”?). The kids are so cute. There was one boy who kept blinking incessantly…he had to blink just to stay awake. Others looked so glassy-eyed and unsteady; you thought they might fall over if they didn’t support themselves on something. Of course, when you asked them, “Are you tired?” they were quick to respond: “No, not at all!” Tiredness is a sign of weakness at a lock-in. Cool people don’t get tired, apparently!

There was a 45 minute window of time where I decided to try to just lay down for a bit. I curled up on my office floor, with my sleeping bag and pillow. Incidentally, I have decided that you are officially exhausted when a hard floor feels more comfortable than the plushest mattress in the world. Sleep, however, did not come…and it was my own fault. Directly underneath the room I was in, was a group of junior high boys, playing “Extreme Spoons”…a game that I, unfortunately, taught them. Extreme spoons is like regular spoons except, instead of having the spoons right in front of you as you play, you place the spoons at some length away from you—so that you have to run for the spoons, when the time comes. All I could hear during my brief “sleep” was giggling (junior high boys giggle worse than a gaggle of girls…that’s a proven fact), followed by the sound of running, tackling, and furniture crashing (if you are a Trustee from church, just remember that I am sleep deprived and none of these events actually happened!!!). Speaking, however, of damaging the church: It felt like, all night, kids just kept handing me pieces of the church. One time, it was a hymnal rack that used to be under a pew…another time it was the door handle off the Sunday school sliding room divider…then the basement started to flood (but, I can’t blame that on the kids…just this RIDICULOUS amount of rain in Columbus). Amazingly, Hopewell UMC has existed for 201 years…and in one night, we almost destroyed the building (again, trustees, I really am sleep deprived!). I finally decided to get up from my “nap” when I heard the same “extreme-spoon” playing junior high boys, upstairs, walking amongst the sleeping bags in the next room, waking people up, saying: “We’ve been up all night!...all night! We didn’t sleep at all”. They sounded just as proud of that fact as anyone who climbed Everest would sound of their feat of strength and endurance. For some reason, it is a crown of glory in the junior high world to be able to stay up all night. Ah, the naïveté of youth.

The highlight of my night was playing Euchre for hours with three of my adult helpers (of course, my partner would not “milk” me when we got “in the barn”…it made me miss you BB, my beloved Euchre partner of old!). We giggled like a bunch of school kids. I have not laughed like that in a long time…my abs actually hurt today. Get a bunch of sleep-deprived adults together and the result is always FUN! I loved that, not just because of the laughter, but because it made me feel at home. Being that I have only been at my “new church” for a little over six months, we are still building memories together. I am grateful for the memory of last night…a night that really made me feel part of a community, like I belonged not just because I was the pastor, but because I was family. That is a great feeling!

We did do some specifically God-focused activities. Since it was MLK Jr. weekend, I used the occasion to talk with them about how God wants us to treat others (and how God wants us to love Him first). My big thing with them, recently, is the whole idea of “turning the other cheek”. Teenage years seem to be all about retaliation. Someone says something rude to you…you say something back…then it escalates. My favorite thing (note the sarcasm here) is when they do something bad and I call one of them out by saying, “So-and-so, enough!” (“enough” is my favorite form of rebuke). A teenager will not just stop the behavior. They have to tell me what someone did to cause their behavior. For instance, when they are rude to each other and I say, “Watch your attitude” (I am the attitude Nazi, it’s true)…they have to say, “But she…”, “But he…” No one is responsible for his/her own actions or responses; it is always someone else’s response that is to blame. Someone “made me” say or do what I did (if you want to see me go off into a “pastoral moment”, that is the best thing to say…just a note to any teenagers—or even some adults—who may be reading). I shouldn’t be surprised by this—it is as old as the Garden of Eden: “The woman You put with me, she made me do it”, says Adam…somehow indicting both God and the woman in the same sentence. The woman, or course, blames the snake. No one takes responsibility for their own actions. Teenagers display this human characteristic without shame. Adults do the same thing, but we are sneakier about it. I do it, too, unfortunately. I try to justify my actions or feelings before God by blaming it on what someone else did or said. I wonder if God gets as annoyed with me as I do with the kids when they try to pull that stuff. That really frustrates me. I don’t want to hear a big litany of what caused the behavior; I just want them to stop…and, when appropriate, apologize to the person they wronged. That’s probably true of God, too. Maybe he says, “Really, I just want you to repent and stop doing, to make amends, to forgive…I don’t need to hear all the reasons why you did it in the first place…just cut it out.”. I wonder if God has a cosmic “Enough!” that He shouts at us, as we make excuses for our ungodly behavior.

The interesting thing to me last night, as we talked about the Sermon on the Mount and some of the really radical things Jesus talked about, is how totally counter-cultural Jesus is. The kids get that. With that whole “turn the other cheek” thing, one of the teens said, “But why would you do that?” It doesn’t make sense to our human logic. We think we should fight back, protect ourselves, defend our own cause. With God, He says, “Treat the world with love that they don’t deserve, and I will be with you”. God is telling us, “Ultimately, I’ve ‘got your back’, so just do what I say, forget yourself, and make my Name known wherever you go, in whatever you do”.

I remember watching the movie “Gandhi” (won the Academy award in the 80s, stars Ben Kingsley). There is one scene that is permanently stuck in my mind. Gandhi and a white, British clergyman are walking together down the street in South Africa (at a time where it was illegal…or at least, very looked down upon by the masses) for a white person to walk down the street with anyone who was not, also, white. As they are walking, they see a bunch of ruffians (isn’t that a great word!?) up ahead. The pastor says to Gandhi, “Should we walk a different way?” (he has a very justifiable fear that they will get beaten up, if they continue on their current trajectory). Gandhi’s answer is to start talking about Jesus. He says, “You know when Jesus says in the Gospels to ‘turn the other cheek’, do you think he meant that literally or figuratively?” In true pastor fashion, the clergyman enters into a diatribe about the symbolic nature of what Jesus meant. Gandhi interrupts him by saying, “I think Jesus meant it literally. I think he meant that if you continually offer your cheek to one who would hit you, that it is the truest way to change men’s hearts”. He meant that, if you constantly refuse to repay evil with evil, eventually the heart of the evil-doer would be changed by your choice to love instead of hate. Some may call that kind of thinking “naïve”. But it made a difference in Gandhi’s world. It made a difference in Martin Luther King Jr.’s world. It makes a difference in the world of all who look at Jesus, dying on a cross for our sins, and decide to order their whole lives around Him.

It is naïve to think that human hearts can be completely changed overnight or that, by choosing the way of Jesus, we will escape the battle unscathed. This Way is a costly way…and we bear the cost ourselves—a cost we don’t deserve, didn’t earn, and is not “fair”. That is the Way of Jesus. That is the way of the Kingdom. It is not the way of the world. That is what it makes the world stop and take notice when we act differently. If we are faithful and true enough to the Way of Jesus, human hearts can and will be changed…all by turning the other cheek.

New hearts are a possibility, says God. I pray for all of us that our hearts would become more flesh and less stone with each passing day.

Ezekiel 11:19-20
“I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh. Then they will follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws. They will be my people, and I will be their God.”

Lock-ins and Martin Luther King, Jr.

So, I am getting ready for a lock-in tonight, at the church, for the youth group. I really don’t know how I got talked into this. Truly, I despise lock-ins. I never really liked them when I was a teenager…and back then, I could deal with the lack of sleep without feeling like a truck had run me over, backed up and run over me again…ad nauseum. Now that I have “one foot and three toes” in the grave—as one of my old youth group kids used to say (of course, that was a few years ago…so I am probably up to ‘one foot and four toes’ by now!)—I do not bounce back so quickly. I will come home and sleep after the lock-in…actually, after my Monday morning Bible study, which is after the lock-in (yes, this is truly the brain child of someone who is a great and formidable planning machine!). But, I guarantee that I will be walking around all week like I have a hang-over (or what I assume a hangover would be like, because the smallest bit of alcohol makes me so sleepy that I have never had occasion to know drunkenness. I fall asleep before that could happen. I have decided it is physiologically impossible for me to get drunk, not that I’d really want to…so I guess that’s a good thing!).

Lock-ins consist of lots of junk food, staying up all night, and usually some kind of drama (because, after all, we are talking about teenagers and hormones and all that). Junior high boys hyped up on mountain dew: that is something everyone should have to witness at least once in their lives. Certainly, the kids are fun and their energy amazes me. I am just old: creaky, ready to break a hip, need to take my teeth out at night OLD…ok, not really that old, but I will be feeling that lack o’ sleep for many days to come. I will try to blog about the experience on Monday night—after I have slept until I can’t sleep no more!

Since the momentous occasion of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day is what allows me to have a Sunday night lock-in at church, I will leave you with a beautiful offering (above...hopefully): MLK, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech. (I have tried to post it three times and it has not showed up yet...so we may get three versions or none...we will see what happens!) Anyway, about MLK, Jr.: Boy, could that man preach! He could read the back of a cereal box and I would be ready to march the whole world over, eradicating any injustice which crossed my path. I invite you to listen to it and let it sink down deep into your soul. Do you, too, have a dream? I know that God has a great many dreams--and He invites us to be a part of them…which makes me think of a story I shared in my sermon this morning (cannot prove its historical accuracy, but it’s a great story…with an eternally true point). Read this first, then listen to the speech. After that, we will all be fired up enough to go fight the injustices of our world until this place really looks like “The Kingdom of God”. Someone I love dearly (named Jesus) said that the Kingdom of God is at hand…maybe we are supposed to help people see it.

Story:
Shortly after the culmination of the Second World War, a devastated city in England began its heartbreaking and weary work of restoration. In the old city square had stood a large statue of Jesus Christ with His hands outspread in an attitude of invitation. On the pedestal were carved the words, "Come unto me." In the process of the restoration of the statue, with the aid of master artists and sculptors, the figure eventually was reassembled, except for the hands of which no fragments could be discovered anywhere in the surrounding rubble. Someone made the suggestion that the artists, since the former hands could not be found, would have to fashion new hands. Later came a public protest, couched in the words, "No, leave Him without hands!" So today, in the public square of that English city, the restored statue of Christ stands without hands, and on its base are carved the words, "Christ has no hands but ours!"

Christ has no hands but yours…

What is THE GOSPEL?

I have been reflecting this week on how inwardly focused my faith is. I spend a lot of time thinking about God…about me…about God and me, together. I wonder if God really loves me as much as the Bible says He does. I wonder if I am where I am supposed to be and doing the work God most wants me to do. I wonder if I'm living a life that is pleasing to Him. None of these questions are bad questions. In fact, they are necessary questions. But they are not the ONLY questions. And, I wonder—in the end--are those really the most significant questions?

I am, admittedly, an evangelical Christian. Evangelicalism is a movement within Church history that focuses on the Gospel (from the Greek: ‘euangelion’, meaning “good news”). By Gospel, evangelicals all too often have a limited definition of “personal salvation through Jesus Christ alone as Savior and Lord”. I do believe in that, don’t get me wrong. I know that Jesus is the way, the truth and the life…the fullness of God revealed to us…Lord and King, to whom every knee must someday bow. But, the more I study the Scriptures, it seems like Jesus was concerned with a lot more than an individual’s personal salvation. I mean, yes, that is important…but so is “The Kingdom of God”, right here and now…so is defending the powerless and standing up for widows and orphans…so is seeking out the lost and eating and drinking with them, and becoming “friends”.

With Martin Luther King, Jr. day coming up, I have been thinking about justice and what role Christians are supposed to play in that. In recent decades, the Protestant church has been divided into two groups: the conservatives (the ones who believe in Jesus alone as the way of salvation) and the liberals (the ones who march in human rights parades and seek to make a difference in unjust political systems). That is a vast oversimplification, but it is the best I can do without boring everyone to tears. It seems that if a conservative talks too much about justice issues, they are in danger of being labeled a “liberal”…and if a liberal dares mention Jesus as anything more than a model of good behavior, they are crossing into dangerous conservative territory. Someone might even call them an “evangelical” (which, I think is a most horrifying thought to most people who label themselves as “liberals”).

I wonder, is there a way for THE GOSPEL to be about both….both personal salvation and the healing of injustice and oppression in this world. I know…just go ahead and call me a radical…but I kinda think that Jesus cares about some other things in addition to our eternal destinies. Why did He go around healing people’s physical illnesses, if here and now did not matter significantly to God? Jesus spoke to both the soul and the body. His followers tend to err on one side or the other. Sometimes we provide for all the physical needs without ever speaking to the deeper, spiritual needs. Sometimes, we speak of eternity and the sinful soul that can only be saved by Jesus, but let little children die of starvation. Either way, I think we have missed what THE GOSPEL is all about. The Gospel, in my present thinking (though it is so big, I am sure no definition is truly adequate), is: The Amazing News that God has stepped into our world and that He will heal us, redeem us, restore us, free us…if we just come to Him…as we are, without any pretenses…willing to receive a great, big love that is so immense we cannot get our minds around it. Even more than that, Jesus—the God-man—cares about everything that we are going through…right here and right now…as well as the past and the future. He is the answer to every need…and most of the time, He chooses to use us (weak, flawed people) to be His hands and feet to those who need to know Him, as well as those who need to know that He sees their pain, hears their cries, and that He has not abandoned them in the hour of their deepest need.” That, to me, is the Gospel. This kind of thinking is what happens if you spend too much time reading the Sermon on the Mount. The Bible is dangerous…especially when it comes to our preconceived ideas about what is “godly”.

So, when Martin Luther King, Jr. talked about his “dream” of a world of justice for all people…that, too, was part of the Gospel. You cannot say you love God and then hurt His people (and "His people" means EVERYBODY on the planet). You cannot sing praise songs to Jesus on Sunday morning and then go out and ignore the needs of the oppressed, the poor, the hungry, the lonely, and the lost. I mean, people do it…all the time. But you can’t do that and please God. Not that our main goal as human beings is always pleasing God. If it were, the whole Church would be a lot different than it is.

Personally, I am tired of how me-centered my faith is…how me-centered my god (with a little “g”) seems to be. I mean, Jesus loves me and that is great. I need to think about it and live in it and let that love fall all over me on a daily basis. But, Jesus loves the hurting, lost, little girl next door to me, too…and she doesn’t know that Jesus loves her. So maybe I need to think about me less and find a way to show her Jesus great, big, life-changing love. Maybe I need to spend less time trying to “figure God out” and more time doing what He so clearly tells us to do.

God has a lot of work to do on my soul…probably, on all of our souls, if we are really honest. I pray this pray for me, and for you: “May your heart break with the things that break the heart of God.” When that happens, we will live the Gospel…and please God…and find that full life that Jesus promises us.

I close with this meditation. I was looking for who wrote that “break the heart of God” prayer, above, and did a Google search. I came across this article, and part of it really spoke to me. I hope you find it inspiring, as well.

Stolen from "Popeye Theology: A New Year's Meditation"
By Michael Ireland
(http://www.crosswalk.com/faith/pastors/1461357.html)

How many of you remember the Popeye the Sailor Man cartoons? Well, my pastor preached on the topic of "Popeye Theology" this morning and I thought it worth sharing with a wider audience.

He started his message with a clip from the popular TV cartoon. Then he asked the question, “How many of you feel like Popeye in the cartoon when he reaches for his can of spinach and says, "That's all I can stands, coz I can't stands no more!"?

Pastor Joel told the story of Bob Pierce, founder of World Vision, who in 1947 went to visit a school in China and was confronted with a young, battered and bruised child. That experience prompted Pierce to start his ministry, "coz I can't stands it no more!"

Pierce said that he prayed: "Dear Lord, let me be broken by the things that break the heart of God."

My pastor then illustrated the same principle from the life of Moses, where he couldn't stand the sound of the mistreated Hebrew slaves in Egypt anymore; by the example of Fern Nichols who founded Moms In Touch in 1984; from the life of Nehemiah and his sorrow over the broken walls of Jerusalem; and from the story of David, who couldn't stand Goliath's ungodly taunts anymore.

Pastor Joel asked us: "Where in your world and daily life do you see what breaks the heart of God?" and: "Are you ready to say, 'That's all I can stands, coz I can’t stands no more!' " ?

Back from blogging oblivion

I just heard a voicemail from my mom, saying: “I haven’t heard from you this week and you haven’t been writing on your blog, so I figure that you are either really busy or depressed.” It is disturbing how mothers know the inner workings of our souls so well, even when we say nothing. Or, perhaps, I am just not as mysterious as I imagine myself to be. It is most likely a combination of both. This week has been sad. Admittedly, I am prone to melancholy; it is that deep, reflective part of me. Again, I am probably not as deep as I imagine myself to be, but I do feel things pretty intensely. Or, I avoid feeling things until they overwhelm me. So it is with my grandma’s death. It seems to have really just hit me this week. I don’t like it. Even more, I hate this whole death thing…and how, with each new person who dies, it brings up memories of all the others who have gone before. It makes me feel better to know this is not how things are supposed to be. God created a perfect world, with no death or sin. We chose what we wanted—to follow ourselves, really—and death and distance are the consequences. Through Jesus, it doesn’t have to be this way. There is a bridge; He is the bridge. Somehow, the consequences are still present, but they aren’t eternal anymore. Death does not have the final say—though it still speaks in a shrill, hateful voice. I struggle to keep that in mind, because death appears (and feels) so final. Appearances can be deceiving, as we all know, so it best to not place all of our proverbial eggs into the basket of how things appear. Easier said than done.

There is a highlight to my week of sadness. I have discovered the most amazing website: www.netflix.com. First of all, you get a free two-week trial period. How can you go wrong with a free trial period?! I found this site late Monday night and by Wednesday, I had movies waiting in my mailbox…and they were the top movies on my list (you get to make a list of movies that you want to see and they send them to you in chronological order). The movies come in this totally cool envelope, where you tear off one section to open it up and then it becomes the package you mail the movie back in (postage paid)—very ingenious. As soon as you send your movies back, they send the next ones on the list. The best part is you that you can keep these movies as long as you want. This is a great system for someone like me, who is “due date” challenged (ask the Columbus Metropolitan Library, if you don’t believe me). You might ask: Why not just go to the video store and rent a movie? First of all, I don’t even know where the closest movie rental place is (and, really, what’s closer than your mailbox?). Secondly, this system is much more cost effective since you can rent unlimited movies for one monthly fee (you can pick from a range of monthly options). Thirdly, they have an amazing selection (i.e. they have everything) and are never out of movies. Lastly, did I mention how cool the envelope is? Since I didn’t get around to watching my movies (“The Devil Wears Prada” and “Sky High”) until last night, I only put them in the mail this morning. We will see how fast the turn around time is, but I expect great things!

That is about as much as I can think of to share, other than this. I am a big fan of THE SIMPSONS. Trust me, I can defend this love on a theological level…so just give me a try! Anyway, at the beginning of each episode, Bart is seen writing various statements on a chalk board, as a form of punishment. In the last episode I saw, Bart was writing: “My butt does not deserve a website”. For some reason, I found that really funny. My butt definitely deserves its own website! I’ll have to look into that.

I think I am back, my blogging friends. It is time to stop moping and brooding and start reflecting significantly on life again. Although, I do have a youth lock-in coming up this Sunday night…so that might just kill me! Pray for me!

Jaci Velasquez - On My Knees

I heard this song, yesterday, on my way home from my Grandma's funeral. It had been a long time since I last heard it...and it was just the message I needed. What a great reminder that, no matter what is happening in life, the answer is found on our knees.

Gallows Humor

Today was my Grandma’s memorial service. Somehow, I wish there had been more time to be with family, to share memories, and to know that none of us is alone in what we are feeling. It seems that when someone dies, a lot of energy is focused on just “getting through” the visitation, the funeral service, the “formalities” of our mourning. The strange thing, though, is that once all that is finished, you feel a little lost. I wonder what I am supposed to do now. I guess you just get on with living a life that is forever altered. Life made more sense when I was preparing for the funeral. Now that it is done, I feel a little aimless…and faced with the sad reality that someone I loved deeply is gone. Still, I do not mourn as one without hope, because I know the God of Resurrection and everlasting life. That gives mourning a different focus. I am sure my Grandma is now whole and living with Jesus, I just wish I could see her face again in this world. What I wouldn’t give for a great, big Grandma hug!

One of the unique parts of today involves my Grandma’s ashes. My Grandma’s ashes are going to be spread, at some future date, in her birthplace of West Virginia. However, my mom wanted a little piece of those ashes to keep as a memory of Grandma. That was my idea, so I ended up with the task of getting those ashes. I took the well-sealed urn into a kitchen and found a spoon…that’s right, I dug through my Grandma’s ashes with a black, plastic spoon. My Aunt Mary—who never ceases to make me laugh—was with me (I’m calling you out on the blog, Aunt Mary!) as I sneakily put part of my Grandma into a small, plastic baggie. I had to keep reminding myself (in my mind, as well as out loud) that “this is not my Grandma”. I truly believe that…that she is not those ashes. But if I think about it too much, I get a little grossed out by the whole process.

The thing that struck me during “Operation Ash Collection” was the need I felt to make jokes during the process. True, I am a jokester at heart…but I do know when (and how) to be appropriate. (It doesn’t help that my Aunt Mary brings out the devilish part of me!!!) Really, though, I think “gallows humor” was at work.

I first heard the term “gallows humor” when I was a chaplain at a hospital for several months. I was somewhat disturbed by the jokes we made about death, dead bodies, substances that came out of dead bodies, etc. It’s true, I was an equal opportunity participant in the joking. Yet, I still felt a little irreverent…thinking that we should be more serious and somber about all the death we encountered. Then someone told me about “gallows humor”: a common phenomenon amongst those who deal with death on a regular basis. The Columbia Guide to Standard American English defines it as such: gallows humor (n.) is a standard term for humor that makes light of life-and-death or other terrifying or very serious matters, as in the old line, “Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?”

Amongst people who deal with death on a regular basis, gallows humor is a coping mechanism. It keeps people from curling up in fetal position and crying themselves into oblivion. I have seen it at work in funeral directors, chaplains, doctors, and pastors—to name just a few. I have even experienced it at a funeral home, in the midst of my own family. I remember a long day of visitation at the funeral home for my Grandma Dietsch, many years ago. By the end of the day, we were cracking jokes. My cousin, Laurie, was doing her fabulous impression of the munchkins. Even my Grandpa was laughing…with Grandma’s body in a casket just a few feet away. It was a long, emotional, overwhelming day…and sometimes the best thing you can do—when your tears have run dry—is to laugh. I read on a random website recently, this quote (by some unknown person named “wolfdaddy”): “The ability to laugh, even in the worst of situations, indicates just how much we value humor. At some deeply ingrained level, our ability to laugh reminds us just how deeply we are alive.”

So, I hold out hope that my Grandma—who always enjoyed a good laugh—was amused, today, as we dug through her ashes…that she was part of the whole process—loving me, just as I am, the way she always did. Somehow, we have come to believe that only serious, somber faces and emotions can be meaningful and holy. I hold onto the fact, however, that laughter is just as holy—and just as necessary—as our tears.

Resolutions

A few years ago, I decided—along with a good friend of mine—to start exercising regularly. We planned to meet at the local Y, every morning…at 5 a.m. Yes, I said 5 a.m. Anyone who knows me realizes how much of a morning person I am NOT! But, that was the only time we could find in both of our schedules to go together. Since there is “power in numbers”, we thought it worth the sacrifice. This started in the fall of the year. We met, morning after morning, day after day--noticing fabulous changes in our bodies and attitudes. It was great! Even though 5 a.m. never became my favorite time of day, somehow, I got used to it.

I had been steadily going to the gym for a few months and had gotten into a routine. Things don’t really get busy at the Y (at least not in Lima, OH) until about 6:30 a.m. or 7 a.m. Only truly insane people get up at 4:30 a.m., to be ready to workout by 5 a.m. The fact that the gym was pretty bare at that time in the morning was one of the benefits. I am pretty cranky until after 10 a.m., so the less people I had to encounter, the better! I claimed a certain machine as “mine” (one of those fancy elliptical trainers); I would get up to the excise room and head straight to “my” machine, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, lest I’d have to smile at that time of the morning (or worse yet, make small talk!).

Things went along really well until January. The first time I went to the gym in January (the day after New Year’s Day), it was like a nightmare. There were people everywhere! Not only was my usually bare exercise room filled with people, they were all chipper people—ready to live changed lives, sure that “this year” would be different than last. They smiled and laughed, completely oblivious to the fact that it was 5 o’clock in the morning!!! The worst part of it all: someone was using MY MACHINE!

As someone who was a “regular” at the gym (probably the only period in my life where I could make that claim!), I found these “resolution people” tremendously annoying. They were in my space, laughing and smiling…and perky (oh so perky). I hated them. It’s true: I was a pastor and I hated people. I did not rejoice at their fresh energy and celebrate their new resolve. I simply wanted them out of my space and off of my favorite machine…and did I mention that they smiled? At 5 a.m.?

My friend comforted me with this thought: “Don’t worry, they won’t last long”. She was right. In less than two weeks, things were quickly getting back to normal. By the end of January, we had a virtually empty room, again, at 5 a.m. The only problem was, by the middle of February, I’d gotten out of the routine as well. Life got busy. My friend and I were so burnt out from 5-6 days a week of 5 a.m. exercise that we stopped holding each other accountable. It got easier and easier to sleep past my alarm. I went the way of the New Year exercisers!

Since we are now in a New Year, it has brought back memories of that time. Everyone I know is now on a new diet, a new health plan, a new routine. The cynical part of me wonders how long it will last. I remember how quickly the resolve of the masses died out at the Y that January. I remember how quickly my own resolve has died out many times, at the start of many new years (and at other times, as well).

Beyond the fact that I hate 5 a.m. and would rather not deal with people at that hour, I think there is a deeper reason those New Year exercisers bothered me. They reminded me of that part of me—of all of us—that gets so excited, so committed…only to run out of gas just a short way down the road. I despise that part of me. You see, in my mind, I have the body of a supermodel (with no gray hair), am a card carrying-Mensa member with an organized CD collection, a clean office desktop, and a spotlessly sanitary house (oh, and let me throw in “owner of perfectly behaved dogs”). Reality and my mental world don’t always match up. But there is this small window of time where anything seems possible. I call that time: the beginning of January.

Everything seems possible…nothing is out of reach…complete mastery of discipline and grace…it’s all within my grasp. By February, I am beating myself up, regretting all that I am not, surrounded by a pile of failed resolutions. There is comfort in knowing I am not alone in this process--but also, great sadness, in knowing that real, life-affirming, time-defying change is incredibly hard to sustain.

Does that mean we shouldn’t try at all? No! It just means we shouldn’t be so obnoxiously confident about our resolutions until they actually become habits—time-tested habits. It means that when we do “fail”, we don’t have to wait until next January to start again. Each day is a new day to begin again. It also means that—in all things—there is the grace of God…this overwhelming, unquenchable love of God that has nothing to do with how often we fail or even with how many of our resolutions become actual realities. One of my favorite quotes is this: “Even if you never changed…even if you stayed exactly as you are today…God would never love you any more, or any less, than He does right now.” That’s good to keep in mind as we begin a New Year. Let’s try our hardest to become the people we were created to be…but just remember, in the process: YOU ARE LOVED!

My Heart, Christ's Home

When I was in college, I went on a retreat. During that retreat, they handed out a little booklet entitled, "My Heart, Christ's Home", for us to go off somwhere alone and read--and then come back and discuss it together. I was suprised that something so small could have such a profound impact on my life. The story is a word picture for the kind of relationship that God wants to have with us. In this story, our hearts are compared with a house...and it describes what place Jesus wants to have in those rooms of our heart. It changed the way I looked at things--most significantly, it gave meaning to the idea of Jesus "living in my heart". I found a copy of this on the internet and I want to share it with you. I pray that Jesus will become more and more at home in your heart, as you trust in Him.

My Heart Christ's Home
Original text by - Robert Boyd Munger

"If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him." [John 14:23, NIV]

One evening I invited Jesus Christ into my heart. What an entrance He made! It was not a spectacular, emotional thing, but very real. Something happened at the very center of my life. He came into the darkness of my heart and turned on the light. He built a fire on the hearth and banished the chill. He started music where there had been stillness, and He filled the emptiness with His own loving, wonderful fellowship. I have never regretted opening the door to Christ and I never will.

In the joy of this new relationship I said to Jesus Christ, "Lord, I want this heart of mine to be Yours. I want to have You settle down here and be perfectly at home. Everything I have belongs to You. Let me show You around."

The Study
The first room was the study - the library. In my home this room of the mind is a very small room with very thick walls. But it is a very important room. In a sense, it is the control room of the house. He entered with me and looked around at the books in the bookcase, the magazines upon the table, the pictures on the walls. As I followed His gaze I became uncomfortable.

Strangely, I had not felt self-conscious about this before, but now that He was there looking at these things I was embarrassed. Some books were there that His eyes were too pure to behold. On the table were a few magazines that a Christian had no business reading. As for the pictures on the walls - the imaginations and thoughts of the mind - some of these were shameful.

Red-faced, I turned to Him and said, "Master, I know that this room needs to be cleaned up and made over. Will You help me make it what it ought to be?"

"Certainly!" He said. "I'm glad to help you. First of all, take all the things that you are reading and looking at which are not helpful, pure, good and true, and throw them out! Now put on the empty shelves the books of the Bible. Fill the library with Scripture and meditate on it day and night. As for the pictures on the walls, you will have difficulty controlling these images, but I have something that will help." He gave me a full-size portrait of Himself. "Hang this centrally," He said, "on the wall of the mind."

I did, and I have discovered through the years that when my thoughts are centered upon Christ Himself, His purity and power cause impure thoughts to back away. So He has helped me to bring my thoughts under His control.

The Dining Room
From the study we went into the dining room, the room of appetites and desires. I spent a lot of time and hard work here trying to satisfy my wants.

I said to Him, "This is a favorite room. I am quite sure You will be pleased with what we serve."

He seated Himself at the table with me and asked, "What is on the menu for dinner?" "Well," I said, "my favorite dishes: money, academic degrees and stocks, with newspaper articles of fame and fortune as side dishes." These were the things I liked - secular fare.

When the food was placed before Him, He said nothing, but I observed that He did not eat it. I said to Him, "Master, don't You care for this food? What is the trouble?"

He answered, "I have food to eat that you do not know of. If you want food that really satisfies you, do the will of the Father. Stop seeking your own pleasures, desires, and satisfaction. Seek to please Him. That food will satisfy you."

There at the table He gave me a taste of the joy of doing God's will. What flavor! There is no food like it in all the world. It alone satisfies.

The Living Room
From the dining room we walked into the living room. This room was intimate and comfortable. I liked it. It had a fireplace, overstuffed chairs, a sofa, and a quiet atmosphere.

He said, "This is indeed a delightful room. Let us come here often. It is secluded and quiet, and we can fellowship together."

Well, as a young Christian I was thrilled. I couldn't think of anything I would rather do than have a few minutes with Christ in close companionship.

He promised, "I will be here early every morning. Meet me here, and we will start the day together."

So morning after morning, I would come downstairs to the living room. He would take a book of the Bible from the case. We would open it and read together. He would unfold to me the wonder of God's saving truths. My heart sang as He shared the love and the grace He had toward me. These were wonderful times.

However, little by little, under the pressure of many responsibilities, this time began to be shortened. Why, I'm not sure. I thought I was too busy to spend regular time with Christ. This was not intentional, you understand. It just happened that way. Finally, not only was the time shortened, but I began to miss days now and then. Urgent matters would crowd out the quiet times of conversation with Jesus.

I remember one morning rushing downstairs, eager to be on my way. I passed the living room and noticed that the door was open.

Looking in, I saw a fire in the fireplace and Jesus was sitting there. Suddenly in dismay I thought to myself, "He is my guest. I invited Him into my heart! He has come as my Savior and Friend, and yet I am neglecting Him."

I stopped, turned and hesitantly went in. With downcast glance, I said, "Master, forgive me. Have You been here all these mornings?"

"Yes," He said, "I told you I would be here every morning to meet with you. Remember, I love you. I have redeemed you at great cost. I value your fellowship. Even if you cannot keep the quiet time for your own sake, do it for mine."

The truth that Christ desires my companionship, that He wants me to be with Him and waits for me, has done more to transform my quiet time with God than any other single fact. Don't let Christ wait alone in the living room of your heart, but every day find time when, with your Bible and in prayer, you may be together with Him.

The Workroom
Before long, He asked, "Do you have a workroom in your home?" Out in the garage of the home of my heart I had a workbench and some equipment, but I was not doing much with it. Once in a while I would play around with a few little gadgets, but I wasn't producing anything substantial.

I led Him out there. He looked over the workbench and said, "Well, this is quite well furnished. What are you producing with your life for the Kingdom of God?" He looked at one or two little toys that I had thrown together on the bench and held one up to me. "Is this the sort of thing you are doing for others in your Christian life?"

"Well," I said, "Lord, I know it isn't much, and I really want to do more, but after all, I don't seem to have strength or skill to do more."

"Would you like to do better?" He asked.

"Certainly," I replied.

"All right. Let me have your hands. Now relax in me and let my Spirit work through you. I know that you are unskilled, clumsy and awkward, but the Holy Spirit is the Master Workman, and if He controls your hands and your heart, He will work through you." Stepping around behind me and putting His great, strong hands under mine, He held the tools in His skilled fingers and began to work through me. The more I relaxed and trusted Him, the more He was able to do with my life.

The Rec Room
He asked me if I had a rec room where I went for fun and fellowship. I was hoping He would not ask about that. There were certain associations and activities that I wanted to keep for myself.

One evening when I was on my way out with some of my buddies, He stopped me with a glance and asked, "Are you going out?"

I replied, "Yes."

"Good," He said, "I would like to go with you."

"Oh," I answered rather awkwardly. "I don't think, Lord Jesus, that You would really enjoy where we are going. Let's go out together tomorrow night. Tomorrow night we will go to a Bible class at church, but tonight I have another appointment."

"I'm sorry," He said. "I thought that when I came into your home, we were going to do everything together, to be close companions. I just want you to know that I am willing to go with you."

"Well," I mumbled, slipping out the door, "we will go someplace together tomorrow night."

That evening I spent some miserable hours. I felt rotten. What kind of friend was I to Jesus, deliberately leaving Him out of my life, doing things and going places that I knew very well He would not enjoy?

When I returned that evening, there was a light in His room, and I went up to talk it over with Him. I said, "Lord, I have learned my lesson. I know now that I can't have a good time without You. From now on, we will do everything together."

Then we went down into the rec room of the house. He transformed it. He brought new friends, new excitement, new joys. Laughter and music have been ringing through the house ever since.

The Hall Closet
One day I found Him waiting for me at the door. An arresting look was in His eye. As I entered, He said to me, "There is a peculiar odor in the house. Something must be dead around here. It's upstairs. I think it is in the hall closet."

As soon as He said this, I knew what He was talking about. There was a small closet up there on the hall landing, just a few feet square. In that closet, behind lock and key, I had one or two little personal things that I did not want anyone to know about. Certainly, I did not want Christ to see them. I knew they were dead and rotting things left over from the old life. I wanted them so for myself that I was afraid to admit they were there.

Reluctantly, I went up with Him, and as we mounted the stairs the odor became stronger and stronger. He pointed to the door. I was angry. That's the only way I can put it. I had given Him access to the library, the dining room, the living room, the workroom, the rec room, and now He was asking me about a little two-by-four closet. I said to myself, "This is too much. I am not going to give Him the key."

"Well," He said, reading my thoughts, "if you think I'm going to stay up here on the second floor with this smell, you are mistaken. I will go out on the porch." Then I saw Him start down the stairs.

When one comes to know and love Christ, the worst thing that can happen is to sense Him withdrawing His fellowship. I had to give in.

"I'll give You the key," I said sadly, "but You will have to open the closet and clean it out. I haven't the strength to do it."

"Just give me the key," He said. "Authorize me to take care of that closet and I will."

With trembling fingers I passed the key to Him. He took it, walked over to the door, opened it, entered, took out all the putrefying stuff that was rotting there, and threw it away. Then He cleaned the closet and painted it. It was done in a moment's time. Oh, what victory and release to have that dead thing out of my life!

Transferring the Title
A thought came to me. "Lord, is there any chance that You would take over the management of the whole house and operate it for me as You did that closet? Would You take the responsibility to keep my life what it ought to be?"

His face lit up as He replied, "I'd love to! That is what I want to do. You cannot be a victorious Christian in your own strength. Let me do it through you and for you. That is the way. But," He added slowly, "I am just a guest. I have no authority to proceed, since the property is not mine."

Dropping to my knees, I said, "Lord, You have been a guest and I have been the host. From now on I am going to be the servant. You are going to be the owner and Master."

Running as fast as I could to the strongbox, I took out the title deed to the house describing its assets and liabilities, location and situation. I eagerly signed the house over to Him alone for time and eternity. "Here," I said. "Here it is, all that I am and have, forever. Now You run the house. I'll just remain with You as a servant and friend."

Things are different since Jesus Christ has settled down and has made His home in my heart.