I saw you the other day at a funeral. It was just a glimpse, barely caught your image as you walked by. It took my breath for just a moment. I wondered if I could continue with what I was saying…would the words continue to come without being able to take the next breath? Your presence was felt, known, experienced. It was as I feel the hot summer breeze…not really seeing but feeling the presence. It is the first time in the last 3 years I have caught that glimpse. It was not scary…but comforting. It was right where I would expect to find you…at a graveside service. Not because it happens to be the same cemetery that your body was laid to rest…but because it is a place you spent many hours providing words of comfort…stories of joy…love for a hurting family. It was the place you have stood so many times and proclaimed the good news of God even as your time was drawing shorter. It was the place you found yourself at home…doing what you loved…giving of yourself for others. I am thankful for your passion that you lived out on those plots of land where so many loved ones find their final resting place. I am grateful that you taught me that this is not a place of despair, but a place of hope. It is a place where tears are shed but peace abounds…a place where families say “goodbye” and God says “welcome home.” I do not step on those grounds without thinking of you and all you meant to so many when you walked those very same steps. We carry on…but your presence is missed. So today, I am thankful for just a glimpse of you. I’m so glad I saw you at a funeral the other day.
Why do we say hurtful things to other people? Why do we use words that demean, belittle, and discourage? What is it that saying things negatively does for us? What are we trying to accomplish? What are we hoping will be the outcome?
Sometimes, we just want to hurt people. We are in pain and we want to see others in pain. Sometimes, we feel bad about ourselves and we think that in order to feel better, we tear someone else down…supposedly lower than ourselves. When we are threatened by someone else, it is easier if we can find a fault or an open wound and beat into those wounds.
It also sounds so harsh…so evil…so vindictive. You may be thinking that this doesn’t happen. But take a moment and observe. Watch a person that doesn’t get what he or she want at a restaurant…when it is wanted…how it is wanted. Watch what happens when one person pulls into a parking space that someone else was trying to get. Watch what happens when there is a long line to check out at the grocery store. Watch what happens when two people are sitting together and someone else’s name is mentioned and the gossip begins. Just watch…just keep your eyes open.
It doesn’t have to be this way. Bad doesn’t win. Evil doesn’t prevail. Gossip isn’t just a part of life. Anger doesn’t control us. Words don’t just slip out. Being hateful doesn’t just happen. There is another way. There is another option. And that is love and kindness.
To have love and kindness doesn’t mean you won’t ever say anything wrong or you won’t get caught up in gossip or you won’t lose your temper. What it does do is lessen the chances and opportunities.
-Love and kindness don’t participate in gossip, rumors, lies. They cannot go together. They cannot show up in the same place. If you gossip, you are not loving.
-Love and kindness allows us to see others…really see them. To “see” someone means that we don’t let what is happening in this moment define that person forever. What the person may be saying in anger to you may be because of something completely different. Your ability to offer love and kindness in these moments can completely change things.
-Love and kindness gives you the opportunity to look around for ways to give and share. So if you are waiting in line and someone behind you is struggling, you can help. If someone takes your parking space, you move on (letting that ruin your day is just ridiculous). If something is said harmful, respond in kindness. It can diffuse a situation. It won’t fix everything…but it can begin to change dynamics. You might find that there are more opportunities to be kind and to show love…continue to reach down deep.
What might it look like if you and I choose to go the other way…the way of love and kindness? What kind of difference might that make? Let’s try it and see…
I love the early mornings…when I sit in my living room, smell the fresh brewed coffee that calls out to me, listening only to the sound of the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock. I think about the day…what is ahead…what needs to be done… Some days, it all seems too much and I just want to go back to bed. I don’t want to go to that meeting or take care of that task…I don’t want to talk to anyone today…I just want to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head and call it good. My mom always said that if you are in bed when the sun comes up, you are missing out on your day…wasting precious time. I thought that was a bunch of bologna when I was growing up. I was fairly sure she was just saying that so I would get started on the chores she wanted done. Now her words actually ring true. There are things to do…people to see…tasks to accomplish while the sun is up. We are given this day as a gift. Many days don’t feel much like gifts…they feel more like gag gifts…joke is on me. But I think that is because I don’t really appreciate what I have been given. I am reminded that those are the days I approach with a sort of smugness…like I deserve better…like I am not getting what I think I should…and it ends up being a wasted day that could have been appreciated. But then I think…can’t I just go back to bed and appreciate that?!
Over the past couple of months, a constant theme has been running through my life…I hear it in conversations…I see it in the pages of the books I read…I feel it in my life when I really sit and listen and pay attention…It is in the sound of the rain and in brightness of the sun…in the smell of coffee and in the stress of everyday life…it is in the sounds of my children’s voices…and in the quiet of the morning run…it keeps following me and reminding me and bringing me back… it is GRATEFULNESS.
I’m fairly hard headed…stubborn…determined… whatever you want to call it. So it takes hearing things over and over before it begins to sink in. This idea of gratefulness is powerful, though. I find that when I am grateful, I see things around me completely different. When I am grateful, I may still want to pull the covers over my head – but I realize that in being grateful for the gift of this day…I have to move forward and see what joys and challenges are ahead. I realize that even though there will be stressful moments and encounters I would rather not have, gratefulness reminds me that God is shaping me, strengthening me, and guiding me to something better. Gratefulness reminds me that even when life is really tough and I just don’t feel like it…the gifts that I have been given are held in this day…and I don’t get this day again. If I eat in gratefulness, I really appreciate the access to food that I have…if I exercise in gratefulness, I am not suffering – but growing and getting stronger through it all…if I do my job in gratefulness, I begin to understand that this is a gift that allows me to use my talents and give back from what I have been given…if I am grateful in this moment, I treasure the good and the bad – for I am becoming a little bit closer to that for which I was created. As Mother’s Day is approaching…I realize how grateful I am for my mom and all of the wonderful women who have been such a powerful, influential part of my life…helping to shape and mold me. What are you grateful for today?
Growing up, I was an easy target for being picked on. I was a really skinny, quiet, short boy who would have preferred to disappear in the background. I liked to do things my way which was different than most – which brought even more harassment. I wasn’t just picked on by the kids at school…there were those adults who felt that harassing me and calling me names would make me a stronger person. All it really did was make a promise to myself to never be like them. As for the kids, they left a vivid imprint in my memory that shows back up every now and then. I mostly hear their voices when things aren’t going so well. It has taken me a while to quiet those voices and choose to hear voices that remind me that I am who God made me to be and that’s better than okay. And I am thankful for those who were willing to stand up for me, defend me, be my voice and help me when I couldn’t do that for myself. They kept me moving forward when I wasn’t sure I could.
I did eventually grow up and begin to find my own voice. It at first appeared as a harsh, snide sarcasm. That was probably from years of saying nothing at all when I really wanted to punch someone – sorry I was a bit bitter. The problem (as if it needs to be stated) is that I was a really small wimpy kid – and at the core of me, I don’t really believe violence solves anything. I don’t believe it solves anything, not because I am a small guy – but because I haven’t seen it work well for the “stronger” folks either. It just seems to be anger misdirected. And, I am working to curb the sarcasm – that doesn’t always come off well either.
I write this as an adult with many years separating my school days and now. Yet, I hear and see this type of stuff all the time…as I look around, hear the news, or read social media…I still see people “picking on” others. It seems that intimidation, name calling, pointing out weakness… is the name of the game. The way to make it is to belittle someone else so that you can feel better. I’m not even talking about kids…I’m talking about grown folks…people who SHOULD know better. And I’m not talking about uneducated people…I’m talking about educated, intelligent people – some of them we have been elected to represent us in various places. Some of them even claim to follow Jesus or feel they are representing him.
The Jesus I read about and try to follow – he shook up a whole host of “established” institutions – and often shook up those who felt that they were following God but really looking out for themselves. He reminded the religious that they were to be the voice of those who had no voice. He reminded those in power to take care of the widows, the orphans, and those who were being treated unjustly. He took the time to get to know those who were tossed out of the temples and weren’t allowed in the gates of worship. He took the time to heal those who had been long forgotten and were thought to be useless. I see and hear quite a bit of name calling…finger pointing…arguing…fighting…selfish greed (and I bet you see and hear it too). And we wonder why we have trouble with kids picking on other kids?
What I don’t see enough of is people working together…despite their differences. I don’t see enough people loving others, encouraging, lifting up…caring for those who can’t care for themselves. What might happen if some of this energy fighting were put to good use collaborating? Are we so stuck in our own ways and our own ideas that we have lost sight of what is really important?
I’m not a pessimist – all is not lost. There are really good things going on around our world. There are people who are banding together and making a difference. There are people standing up for those who can’t stand. There are those who are being the voice of those who have no voice. But they seem to be too few – or at least not those with the loudest voice…or at least not yet. That’s why I think it is the optimal time for Christians and those of faith to stand up – despite our differences – and be the example of what it means to love, lift up, encourage, stand with, and be the voice of those who have no voice. What kind of example might we be for those who come after us? What are we really showing with our actions, our words, and even our social media posts? How might our voices be heard…the voices of kindness, love, peace…and even collaboration? May our voices be heard loudly, clearly, and with unity.
Normally when something is broken, we evaluate whether or not it is worth it to be fixed. Should it just be replaced? How much will it cost to repair versus buying a new one? Can duct tape hold it together? Can we make do for just another week or month…or to the next paycheck? Should we just trash it and forget it?
But lives aren’t like that. We don’t get to evaluate worth. And…in my opinion…Every life has worth. We don’t get to decide if a broken life is worth repair. That isn’t our decision. That is especially the case because we are all broken in some way. None of us are without some problems, pains or issues. Broken. We all are. Divorce, addiction, abuse, anger, selfishness. Broken. Pain, fears, regrets, lies. Broken.
On the other hand, we aren’t responsible for fixing or repairing the brokenness in others either. Because we are all broken in some way, we may share our “duct tape” and we may talk about our own scars and wounds. But we can’t put anyone else back together. God can. We cannot.
What we are called to do is love. And love is often the hardest choice of all. Because to love someone, sometimes you have to let them break. To love someone sometimes you have to let them go so they can realize their brokenness and begin to put their own pieces back together. Sometimes love looks like letting them find their own duct tape for life, even as painful as that is. Sometimes love doesn’t look like picking up the pieces, but loving them in their broken state, praying fiercely for direction, and letting God handle the rest.
I’m a fixer. I like to think that I can, in some small way, make a difference. And sometimes God allows me to do just that…be a part of something that does make a difference. But not always. I’m not called to fix anything or anyone really. I’m called to love. And love is often the most difficult yet beautiful thing of all. May we, in our brokenness, learn to love as never before. And may it begin with me.
There are many things I do not understand. I realize just how much I really don’t understand the older my children get. I do not understand teenage girls…and I’m fairly sure teenage girls don’t understand teenage girls. It’s one of those mysteries I am okay with remaining a mystery…I just pray for endurance to make it through…
I also had a difficult time understanding verses that I think are actually quite important in the Bible. Verses like…”forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead”…and “so do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” These bother me. Okay…so a lot of the Bible bothers me – which is good. But, these have been bothering me recently. Why?
Well, let’s take the first one. Why would would I want to forget what lies behind? I know…the past is the past – we can’t change it. But, what about those valuable lessons learned. I don’t know about you, but I learned some of my most important lessons through the big mistakes I made…and I have made more than my fair share. I don’t really want to repeat them, so I need to remember. And then I am leaning in towards what lies ahead. I like that, but I would like to lean in with the lessons I learned so my leaning doesn’t become tripping and I just fall right into what lies ahead…it could be smelly crap ahead. It would be better to lean than to dive head first into that.
And then, there is the not worrying about tomorrow verse. Yep, I get that too. I know I’m not to worry about tomorrow because I can’t do anything about what hasn’t happened yet. But, the part that bothers me is that it says tomorrow will have worries of its own…and that today has trouble. Really? Can’t it say that tomorrow might just be great and today might just be worry and trouble-free? I know…I’m might be missing the point – but it doesn’t mean these don’t bother me. It’s probably because I tend to be anxious about tomorrow and I end up face first in poop as I lean too far.
This week, though, I had a revelation. I won’t say it was divine…although I definitely think that God speaks so loudly if we will only listen. I will just say that God made it a little more clear to my simple mind something about these lessons from the Bible. I decided on Thursday to go run at the Cliffs of the Neuse. It was a beautiful warm January day – so why not? These are rare and I really enjoy the change in scenery. The Cliffs are full of God’s handprint.
As I was shuffling along through the trails, I realized first that I am not a really good trail runner…but, it’s still fun. But most importantly, I learned that I had to keep my eyes constantly right in front of me. If I look ahead down the trail, I will definitely trip and end up face plant right on the trail. Yes…I know from personal experience. If I look behind me, I tend to veer whichever way I am looking. Veering off a one way trail means you end up hitting a tree or worse yet, falling off the trail. No…I haven’t yet had that experience…although I’ve had close calls with the tree (a new definition of a tree hugger). Anyway, I have to keep my eyes right where I am. I can glance around. I can stop and enjoy. But ultimately, to keep moving forward, my eyes have to be right where I am.
And, that is it! I might forget where I have been, but that doesn’t mean the experiences from my past are gone. The lessons continue with me, even when I forget exactly where my feet have stepped. I can glance forward to see what is ahead, but I can’t stay fixated on it…I can’t worry about it. If I do, I end up falling – and then I’ve made it even worse. I have to keep my eyes right where I am…one step at a time…trusting that God is with me…knowing that I am God’s beloved…and understanding that no matter what, it will all be okay.
Ever hear or say – “I’m tired of walking…how much further?…do you have to park so far away from the door?…how many steps have you taken today?” It is as if every step in our world seems to be measured. I purposefully park far away from the entrance of where I am going…I want to save the closer spaces for those who don’t have those capabilities. I wear a Garmin and the number of my steps are tracked every day. My steps lead me to work and around my house…to church… But, rarely do I see my steps as sacred…at least not when I am taking them. Sacred – connected to God, holy, hallowed, blessed…
Looking back over the past, though, is a different story. The sacred begins to appear as I consider where my footsteps have taken me. I remember taking the sacred steps as I walked down the aisle almost 20 years ago with my beautiful bride arm in arm and we started our forever journey. I remember walking the steps of the hospital as we made our way to experience the unbelievable birth of our babies. I have experienced sacred steps in that same hospital of life and death…the long stark halls filled with tears of pain and of joy. I have watched as God entered a life and as life left…all sacred steps (and a whole different picture all together when those steps are with you on the stretcher). I have walked the journey with people that celebrated miracles and mourned loss. I walked sacred steps to be baptized and ordained into the ministry and walked those same steps to baptize others. I have walked sacred steps as I crossed the platform at Campbell Divinity School to receive the Master of Divinity Degree. And I walk sacred steps as I begin a new journey in pursuit of another degree.
Do steps become sacred simply because of that particular moment? I don’t think so. I think steps become sacred because God is in them…because we are walking a little closer to him…because he is guiding us. When I consider sacred steps, I am reminded of some of the most sacred recorded in the Bible. Adam and Eve walking with God…Imagine actually taking steps WITH God…that had to be sacred. Moses had an experience with God and God told him to take off his shoes, he was on Holy Ground…sacred steps before a burning bush. It is recorded in Romans that the feet of those who bring the good news are beautiful…I have to imagine that the steps they take are also sacred. Jesus took the journey on the road to his own crucifixion and then on the road with friends after his resurrection to Emmaus…sacred steps. Those who walk by faith, not by sight are walking a sacred journey.
It is important to also understand that some sacred steps aren’t actual steps at all. Some are traveled in a wheelchair or even on a hospital bed. Some are traveled in the hearts of those who cannot move physically. Sacred steps take us on a journey to and with God. Know that they can be frightening….painful…tiring…sorrowful. They are also peaceful…joyful…rejuvenating…enlightening. These are steps taken with our Creator. They carry you somewhere you have never been before or places you have visited many times, just in new ways. Where might your sacred steps take you today? May we find our way on this journey…no matter the bumps, bruises, scrapes, hills, or valleys…just step forward…God is there.
So much of my day is filled with noise. I wake up to an alarm clock (if I’m not awake before it starts)…I grind the coffee beans and start the coffee (an essential if I’m going to become sort of human)…I mix my protein shake…I turn on the shower…and the day goes on with noise. There are even noises all night…the dog jumping up in the bed and having to adjust way too often…my mom’s dog next door barking incessantly at everything (only the Lord knows what annoys that dog all night)…I’m even looking at getting a noise machine to block out the noises all night. We grow accustomed to noise. It is every where. And we get worried when things are quiet…something has to be wrong if there is silence. The TV must be broke or somebody must be mad… Rarely does someone point out how much someone talks but will quickly point out how uncommonly quiet someone was. If we aren’t talking, then we are rude or trying to make a statement. And yet, most of what is said is so unnecessary…it is just filling up empty space…space that is actually better empty. Even in church, we begin to squirm if there are times of silence (doesn’t the preacher know what to say? how long will this “moment” of silence last? doesn’t he know people go to sleep if there is too much silence for too long? do we have to be quiet to actually hear God? Lord…is this silent time done yet??)
The interesting part of it all is that we miss so many important things because of all the noise. This morning I went for a run…and it was raining. Now, I’m not much for running in the rain, but I’m trying to stick to this challenge…and blah blah blah…I ran in the rain. It was quiet because it is a holiday and not many people were out and about. There were no sounds of cars or talking or even hunting. So, I noticed something special on the run…birds still sing in the rain. If I wasn’t out running and I wasn’t paying attention, I would have missed the beautiful songs being sung by God’s creatures. It was peaceful. It made me slow down and just enjoy the song… (I can hear you now…do I have to go on a run to hear birds? Aren’t there birds on the sound machine? Can’t we hear birds on the TV? who cares if birds sing in the rain?) The songs of the birds are priceless…and I love that God put a song in their heart…I’ll leave it there.
I am often reminded (and have written about it before) of the scripture in James that says we should be slow to speak, slow to anger, and quick to listen. From this scripture, I am reminded that we cannot listen if we are talking…and that is so true. So many times I find myself half listening until they stop so I can say what I wanted to say. It is like a competition to speak. I’m even formulating a response while they are still jabbing on. And yet, no one is really listening. We aren’t listening because we want to be heard. At the end of the day, we make much more of an impact when we listen. It is different…it is unique…and it takes practice. Arsenious, a Desert Father said, “I have often repented of having spoken, but never of having remained silent.” From personal experience, I can definitely relate. There have been many, many, many (you get the idea) times that I have needed to repent when the words flowed faster than my mind could hold back.
In The Way of the Heart, Henri Nouwen writes, “We speak about the events of the world, but how often do we really change them for the better? We speak about people and their ways, but how often do our words do them or us any good? We speak about our ideas and feelings as if everyone were interested in them, but how often do we really feel understood?”
So, I’m trying to learn to be slow to speak…and quick to listen. It is causing my tongue to bleed from biting down (ok…not really bleed, just be really sore). It is causing me to breathe a lot deeper because my smart mouth is about to bust wide open. But, in the end, I realize that I can’t really hear any one if I’m not paying attention. I miss what people are really trying to say (because often it is much more than the words that they actually speak) if I am already thinking about my response. I am missing out on the gift of being with people if I can’t be quiet and listen. And…at the end of the day…I can certainly feel better if I’ve kept my mouth shut and heard rather than said things I regretted.
Side note…if you see me after reading this, please don’t try and test how good I am at this…I’m a work in progress…and I could end up needing to repent if pushed.
It just doesn’t seem fair…this whole death thing. It doesn’t have favorites. It isn’t particular to a group or even an age. Death comes and takes those we hold so dear right from our arms…even as we cling to them trying to hold on…to their very last breath. I read about a 16 year old that breathed her last breath after a brave fight with cancer. I can’t help but think how unfair that is. I think of a couple who recently lost a newborn…he didn’t have a chance to make his mark on the world. I think of people around the world that are starving and thirsting to death…young people who deserve to live just as much as anyone else. It just seems so harsh, cruel, and unfair. And, honestly, it hurts.
It is true that the sting is a little more noticeable this week than usual. My Grandpa passed away almost one week ago. He had lived what we consider a long life. He had lived life well. He was a wonderful example of a man that loved God and loved his family. Personally, for me, he is an even better example because he didn’t pretend to be perfect. He knew he didn’t always get it right. But, he did the best that he knew how…and as it turns out…he did some pretty incredible things. He loved others…he cared for others…he shared his gifts…he did what he was called to do. And, he was okay with breathing that last breath. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean I was ready for him to go. But it at least seems to make some sense in my small, finite, time bound mind.
So, I hold all these things in perspective. A young lady who experienced 16 years on this earth…an older man who experienced almost 88. Both have breathed their last breath. Life as we know it has left them. As I looked at my Grandpa after he breathed his last, his body changed. His body changed because the very life that God had breathed into him was now gone.
This reminds me that God is still breathing life into me. He is still breathing life into you. As long as God is providing life to us…as long as we continue to breathe…we have a life to live. I’m not talking about a sentimental hallmark card moment with fields and flowers and a theme of “Go live your life…” I’m talking about taking a moment to feel your breath and realize that you are given this breath so that you truly experience life.
How many of us have breath…but we are not experiencing life? How many of us go through our day…the same old patterns…the same work…the same scenery and miss the life we are to experience? How many times do we miss a sunrise or not hear the birds that sing? How many times do we fail to tell someone we love them with the idea that they will be here tomorrow? How many times do we dread our day or resent having to get up in the morning…AND YET WE HAVE BREATH…
I am jolted awake with a reminder to live life…to appreciate the gift of breath…the opportunity to live…the joy of a new sunrise…the beauty of a day…the song of a bird…and even the struggles. For there will come a day when my breath will be no more. I will value the gift until then.
It is almost time for Christmas! It is time for the last minute rush and the kitchen ovens to be fired up. I love Christmas. I love the sights and the sounds…the smells of food and Christmas trees bring me so much excitement, even now. I look forward to time with family and an opportunity to see people I don’t get a chance to see often during the year. Christmas is good…except when it is not. Like when someone who should be sitting at the table isn’t because they have died. Or when someone you love so much is suffering in the hospital. Or when there are disputes in the family over seemingly stupid stuff. Or when you are alone and Christmas just isn’t Christmas anymore. Those are the times when we long for a Christmas do-over…either to fix what we have or to go back to where we were.
One of my favorite memories of Christmas time growing up was at my Grandma’s house. She was, and still is, an amazing cook. Christmas was a time of desserts…sweets…chocolates…pies…all the stuff I so enjoy…love…crave…seek. There are special foods that she only made at Christmas. Because she cooked so many desserts (like a whole buffet of desserts…it was amazing), she would start early and then would put the desserts that were complete in her back bedroom. This was a spare bedroom and it was one of the coldest rooms in the house. She would have desserts spread all over that room. It was like Christmas when I would walk in her house and she told me I could go in that room (yes, I asked permission…I wasn’t willing to risk the chance of not getting to enjoy the sweets). To see all the goodies wrapped up, smelling good, and calling my name. I could tell that they were calling me specifically…that I needed to test them out and make sure they were good enough for the rest of the family…I felt it was my duty to check out the food just in case something wasn’t up to standards (As if that would ever happen). So she would let me taste test a few of the candies that were in that room. That was Christmas.
I often think about if I could just go back…if I could just re-create moments like those. Grandma still cooks and she still has that house. She doesn’t cook that many desserts any more and doesn’t store them there. But, she could. The problem is that we don’t get Christmas do-overs or repeats. Those were experiences of my childhood. I can create some variation of it, but one of the things that made it so special is that it is from my childhood. Memories like these are…just that – memories. They need to stay sweet memories in my mind because they continue to bring me so much joy.
So, I think that Christmas is still good – even when it’s not. It is just that I am making memories as an adult now. I am making memories with my kids and wife. I am making memories with family and I am learning the value of treasuring each moment. Next year’s Christmas won’t be the same. This Christmas is what I have…as fun or as challenging as it might be. So, this Christmas I hope to savor each moment…to breathe and look around…to take in all the sights and sounds (even if they include the beeping of machines in the hospital)…and I will treasure the blessings of this day…for it will not be like this again.
May the sights and sounds of Christmas bring you much joy. Merry Christmas!
SEEING THE EXTRAORDINARY 
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