Archive for the ‘Reflections’ Category
Sunday was Mandy and my 12 year anniversary. Wow. That is simply amazing to me. Really it is. I have loved this girl, and thought about her every single day, for 14 years now. And I’m still amazed at her.
At dinner last night (to celebrate) we were talking about lots of stuff. When we were first married, I used to ask her on every anniversary, “What can I change? Are you really happy?” I think she thought this was funny, but humored me nonetheless. We never could come up with anything really big we wanted the other person to change.
Last night we were talking, and I said, “you know Mandy – we are so lucky (or blessed!).” I mean, there we were, 21 years YOUNG, trying to decide whom we’d spend the rest of our lives with! I honestly think that there are a good deal of married people out there who after 12 years look across the table with regret. They believe they could have “done better” or this person “doesn’t meet their needs.” Bull-oney. (That’s bologna by the way. I’ve got a great story about that too – I’ll have to blog about that tomorrow).
Anyway – that’s not the point I wanted to make. I looked at Mandy and I said, you know we really are lucky. I mean, after 12 years, and tons of amazing moments and tons of heartbreaking moments, we can honestly say that we genuinely like each other. I mean it! I know we love each other – and that’s awesome. But we like each other. We enjoy each other’s company. We love to talk to each other. We love to hang out and do stuff and go places together. We agree on most things. We see the world from pretty much the same way. It’s truly remarkable. I mean, what are the chances??
I was just blown away by realizing that we are still each other’s best friends. I love our jokes together, and how we can see right through each other. Its such a vulnerable and yet totally safe place to be. Amazing.
So I’m thankful. I’m not bragging really, just want to say praise God for this blessing. And in 12 more years I hope to feel all of this and more!
And Mand – if you are reading this – thank you for everything. You are such an amazing friend and wife. I am so excited to continue to share our lives together :)
It’s official. I’m addicted to movies that replay on late night TV. OK, maybe not late night TV movies. But lately I’ve gotten into checking my channels for movies rather than TV shows. What’s strange is they have some staples that are on almost all the time. Like Gladiator. Or Holiday. Or The Matrix. Sometimes it’s fun to watch a movie that I’ve seen before, but haven’t watched in a long time. And then there are times when I get to watch something for the first time.
Tonight was a night like that. It was a great night. Eden isn’t sleeping well, which in and of itself isn’t great but she ended up sleeping on my chest for a long while which is so far beyond “great” that they don’t even make words to describe it.
And then I stumbled upon The Devil Wears Prada. What’s funny about watching movies on TV is that you never see the whole thing. I missed about the first 30 minutes of this one. But, what’s funny about me is, I don’t seem to care. What I do care about it the commercials! UGH! But don’t worry—I’m being creative! I’m reading during commercial breaks!
Anyway, this movie totally sucked me in. I loved it. It was so good. It is one of those movies that is so engrossing, that afterwards you kind of feel like you are still watching it (or even still in it!). Have you ever felt that?
And it got me thinking. Movies often (always? Jason?) have the character go through some huge transformation. In this particular kind of movie (and there are many like this that I’ve seen) the main character is unassuming and humble to begin with. Then they try something new but swear it won’t change them (think Julie and Julia). But guess what? It does!! And never for the better! Always somehow along the way they lose “themselves.” Right? You know what I’m saying? And then the big ending is they finally walk away from whatever it was that attracted them away from themselves, and they go back to being unassuming.
So why is this? I mean I know it’s a story so it needs conflict and tension and change. But what’s the underlying message? Can we not aspire to try new things, soar to new heights, conquer new challenges—without losing ourself in the process? And what is “losing yourself” anyway? Can’t “yourself” change for the better without being “lost” and therefore necessarily having to be “found” and reverted back to?
Why can’t said character see a new challenge or opportunity and go for it, and change in good ways, without losing integrity? Is it that this is just too boring to make a good movie? Or does it betray some underlying truth that we are incapable of this? Does ambition, striving, and attainment necessarily strip of us the humility that once defined us so romantically?
Just a lot of questions tonight aren’t I? Got any answers out there?
Sometimes as a preacher you find yourself learning and saying things that are so personally profound, that it almost doesn’t matter that anyone is listening. Yesterday was like that for me.
When I was given the assignment of teaching Acts 3 where Peter and John healed a lame beggar outside the temple, I knew right away that God had something different to teach me about this. My natural inclination on this topic would have been to preach on the need to look for divine opportunities in our lives to pray for people in supernatural ways.
This time, however, I immediately was flooded with thoughts of the person (or most likely persons!) who sits there listening to me thinking, “Well that’s Christian. There he goes again talking about stuff that he’s comfortable doing, but it just isn’t relevant for my life.” I really felt like I was supposed to tackle the question, “How does this miraculous prayer stuff actually work today? Is it even supposed to work?”
As I spent time reading, studying, praying, and meditating on the text, something began to change in my heart. It really did. And what’s weird for me is most often these changes happen quickly. It’s like a lightbulb, or a flash of revelation. And I just had an insight into my life that I am not motivated by the right things in this area of life. When I talk about going into public and talking to people about Jesus, praying for your neighbors, praying for sick people, giving people words of knowledge that God may put on your heart—I’m talking about looking for results. My motivation was results based ministry. I was looking for a healing, a word, a salvation.
What changed in me was the realization that Jesus did not do ministry this way. Or more to the point, Jesus did not live his life this way. Because that’s what we’re talking about. I feel like it’s so easy to write off much of what the Bible demonstrates and teaches as just stuff for the “professionals” like missionaries and pastors. But that’s not at all how it is supposed to be.
And so, when I looked at Jesus, it became so evident that he did not live his life from a results orientation but rather from a love orientation. He (and his disciples) did not go up to a person on the street and pray for them to get healed because they wanted the result. No. I believe first, Jesus loved. There’s a great verse that says that Jesus looked at this crowd of thousands of people and he just loved them. I picture him looking from face to face, and seeing them each as real people not just objects you happen to run into as you go through your life. He saw their individual stories, their pain, their hopes, and his heart went out to them. And it was out of that place of love that he was moved by compassion to go towards them and interact with them.
Isn’t that different than how we often view it for ourselves? Isn’t it better and even liberating?
I feel like in my life I’ve gotten so used to the routine of life that I’ve stopped really being concerned for others, seeing them as children of God who are in need of his love, seeing through their facades of “I’m doing fine” and caring enough to dig deeper and look further. And see, when we care enough to do that, then out of that context of love, is where I believe miracles are born. It’s not about results. It’s about people whom God loves.
Today I had a normal interaction with a friend of mine. She told me of her son’s continued illness, and my heart just went out to them. We talked in the morning, and then in the evening our family ran into them while we were out. I asked about him again, and she shared more. I was (and am still) very genuinely concerned for this boy. I love this family, and I felt God’s love for them. I felt their frustration. I connected with their pain at watching their son suffer. I was actually human for a second, instead of this machine that just has to go from one thing to the next. I saw this family as people with stories and lives rather than objects that I just bump into through the course of the day.
And so the thought came, very naturally, let’s pray for this boy. And so we did. And it was wonderful. And it was love. And I feel like something has (or is) changing in my heart about all this. And I just started five (now six!) sentences in a row with “and.” And I remember a day when my friend told me that my teachers were wrong, and it’s ok to start sentences with “and.” And now “and” has lost all meaning!
So anyway . . . sigh . . . I’m happy about this teaching. I’m happy about my heart changing. And maybe, in the midst of everything that swirls around me that I call “life” I’ll begin to find love again in my heart for others.
Now I know why I’m slow to work on Mandy’s book. It’s painful. I’ve just laid out the book again to start looking with a bird’s-eye view of it and make sure it flows. And I’m also re-reading the whole thing again. I got through Chapter 1 tonight. Barely.
The pain is what scares me away, but the pain is also what commands me to keep going (and I know Mandy feels the exact same way). The very thing that makes me want to throw this book on a shelf and forget about it forever, is the reason I (we) must finish it. Even if it takes 10 years (which it won’t) we have to finish it.
It is inspired by and written for two beautiful and precious children. I think a lot about their legacies. Much of their legacy lies within me I believe. I have been forever changed because of them. And it lies within Mandy. And our families and friends. So many people have been effected so profoundly by their tiny little lives.
But I really do care about their legacies. I want their stories to continue to make an impact in this world. So much of this world seems meaningless, randomn, and cruel. That is not the story I will allow for these two.
No.
I want people to know of a greater purpose above the tragedy, a greater love above the pain, and a greater order above the confusion. I owe it to them. I really feel I do. I don’t know if people would say that’s “healthy” or not, but I feel as their daddy that this is part of how I can and will love them. I am not content to just allow them to become part of my past. I want them to be part of my present at all times. Not in a way that messes up my present by making me depressed, past-focused, and out of touch with life. But in a way that enhances my present by keeping me in touch with them and with heaven.
And this is why I must keep moving on this book, no matter how painful—because their stories must be heard.
I consider myself to be a pretty highly motivated guy. I work hard, and love to be innovative and creative. I don’t like to waste time, and I do like to get stuff done. Lately, however, I have been feeling a complete lack of motivation.
Now, this isn’t all the time, just at night. Here’s the deal. For years (like 10) I would work a full time job during the day, and then at night I would work another 15-30 hours a week doing design work. I regularly stayed up until 2 or 3 in the morning, and then woke up early with little kids, and then off to work. And it was great.
In the last year or so the design work has stopped. So too, has my need to work very much at night.
Now add onto that some other factors. Over the past few years I’ve weathered some pretty demanding and intense personal storms. The kind that suck the life out of you. The kind that leave you exhausted at night—in fact, all day. I’ve been told during these times that I need to be OK with letting myself rest at night. That I’m emotionally wasted, and it’s OK to not work all the time. So I’ve tried to learn how to rest. How to relax.
Fast forward to the present. Now, at night, after the kids are asleep, I can’t seem to get off the couch. It’s not like I go to bed early or anything to get “rest.” I just watch TV. I have stuff I want to be doing. I want to work on Mandy’s book. I want to write a new book of my own (I’ve got a list of books ideas!). I think I want to try and learn coding for iPhone apps.
But I can’t bring myself to do anything. I mean, it’s not like I don’t work. I do. I work for the church full time. And this work has me out until 10 or 11 at night, three times per week. So part of me feels justified, like I deserve to just relax and watch TV when I can.
But it’s really starting to bother me for some reason. Every day I just think about how I wish I would have worked on a project the night before, but then when night comes, I just lose all motivation to anything. I don’t check my email. I often put off blogging. I can barely get off the couch.
Strange huh?
What’s really weird is I’m good at this kind of thing. Make a small goal. Do it. Make a bigger one. Start small and take little steps. So I’m trying to get going here. I feel like maybe I’ve learned a behavior here. Over the past few years I have needed this down time to process all that has hit me, but maybe my body is trying to tell me it’s ready to try a little more now. I’m not sure. It’s a little confusing, and a lot frustrating.
So I decided to blog about it. Maybe you can pray for me. Maybe you have words of wisdom. Maybe you’ve been through this before?
Not sure, but I think at least it helps to get it out in writing. I’ll keep you posted :)
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