Let's Offer a Different Politic to the World

I recently went to a local “town hall” meeting, where the area representatives presented what has been going on in Washington, DC, and fielded questions from local people. It was quite the experience. Questions about immigration, gun control, education, and health care came up. More than questions, though, what was clearly communicated was the tension, pain, anger, and uncertainty surrounding our political system. As people applauded, booed, or made rude remarks, I felt more and more burdened.

Shame on us. That is what hit me. Shame on us. We have become such bad listeners, such a sour community as Americans. We are talking about issues of critical importance, decisions that affect entire nations. But we are leaving unaddressed the underlying issues. Jesus said, “You have heard the rule, ‘You shall not murder,’ but I tell you anyone who is angry with his brother will be liable for murder” (Mt. 5:21-22). We can be so jaded by our emotions and perceptions of others that we are missing out on an opportunity to love. We are getting to the point in our society where we are so angry with our neighbors that we are guilty of sin.

What makes this especially disturbing to me is that it even happens among Christians. On the one hand, Christians are still people, frail and faulty. But on the other hand, God has given us the Holy Spirit. We can do better, and anyone who follows Jesus and has committed themselves to his way has an obligation to walk the hard path of love. We have no other option; Jesus said, “Love one another as I have loved you” (John 13). Jesus chose a traitor, a political radical, government employees, blue collar workers, and everything in between to be his closest followers. And Jesus has commanded us to walk in his Way, his Reality, and his Life. Here are some ways we can begin to do a better job:

1.     LOOK

 Every person is created in the image of God. But we are tempted to view people primarily through a political lens. We are seeing others as taxpayers or welfare recipients, immigrants or citizens, Republicans or Democrats. We are labeling people as so many other things, rather than starting with the view that this is God’s child. This is a person for whom Jesus died. This is a person that Jesus wants to live forever with him. We are called to see people through God’s eyes first. Look properly at the people around you, and you will see that they are part of your heavenly family- whether they know it or not. “But look at what they believe!” you might say. “That is so outside of God’s Word!” It doesn’t matter. They are God’s child. If Nehemiah could get along with the king of Babylon and Daniel was dearly loved in his time, we can look at people through the same eyes- through the eyes of our Father in heaven. We see people across the political aisle and across the world through the same lens. We look with God’s eyes.

2.     LISTEN

James reminds us, “Be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger, for the anger of people does not produce the righteousness of God” (James 1:19-20). We are called to listen. Jesus tells us to listen to his word and listen to others. First of all, we know where the world is headed: destruction- and that’s as much scientific as biblical. The 2^nd law of thermodynamics says that a (closed/ isolated) system will always head toward chaos. Scripture reminds us that this world will pass away (Matthew 24:35), but it is also quick to remind us of the second point. We know where we are headed: eternal life. God opened up our finite system to the infinite. Jesus is eternal, and by his power we, too, will live forever. So we should have some peace as we approach conversations about budgets and bazookas and health care and education. Do we need to get the last word in? No. Jesus will. We know that. Let’s listen. “But I already know what they are going to say!”, you might think. Chances are, you probably don’t. Ask them about their background, what has shaped their lives, why they are passionate about politics, etc. Don’t have an argument about “right or wrong”- that is exactly what the snake wanted in the garden. And he is winning in many communities, and among many Christians. Let’s listen to others.

3.     LIGHT

People today think the world is going to come to a terrible end through natural disasters or nuclear warfare. Children are scared to go to school because of shootings and bomb threats. No public place is safe anymore. We live in a dark world, illuminated only by the LED lights emanating from our technology- a light that leads us further into fear, depression, and loneliness. Jesus said that we are the light of the world. That means that 1) the government is not the light of the world, 2) a political party is not the light of the world, 3) a lobbyist group or any other political action group is not the light of the world. Christians are the light of the world. But when we succumb to the powers of darkness (John 3), we give up on being the light in our communities that God wants us to be. We can demonstrate a different way forward. We can guide people as they try to handle the many struggles of 21^st century life. We can be an example of how to walk, because we walk in the light, where everything is clearly seen for what it is. We are looking through God’s eyes, after all.

4.     LOVE

Hate comes naturally to people. Anger, rage, disgust. It is easy to possess these qualities and motivations. It is part of the chemical make-up of people to feel such things. Therefore it is merely playing into our animal instincts to act on our anger and rage. It is exactly the kind of life we would expect if there weren’t a God. But God has made himself known. God has revealed himself to be our maker, and has declared that we are made in the image of God. And God is love. So, to be made in the image of God is to embrace love with our whole being. That means sacrifice, putting what’s best for another person ahead of our own needs and wants. And it even means loving our enemies. Nothing should distinguish a Christian from other people in the world more than his or her ability to embrace an enemy. And let’s be clear: if we live in America, our fellow American citizens are not the enemy. No people group is our enemy. Paul makes the claim in Ephesians that “flesh and blood” are not the enemy at all, but rather the “rulers, authorities, and cosmic powers over this present darkness (Eph. 6). We show radical love to all people. It’s the one command we have as we face this world: Jesus said, “Love one another as I have loved you” (John 13).

I talked with some women after this event, and as we talked it came out that they were Christians, too. Yes, we are united by being American citizens. Yes, we are divided on certain issues and viewpoints. But no matter what, we are brothers and sisters in Christ. Can we look, listen, love, and live differently than this world? Can we show our fellow people a better way forward? We stand together forever in Christ; let’s be a witness to the world by starting it now.

In Hope

A park is not the same without the squirrels and the trees
And I am not quite sane without you here right next to me...

I was in graduate school in St. Louis, and my girlfriend (now wife) was finishing her bachelor's degree in Wisconsin. I wrote a lot of poetry then; it was one of the ways I dealt with my longing and desire to be with her. I wasn't always the most eloquent in person, and I can struggle to communicate my feelings in the moment; poetry provided me the opportunity to express something deeper, more profound.

As I looked out my dorm room window into a park filled with overgrown oaks and squirrels, I told her I would write a poem about squirrels. I was meaning it to be funny, but when I started to write, it became a more serious poem about how I felt less than whole when I was not with her.

Now I know what it means to not be whole

Missing a piece, like the grave misses its soul

I'm a body buried beneath a sea of sand

Waiting for you to dig me out and take my hand

I'll stand, and wait, for you, in hope...

I was not a mature person at 22; I didn't have life figured out. I only had the faintest idea of what "love" was. But that is all you need. The faintest idea. And that is the beauty of poetry- it can help you see a faint picture, far ahead of where you are now. And it can lead you into a different place. It can strengthen you as you struggle to make sense of what you are going through. It can empower and enable you to endure the worst life has to throw your way.

I was reflecting on Zechariah 9:12, where it is written, "Return to your fortress, O prisoners of hope." Hope is a powerful thing. Hope is what makes us human- the will to fight and strive and push forward in what appears to be a meaningless and cruel world. We all are prisoners of hope: we cannot escape finding hope even when we are desperate. What are young lovers, other than prisoners of hope? What are lonely widows, other than prisoners of hope? We have to try so hard to crush our will to keep on keeping on. But there is no better place to be than imprisoned with hope. Hope is what can spring us free from despair, anxiety, anger, brokenness. Hope is what can push us forward to the places and people waiting for us.

Then I'll know what it means to be whole
Like the beautiful unity between body and soul
Like the land and sea colliding, mixing on the shore
I'll dance with you, I'll be with you forevermore.
But for now, I'll stand
But for now, I'll wait
But for now, I'll live
In hope.

When I wrote this poem, I was focused on my own situation, awaiting my first love and being married to her. I look back in fondness to these words, and I now think of my mother, who has lost her husband. She is yearning for her love much more deeply than I could have imagined comprehending at 22 years old. These words are for her, too. In my youthful love, I stumbled upon a picture of love that endures. I stumbled upon a reality that is not just for me. I walked into a bigger story, one that might just speak to you, too. A picture that might cast a ray of light into the dark and murky waters of your future.

Like a squirrel burying an acorn in Concordia Park, poetry is meant to sustain us for just a little while. But instead we leave it in our hearts, and it takes root, and it grows into an oak tree which keeps us and countless others going. Prisoners of hope, forever freed.

No one else

Someone else can pen a prettier poem,

Another can build a sturdier home.

But no one else can write this line,

It is no other’s- it is mine.

Someone else can love their wife,

Another can have a fuller life.

But no one else can write this line,

It is no other’s- it is mine.

Someone else can do more to bless,

Another can raise sons with more success.

But no one else can write this line,

It is no other’s- it is mine.

Someone else can have a better year,

Another can create a bigger career.

But no one else can write this line,

It is no other’s- it is mine.

Someone else can write great books,

Another can have finer looks.

Someone else can have more love and grace,

More joy and hope upon his face.

But no one else can write this line,

It is no other’s- it is mine.

No one else can hold my line tight,

No one else can fight my fight.

No one else can run my race,

No one else can wear my face.

No one else can let it go,

No one else will ever know

What it is to live like me

Unless you live your life:

                                         Go- live free.

Holy Week Haiku

Holy Week Haiku
To share simply, profoundly,
The cross message, H O P E.

Maundy Thursday:

Don't reject service.

Jesus is not your genie. 

His service starts yours.

Good Friday:

God gave up glory,

The tree of life has been found,

Bloody, cross of death.

Easter Sunday:

Go to the gravesite;

Hell won the fight, lost the war.

Hope is yours, now go.

Experience more:

Listen, pray, watch with others,

Go to church. Yes, you.

www.facebook.com/firstimmanuel for more information on our services in Cedarburg and Saukville.

You Are There

I am my father's son

Same frame, same race to run

I'll look back when I'm done

And know you were there.

Why did you give me life?

To subject me to strife?

This pain cuts like a knife

But I know you are there.

My short days are fleeting

Time left with heart beating

This knowledge- unseating

But I know you are there.

I need you Lord, to save

My mansion is a grave

You know I am not brave

But I know you are there.

You are there- in weakness

You are there- in trials

You are there- in heartache

You are there- in grief

You are there- through it all

Immanuel- with us

You are the God who is there.

H O M E

How did you draw me out, my love?

How did you set my heart free and capture me at the same time?

How did you give me a safe space full of suspense?

Not even a quarter of my life, but the immense amount of memories threatens to dislodge everything that came before you. I have found meaning and purpose in you and with you, something that never existed before that warm night in June. I experienced a fire that was life-giving, warming my soul and lighting the way before us.


You have become home.

You have become family.

Years of wandering, and I found you.

Years together, and we have each other.

No fancy mansion; just two broken and weary-worn parents with love and coffee.

We have become parents.

The next generation lies in our hands and wets our bed.

We are driving through Colorado, staring at stone faces, waking up with Hank the cow-dog. We are smashing roaches, birthing babies, moving. Always moving. Seven times moving. We are living Saturday mornings at farmer’s markets, walking downtown, leading our sons through the parks of childhood. We are living.


And we pause for a second, to look back.

Every step seemed to take so long and demand so much time, care, and attention.

But look how far we’ve come.

We have become a man and a woman.

We have become a husband and a wife.

We have become one.


We have become a home.

The First Christmas

On December 20^th, 2017, my father got diagnosed with brain cancer. They scheduled him for immediate surgery on December 23^rd. On December 24^th, I was scheduled to lead two of my congregation’s four Christmas Eve services as well as the Christmas Day service. On top of that, my dad was 1,000 miles away from us, heading into a surgery which would be life-altering. I was overwhelmed. Thankfully, his surgery got postponed to December 26^th and my congregation graciously allowed me to leave to be with him. Instead of preparing to preach to a full church, I packed my family into our vehicle and drove across six states. Last year, I had my last Christmas with my dad.

Christmas 2017, all of us gathered together with Dad

My whole family piled into my brother’s house for Christmas Eve. I had brought a bulletin of the service I was supposed to be leading that evening in New York, and my 8-year-old nephew did all the readings. We sang the Christmas carols, we cried, we exchanged gifts, and we cried some more. My dad tried to tell us all how much he loved us, but the hug and the passionate look in his eyes said much more than words ever could. I will never forget that Christmas, the last Christmas.

My dad put up a valiant fight with an infection and growing tumor, still finding joy in his family. After months in the ICU and then hospice in home, my father died on March 20th. This year, we will celebrate the first Christmas without my father. It will be emotional, painful, tear-full. It will be a hard day, but a day still to celebrate. A day still to gather around gifts and food, family and friends. A day still to sing and pray, laugh and cry.

I am sure I am not alone in having a first Christmas this year. Maybe it’s yours, too. The first Christmas without Grandma. The first Christmas with a new child. The first Christmas in a new home. The first Christmas without a job. The first Christmas after the divorce. Pain and heartache mixed with joy and happiness await many of us during the holidays. It can make the excitement of Christmas dreadful. We get caught in a confusing world of joy and pain, an we struggle to sort out our feelings.

Thinking back to the first Christmas, though, it makes sense. After all, the first Christmas came as a complete shock to everyone. Shepherds in the field, a crowded city, first-time parents forced to travel late in pregnancy. The first Christmas was, in so many ways, not pleasant. Those shepherds had left their families at home and were sleeping on rocky soil with smelly sheep surrounding them. Mary and Joseph couldn’t find a comfortable place to spend the night. But on that night, heaven touched earth. On that night, angels bent low with sweet songs. On that night, a baby was brought into the world with the agonizing joy of a first time mother. The first Christmas was joy coming to a broken, chaotic, lost, and dying world. On that night, God was born in a barn and embraced humanity more fully than we could ever comprehend. As Phillips Brooks wrote, “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight.” 

All the years… Each Christmas is truly the First Christmas, filled with the tension between living in the moment and awaiting eternity. It is a day where we always do the same thing, sing the same songs, hear the same readings. But each year we experience them in a new way, with a new depth and richness. Each year brings new experiences, new sadness, new hope, new longings. We gather together with those closest to us in the agonizing joy of this life which God has given us, awaiting the ultimate present of eternal life in God’s presence. We embrace the pain and the joy and hold them in tension, as a new mother embraces her baby through the pains of childbirth.

There will be a day with no more pain, no more tension. Christmas will come to fulfillment in that Last Day, but not before. Until then, let us celebrate the First Christmas every year, embracing the hope that comes from trusting in the Immanuel, God-with-us, the God who loved us first and promises to fill us with love, joy, and peace forever.

Giving thanks in the midst of suffering

On December 20th, my father went into an Emergency Room in Monroe, WI, with some slurred speech. They found a mass in his brain after a CT scan, and thus begun a rush to get him into surgery and work on getting rid of a tumor that was found.
On February 20th, after two short months of battling a tumor and surgically-acquired infection, my father got the devastating news that the tumor had grown back- as big as it was before the surgery. He was put on hospice; I was able to get back to Wisconsin on February 24th and help get him from a nursing home into my parents' home. He has been home now since February 28th, and it has been 10 days since he has eaten or drank. His battle with a brain tumor is wearing him down slowly, and we pray peacefully.
Dying is one of the hardest processes we as humans will go through, and it is universal. We will all go through it, and chances are high that we will watch someone else go through it as well. God has something profound for us to learn through dying; in fact, dying was a central theme of Jesus' teaching: "If anyone will come after me, he must deny himself, pick up his cross, and follow me."
Losing my father is something I was not ready for and am still not ready for.  But here I am.  And being here by his side is a privilege and an honor.  Being your Pastor is a privilege and an honor.  I have felt torn between two places I call home, two communities my heart desires so strongly to serve.
Even in the midst of pain and suffering, I am thankful to be here with my father, and our family must thank you as a congregation for allowing us these last moments with him here on this earth.  We are humbled by your understanding, your outreach to our family, and the unity you all have with one another and Christ. We look forward to seeing you all again soon, knowing that my father will at last rest peacefully with our Lord.
My father has been a man of God and an example in the faith for me and many others. He has embraced Wisdom, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it." He led me in Sunday School and adult Bible studies, and he has modeled a servant heart both in the church and outside the church. There will be a dad-sized hole in my life, and I will miss him dearly.  But I am filled with the hope that transcends knowledge and experience: the hope of eternal life, that death is not only the end of life, but the beginning of a new life together in the presence of the Lord.

I put together a short video over the last couple weeks, to capture some of our memories. Feel free to watch it here: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=h4wwsing9a8

Marguerite

Recently, I had the opportunity to spend time with a man and his wife. She has had Alzheimer's for some time now, and their life has had major adjustments to it. I was moved by the love this man had for his wife- true love, one that gives without getting. As we wept together over the sharing of painful memories, I was thankful he let me in on his life. He was not ashamed, embarrassed, or saddened in any way by his life. His heart was filled with the love of Jesus, and he shared it with everyone he met and cared for daily in the memory care unit where his wife now lives.

I wrote this poem for him and his wife, and I hope it paints a picture of one couple's struggle with this dreadful disease and the hope that overcomes through love.

Marguerite

Two pillows, one head,

Lying awake, alone, in bed;

The tears have already been shed.

But tomorrow is another day.

One wall, two frames,

Holding pictures with their names;

The faces don’t quite look the same.

But tomorrow is another day.

One pond, little fish,

Four years, one wish;

A familiar look, a knowing kiss.

But tomorrow is another day.

A woman so sweet swept him off his feet

Before he even turned seventeen. Now wondering,

Puzzling, after sixty years, why she must come here.

It breaks his heart to leave her every day,

The pain of a thousand deaths, but her heart still beats.

He is never beat, never leaves her side,

The tears cried make him more certain of the life he’s been given.

Jesus has a promise and we all await heaven,

So he takes a deep breath, begins to pray,

And lets Jesus lead them on to another day.

Two homes, here and there,

Neither has the squeak of a rocking chair;

He learned to love in the truest way, to selflessly care.

And tomorrow is another day.

photo from https://unsplash.com/search/aging?photo=ULz8ELesYBM

Expanding Upon Black Lives Matter

A controversial topic right now, in light of many tragic deaths, is the value of a human life, especially in relationship to another. All human life is sacred, from unborn children to 23-year-old drug dealers, no matter what we may think. All life has value, according to Genesis 9, “Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in his own image."

We all bear the image of God, especially fathers. Fathers reflect our Heavenly Father; we show love, give guidance, and provide stability in the lives of children. This is truly a blessed burden, to be held to such a standard. I myself struggle and fail with representing the perfect love and righteousness that my children need to have modeled to them. I don't always show them the right way to handle anger or frustration, or how to talk to others and love their mother. I miss dinner for work meetings, and I am not always attentive to their needs. But I do model for them a positive life as well, starting with confession and forgiveness. I lead the best I can and help them to be strong and confident in my (and my wife's) love and in the love of God. This is my duty, and this is the very beginning of "culture", raising our kids in the way they should go. PLEASE watch this video from Prager U; it unpacks a relatively un-discussed part of the conversation. Do I have a right to bring it up? Probably not, but this man does, and so does his father before him. You might not agree with everything he says, but it is hard to argue with statistics, and it is sure to leave you with some thoughts, which I would love to hear. May we continue to stand up for the value and dignity of every person, starting with our own children and those near and dear to us!

https://www.prageru.com/courses/race-relations/black-fathers-matter#.V17jISck_RU.mailto

Growing In, Not Up

I am married with two kids. 

It feels really weird to say that. 

I am a husband and father of two, and the implication of those words does not seem to correspond with my own perception of myself. 

I am married with two kids?! Don't get me wrong, I love it. I am so glad that this is my life. I wouldn't trade it for anything. But that doesn't feel like my reality right now. Add onto this that I am now called "Pastor" by a whole congregation of people... I went through the schooling, was deemed qualified, and got placed in the field, but does that make me "Pastor"? To be married with two kids, to be a pastor, means you're a grown-up, and I don't always feel like I am.

I think my "identity crisis" comes from the common conception that we "grow up". You outgrow the things of the past in order to become something new, something more, something better. That is not my reality, though. When I turned 18, I was called a "man" and no longer a boy. At the very least, Gillette mailed me a razor and told me I was (though beards are much more manly, am I right?). Was I not a man then, because I have a different perception today of what makes a man a man? (And no, a beard is not a requirement for being a man, although it is suggested.)

People told me I was loving and a good leader when I was in high school. I now have a much fuller understanding of what it means to love and to be a leader; does this mean that I was not really a leader in high school?

People told me I was smart when I was a child. I know so much more now than I did then; does this mean I wasn't actually smart as a child?

The real issue is that I have not grown up. Growing up is a lie, and it does not actually happen. There is not a future reality that is going to bigger and better than this moment. In this moment, I am as big as I could be, as much of a father, husband, son, Pastor, as I could be. And I will not out grow any of these things. Growing up means I am waiting for something bigger. But why should we be waiting for something else?

I am growing in. I am growing in to the qualities and jobs and titles I have been given. I was a husband from the moment I married my lovely bride, and I am growing into more and more of a husband. I was a father from the moment Abram was conceived, and I am growing into more and more of a father every day. I understand at a deeper level what it means to be a "man" as I get older, and I work to embody that, to more fully express that every day.

We grow in to the qualities, titles, and jobs we have. The task before us is not to grow up and out of what we once were, but to work at embodying more clearly and fully that which we already are. 

This does not give us license to be lazy. I don't have a free pass on maturity, just because I am growing into something more. Actually, the idea of growing up is what gives us a free pass. "Someday, when I grow up," you may say, "I will give up these habits, I will finally start doing such-and such." The reality is that we continue to mature, like a good wine, and there is no drastic change. It comes slowly, and with time. And this moment has an extreme importance in my development, in the process of me becoming more and more of what I have been created to be. 

I am married with two kids. I will never be more of a "Daddy" or husband than I am right now. And that is so encouraging. I am those things. And I will continue to be them, continue to grow in to the roles I have been given. It will be a process, and every day is important.

I don't want to discard who I am or where I've been. The "Daddy" I am today is pretty awesome, and I do not want to forget the wonders of being a new(ish) dad. I might not be equipped to parent a 14-year-old going through puberty, but I don't have to. Yet. I'll grow in to it. For now, I'll be who I am and do what God has given me to do.

Will you give up the idea of Growing Up? Will you give up the fantasy with me that there is something bigger coming? Will you embrace who you are right now, no matter how you feel, and be the person you have been made to be and do the things you have been given to do? 

I hope so. 

We are not alone

A poem for you, the reader. If you care to know what's behind it, a brief description follows the poem. I hope you know- you are not alone.

We are not alone

You made dust, you made dirt, finger touched all the earth.

Plants and trees, birds and bees: from your breath we have birth.

Lord God, you come to us, uniting God and man,

Inviting us to walk, in Spirit, in your hand.

No more walks, no more talks, we fell flat on our face,

Giving up our Garden, so ashamed, so disgraced.

You kept us from yourself, with a sword and a flame,

Took from us your Spirit, your presence and your name.

Decades spent in despair, we went years without you here.

When it seemed you didn’t care, that’s right when you drew near.

Jesus Christ, in our midst, healing some, touching all:

In his voice, we felt love; his presence reversed the fall.

When he died, to bring us back, we were left, alone once more.

But he sent the Advocate, to be with us forevermore.

Took away the orphan curse, Jesus made us God’s own.

Breathes new life into dirt, together we’re not alone!

We are not alone; we are not alone!

You gave us bodies, you gave us Breath.

Spirit indwelling keeps us from death.

Now and forever, free and alive,

God with us – Immanuel – has arrived.

(Recently, I contemplated what it meant that we have God's Spirit. Within us. Yet we are still separate from God... God is wholly holy mystery, unless such a being would choose to reveal God's own self and nature to us. As a Christian, I believe that God did do this, through Jesus Christ, the "Word made flesh." At the beginning of the Bible, God speaks, and the world is made. God's voice has power, and we find out later, and the beginning of the New Testament, that God's voice also has flesh and blood. Jesus came to make the unknowable God known. And more than that, Jesus promised us the Holy Spirit, so that we would never be without God's presence. This poem is meant to be a picture into what it means that we have the Holy Spirit, from the teachings of the Bible, especially in regard to the loneliness that we experience in the world today. It was originally a song, and maybe some day, we will be able to sing it together, because we are not alone!)

A Day Forgotten, A Life Lived

I had just gotten back from a trip to Guatemala, and I began to write down some of the memories I made, the highlights that hung on tight. After I had written down some of my experiences, I wrote the date of one experience: 3-4-14. And that's when it hit me.

March 4th had come and passed. And I didn't even notice.

To you, March 4th might not mean anything. But to me, it marks a day of life change. It marks a day that has marked every day after it. It is a day that requires reflection, demands my attention, demands my life be put on pause. March 4th is a day I have written about many times (here, and here, not to mention countless notebook pages), maybe the renewal of my self- and God-discovery through writing. I don't know what else to do with what goes on in my soul on March 4th.

I lost three friends in a car accident on March 4th (3-4-05), and ever since that truly terrible tragedy, every March 4th has been a reflective day in my life. I made a public promise to live my life remembering the lives of Dan, Carrie, and Lisa. I demanded that others do the same, patterning their lives in a way that would show honor and respect for those who no longer live. I commanded my community and school to live differently. And when I forgot to remember the day, I felt a tinge of guilt in my heart. I felt like a betrayer, one who has forgotten about those he has sworn himself to. Have I left their lives in 2005? Have I forgotten my friends?

I stopped writing for a long moment. My eyes continued on to the story I had just written. It was about Manuel, and Carlos. It was about visiting them, and their little village nestled between farmland and banana plants at the bottom of an active volcano in El Rincon, Guatemala. I could tell you the rest of their story, but that will be saved for another day. As I read over the words I had just written, I realized something profound.

I was living out the promise I made. I was doing exactly what I should have been doing. I was serving other people, showing them that their lives mattered, telling them that they are special. I wasn't focused on reserving a special moment for meditation, but rather I had refocused my life to accomplish a mission. I had promised to honor Dan, Carrie, and Lisa, by showing love and compassion to the world, especially those who need it the most. And I was doing just that.

It is easy to live in fear when we lose loved ones. We are afraid to forget what they meant to us, and miss important days (I remember January 3rd, too!). And these days can keep us from weeks and years of living our lives. What I realized is that I honor these people through living, and not through fearing. Maybe you have lost a loved one. Maybe one of your loved ones is the same as mine. Don't live in fear of forgetting. Live as a remembrance. And it isn't too late. You probably have some unresolved issues with that person(s). It is time to move on, and just change. Make the change that you wish you would have before they died. Live the life you have been given.

And if you forget the day that you used to fear, reflect on what you actually did that day. Maybe you will realize that you honored them not by removing yourself from the world, but rather by living your life for others. Or maybe it's time to change the way you live every day, and not just one day. Don't worry about a day forgotten, go experience a life lived.


How are you living (or going to start living) to honor someone you have lost?

A Hill to Die on

The Christian Church in America is up in arms. A flagship mission organization has issued a statement on homosexuality, and both sides are excited: some with anger and some with elation. Many are thinking about pulling support from the organization- and some already have.
"This is the battleground," people will say. "We gotta win the war on marriage; it's a war we must not lose!" Homosexuality is a direct, full on affront to God's ordained plan for the world. We cannot let it take place in America. America is doomed, damned, if homosexual marriage becomes a reality. It is a slap in the face to God, who designed things to be a certain way.

The reality is that the war on marriage has already been lost in America. It was decided long ago, and the church didn't do too much about it. It's something that Jesus actually does talk about by name, and not just by association: divorce. In America, people can get divorced without proof of infidelity, abuse, etc. They can get divorced on a whim, with no strings attached. It is called No-Fault Divorce.  See, the thing about marriage is it is not just a "union before God." Marriage is also a very public act, binding someone to another person and giving that person certain rights and responsibilities. It is an earthly covenant; some people make that covenant before God, while others choose to make it only before a judge. When no-fault divorce was legislated, the effect was that people were not held to their covenant responsibilities in America.

No-fault divorce destroyed the institution of marriage. It was exactly what the Pharisees were asking about in Matthew 19 ("Can a person get divorced for any reason??"), and Jesus said that was totally off from God's intended purpose. Jesus talks about marriage as something that binds one man to one woman, unites them for service and selfless love. Many Christians are debating the one man and one woman part. But I would contend that the American Church has by and large given up on the "binding" part.

The church is ignoring the conversation about divorce (not to mention pre-marital sex). It has become a norm in society and is not talked about much anymore. Many Christians are willing to die on the hill of homosexual marriage, but it is merely one side of a much bigger issue. If Christians want to die on the hill of marriage, that is all good and well, but please make sure it is upholding the whole of marriage. Talk about divorce, call people out for it, hold them accountable. Talk about pre-marital sex, tell children they are throwing away a precious gift from God, call out their parents for doing the same. Talk about pornography and how it is destroying how people view the opposite sex and totally objectifies men and women. And take it to the government! Demand that marriage actually be a binding covenant between two people: what God has put together, let man not put asunder. Demand that the multi-billion dollar porn industry be shut down. Please, don't stop halfway up the hill. Take your cross to the top, and die there.

But Jesus did not die on that hill. Jesus thought marriage was pretty important. Jesus thought a lot of things were important. But what he thought was most important was that people were separated from God and his love. People didn't know that their Creator cared. Can you believe it- God cares deeply for them, and they think he hates them! So Jesus came to this earth, met with adulterers, prostitutes, divorcees, and all kinds of people with shady lives. And he showed them God's love. He showed them that they had a place to belong. It offended a lot of "religious" people, because they didn't think those people were worth the love of God. They need to follow a bunch of rules to earn God's favor. Jesus had no room for those people- he actually refused to let them believe such a thing. He took his stand. Jesus called out people for refusing to care for those that God cared about. Jesus wanted sinners to know God's forgiveness and grace. That is the hill Jesus died on. The "religious" leaders condemned him because he opposed the rules, and they nailed him to a cross on the top of a hill.
I want to follow Jesus. That's the hill I want to die on. I don't want to give up my life for rules. I want to be so stubborn about people knowing that God has given them a place to belong in Jesus, regardless of where they have been, that it is offensive. Showing the unbelievable grace of God does not negate his truth. But, as Jesus proved, it is the only hill to die on.

Light in the darkness

No one would come here, unless they had to.
No one would walk these streets, unless they were forced to.
No one would live here, unless they had nowhere else to go.

It's depressing to live here. It's depressing to be surrounded by dirty cars, dilapidated roads, demolished and disgusting homes. If you can even call these homes. The one place with Christmas lights up- they never take them down, and not even half of them work. You can see, smell, taste decay. The forlorn face of a five year old, the toothless woman, the alcoholic father: it's dark here. And everybody knows it.

The neighborhood with the perfectly manicured yards, the brand new cars, the swing set in the back: it seems different. Christmas lights strung up perfectly, Rudolph's red nose flashing on the rooftop. The neighborhood where people are happy to live, not scared to go out at night, where people want to raise a family: it seems different.

But it's not. It's dark there, too. Families are broken, guns are smoking, and children are toking just the same. You just can't see it from the road. The decay is on the inside, while the outside seems squeaky clean. It's dark here, even if the neighbors don't know it.

Can we evade brokenness? Can we outrun darkness? Can we escape the hopeless place which is the face of this earth? Can we ever expect peace, or are we just waiting for the darkness to consume us? The sun burns bright for half the day, if we're lucky. But it's not enough. It can't burn through the darkness, through my darkness. 93 million miles away is close enough to warm my face, but not my heart.

I need the sun to touch me. I need the sun to move into my neighborhood. I need the sun to do away with the dirt, dust, dilapidation. I need light to shine.

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Into this brokenness, this darkness, Jesus moved in. Into this dust, this decay, Jesus took up residence. Not afraid of trailer parks or private drives, Jesus moved in.

He didn't want merely to do away with darkness; he wanted to touch it, to consume it, to overcome it. He came close. Jesus dwelt in the dirt, in the darkness, born in a barn and born in flesh. And the light shined. Did away with disease, defeated way, loved the loveless, gave hope to the hopeless, made the world clear for the blind. Destroyed death. Destroyed darkness.

God cares about people in darkness. 93 million miles was too far for him; he wanted to dwell with his people. He wanted to be Immanuel- God with us. He wanted those living in darkness to know that he delighted in them, to feel the warmth of the sun in their hearts, to see the light of day in their world. He wanted them to dream in the daylight, a dream of what their streets would look like with Christmas lights not just hanging up during the winter, but rather the Christmas Light hanging out there year round. Dwelling there, year round. He wanted them to live in the security of his hope, his love, his peace, his joy.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.
You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy;
they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest,
as warriors rejoice when dividing the plunder.
For as in the day of Midian’s defeat, you have shattered
the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders,
    the rod of their oppressor.
Every warrior’s boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood
will be destined for burning, will be fuel for the fire.
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given,
    and the government will be on his shoulders.And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end.
He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom,
establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness
    from that time on and forever.
The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this.

Isaiah 9:2-7

Tomorrow is the Resurrection

In my first week of being a "pastor-in-training" I got asked if I wanted to make a hospital call, to go and visit someone who was in the hospital. It wasn't going to be a normal hospital visit; Bruce was on his deathbed. He had less than forty-eight hours to live. He had a white blood cell count in the millions. He had a misdiagnosed disease that was now destined to destroy his life. Just a week earlier, Bruce was on the golf course, thinking he had a normal life, and now, he was surrounded by his children, grandchildren, wife, and siblings. Dying. "He could die tomorrow," the pastor told me, "he could die today."

I had never witnessed such an intimate, vulnerable, raw time with a family before. These people were gathered together to take their last communion with their father. They were staring death in the face, and they didn't know what to do. They were lost in emotion, fear, and pain. So they did the only thing they knew to do: run to the cross, cling to the heavenly Meal, the foretaste of the feast to come. Hold on to the promises of the Prince of Peace, even- no especially- in the presence of pain and powerlessness.

I saw Bruce in church last week. Three months after getting a two day death-notice, he is still living. He made it through three death sentences, and he is close to full remission. Walking, laughing, golfing, living. He willingly admits he has experienced the miraculous. But the changed heart is something that is not as seen. He has a new perspective on life, on God, and especially on death. 

Last week, the Church celebrated "All Saints Day." The Church celebrated all the Christians who have died in the faith, the faithful lives they lived, and the hope we all have in the resurrection from the dead. Bruce's family would have been celebrating his life, and their hope that Jesus would raise him from the dead. Instead, they were celebrating his life with him. But Bruce was still celebrating the resurrection from the dead.

"Tomorrow is the resurrection," he told me. "One day you die, and the next is the Resurrection." Bruce's words hit me. I was standing in the presence of a man who should have died but was living. A man who should be awaiting Tomorrow. And I was. His experience had brought him to the realization that we are all awaiting Tomorrow, whether we're in the grave or not. Our hope lies in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the one who died but lives. The one who has power over life and death. The one who can do anything.

We are all awaiting Tomorrow, when we will be renewed, in the presence of God, laughing, running, and jumping. We are all awaiting Tomorrow, when we will sit at the Table and feast, no more foretastes. We are all awaiting tomorrow, when we will be reunited with our loved ones who have died before us. Being touched by death made it evident to Bruce, and to me as well. We have hope, even in the face of death.

And, no matter where we are, Tomorrow isn't looking too bad.

Empty Pews

I had the opportunity to preach last weekend. I love preaching. I love being able to impact another person's heart and soul, to confront their perception of reality with transcendent Reality. It is a job I do not take lightly, nor should it be taken lightly.

The church I work at records sermons to put on the web and to give to those people who can't make it on Sundays. I found out this morning that my sermon didn't record right. In the process of finalization, it was all lost. So I'm going to have to re-record it, this time in front of empty pews.

People apologized for the inconvenience this would cause for me. There will be no energy, no feedback, no faces to engage. There will be no build up to the sermon with a wonderful rendition of "Build Your Kingdom Here", no prayers, no praise. Just me, and a microphone, and empty pews.

I look out on empty pews, reminded of the faces that filled them just a couple days before. And I wonder. Did my message change them? Did they live this Monday differently from the one before?
But, as I get ready, I reflect on reality. I do have a listener. I do have two ears and one heart listening in on this sermon, and they might be the most crucial. My own. I get the opportunity to impact hundreds of people's lives through my words, but if my own heart is left unchanged, it is all for naught. If the cause I communicate is so un-compelling that it does not change me, then I have no reason to expect that it should impact others. No reason to utter anything. Will my Monday be different from the one before?

So, I prepare for empty pews. I prepare for one person. The Preacher himself. I have been caught up in a Story, in a Message. And that story is changing my life. And I ask my hearers to go where I am going, too. That means when I tell others to love their spouses, I take that first upon myself. When I tell others to give back- I must take it seriously. We go together on a journey of faith; I am not special. I walk together with all others, asking them if they will come with me on a journey, a journey of re-formation, integration. A journey where we follow a Savior who first traversed the Way he leads us on. A journey with a Savior who bids, "Come, follow me." We go on a journey where the pews must be empty for the Message to move.

The Alpha and Omega (part 2)

Last week, I started a poem on Psalm 119. The psalm is an acrostic of sorts, representing all the letters of the Hebrew alphabet. And so it continues...


ל

Lord, your word and faithfulness carry on forever.
Laws of yours endure unto eternity, preserving my life for just as long.
Limits are put on everything- wealth, fame, goodness- but your commands are without limit.

מ

Meditating on your words, Lord, brings such richness to my life.
More wisdom, more insight, more understanding, more life: all mine because of your word.
My mouth drips with honey when I taste the morsels of Truth and goodness found in your Book.

נ

Now I can see on my path, thanks to the light of your Word!
Not only do I struggle from my own faults, others are doing their best to knock me off your path.
Nevertheless, I have set my heart on keeping your decrees, on sticking to this path forever.

ס

Sick, sinister, sinful people disgust me, and their intolerance for your Word makes me sad.
Sustain me, even though I am tempted to be like those people. You are my only source of life.
Seeing how you deal with sin scares me to death; I stand in awe of your sovereignty.

ע

I am your servant; help me to understand your command, so that I can carry it out.
I am doing my part, Lord. I am looking for you in all places and following your law.
It is time for you to act now, Lord. Punish the lawbreakers, and make my reward your Word.

פ

Pure light pours forth from the unfolding of your words.
Powerful waters permeate the dry desert where your words were lacking.
Please, Lord, place me in your presence, and let no sin rule over me.

צ

Tsunami-like zeal keeps me focused on your statutes.
Tsk, tsk, all you who ignore God's Word! Oh, I'm getting tired of saying it.
Tsk, tsk, you who are distressed and displeased! God's Word could be your delight!

ק

Quietly, in the night, even before the dawn, I meditate on your promises to save me.
Quell the restlessness within me, the fear I have from evil near me.
Quickly have I learned that you are near, O Lord, and your word is in my heart and my mouth.

ר

Redeem me Lord, buy me back, even the worst parts of me; I know you are compassionate.
Rescue me from persecution and pain. I know you use them for your purposes, but I am ready,
Ready and waiting for the fulfillment of your eternal promises. Preserve my life!

ש

Shudder at the power of people? Never. But I tremble when I hear the Lord speak a single word!
Shaking notwithstanding, your words bring me such joy, and I seek to obey them with all my heart.
Shalom, complete peace, comes to all of those who love your law, Lord, and keep your commands.

ת

The lips and tongue you gave me can do nothing but shout and sing, pray and praise your name!
These laws you left us sustain me in this place.
Though I wander like I'm lost, seek me out and find me, Lord. Make me yours.