The Road Goes Ever On and On

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference - Robert Frost

I was in the town of  Waxhaw with time to kill and a hankering for a cup of coffee.  There were two choices: Starbucks, located in a nearby Target, or Crossroads Coffeehouse, the local java joint downtown. 

Starbucks needs no introduction, except the biased comment that their roasting method is to burn otherwise good beans in order to ensure the highest goal of any chain, consistency.  You are probably familiar with their clean stores, soothing music and modern decor.

Crossroads, on the other hand, is found in an historic log-cabin.  They sell coffee roasted in small batches, cigars from a cabinet humidor and truly delicious, unhealthy desserts (home-made, plastic-wrapped, fried apple pies, gooey brownies, etc.).  The tip jar says, "Support Counter Intelligence."  They may be playing bluegrass or hard rock music. They do not wear green aprons and the place feels like your grandmothers house; disheveled, worn and dated, but cozy and welcoming.

At Starbucks I see individuals with heads down in a book, or more likely a smart phone or laptop.  The last time I sat on the front porch of Crossroads, everyone was smoking and the ash trays were overflowing and the conversation was too.  Not a laptop or book in sight.  Someone saw my "Harold's Diner" t-shirt (another no-chain joint) and asked me about it.  The talk flowed from there.  Discussions about Harleys, Pratt and Whitney jet engines (don't ask why, I really don't know), deer hunting, pissing in the woods, irritating people, and the list goes on.  Did I mention they have rocking chairs?  How can you not love a place with rocking chairs, tobacco smoke and colorful characters?  My need for caffeine was satisfied, but more importantly my need for the human touch was too.

I choose the road less traveled and it has made all the difference.

Life Isn't Fair

I had breakfast with two friends a few days ago.  I'm 42.  Both of these friends are retired.  They both had strokes.  They have both suffered financially because they cannot work anymore.  They still have health problems as a result of the strokes.  They keep the faith, and we encourage one another over morning coffee, but life for them is hard every day.

Recently,my family put our house on the market and sold it in 11 days, which if you know anything about the current market is quite a feat.  We found a new house and were able to do a double closing.  The new mortgage came through no problem.  Our realtor said she had sold 20 houses this year, and the only two deals that didn't have major problems or challenges were the house we sold and the house we bought.  As a result of our move, we are in the best financial shape we have been in our family life.  I could name detail after detail which points to the fact that God's favor was in our move.

How do you reconcile my current success with the hardship of my friends? Honestly, I don't know. Did I work harder than them?  No.  Does God consider me his favorite? Don't I wish. Do I know some secret that they do not? I'm clueless.  I think it goes deeper. Up to this point, my family has suffered a lot of financial hardship. Money has always been tight. But I can see where God used those 15 lean years to help us learn discipline and to overcome the common temptation to make money an idol. We (mostly me) have learned to master it, and not let money master us.  Not saying I'm Dave Ramsey, but I'm learning.  And we could have lean years again, as much as I shudder at the thought. But it won't be because I'm stupid with handling the money.

So what about my friends? What can God possibly be doing in their lives through these difficulties?  My heart goes out to them when I see them struggle to find the right word. It is painful to watch how two very successful, hard-working men feel useless now because they can't do what they used to do. 

All I know is that God still loves them, he is redeeming them, and God is focused on making all of us fit for eternity.  He is growing great souls in us all.  If that means suffering in this life, so be it. I know my new house could be gone tomorrow. But God is my rock.  My health could be gone.  God is my rock. This life is uncertain, but God is my rock.

Man, the Glorious Ruin

Last post I shared my personal experience as a hybrid, a mix of good and evil.  I'd like to borrow from Francis Schaeffer and broaden that idea.  It was Schaeffer, by the way, who coined the title of this post.

Glorious ruin.  A very keen insight into human nature.  We are created in the image of God, lovingly designed and bestowed with gifts and powers similar to our creator, if not in extent.  But the gospel also points to our fallenness, our need of a savior.  We are ruined by sin, disconnected from our original intent and purpose, which is to know God, enjoy him forever, and reveal his glory. 

Instead of living for the glory of God, however, we live for number one, numero uno, me, myself and I.  Our selfishness separates us from God, each other and ultimately ourselves, for if we are living for our own pleasure and not God's pleasure, we rebel against our fundamental reason for being.   Fulfillment never comes from a steadfast focus on ourselves, even if it is a passionate desire for self-improvement.

Most of us focus on one half of our nature and ignore the other.  Some folks have low self-esteem, seeing only the ruin.  Others succumb to pride and see only their own glorious potential or current greatness.  Oh, we might piously speak about our faults, but if we truly face the extent of our sinfulness, it would be devastating, so we pretend it's all "under the blood."  But we are a mix of both good and evil, and denying one or the other is unwise.

God sees us just as we are and loves us dearly.  He knows our potential and greatness.  He also knows our ruin, the ugly side we desperately try to hide.  When we view ourselves as we really are, we can grieve our fallenness, and graciously accept God's grace.  We can accept our humanity and limitations and live honestly.  We embrace the fact that we can't live up to our full potential every day.  There are just too many variables, known and unknown, in our heart, emotions and world to live on top all the time.  But the love which envelopes us doesn't draw away in the presence of imperfection.  To the contrary, it is the needy cry of our hearts which draws God close to us, not our accomplishments.

But we can also humbly accept the compliments given when we do come through.  When I'm there for my kids, when I say or do just the right thing for my wife, I can feel good about being the husband and father God intended me to be.  But my worth doesn't depend on my performance.  So the flip side is that when I don't come through, when I'm tired, grouchy, or just plain selfish, it doesn't devastate a fragile ego because I'm not trying to maintain a fictional character, the perfect, awesome "Me."

So failure doesn't destroy us and accomplishments don't validate us.  We are glorious ruins, people with faults but also  great strength; in a word, hybrids.  The pressure is off.  We are free to be real people, that beautiful, volatile mix of all things human.  We can receive both correction and compliments, avoiding depression or pride.  We can succeed, we can fail, we can be known by God and others and mostly we can live and take risks because the father will never stop loving us. 

The Power of the Table

I've heard it said that most of the ministry Jesus did was on the streets.  That would be true; he taught in the synagoge, but most of his miralces were done in the marketplace.  If you look at how Jesus evangelized, however, another interesting trend emerges.

The gospel accounts show that Jesus did most of his evangelism in the homes of average people while sharing a meal.  This stands in stark contrast to our stadium-driven events complete with internationally known evangelist.  Are things just different nowadays, or can we learn from Jesus' example?

I think we can.  Here are a few points I take from Jesus' use of the table:

1. He had the potential to wow the crowds with all manner of signs and wonders, yet curiously chose not to. When he did miralces, it was because he was "moved with compassion."  He chose not to perform, but to engage.

2. Presumably, as God, he could have chosen to utilize speaking abilities bordering on the magical; if he can speak worlds into existence, certainly he can hypnotize human hearts with words.  Yet again, he chose not to.  He spoke and he listened.

3. Not only was his intervention in our world incarnational (i.e., he became one of us), his ministry was incarnational too.  In other words, he ministered in very human, ordinary ways, such as while sharing a meal.

4.When Jesus chose the table as his primary means of encountering people, he sanctified the partaking of meals and fellowship and made it holy.  Even our reunion with God in heaven will be a "marriage supper," again a very regular, human event.

5. Finally, if we as the church empower the ordinary, everyday saint in the pew to engage their neighbors this way, perhaps we can see more impact in lives and number beyond the loud, flashy, event driven experience that creates spectators and not individuals.

All this is just food for thought.  Not saying I'm right, but I'm just wondering if there might be a better way to engage people than some of the ways we've tried.  Thoughts, replies, snide remarks and amens welcome (just be civil please). 

The Preaching of Pixar

Sometimes the best sermons are not preached in church . .

My two oldest kids went to church camp this week, so I've been having some awesome time with my youngest son James.  Among other things, James asked to see the movie "UP."  Being a Dad who likes to say yes whenever he can, I agreed.  I'm more drawn to your action/adventure genre, so I wasn't necessarily pumped about seeing it, but I was more blown away by "UP" than any thriller I've ever seen.

I cried in the beginning montage and I cried at the end.  If you haven't seen it, you should.  I won't give away the plot (though by this time most of you who are going to see it have seen it), but here is what I will say: what a sermon!  If pastors in churches across the country could preach this good, the church would be bringing 'em in more than the local cinema 24.

I was never reminded so strongly of how powerful human relationships can be.  I for one tend to be drawn to the big, the flashy, the "important" stuff like position or accomplishments.  But as one of the quotes in the movie goes, "It's the boring stuff that's the best."  The little boy character was referring to the times spent with his dad doing nothing in particular.  God has lived in relationship as three persons throughout eternity, and we who are made in his image find our greatest significance in relationships too.  Everything else in life is temporary, but people are forever.  Sometimes I forget that.  "UP" reminded me that if I live my life without love, I'm nothing (I Corinthians 13).

By the way, if you don't believe sermons can come from outside church, check this out: 

One day I walked by the field of an old lazybones,
   and then passed the vineyard of a lout;
They were overgrown with weeds,
   thick with thistles, all the fences broken down.
I took a long look and pondered what I saw; 
   the fields preached me a sermon and I listened:
"A nap here, a nap there, a day off here, a day off there,
   sit back, take it easy—do you know what comes next?
Just this: You can look forward to a dirt-poor life,
   with poverty as your permanent houseguest!"  Proverbs 24:30-34 (The Message)

I'll take God's word any way he wants to send it, whether it be through nature, Hollywood, a good novel or my wife and kids. 

Land of the Free

Yesterday I read something by Eugene Peterson (the guy who translated The Message) commenting about why he wrote one of his books.  In essence, he wrote the book (can't remember the title, sorry) as a pastor concerned about American Christianity.  His main idea was that those living in the land of the free and the home of the brave should have a bit more spontaneity in their lives.   Instead, we live very boring, secure, insulated lives.

I don't want to come across as a cultural critic, because I value security just like the next guy.  But you can't take all the variables out of life, nor should  you try.  That is where faith comes in.

As a man who is stepping over the threshold of middle age, I find myself bored in many ways.  Don't get me wrong; I don't want to hear that my wife has cancer or one of my kids has a meth addiction.  But does our demand to insulate ourselves from the messiness of life also insulate us from some of its blessings?  It can be like the couple who refuses to have kids because they fear bringing them into the world, they aren't sure they can afford them, or they just don't want to sacrifice a secure income. And then you miss out on one of life's greatest blessings, nurturing another human being to maturity. Yes it is messy, risky, and downright difficult.  But the payoff can be one of the greatest joys in human experience.

I want to live more like Jesus, who didn't have a place to lay his head, yet lived to the full, in dependence on his Father, bringing the coming Kingdom into the world now.

Modern life can confine and even imprison us in our security, simply because we don't want to take risks or mess with the challenges.  But I'm asking God to show me how to live with "responsible irresponsibility instead of irresponsible responsibility" (Mark Batterson, Wild Goose Chase).  I'm asking God to lead me from the secure slavery of Egypt into the unknown freedom of the promised land.

Snow Days

This past Tuesday there was snow in Charlotte.  The day was rich. I quietly woke each of my three kids, one after the other.  I did this on purpose to watch their faces, as wordlessly I opened their blinds.  Irritation gave way to wonder.  Life sparkled in their eyes as they focused on a transformed world. 

It was like watching the Pevensies walk through a wardrobe and find themselves in Narnia. You go to bed with the tired, old familiar world, and wake up in winter wonderland.  It is the closest thing to real magic our world has.

Snow days are so like the grace of God.  In some fundamental way, the kiss of snow on the world transforms not just the world, but you and how you see it.  God's gentle grace is just like that.  It doesn't change your circumstances, it changes you. 

Parenting may suddenly become the greatest privlege and blessing of your life, not just an everyday hassle. You begin to see the people your children are becoming.  Your marriage regains it's spark, not because of something your spouse has done, but because you see them with a new appreciation. And all because God gently changed your heart, your way of seeing and living.

Yes, the same old stuff lies under that blanket of snow:  the mud, the dog droppings, the broken toys.  But somehow, unless the child in you is completely dead, the world still has the power to take your breath away.  No matter how gray the world may be, God works with those whose inner child still lives. (apologies to Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth)

The Ultimate Life Coach

I'm all for books to help you be more productive, effective, and efficient.  Heck, I've read my fair share over the past several years.  As a Christian, I've also read quite a few books on personal and spiritual growth as well.  But I've discovered a serious problem: me.

Last Century the editor of a prominent London newspaper asked several famous individuals to write essays regarding what they considered to be the biggest problem with the world.  When solicited, G.K. Chesterton responded with the following letter:

    "Dear Sir:  What is the biggest problem  in the world right now? I am.  Sincerely, G.K.  Chesterton"

If you've read my blog or know me, you also know that I'm very serious about accountability within community; we all need people to help us judge our performance, effectiveness, and weaknesses because we have blind spots.  However, no human being can take the place of God as your ultimate life coach.  He knows the darkness of our hearts better than any man.  He also loves us with such ruthless abandon, that he will undertake the most serious surgical procedure to "save us to the uttermost." 

 As C.S. Lewis observed, God is the great iconoclast; he changes for no one.  We can manipulate or b.s. our friends, but we cannot manipulate or b.s. God. 

So what does this require of us?  Submission and trust.  When God takes all our props away, and we are left in darkness with nothing to lean on, not even the feeling of his presence, we submit and trust, knowing he is bringing a purity and strength to our lives no amount of self-help philosophy will ever bring. 

The Warrior Within

"The basic difference between an ordinary man and a warrior is that a warrior takes everything as a challenge while an ordinary man takes everything either as a blessing or a curse." 

 -  Don Juan, Tales of Power

 I have lived way too much of my life as an ordinary man.  I have looked at life as just ordinary, when everything that comes my way has the potential to make me a better man. If I really believe in the sovereignty of God, that belief should influence how I look at life.  Sadly, I'm guilty of being a practical atheist; I live as though God wasn't in the details. 

I pray that God gives me the grace to be a warrior.  May I learn to accept hard times as challenges to make me stronger.  Instead of reacting with frustration at difficulties, may I rise to the challenge and grow. 

Someone once said that the greatest test of a mans character is success.  May I rise to that challenge too.  Should God allow me a measure of success, may I remember that I didn't get there alone.  May I remain humble and generous, never forgetting what it took of God's grace and the generosity of others to get me where I am.

Finally, may I live as a true warrior, someone who puts his own life on the line so that others may live.  May I teach this to my children and be an example of a man who lived graciously, generously, and joyously, ready for the next challenge.

 

 

 

Strength Training

I don't appreciate the importance of time alone with God every day.  Some days I'm good at it, other times I tend to avoid it.  But I'm finding that it is key to my spiritual and emotional survival.

If I don't take time to hear what God says, it is so easy to believe the other messages that fill the world.  My days can become drudgery very quickly if time with  God is neglected.  Every day the world whispers it's subtle messages.  "God has left the building, Randy, and you are on your own."  "You've got to make your own way, pal; pull strings, make life happen."  "You are one among over 6 billion.  There's nothing special about you."  Time alone with God re-centers me in the reailty of his love, his care, his presence and my value to him. 

So it's not so much that I need new information every day; I need to be reminded of who God is, why I'm here, and how God sees me.

Psalm 18:22 in the message reads,  "Every day I review the ways he works."  This is vital for survival.  My relationship to God is my life, which is changing and dynamic.  Every day brings different but constant stresses and challenges that chip away at the eternal truths God speaks into my life.  If I do not take time to re-establish and renew myself in his presence, I can lose direction, purpose and a healthy emotional place simply by neglect.  It can cost me my life. 

So indulge me while I finish this post.  The love of my life is calling.