Moving to the edge

Having been in ministry for over 20 years, I've not only lost count of how many "whatevers" I've done (sermons, Bible classes, retreats, weddings, etc.) but, quite frankly, I've grow weary of even trying to remember. Frankly, I've come to realize that those kinds of numbers don't really matter much.

After 20 years, experience informs us that the designations of "accomplishment" aren't nearly as compelling as the matters of "significance." The question that starts bearing down on the second half of ministry is not "what will I do next?" but "will I make a difference by what I do next?" The second-half question of ministry gets even more provocative when one considers "is what I'm doing now making a difference?"

There is a tempting illusion that "the next big thing is just around the corner," when in reality we aren't promised tomorrow and, generally speaking, today has enough trouble of its own. The question I should always be mindful of is "am I living it right, right now?" Is my life making a difference today? Jesus talked of being "salt" and "light" and being a "city set on a hill." All those things make a difference in the moment, in the right now. There is a sense of urgency in His words.

It is so easy and a temptation of the flesh to get into ruts or patterns and become nothing more than a ministry "mill" of function and activity. It is tempting to fall into the trap of satisfying people's needs rather than intensifying their hunger to know God and realize what it means to be known by Him.

After over 20 years of ministry, I'm asking God to move me out to the edge of true Jesus-type effectiveness. It is easy to "know the ropes" and do what you know is successful. But to "move to the edge" and seek being truly significant is a whole different thing to ask of the Lord and of yourself.

The "edge" is where you (as a Christ-servant or even an entire church) are less concerned about how much you receive from your calling, and care much more about what is given by your own surrender to God's plan.

Moving to the edge may mean saying "no" to a few things, including being in the center of attention. In His ministry on the earth, Jesus was God made flesh. Yet He didn't consider His "God-ness" (divinity) something which was His by right. He took the servant's role and changed the world. He moved from His divine position and went out to the edge of humanity -- and His move to the edge changed eternity!

Lord, if you are willing, move us to the edge and give us the faith to serve there.

Grind

Having never given much thought to it, the assumption was that it would always get easier. He'd been committed to a faith walk for more than 30 years and in all that time he'd never seen the challenges to his faith and subsequent behavior than he had experienced in the past 36 months. Like successive waves pounding on a strand of beach, he felt himself stronger, yet eroded at the same time. Wiser? Yes, beyond a doubt. Resolved? Perhaps, depending on what day you asked. Weary? Not only did he now have the understanding to not only identify his fatigue, he could easily articulate it. "Faith was demanding more and more of me," he would say resolutely.

Perhaps if we knew the deep demands of faith in the early days of our journey with God, we would not have the faith to step out in the first place. Yet, each young believer needs some sense of preparation; an awareness that while this journey may be "pleasant" for the moment, the fact of the matter is that it may get gruesome and rough. It may be a long-haul grind.

Jesus discussed something of the matter in Luke 12, encouraging His followers to "be dressed ready for service and keep your lamps burning" (12:35). This wasn't a matter of simply having a couple "d" cell batteries on hand. An oil and wick lamp took some effort in management. It was a labor but the reward was worthy of the effort as the master would return from a wedding banquet and "dressed to serve, will have them recline at the table and will come and wait on them. It will be good for those servants whose master finds them ready even if he comes in the second or third watch of the night" (12:37-38).

Some are nocturnal by nature. But even by that time of the night, we've been working hard to keep those lamps burning. We're carrying extra oil and it feels like it is getting heavier, not lighter. We've maybe tucked away a spare wick or two and we've been working at trimming it just right for some time. The flame has been threatened by the wind, maybe we dozed off for a few minutes and spilled a little oil. Perhaps we even needed to bum a little flame from another servant after ours flickered out for a moment, but we're still hanging in there... waiting on the Master and the pending return.

So who is the "faithful" one? Sometimes we perceive them as the ones with no problems, with no evidence of the grind in their lives. We hold them up in high acclaim and expouse their "smoothe" journey and declare that everyone ought to be like them. If they have scars, they keep them well hidden. Their "d" cells never appear to be in short supply. They maintain much attention and acclaim... those in the grind wonder if their missing it in the long haul.

Jesus asked, "Who then is the faithful and wise manager" (12:42)? Doing the Master's will is tough business. Like keeping that lamp burning, a faithful servant will always expect the arrival of his master, even when the oil is down and the flame is wimpy. The faithful servant will keep distributing the Master's goods, even when they don't feel particularly good at it (and rarely feeling worthy are they, because they aren't worthy -- but they are of high worth).

Why the grind? Why for some the journey isn't just a curving path, but steeply up and down with occasional ice patches along the way just to keep things interesting? Why the grind? Because, as Jesus says, "From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked" (12:48).

Great faith comes at a price. It doesn't take much faith to rely on the "d" cell light. It doesn't take much faith to live like the Master isn't coming home from the wedding feast for a long, long time. It doesn't take much faith to make sure all the other servants are being fed at the proper time. But keeping the lamp trimmed, the servants fed and one eye out for the Master is a grind... and don't let anyone tell you differently. This isn't an "easy" journey. The road to destruction is wide and well paved. This path is tight...

Watch your footing and buck up for the grind. There is a reason it is hard for you, you've been given much faith and to whom much is given, much will be required and for those who've been entrusted with much, much more will be asked. Take heart, deliverance may arrive when you least expect it... like a master coming home early from a party and then everything will clearly be worth the grind.

It's all good.

When Love Hurts

Growing older affords human beings certain things, not the least of which is an increasing awareness and perspective on the value of life and its fleeting qualities. Maturity also affords us the vantage point of risk in human relationships.

"How close can I afford to be with another human being?"

That is a risky question. The risk immediately is located in the perspective of what we are willing to let others see in ourselves. The ugliness, the shame, the personal failure all amount to a risk of being rejected and scorned by those we engage. There is a certain amount of maturity and grizzle in growing older that allows those things to "not matter so much anymore."

We realize that to have an authentic relationship with another person, they have to see our ugliness in order to appreciate our beauty. For like the former larvae emerging from the cocoon as a radiant butterfly, so we too must be willing to share the pathway of transformation from ugliness to beauty.

In our youth, we only want others to see our beauty, not our ugliness. We posture and position, placing certain social safety nets around us. Madison Ave. sells the "never let them see you sweat" philosophy and we vigorously apply pleasantly perfumed social "anti-perspirants" to effectively avoid our true detection. And sadly, it effectively works to the very detriment of truly deep and meaningful relationship.

A secondary risk of relationship is when we successfully navigate the waters of ugliness and find we're still accepted, though rarely acceptable. Those that remain through the former risk are the true friends; the relationships we long to pursue. And pursue them we do, if we have the faith.

Faith is required because it is here we find a love like no other. People who choose not to love us because we're "beautiful," but because we are really "ugly." I believe this is the way God chooses to love us. There is something transformational about that kind of love... it transcends the pain of our ugliness and in that transcendence, everything becomes "beautiful"... to God, to others and eventually even to ourselves.

But herein lies the rub. What do we do when those relationships are gone? Hence the fleeting qualities of life and the awareness that our growing older brings. Life is but a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away.

"How close can I afford to be with another human being?"

How can I afford to get close, only to inevitably watch them go away? Death has a sting. I just received a phone call a few minutes ago informing me that my former secretary and dear friend just lost her fight against cancer only an hour ago. A deeply meaningful friend of mine left a position of work that put him in my close proximity virtually every day just two weeks ago. Friends I invested countless hours and years of relationship with were left 1,100 miles behind when I moved to another state a few months ago.

"How close can I afford to be with another human being?"

When love hurts.

This is how close I am learning I must not only afford to be in my human relationships, but this is what I must be willing to pursue. If we consistently play "safe" in our relationships, whether to protect our illusive "beauty" or even to practically manage our "ugliness," we will never plumb the depths of real, authentic community and deeply meaningful relationship. We will find that we have never loved, for fear of ever really loving.

"How close can I afford to be with another human being?"

Close enough for when love hurts...

If Stones Cried Out...

The setting is known as "triumphal" as Jesus approaches the city of Jerusalem on the back of a never before ridden colt. From this moment on, it will look anything but "triumphal" from the vantage point of most followers of Christ. It won't be long and the Passion of the Christ will be in full swing. The mocking, the derision, the insulting, the spitting, the hitting, the scourging, the crucifying... it is not long now and many of these followers will be scattered and flee into hiding. Who will be praising then?

Approaching the place where the road goes down to the Mount of Olives, the crowds lining the edges of the narrow streets spread their cloaks on the ground and begin joyfully praising God for all the miracles they had seen. "Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest" (Luke 19:28-44).

Indignation gripping a few Pharisees demands a stop to this alledged blasphemy and dishonor... "Teacher, rebuke your disciples!" they demand of the Lord. "I tell you," he replied, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out."

My imagination always plays with this moment in the earthly presence of Jesus. It is a classic "what if" scenario... What if, the followers of Jesus had remained quiet or, if for some reason, Jesus heeded the recommendation of the antagonist Pharisees... What audible sound would crying stones make, anyway? I was once near a relatively small avalanche. It made an impressive noise. Being a native of So. California and a life-long surfer, I'm deeply familiar with the sounds of waves (even big ones) crashing on the shore. I have witnessed a mudslide or two and even once observed a rock slide... but I've never heard a stone cry out! Would it be a horrible sound? Brittle and low... a basso more than a baritone or tenor? (Would it be a "male" sound at all? Although as dense as we men are at times, it is difficult for me to conceive of a feminine stone, save perhaps a beautifully cut diamond). Would the sound be comprehensible praise or in a materiel language only other rocks would comprehend? I just wonder...

A recent occasion was less than "triumphal" for me and the other three in my foursome. Playing in a golf tournament in East Texas, we couldn't sink scoring putts to save our lives. At the turn we were lagging well behind most teams with little to no reasonable chance of catching the leaders. It would not be a "triumphal" entry into the club house for us.. Giving way to our certain scoring demise... I began taking in the beautiful surroundings somewhat at the expense of my competitive focus.

The morning rain showers had already given way to rays of sun and gentle breezes. During lunch period inbetween rounds the wind picked up turning the day into a blustery challenge and robbing us distance on all shots except for the occasional tailwind added stroke. It was then... on the 14th fairway, I began to really take notice of the sounds... the applause of nature was all around us.

Good natured shame and anticipatory derisive chiding forthcoming (losing against your peers is never fun... even when joyously acknowledging we had a great time -- which we did!) quickly began to give way to the "praise" of nature. Squirrels squeaking as they chased one another around the beds of leaves under the magnificent canopy of trees; Wind whistling through branches and leaves still heavy with moisture from the rain singing a steady chorus; Water droplets falling from the highest branches drumming softly on the moist ground below played a glorious symphony around us. Hawks, crows, robins and even a beautiful male cardinal all offered their verses of melodious praise to what was already being played. What a magnificent ensemble I thought to myself! All things in nature seemed to be in concert with one another. All building to a definitive crescendo in my own heart and soul. The moment became transcendent as I realized the limitations of my ability to perceive. There was praise transpiring at the insect level and at the micro level too that I could not even perceive and yet it was all working together in one melodious tune. Simply amazing!

Turning my eyes skyward to follow a well struck 7-iron, the clouds then captivated my attention. Could they be dancing before the Lord, I wondered to myself? What an interpretive dance of the 'music' being crafted around us. For me, it was gloriously superlative to even my best shot of the day -- a 300+ yard drive (I believe the wind was at our backs for that one).

Simultaneously, I was overcome. I simply had to stop and attempt to take it all in. Was this substitutionary praise for what the rocks would be doing were no one else available to offer it? I wondered to myself... then I spontaneously shared a few thoughts with my playing partners... Frankly, I'm not sure how they took it, but by now my heart and mind were substantially beyond golf. Though it did not seem to hurt my game any (that may offer a critical commentary on the status of my game).

How good it is... when nature declares the praises of the Lord! How sweet when we, as human beings and part of that creation, have the opportunity to witness such magnificent praise and actually join in it!

I encourage you to take time and listen... listen and observe the birds, the trees, the wind, even the clouds... all created by the Lord Himself. Each are capable of their own brand of praise. We will do well to not only observe it, but join in and participate with it. I shall join them... still wondering and waiting for the role the rocks will play. I'll be listening for the sound of the stones crying out. But if we continue offering praise to our Triumphant, I may be waiting quite a while to hear the stones cry out and ultimately, that will be just fine with me.