We've all heard the quote: "Good fences make good neighbors." Most can think of a half dozen reasons to back this up as well. The truth is a barrier or a wall is much easier than having to deal with someone relationally. But, every now and then instead of putting up a fence, we take one down. It seems like it only happens once every fifty years or so (maybe as a jubilee). Oddly enough, I think it happened this week somewhere in a corner of Lilesville. What will happen next remains to be seen. I have a feeling it will be interesting and I think it's just about time someone opened the door for folks to start working on living in community.
What about you? Is there a fence that needs to come down somewhere? In the meantime, it might be worth praying about. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven."
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Good news run
From all the early estimates, it was not going to be a good week. However, all that changed with a little jog and conversation on a Monday morning.
I love it when someone preaches Good News to me. I spend my week trying to be attentive to ways of doing that for others and for my community. It's my vocation. It's part of who I am. But, when someone offers that grace to me, my spirit is raised up on eagle's wings.
Two miles out from town, I decided to head back. I noticed a lady out washing her car and waved. As i turned to jog back, something told me to stop and strike up a conversation. So, I put the next 2 miles on hold and met a new friend.
She had lost her husband just 3 months ago, so it turned out to be be a great blessing to converse together. Maybe the exchange that morning was mutually beneficial. All I know is that I left knowing everything was going to be okay this week. If a new widow can stand in her yard and testify to how hard it's been, but also acknowledge she is not alone, I think my problems will work themselves out just fine. "Even in a room with a hundred people, we might feel alone. But, we're not. God is with us."
Now that's Good News.
I love it when someone preaches Good News to me. I spend my week trying to be attentive to ways of doing that for others and for my community. It's my vocation. It's part of who I am. But, when someone offers that grace to me, my spirit is raised up on eagle's wings.
Two miles out from town, I decided to head back. I noticed a lady out washing her car and waved. As i turned to jog back, something told me to stop and strike up a conversation. So, I put the next 2 miles on hold and met a new friend.
She had lost her husband just 3 months ago, so it turned out to be be a great blessing to converse together. Maybe the exchange that morning was mutually beneficial. All I know is that I left knowing everything was going to be okay this week. If a new widow can stand in her yard and testify to how hard it's been, but also acknowledge she is not alone, I think my problems will work themselves out just fine. "Even in a room with a hundred people, we might feel alone. But, we're not. God is with us."
Now that's Good News.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Divine foolishness
Sandy Davis was a modern day Jeremiah. After 3 years of attentive care to her husband as his body deteriorated to death from Parkinson’s, Sandy was diagnosed 6 months later with cancer. The next two years were spent battling for her own life, even to the point of remission. Yet, the siege had not ended.
In what would be her final year of life, Sandy decided to buy the farm.
Despite facing constant fatigue, a housing market that had bottomed out, fluid build up in her lungs, record foreclosures, the daunting task of moving, and a cancer that had literally spread everywhere, Sandy decided to place her mountain home for the last 20+ years on the market and buy a foreclosure condo near her old hometown by the coast. She wanted to see the sun that winter. She wanted to see the beach again. She wanted to keep living and planning for the future because she knew there was something to look forward to.
Now, it is no good looking for fairy tale endings in life. Sandy died of cancer without ever again really being able to enjoy that sand between your toes day after day. That is beside the point, however. She lived—and died—in faith.
For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why Aunt Sandy would want the last year of her life to be tied up with the stress and trouble of selling a home in a market that had crashed, moving/packing and leaving your closest friends, and investing in some foreclosed piece of real estate hundreds of miles away. Then, I stumbled over Jeremiah 32 and God’s promise that “houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.”
The reality was that Sandy was building on a hope far in the future. She didn’t expect to benefit herself so much from this foreclosed piece of land near the coast she bought. But, she knew all along that "houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land." That in some far off future, someone else would be seeing that sun, and walking that beach, and feeling that sand between their toes.
Jeremiah's field was to him what the condo on the coast was to Sandy—a sign of life, of hope, and a refusal to allow despair to be the final word. To act out our faith is not always easy. Sometimes we would like certainty and absolutes. But we fail to realize that certainty and absolutes are no longer faith.
In what would be her final year of life, Sandy decided to buy the farm.
Despite facing constant fatigue, a housing market that had bottomed out, fluid build up in her lungs, record foreclosures, the daunting task of moving, and a cancer that had literally spread everywhere, Sandy decided to place her mountain home for the last 20+ years on the market and buy a foreclosure condo near her old hometown by the coast. She wanted to see the sun that winter. She wanted to see the beach again. She wanted to keep living and planning for the future because she knew there was something to look forward to.
Now, it is no good looking for fairy tale endings in life. Sandy died of cancer without ever again really being able to enjoy that sand between your toes day after day. That is beside the point, however. She lived—and died—in faith.
For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why Aunt Sandy would want the last year of her life to be tied up with the stress and trouble of selling a home in a market that had crashed, moving/packing and leaving your closest friends, and investing in some foreclosed piece of real estate hundreds of miles away. Then, I stumbled over Jeremiah 32 and God’s promise that “houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.”
The reality was that Sandy was building on a hope far in the future. She didn’t expect to benefit herself so much from this foreclosed piece of land near the coast she bought. But, she knew all along that "houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land." That in some far off future, someone else would be seeing that sun, and walking that beach, and feeling that sand between their toes.
Jeremiah's field was to him what the condo on the coast was to Sandy—a sign of life, of hope, and a refusal to allow despair to be the final word. To act out our faith is not always easy. Sometimes we would like certainty and absolutes. But we fail to realize that certainty and absolutes are no longer faith.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
On the mantel (mantle)
A family of Hummels (each symbolic of an immediate family member), a three volume novelty display of antique books, a tri-fold picture frame complete with three children's photos, an assorted arrangement of sea shells wedged with broken sand dollar pieces, five candlesticks (2 of Jerusalem olive wood and 3 of polished brass), a large glazed pottery vase filled with decorative stalks of wheat, and a framed Italian watercolor of a seaside town centered above it all. What's this, you ask? A description of a fireplace mantel decorated by my in-laws.
The fireplace mantel originated in medieval times as a hood that projected over a grate to catch the smoke. Over time, as the placement of fireplaces moved to the wall, incorporating chimneys to vent the smoke, the term has evolved to include the decorative framework around the fireplace that can become the focal point of a room. In many ways, a mantel has become a decorative expression of ourselves.
In a similar way, I'm reminded of a mantle in the biblical sense. A different word, a different spelling, but the same pronunciation. The Hebrew word addereth, translated mantle, literally means "glory" or "cloak." It was traditionally a large, normally sleeveless garment made of rectangular pieces of thick material like wool, and adapted to a person's body not by cutting but by wrapping the cloth and holding it with clasps. It was a basic protection against the elements, a cover at night, and an important sign of dignity, status, and power as indicated by decoration, embroidery, dye, fringes, or tassels. To remove it signified a loss of status or transmission of power (often by receiving, touching, or grabbing the mantle). In the ancient world people seldom had multiple sets of clothing; thus garments were precious, expensive, and lasted a lifetime. A mantle was quite literally a symbol of your glory, a reflection of your identity. In one of the most famous biblical narratives, Elijah passes on his mantle to his disciple Elisha.
As I sit writing this morning, I'm staring at my own mantel. Just above the fireplace sits a Willowtree and a Hummel figure crafted of a married couple, a framed 10x13 from our wedding day and a 12x18 from a reception three years later, a picture of the "cutest kitty ever" and our first pet(now deceased), and a communion chalice and patten.
So, what's on your mantel/mantle? What does your cloak of glory look like? What does it say about you? And what will we pass on or transmit to others? Just something to think about. What are we decorating our lives with and what is the story it tells?
The fireplace mantel originated in medieval times as a hood that projected over a grate to catch the smoke. Over time, as the placement of fireplaces moved to the wall, incorporating chimneys to vent the smoke, the term has evolved to include the decorative framework around the fireplace that can become the focal point of a room. In many ways, a mantel has become a decorative expression of ourselves.
In a similar way, I'm reminded of a mantle in the biblical sense. A different word, a different spelling, but the same pronunciation. The Hebrew word addereth, translated mantle, literally means "glory" or "cloak." It was traditionally a large, normally sleeveless garment made of rectangular pieces of thick material like wool, and adapted to a person's body not by cutting but by wrapping the cloth and holding it with clasps. It was a basic protection against the elements, a cover at night, and an important sign of dignity, status, and power as indicated by decoration, embroidery, dye, fringes, or tassels. To remove it signified a loss of status or transmission of power (often by receiving, touching, or grabbing the mantle). In the ancient world people seldom had multiple sets of clothing; thus garments were precious, expensive, and lasted a lifetime. A mantle was quite literally a symbol of your glory, a reflection of your identity. In one of the most famous biblical narratives, Elijah passes on his mantle to his disciple Elisha.
As I sit writing this morning, I'm staring at my own mantel. Just above the fireplace sits a Willowtree and a Hummel figure crafted of a married couple, a framed 10x13 from our wedding day and a 12x18 from a reception three years later, a picture of the "cutest kitty ever" and our first pet(now deceased), and a communion chalice and patten.
So, what's on your mantel/mantle? What does your cloak of glory look like? What does it say about you? And what will we pass on or transmit to others? Just something to think about. What are we decorating our lives with and what is the story it tells?
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Sandy clay
Ever walked along the beach and noticed an assortment of sandcastles and fortresses darting the sandy desert? I had seen a dozen sandcastles that day, some obviously more elaborate than others. Yet, for some reason, this one stopped my eyes in their tracks. And for more than a few seconds, I found myself staring.
I think one reason it grabbed me was because this one was still in the process of being formed. I watched intently as what appeared to be a father and his young son were hustling around to assemble this multiple turret fort that appeared to be sinking and shifting even as they rushed to shore up the foundation. They had already piled up sizeable bucket loads of sand and wet them so they would be sturdier and easier to mold. Behind this fort, a trench had already been carved to hold water.
Perhaps the other reason I found myself attracted to this sand fortress was the location. Until now, all the other sand creations I walked past that morning were dry and set back securely from the oncoming waves. But, this odd pair was building their fort just feet from the shore on already moist sand. (Not to mention the fact that the tide was coming in, not going out). So, my second fascination was why in the world was this father wasting his time so actively and intently teaching this boy about building a sand fort that was only moments from certain ruin? What could he possibly be teaching this young boy in those wasted minutes that day? Perhaps, just how foolish we humans are when it comes to the need to build big and foolishly near to the shore. How we all want to make our mark. Doesn’t he care or know that in a few minutes this boy will be crying and everything they had worked at so tediously would be a complete washout? No wonder folks today are so careless. The wise man built a house on rock, the foolish one built on the sand.
A very wise woman once said: People see God every day. They just don’t recognize him.
Suddenly, I began to re-imagine my sand fort encounter on the shore. I realized what may have truly attracted me to that wasteful scene with a boy and his father fashioning a sand fort in the path of destruction. Maybe that young father wasn’t teaching his boy about the arrogant nature of men to build in extravagant and foolish ways and toil away aimlessly. Perhaps, he was really teaching him about the nature of God; who wants nothing better, and couldn’t be happier, than to simply delight in play with his children. Maybe he was actually illustrating a brilliant lesson of how we are co-creators with God. How we may shift and move sand here or there, but God adds his own touch and molds as he sees fit. Maybe he was actually sharing something with his son without even knowing it. Perhaps, he was actually revealing with sand and water that our world isn’t that perfect, and things can crumble all around us, but it’s all about how we rework and refashion what we have. And, as I watched the first wave surge up to them and seep over their mound of sandy clay, it captured a pond of water in their trench before it retreated again.
I thought to myself: Maybe they weren’t trying to build a fort to withstand the surge of the tide, maybe they were just trying to catch waves of mercy.
I think one reason it grabbed me was because this one was still in the process of being formed. I watched intently as what appeared to be a father and his young son were hustling around to assemble this multiple turret fort that appeared to be sinking and shifting even as they rushed to shore up the foundation. They had already piled up sizeable bucket loads of sand and wet them so they would be sturdier and easier to mold. Behind this fort, a trench had already been carved to hold water.
Perhaps the other reason I found myself attracted to this sand fortress was the location. Until now, all the other sand creations I walked past that morning were dry and set back securely from the oncoming waves. But, this odd pair was building their fort just feet from the shore on already moist sand. (Not to mention the fact that the tide was coming in, not going out). So, my second fascination was why in the world was this father wasting his time so actively and intently teaching this boy about building a sand fort that was only moments from certain ruin? What could he possibly be teaching this young boy in those wasted minutes that day? Perhaps, just how foolish we humans are when it comes to the need to build big and foolishly near to the shore. How we all want to make our mark. Doesn’t he care or know that in a few minutes this boy will be crying and everything they had worked at so tediously would be a complete washout? No wonder folks today are so careless. The wise man built a house on rock, the foolish one built on the sand.
A very wise woman once said: People see God every day. They just don’t recognize him.
Suddenly, I began to re-imagine my sand fort encounter on the shore. I realized what may have truly attracted me to that wasteful scene with a boy and his father fashioning a sand fort in the path of destruction. Maybe that young father wasn’t teaching his boy about the arrogant nature of men to build in extravagant and foolish ways and toil away aimlessly. Perhaps, he was really teaching him about the nature of God; who wants nothing better, and couldn’t be happier, than to simply delight in play with his children. Maybe he was actually illustrating a brilliant lesson of how we are co-creators with God. How we may shift and move sand here or there, but God adds his own touch and molds as he sees fit. Maybe he was actually sharing something with his son without even knowing it. Perhaps, he was actually revealing with sand and water that our world isn’t that perfect, and things can crumble all around us, but it’s all about how we rework and refashion what we have. And, as I watched the first wave surge up to them and seep over their mound of sandy clay, it captured a pond of water in their trench before it retreated again.
I thought to myself: Maybe they weren’t trying to build a fort to withstand the surge of the tide, maybe they were just trying to catch waves of mercy.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
How do you spend it
A remarkable milestone occurred this week. I became old. On Thursday, I officially turned 30. Everyone always wants to know what you did. How did you spend your birthday? Well, I awoke to my loving wife fixing homemade biscuits in the kitchen and a 30th birthday banner in the den. We enjoyed breakfast and spending time together. I spent an hour on the phone with my DS receiving guidance about how to address some fires in a congregation. Played tennis and basketball with my wife during lunch at the park, enjoyed a great BOLT (bacon, onion, lettuce, tomato) sandwich at home for lunch with a side of birthday cake from Sooweet Treats, back on the phone with a member about putting out a church fire, staffed a booth uptown with a few youth anxious to raise money already for another mission trip, ate with Circles of Hope leaders and shared a fun evening with them at FUMC-Wadesboro, returned home to a surprise phone call by a thoughtful youth and a building team friend, shared some more cake, introduced a friend to eating mangoes, walked to the P.O., and called it a day.
Why does everyone want to know how you spent your birthday? It's sort of a false question because the language implies that it's my day and I have a certain entitlement to what I do with it. In reality, every passing moment, and EVERYTHING at all is a gift. I've actually been thinking how Jesus was about 30 when his earthly ministry ended (others would argue 33). It's remarkable to consider what his life accomplished in such a brief span.
Maybe a better question to consider is what have I been doing with my life the last 30 years? I guess then, if you look at my day, it makes a little more sense and carries a little more meaning. I've found someone whose love is almost as genuine as God's and I'm learning more each day about what living that out in covenant community looks like, I'm learning to love myself and realize that God can use me but he doesn't need me, I've noticed that celebrating community and friendships is more fun than celebrating yourself, Giving always seems more rewarding than receiving, investing in the lives of young people is worth everything, and that when u share your heart at least some people will love you and appreciate you for being who you are. And that's not bad for 30 years. It's at least respectable. Here's to getting old. Happy Birthday
Why does everyone want to know how you spent your birthday? It's sort of a false question because the language implies that it's my day and I have a certain entitlement to what I do with it. In reality, every passing moment, and EVERYTHING at all is a gift. I've actually been thinking how Jesus was about 30 when his earthly ministry ended (others would argue 33). It's remarkable to consider what his life accomplished in such a brief span.
Maybe a better question to consider is what have I been doing with my life the last 30 years? I guess then, if you look at my day, it makes a little more sense and carries a little more meaning. I've found someone whose love is almost as genuine as God's and I'm learning more each day about what living that out in covenant community looks like, I'm learning to love myself and realize that God can use me but he doesn't need me, I've noticed that celebrating community and friendships is more fun than celebrating yourself, Giving always seems more rewarding than receiving, investing in the lives of young people is worth everything, and that when u share your heart at least some people will love you and appreciate you for being who you are. And that's not bad for 30 years. It's at least respectable. Here's to getting old. Happy Birthday
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Worth it all
I'm standing in the common room/kitchen of a camp cabin on the final evening of a youth mission trip with a young man from our youth group. Despite being active in our fellowship for over a year, he's never attended one of the youth trips. For whatever reason, he decided to attend this one (making a full week committment to serve on a building team almost 3 hours from home).
I begin asking him about the week: have you enjoyed it, what did you think about it all, are you glad you came? (It was a lot to ask someone who so rarely speaks up and who, having graduated, is moving into a new phase in life). His response was something I will never forget. One sentence: "It's better to work 5 hours a day for a purpose, than to work 9 or 10 to get some money." I could have cried. (I did later that night). This was coming from someone who usually found it necessary to choose work over church activities.
I had been encouraging our students to pay attention to where they saw God this week. I saw him in the common room of that cabin Thursday evening. Evidently, some of our youth had seen him too. I don't care what others might say - that was worth it all! Rest assured that God is doing something special in you.
I begin asking him about the week: have you enjoyed it, what did you think about it all, are you glad you came? (It was a lot to ask someone who so rarely speaks up and who, having graduated, is moving into a new phase in life). His response was something I will never forget. One sentence: "It's better to work 5 hours a day for a purpose, than to work 9 or 10 to get some money." I could have cried. (I did later that night). This was coming from someone who usually found it necessary to choose work over church activities.
I had been encouraging our students to pay attention to where they saw God this week. I saw him in the common room of that cabin Thursday evening. Evidently, some of our youth had seen him too. I don't care what others might say - that was worth it all! Rest assured that God is doing something special in you.
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