Bringing Faith to Life
Archive for October, 2013
Taking the long view
0The further away I am, the more perspective I have.
The closer I am, the more the seismograph is jumping off the paper.
Imagine the view God has. From His distance he has perfect perspective. Small perturbations. Small waves. Very little noise.
The further you can reach, the greater the distance from which to gain perspective. God has a very, very long reach. Grace has very long arms. He does not just step back in dismay. He stands at the distance from which He has perfect reach and perfect perspective.
He stays…in touch.
I’m on a co-Mission from God
1Worth and pay are two very different concepts, especially if you’re in the service industry. In fact “service industry” seems an oxymoron to me. Serving, you do for worth. Industry you do for pay. The two seem mutually exclusive.
I am forced to consider this as a writer and as an entrepreneur. I do what I do for the service I provide, but how do I fund myself? Do I just rely on donations? Do I have a right to ask people to pay? If so, how much? How do you put a price on healthy, whole, fulfilled? This is what I hope to offer you, but these are long-term characteristics. On down the road I hope you will experience all of these. Right now, you just read or practice what I “preach.” No money changes hands. My payment relies on your generosity.
Out of the goodness of your heart you “like” my blog or you “like” my page or you visit my website. You are an online statistic to me. It’s a way you say “thank you,” perhaps without even knowing it. By clicking, you indicate that this has value for you, that you’re glad you came and you will be back for more.
Not a lot of money in that. Just relationship. But it’s mutual relationship and it’s lasting. That’s worth, but it’s not pay.
This is much like the waitress who’s salary is so much less than minimum wage. She works for tips, so what she makes is totally up to her customers. What I make is totally up to my readers. They visit and may click or even comment and be tallied in the “statistics.”
But this is a business. It has cost as well as benefit. And the business is to make money. That’s what businesses do. This understanding has come the hard way for me, but I’m getting it. If I make money I can spend it to grow the business, perhaps even pay myself a salary, but mostly to reach more people with the long term gains I am selling. I want people to be healthy, whole and fulfilled.
But where does the money come from? If we’re just clicking and liking. Well, it comes from advertisers who hope you’ll see them while you’re reading the content of the blog or the webpage. They want to persuade you to buy their products while you’re surfing the web. Sneaky those companies. Oh, you don’t have to buy. You can escape scot-free, if you’re disciplined and don’t give in.
But most of us aren’t. Or at least we’re very suggestible. The image or slogan remains in our minds and suggests itself again when a purchasing decision comes up.
But what of the writer, the waitress, the server, the servant? The one actually provides the service. They get paid tips based on your generosity. They get paid bonuses based on performance. They are in sales, and salesmen earn a commission. Salary is small, but if they’re successful in selling, they get a reward. That motivates them to sell well, be persuasive, be charming and endearing and helpful. Are you smiling, too?
All good, if they believe that what they’re selling is truly what you need. They’re not just trying to sell you so they can make the commission. You can tell the difference. The good salesman, the one who sells you what you need at the right price, you come back to again and again. You have a relationship of trust. He’ll winnow down the choices for you and you’ll be satisfied with your purchase. That’s a service worth paying for.
So, I look at the “likes,” “click-throughs” and “comments” on the newsire for which I write. They are meager but growing. In this world, that’s what sells. And the editor says, we’ll pay you based on those. Great, I work on commission.
But if I really believe the product I’m selling will help you be more healthy, whole and fulfilled, then it’s worth it even if I don’t rake in any of those proceeds. You get them. After all, I’m in the service industry. I am on commission. You get healthy, whole and fulfilled. Who could possibly pay what those are worth?
God can. It’s what He longs desperately for in our lives, but He doesn’t force them on us. He lets us choose. I’m in the business of selling them. I’m on commission. I work for God. So much more than a salary.
What are words worth?
0So…much…information. So many words. Whatever you want, it’s out there. After a bit of searching and some perseverance, you’ll find what you’re looking for: instructions, images, insight.
As a writer I ask: Do I have the words you want? How will you know until I give them to you? And after you have them, you don’t need to pay me, you have what you came for. It’s the information age. Information comes cheap. Everybody will offer it to you. Take it and go.
Even if my words are good or helpful or wise, they are free. Their worth comes from what you do with them.
- take them to heart
- apply them
- be entertained by them
- share them
- sit with and make more of them
And I have no control over this. Now, my words are yours. You “pay me” by:
- coming back to read
- subscribing to the blog
- referring me to a friend
- bookmarking me
- “liking” me on facebook
You pay me by taking action on my words. And I will never know it. It’s a pay-it-forward kind of economy. A give and take and give away.
I work for less than minimum wage. And yet more than anyone knows, except the One who knows all hearts, sees all things, and has His own system of accounting.
I pray that the words of my keyboard and the meditations of our hearts might be acceptable to You, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. ~ Psalm 19:14
Flying standby
011 years
Why do we wait to book our flight?
- The fare might drop.
- My plans might change.
- I don’t want to get locked in.
- What if something better comes along?
Sometimes there’s no avoiding it. We have to travel at the last minute and we’re at the mercy of the airlines to get us on that flight. We are forced to fly standby.
I remember flying standby with my family when I was a kid. We traveled to visit my grandparents in Minnesota for Christmas where there was snow and cold and fun. When it was time to go home, we were shuttled to the airport where we sometimes sat for hours at the gate hoping to get on the next flight. Somehow, we always did, but it could be a very long wait.
I would watch the screen behind the airline clerk with our flight details and wait for her to call our names. There were no other screens back then. Just books and homework were meant to keep a kid occupied. So I learned to wait and to watch while I waited.
I watched the other passengers, happily engaged in their books or their conversations. They had their seat assignments.
I watched the airline personnel behind their desk, shuffling papers and boarding passes and occasionally calling up lucky passengers to offer them a seat.
I watched my dad pace back and forth. He was not a patient waiter. He was a frequent traveler and, I expect, knew how to work this system — which was probably why we were working the system. I waited and I watched, but I didn’t worry. Because my dad would handle this.
Stephanie with coffee is just glad to be aboard.
Now, years later, I am not a good flyer. I count on making a reservation and having an assigned seat. I’d rather book ahead, even if the fare might drop or my plans might change, just to avoid the worry of the watching and waiting. I don’t trust myself to be a smooth operator. I’m not a frequent flyer.
Perhaps this is why I have a seat in the sanctuary on a Sunday. Oh, it’s not reserved. Anyone can sit there. I don’t rush to get on board because there’s plenty of room. But I board this flight because I know it’s going somewhere and I want to go with it. It’s funny to think my Father has settled this for me, too.
As I left 9:15 worship last Sunday I noticed a crowd of people seated in the gathering area, eyes focused on the screens where the 11:00 service will be live-streamed. They were quiet and waiting in anticipation, satisfied to watch worship on the screens overhead. Why not go in and get a seat in the sanctuary? Why are they waiting to book their flight?
Perhaps for some of the same reasons we wait to book our airline trip.
- The fare might drop.
- My plans might change.
- I don’t want to get locked in.
- What if something better comes along?
For me, the waiting is way worse than the booking. In fact booking allows me to read my book and sit and chat happily with the other passengers in anticipation of lift off.
Isn’t that expensive? Yes, but Someone has forked over the fare.
Isn’t that risky? Only if you’re worried about a crash. We’ve got a Father who is handling the details so I need not worry. He’s not like my earthly dad who paces and works the system. He is the system. In the days without screens, perhaps it was just easier to see this.
Imagine climbing aboard and having the flight attendant usher you to the seat reserved just for you on an all-expenses-paid trip to the destination of your choice. Would you settle for watching on the big screen? Or would you go?
Home Coming
2I’m in a hole. The further down I go, the darker it gets.
Oh, I don’t know I’m in a hole. I’m busy with projects and activities, schedules and travel. I scurry to complete, scour to clean up, check for misaligned pieces and missing parts. Anyone who looks my way would likely call me capable, organized, got-it-together. Perhaps they would even call me successful.
Not until I look up do I realize the hole I’m in.
On a lovely crisp autumn Saturday, I drive down to Williamsburg, to the College of William and Mary from which I graduated 30 (yes, 30 :)) years ago. I gathered with friends and we shared the “where are you now” conversations.
They are not the conversations of 30 years ago. (where are you headed? what’s on your horizon?)
They are not the conversations of 20 years ago. (what job have you landed? do you have children? how busy are you? me too!)
They are not even the conversations of 10 years ago. (how’s the corner office? what about the stock market? have you saved for your kids’ college?)
No. Today’s conversations are about home-coming. Welcome back. So glad to see you. How has life treated you? We discuss achieving-children and ailing parents, fears and longings, habits and hangups, aches and pains.
Somehow, in the interim we have grown older. Time has passed. In this setting we don’t notice because we’ve gone there together.
One friend and I set off for a stroll across campus. It’s been a while. I want to see what’s changed. We walk past the old and familiar. The bricked buildings and the well-worn walkways. The statues of famous folks and the gaggles of students. Old and new campus and the lovely Crim Dell. We head to the sunken gardens, a central grassy depression where we used to sit and study or laugh and throw frisbees. Today there is an ugly white tent that covers two thirds of the area. It doesn’t belong there. Do we?
On leaving, I spot a curly blond-headed young man holding the hand of a smiling young woman. I know this boy. He was a student in the church confirmation class I taught 5 years ago. He graduated high school last spring. The twosome is walking toward us but doesn’t notice us. That is the way with young people. They focus on each other.
I am looking around at the campus of my youth. It’s the same old campus, same grounds, same walkways, but it looks different through eyes with thirty years more life. It is spectacular in a new way. Was it this way when we went there. How could I have missed it?
When I frequented the sunken garden, I felt protected by its beauty and was engrossed in learning. Now I’m free to wander. A bit less spryly but still wander. I’m not going places, like I once was. Not worried like I once was. Not even cautious like I once was, though I do watch my step. Because life is full of holes you can fall into if you’re not looking. My wandering has a new dimension; it’s guided.
Today, I look back on a life pock-marked with holes which, ironically, have given me better vision. When I stumble into a depression in the landscape, I look for the staircase out. It’s not a doorway that swings open for me to run through. It’s not a hand to haul me out and set me upright. It’s a staircase lit by the light of Christ. If I take a careful look, I’ll see that something’s amiss. Something is here that shouldn’t be here. Perhaps it’s a big white tent. Or a young blond boy. Or is it me? Wait, it’s Homecoming for both of us.
It’s what this visit home did for me. It reminded me of who I was. Not to torment me with “you’ll never be like this again” but to show me what’s worth keeping and what doesn’t belong. It’s not carved in brownstone, and yet it is. It’s both long gone and on-going. A continuous looking for the same staircase leading me out yet again. Leading me up.
Christ unfolded that staircase into every depth – he descended even to the dead – to provide a way out for us. I have known His sustenance in those places, even the greening of the grass and the sense of protection, but I’m meant to climb out. At His urging but by my own effort. Putting one foot in front of the other. But I must do so with reverence because upon this ground once tread the feet of Christ. And He carried a cross.
There are heavy, heavy indentations in those marble steps. But they have been unfurled downwards, so I might climb up. Paved a path for me to follow, and for generations to come.
***
Oh, I facebooked Byron, the young man I had passed, asking him what he was doing in “my sunken garden on my homecoming.” He replied, “The better question is what are You doing in My sunken garden on My homecoming?”
I said, “Glad you asked. Hope you’re having a great year. And in 30 years, I hope you’ll be strolling the old hangouts, too. Don’t look for me then. :)”
He replied, “Thank you very much! 30 years? You best believe I will be looking for you then!”
That kid knows Christ, too.
The truth behind fiction
1Structure is such an interesting thing. Rules, authority, discipline…we rail against is all. Leave us alone! Give us our freedom. Let me do what I want! You’re not the boss of me.
Yet, I look back at the times of real growth for me, times that propelled me toward who I am today, times that were real and tough and took courage. It was there that I sought structure. What do I do here? I have all this bubbling inside me. How do I make sense of it? express it? communicate it?
There I turned to people who did well at what I was trying to do. I asked, what’s your secret? And they didn’t share a secret, but a process or structure they had developed based on years of effort and experience. They helped me put things in their proper order, so I could see the big finish I was building toward. Not as a dream far off in the distance but as a place with stepping stones that would get me there.
The stepping stones were structure, meant to be negotiated one by one. Perhaps that’s why I chose the gravatar I did for the Kinesthetic Christian. Stepping stones across a small creek. Small round pillars showing me the way.
How often I’ve looked with longing across a raging river to the far bank, so lush and green and inviting, and dived right in. I’m a good swimmer after all. I can ford these waves, plow through the miles, endure the frigid water. No problem. I’m strong. I’ve got resources.
But for these successful people – effective, knowledgeable and consistently productive – it wasn’t just about the resources. In fact, just plowing through would have been disastrous. No, they had a method. And they were patient and generous enough to share it with me.
Their way couldn’t be my way, exactly. But their method, their stepping stones, could. These people who looked like they just waved a magic wand and up rose a miracle, actually took things step by step. Just as I needed to. But I was a long way off.
I look back today on the first run of my story. How naive and unguided I was to think it would work to take the reader by the hand and say, “Okay, in chapter one I’m going to teach you this.” “Now in chapter two I’m going to teach you this.”
Yet, my mentors accepted my naivete without chastisement and ushered me behind the magic curtain. There lurks the mess that proves too much for many, perhaps most. But the one meant to create has no choice. The creative is compelled to wade in and impart order and, in doing so, create something so dazzling that no trace of the design process may remain. The first strokes are brushed over. The outlines removed. The sketches tossed. All that is evident is the product – the story, the painting, the outcome – and it is gripping.
These masters of their craft have our allegiance. We’ll follow them anywhere, trust them with everything, even though we have no idea where they’re taking us. Because their track record is impeccable. The process, applied even perhaps in new and different projects, works every time.
I can imagine God working just this way. Laying down the structure and then orchestrating the details so beautifully that no trace remains. We live in the details, but the structure assures we will get to the destination. By this, we’re completely free to step from stone to stone. When we look back, it will look like a life lived out. A story told. Just as it should have been.
It amazes me that I can dive into fiction using the same structured approach I learned writing non-fiction. At least with non-fiction, readers know you’re stating a truth. In fiction, good fiction, only the story line shows; the truth is hidden. Perhaps fiction is the highest form of deception and the most complete version of truth.
Giving thanks today to Tom and Mary Lou for their guidance and belief in me and in something beyond me.
What’s hiding behind our platitudes?
1I really despise platitudes. They’re good for nothing.
Really, they’re dismissals. Things “we can all agree on” so we can take our attention away from where we don’t agree. I see their usefulness. I just don’t like them.
Don’t get me wrong. Most platitudes are nice expressions. Good things. In fact, they’re good by nature.
- God is with you.
- Let’s be generous.
- Let’s just get along.
- It’s all about ….relationships, love, etc.
- Let’s just agree to disagree.
My most recent disfavorite is “it’s all good.” That is code for, ‘It’s not, but I’m just not gonna let that bother me,’ or ‘I’m not gonna deal with it.’ Can we please just say what we mean? “I’m choosing to set this aside for now.”
Even the famed Serenity Prayer seems complicit in this:
“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.”
It proposes that my choices are only these: to accept things as they are or to change things to the way I think they should be. Understood, but not spoken in this is, if I can’t change it, I should just accept it and God, grant me peace.
But most of life is not either/or. Platitudes encourage us to live it both/and. But most of life, indeed the courage of life, is to live in the 90% or more that requires navigating in the middle.
- deciding what needs changing.
- asking, what can I do to bring about or move things toward the change?
- asking, what new approach is not being considered?
- considering, how can I relate to this discourse in a healthy way?
- reflecting on, is there something in me that unbalances me in the consideration?
- asking myself, have I looked fully, listened intently and prayed consistently about what God is showing me here?
Sometimes we are guilty of looking at structures and supposing they are fixed, or approaches and considering them exclusive, or patterns and imagining they are carved in stone. So, seeing no alternative, we punt. With platitudes. Instead of working toward a middling or as yet unseen, solution. That may take a very long time. Longer than we have. Perhaps longer than we live.
That’s the risk we take when we refuse to white-wash, but also when we are people who fast and pray. Like Esther did when the destruction of her people seemed imminent and she, an innocent member of the king’s court, lacked the courage which would risk her life. In this impossible circumstance she heard,
“For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” ~ Esther 4:14
Esther didn’t say ‘it’s all good.’ Which she could have said, for herself. She entertained the idea that God might be doing a new thing and she might have been cast in the lead role. The lines she was to deliver would take inhuman courage and the actions, resolute attention. She would need to walk on the tightrope of God’s will and not look down.
She could have stayed on the sidelines and let bygones be bygones, forgive and forget, and just gotten over it. But platitudes ring hollow when life and death is at stake.
Times such as ours require people willing to navigate the middle, with all its dangers, while holding steadily to the One who promises,
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland. ~ Isaiah 43: 19
What are you prepared to do?
0What you’re gonna do is written all over your face. Who are you kidding? Other than yourself.
Perhaps it has come from being in the fitness and motivation business for a long time, but I know whether you are going to follow through on your discipline or not. I can tell, just by looking.
Oh, finishers and the also-rans may both have purchased new sneakers or new workout shorts or a new swim suit. They may have both invested in some new gear, perhaps hand weights or a yoga mat or even large scale exercise equipment. But that doesn’t spell success. In fact, often the biggest spenders are the least compliant. They have fulfilled their responsibility (in their own mind) by making the purchase. As if to say, “See, I mean business. Look what I am willing to spend.”
No, people who will follow through come prepared. They may bring a pencil and paper to write down the workout. Or they have scheduled several sessions or cleared their schedule many weeks in advance. They have told others what they are planning. In short, it’s obvious their heart is in this.
I love those people. They are great to work with. The others…well, I feel like I am stealing from them. Perhaps even complicit in a lie they aren’t telling me, but I know. And this doesn’t come from reading their minds. It’s just apparent in how they behave.
How incredibly obvious must this be to God? When our behavior tells the truth while our mouths deceive. We act according to our heart condition even while our speech is conflicting? God knows our hearts. He reads them as He reads our minds.
Jesus said to them,“You are the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of others, but God knows your hearts. ~ Luke 16:15
His discipline is designed to get us to agree with ourselves. To look at doing, our failures and successes, and see if we aren’t tripping ourselves up. Not because we’re “not trying hard enough” but because our hearts aren’t on board. God knows our hearts. He wants our hearts. So our lives would be complete truth.
I look at the successful people I know and they come prepared. They do the homework and bring their questions. They’re engaged in the process and leave with a plan for the next step. They’re on the success path. It isn’t an accident. They do it on purpose.
And there may be no money involved at all. This counts as much for relationships and family life as it does for Fortune 500 companies. For sports teams and pick up games as much as for small businesses. We come prepared for the things we intend to follow through on. If we don’t, we need to ask ourselves whether our heart is really in this. Because it’s obvious to everyone else.
We may scurry through life hoping to live in a way that “qualifies us” for the heavenly selection. pick me! pick me! But I expect that God, who knows my heart, knows good and well whether I am ready. He has told me to be prepared, in season and out of season. Because I won’t know when the time is coming. He knows that is the only way to live a consistent life. Heart, mind and body together toward one objective.
When we falter, that’s just God getting our attention: Hey, your heart’s not in that! Then we have to choose whether we will prepare our heart or not. The rest will follow.
Push the button!
111 years
What if God has made everything possible: laid out every step, anticipated every possibility, shaped every turn, and all that’s left is to push the activation button?
So often I get caught circling a decision. Oh, I’m very aware of something that is demanding action. Perhaps it keeps prompting me, poking me with its warning finger saying, “I’m waiting…” But I don’t know what is right to do. Perhaps something needs saying, a situation needs righting, a change needs making. Or not.
I just need to resolve this. Make a decision, yea or nay. And be done with it. But I haven’t. My finger is hovering over the activation button. I can’t push it until I’m completely certain. Until I’ve researched it completely or I have the necessary resources.
What if God has lined it all up, performed every step but the last? He’s done all but the button-pushing. That one thing He has left to me. To push the button marked prayer, with complete abandon, come what may.
Saying,
Lord, I trust you. You have made all things possible, always working things completely for my good. Even though I don’t know what the resolution of this circumstance should be, You do and You have willed it. I hand over my reservations to You.
PUSH.
And there would be a mighty whirling, perhaps a grinding of gears or a great gust of wind, and what will be done is doing. We would be caught up in it, powerless to overcome it. Yet feel completely enveloped by its rightness.
Why do we wait?