In light of yesterday's events at the Boston Marathon I found myself experiencing a variety of feelings:  shock, sadness, anger, and a kind of malaise.  It was that feeling of malaise or melancholy that intrigued me.  As a people who are becoming accustomed to events like this we can become jaded and think this is just the way we live now.  We can detach and disconnect from our feelings and even the life around us.  But yesterday was not common place.  It is not normal for bombs to explode at a seemingly safe event resulting in chaos, injury, and death.  It is not even normal for these things to happen in some far-removed middle-eastern locale.  Ours is a world broken and in our brokenness we are turning on each other and wreaking havoc; brokenness seemingly becomes perpetual.  I do not want to get used to bombings at marathons, murders in schools and at theaters, planes crashing into buildings, and families ripped apart by violence.  I do not want to accept that this is a way of life.  I do not want to become jaded to the point where I am no longer moved by the pain and suffering of those around me.  If this day should ever arrive it will be then that I will have lost my heart and in essence, my humanity.  I believe God is calling us to reach out in love, forgiveness, and reconciliation.  There is a price to be paid.  Just ask Jesus.  And the answer given might surprise us for in the answer of pain and suffering we might find hope and resurrection and even how to be human for the first time.  Don't lose heart.

A Few Photos from Lawrenceburg

Recently, I was in the Amish community near Lawrenceburg, Tennessee. Here are a few photos from that afternoon in mid March.

Nothing to See Here...Move Along.

"Nothing to see here; move along." How many times have we read or heard these words in a book or in a movie? Nothing to see. Really? Move along. For real? There's so much to see that we better stay put if we truly want to see. We miss it though, don't we? We miss the significance of things until we are hit between the eyes. So, what do we do? We move along, right?

This is Easter Monday which for me is usually a day of reflection following a very harried week of activity leading up to Resurrection Sunday. I find that I wish I could "move along" and not think for a bit or wrestle with life's problems but Mondays seem to be made for wrestling. Nonetheless, I was reflecting on the first day of the week as recorded in John's Gospel in the New Testament. On that first day of the week the women and disciples of Jesus go the tomb where he was buried only to find the tomb vacant. They fear that the body of Jesus has been stolen. They are bewildered and afraid because when one expects to find death but death is absent there are questions to be asked. Perhaps the dead person has now become a ghost or worse yet, a zombie!

I'm intrigued, however, by the response of the first disciples who entered the tomb that day. John's gospel tells us they went in, had a look around and then went home. That has always struck me as odd and interesting. They went home. Now, you might ask, "Where else could they go?" Good question. I'm not sure what I would have done at that point but to return home doesn't seem likely. I might have begun a search for Jesus. Or I might have texted my friends or sent out a tweet or created a page on Facebook related to my experience hoping to garner an outlandish number of "likes". "If you've seen Jesus, like us on Facebook!"

Granted, I exaggerate. Still, there is something happening here. Was there really nothing to see so that the only response for the disciples was to move along and go home? Once again, this intrigues me. It shouldn't though.

We all retreat to our homes. Home is our place of safety. Home is our castle where we feel fortified against the ills of the world. Home becomes a fortress where we surround ourselves with all the comforts we can afford and hope that no one will ring the doorbell and disturb us in our domain.

So, returning home seems like the natural thing to do.

In his book, "Falling Upward," Richard Rohr writes: “The familiar and the habitual are so falsely reassuring, and most of us make our homes there permanently. The new is always by definition unfamiliar and untested, so God, life, destiny, suffering have to give us a push—usually a big one—or we will not go. Someone has to make clear to us that homes are not meant to be lived in—but only to be moved out from.”

For me it seems apparent that what took place on that first resurrection Sunday was so radically different and new that the only initial response was to hold to the familiar, the "tried and true" of going home. Yet, home is not where God wants to take us; at least not home in how we think of it.

Consider that Jesus never stayed in one place for very long and was always on the go, moving in and out of communities in ministry and service. The idea of a place to escape was foreign to Jesus. Now, don't misunderstand me. There were times when Jesus needed some alone-time to recharge and renew his spirit but it was always for the purpose of moving out again never to take up permanent residence.

New things often frighten us. The unfamiliar can seem daunting. Not knowing can paralyze us from taking necessary steps for our betterment. Through the resurrection God was seeking to push those first followers of Jesus out of their "comfort zone" into new territory to blaze a path for the message of grace, love, and forgiveness they were called to proclaim.

As people we are often pushed and prodded to further retreat into our homes and ourselves. Crime, cancer, wars, poverty, hunger, the unknown..all of these things stir up fear in us and sometimes the only thing we know to do is to go home and pray nothing will bring us harm.

If, however, we are to face life that pushes us out of the familiarity of our comfort zones we are going to have to step out of the house, leave the yard, move out onto the street and go forth and claim the life we have been given. Home should not simply be a place of retreat and isolation. Home is the place where we learn that we have permission to leave. Home is where we receive the inner resolve to move out and climb the walls and barriers that threaten to entrap us.

You can't go home again. I think this is true but it doesn't have to be a negative. The irony is that when we leave home we are preparing for another home where we live in the safety of God's presence.

Nothing to see here; move along. Don't worry. God will go with you.

Life in the Middle

It has been said that there is a time for everything.  There is a time to be born and a time to die.  Check.  There is a time for war and a time for peace.  Check.  I would much rather have peace, though.  There is a time to cry and laugh and dance and hug and embrace and love and even hate.  We live in such a way that we experience a variety of "seasons" to life. 

What I'm finding in my life is that the seasons of life are not separate from other times.  Often these moments or seasons pile in one on top of the other and it is then that I am left to discern which pieces of the puzzle to pick up.  Where do I start? 

 

What is the first piece that is always crucial in assembling a puzzle?  Some might say it's the corner piece.  Perhaps.  It could be, though, that starting in the middle might not be such a bad idea, especially where our lives exist.  Starting in the middle means that I do not retreat to the edges (corners) and isolate or disconnect. 

 

The middle of life is life worth living.  Granted, it is often more challenging living in the middle.  It is easier to disengage and move to the periphery of life. 

Sometimes the thought is that when we get "our ducks in a row" then we can make better sense of what it means to live.  In reality life is more about "chasing the ducks" and finding meaning along the way.  That is why it is important (at least I think so) to find the times of my life in the middle of my life.  How ironic it is for me to be speaking about the middle of life since I recently turned 50 years of age.  Yes, I know.  It is the middle of a century.  My children were quick to remind me of this.  And yet I can't help but feel that in many ways the best is still to come regardless of past mistakes, struggles, or decisions. 

Recently I was reminded that to find hope in the midst of pain is a gift.  At least pain tells me I'm alive.  Should not living be a gift?  The challenge is to let go of the past while embracing the present but notice that letting go means clinging to something.  We let go of the past and its hurts and griefs while at the same time holding on to the present.  There must be something to hold in order to let something go.  This, in essence, is life in the middle. 

Yes, there is a time for everything and there is timing to everything.  Sometimes timing is not what we think it should be but hopefully in that moment we discover the time to embrace what is before us.  There is a time to laugh.  There is a time to dance (I can't dance very well, by the way).  Maybe it is time to cry.  Through it all it is time to live.  It is time to breathe.  What time is it in your life?

That Which Connects Us

We've all been through tough times.  None of us are immune from pain, struggle, or brokenness.  The commonality of pain and brokenness binds us together as humans.  We may not all be in the same socio-economic bracket or drive the same car or live in the same suburban neighborhood but it's the reality of pain, struggle, even death that binds us and reminds us all of the fragility of life.  

I'm reminded in my own life of what was once strong and vital becoming weak and powerless.  My mother gave life to me, raised me, soothed my hurts as a young boy.  She calmed my aching heart when my dad died when I was ten years old.  She listened to me non-judgmentally when I was 11 and told her that I had stolen a toy car from a local neighborhood store.  She stood proudly as I graduated from high school; the first of her children to do so.  And when her life became too weak in that she could no longer take care of her own needs she trusted me to care for her, love her, watch over her.  She trusted me to make the tough decisions that pertained to her physical health and when she could no longer offer me wise counsel she became a child; my own.

Pain and struggle come to us all.  We might be fit and active today but there will come a tomorrow when the strong become weak, when the independent become needy, and when the proud are humbled.  It's what connects us as human-beings.

I'm reminded in the Hebrew Scriptures in the book of Isaiah of these words:  

"...those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength;
they will fly up on wings like eagles;
they will run and not be tired;
they will walk and not be weary." 
(Isaiah 40:31 Contemporary English Bible)

May you fly with the eagles.  May you run and not give out of breath.  May you walk the path that God has laid before you.  May you see your life in holy connection to those around you which ultimately binds us together even in the face of pain and struggle.

You Have Something to Say

It has been a while  since I last posted anything here, and it is not vital that one should always have something to say or write.  It is important, though, that one's voice not go silent because one believes there is nothing to say.  We all have something to say.  We all have feelings to share even when we want to keep those feelings close.  We all have thoughts and opinions.  Some of us have learned there is a timing in sharing thoughts, opinions, and feelings. 

What stirs in your heart?  What gives you cause to proclaim your station in life?  Society is filled with people wanting to be heard.  Just read the newsfeed on your Facebook page or give a few minutes to read the 140 word blurbs that your friends are "tweeting".  Introverts and extroverts alike want to be heard from on occasion, but the question that hits at the heart of matter is this:  are we saying anything of substance?  Do we make noise simply to be heard?  Are we like prisoners trapped in the dark cells of our souls clanging a tin cup along the prison bars?  Trapped.  Forgotten.  Can anyone hear us?  Will anyone help us!

I guess what I am seeking to say is that it is painful to speak and not be heard or worse, ignored.  It is painful to feel deeply, desire longingly, think openly and come to the conclusion that it does not matter what one thinks or feels.  Each of us by virtue of our collective share in humanity have value and worth and something to say about life and living.  Perhaps, what we say will not make any sense to the casual hearer but is it not better to seek to speak and risk being misunderstood than to give up and believe there is nothing worth communicating?

You have something to say.

Speak.  Write.  Share.

Be heard.

Spring at the Birmingham Botanical Gardens

                 

                                                                                               

Life Gets in the Way of Life Sometimes

You know sometimes life just gets in the way of well, life.  You live each day doing the things you think you should do and before you know it the things you want to do are pushed to the edge.  Yes, sometimes life gets in the way.  Should this stop us, however?  Should we just throw our hands up and say it's of no use; of course not.  We take each day as it comes.  We let each person that we meet become small reminders that we are not alone; that others are experiencing the busyness of life, too.  We seek to find our purpose in the midst of living.

Finding our purpose can be challenging, though.  Henri Nouwen has written that we live like overstuffed suitcases "bursting at the seams".  Perhaps life getting in the way is exactly what we need.  We only have this one life in which to raise our children, attend to our jobs, go to school, attend worship.  Life is going to be what we make of it.  Sometimes we need to step back and take a "life inventory" to examine whether we are making a life or life is making us.

In the days following Easter I am reminded that life changed for the followers of Jesus Christ.  And here's the thing:  life didn't necessarily change for the better.  Granted, their conviction of who Jesus was (and is) changed exponentially and their commitment to spreading the gospel was unflappable.  However, their lives often met with derision and ridicule from others who were opposed to their message.  Most of the followers of Jesus in the early days of Christianity died as martyrs for the faith.  Yet, they could choose no other life because they lived and breathed the message of salvation that they had experienced first-hand through Christ.

I guess you could say that life got in the way but what a life. 

How's your life going?