It is a difficult thing to pay attention to our conversations, relationships and simply being in the presence of others. We rely so heavily on cliche, routines and posturing. From the opening moments of human interface these relational habits kick-in with the force of the most powerful addictions. What do I mean?
"Hi, how are you doing?"
"Fine!" A pause and tilt of the head sideways. "And how are YOU doing anyway?"
"Couldn't be better," he lies.
Fake smiles--yeah I've been caught in a few. I had a guy in one church that would give me back my Guy Smiley smile every time I posed it.
Why can't we live in the real world? Why can't we truly mean what we say, interface with sincerity and truly touch one another with authenticity? You need to be seen today. Has anyone looked at you? Has anyone studied your eyes and your face and really asked about you? You need to be heard today. Is anyone listening?
Would you touch someone this day by making a real conversation--by being honest when you are with them and looking them in their beautiful eyes and expressing some form of human contact? Would you listen to someone who needs to be heard.Oh God, please help us love each other!
Sometimes when people tell me I'm special, I'm tempted to think they just like being loved. They just think it's cool being seen, or heard, or spoken to in the present tense and moment... Funny idea, isn't it?
For more on this topic click here.
Showing posts with label Promises. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Promises. Show all posts
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Higher Ways and A "Calling"
This morning I'll read of Isaiah having a vision of God in the temple. And I hope to wonder aloud about my own visions of the Invisible One, and the ways that One encouraged me to pursue. As a child, when I wanted to kneel in front of the sanctuary like the adults...was there something profound in that? I still remember it forty-four years later.
And then in a fifth grade Social Studies/Geography class I said for the first time what I wanted to be..."A diplomat." That vision remains a clear and distinct calling for me to this day. I represent one kingdom, while living in another--or several others.
And in church youth camp, "I want to be a missionary." And I have been, and always enjoy trips to teach or serve in other cultures. Then in college, "I want to run a retreat center and just help people be away and think about their lives and faith." Oh yes, I've enjoyed speaking at dozens of retreats and still hope a retreat director position could be a part of my future.
And in my twenty-second year, "I want to really know that I know the one I believe in. I want to be real." And those words drove me to a month of desperate seeking and a lifetime of longing.
Let me ask you: As you retrace your journey, where have you been confronted by the Holy One and desires that seem to come from those visions? Are you open to God's calling? What part of you resists? What part of you is still awake?
If you haven't read my novel The Runaway Pastor, you can see the first seven chapters by clicking the link above and on the right. And if you want to read my newest--BREAKERS--you can go to the post immediately below and find links to read it.
Grace and peace to you.
And then in a fifth grade Social Studies/Geography class I said for the first time what I wanted to be..."A diplomat." That vision remains a clear and distinct calling for me to this day. I represent one kingdom, while living in another--or several others.
And in church youth camp, "I want to be a missionary." And I have been, and always enjoy trips to teach or serve in other cultures. Then in college, "I want to run a retreat center and just help people be away and think about their lives and faith." Oh yes, I've enjoyed speaking at dozens of retreats and still hope a retreat director position could be a part of my future.
And in my twenty-second year, "I want to really know that I know the one I believe in. I want to be real." And those words drove me to a month of desperate seeking and a lifetime of longing.
Let me ask you: As you retrace your journey, where have you been confronted by the Holy One and desires that seem to come from those visions? Are you open to God's calling? What part of you resists? What part of you is still awake?
If you haven't read my novel The Runaway Pastor, you can see the first seven chapters by clicking the link above and on the right. And if you want to read my newest--BREAKERS--you can go to the post immediately below and find links to read it.
Grace and peace to you.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Beatles/A Hymn/and A Sunday Morning Pastor
Before reading, please sing the Beatle's Eleanor Rigby. Done? Make sure the chorus is playing in your head... All the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong? Ahhh, look at all the lonely people...(repeat last phrase.) So, are you with me now?
On Sunday mornings, I awake thinking of the day ahead. I rise earlier than most any morning of the week and go downstairs to my chair. I pray. I seek strength. I rehearse my sermon for the morning--sifting it through my spirit and hopefully a Greater One. And I feel alone.
Around the area where I live I know there are people, preparing to rendezvous with me at the "meeting place." (I always like that Quaker title better than "church.") I begin seeing their faces. There are parents who are hurting for sick or rebellious children. Elderly who are wondering if they can make it again ("Just hanging in there," I'll hear one say in another few hours). There are some couples struggling to stay faithful--or who have no idea their spouse is. There are teenagers doing life as if it feels like walking through deep oncoming water--or motor oil. There are single people wishing they were loved. There are people awaiting a diagnosis...cancer? There are children who will run to me for a hug. (God bless the children.)
And somehow in the strange way we do church, I will be a key to providing hope and healing to all of these.
I pray for the strength--the faith to perform.
I weep here alone in my chair, before anyone else gets up.
And I go to facebook hoping for a friend. One pastor after another has already been there, or drops-by while I am. Some mention sermon topics, others psych themselves up with a positive statement. And none of us comment on the others, or speak using the chat feature. We post no notes to each other. What can we say? We are storming the beaches today, and once again, we wonder if we'll survive.
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from ?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong ?
Father mckenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near.
Look at him working. darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Eleanor rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father mckenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
RECORDED BY THE BEATLES
And there is another text, this one by Edwin Hatch:
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
fill me with life anew,
that I may love what thou dost love,
and do what thou wouldst do.
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
until my heart is pure,
until with thee I will one will,
to do and to endure.
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
till I am wholly thine,
till all this earthly part of me
glows with thy fire divine.
AMEN
On Sunday mornings, I awake thinking of the day ahead. I rise earlier than most any morning of the week and go downstairs to my chair. I pray. I seek strength. I rehearse my sermon for the morning--sifting it through my spirit and hopefully a Greater One. And I feel alone.
Around the area where I live I know there are people, preparing to rendezvous with me at the "meeting place." (I always like that Quaker title better than "church.") I begin seeing their faces. There are parents who are hurting for sick or rebellious children. Elderly who are wondering if they can make it again ("Just hanging in there," I'll hear one say in another few hours). There are some couples struggling to stay faithful--or who have no idea their spouse is. There are teenagers doing life as if it feels like walking through deep oncoming water--or motor oil. There are single people wishing they were loved. There are people awaiting a diagnosis...cancer? There are children who will run to me for a hug. (God bless the children.)
And somehow in the strange way we do church, I will be a key to providing hope and healing to all of these.
I pray for the strength--the faith to perform.
I weep here alone in my chair, before anyone else gets up.
And I go to facebook hoping for a friend. One pastor after another has already been there, or drops-by while I am. Some mention sermon topics, others psych themselves up with a positive statement. And none of us comment on the others, or speak using the chat feature. We post no notes to each other. What can we say? We are storming the beaches today, and once again, we wonder if we'll survive.
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from ?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong ?
Father mckenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near.
Look at him working. darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Eleanor rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father mckenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
RECORDED BY THE BEATLES
And there is another text, this one by Edwin Hatch:
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
fill me with life anew,
that I may love what thou dost love,
and do what thou wouldst do.
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
until my heart is pure,
until with thee I will one will,
to do and to endure.
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
till I am wholly thine,
till all this earthly part of me
glows with thy fire divine.
AMEN
Thursday, January 22, 2009
A Ticket to Ride
One of the major themes of the novel, The Runaway Pastor, is commitment. Promises are broken, yet reconsidered. Vows are reassessed, wrestled with. A train whistle haunted my writing of the book.
I've ridden trains, mainly brief commuter trips, or European city to city hops. And all trains everywhere have one thing in common: Once you board and the train begins to move, you have no power to change directions on a whim, no matter how much you might feel the need for such a turn.
While in the former USSR, our children were very young. My wife and I spent a great deal of time planning what we would do, should the rapidly opening and closing doors of the subway cars somehow separate us from one another. The nightmare scenario-- which thankfully never took place--was the possibility of our children exiting at a station, and the train moving forward with us still aboard. Imagine the panic of a parent, longing for the train to return to the station, yet knowing there is no stopping until the next.
During my years as a pastor, I've had the privilege of helping a hundred or so couples promise their lives to one another. Are there ever moments in married life when one partner or the other believes they might wish to go back, and reconsider their vows? Of course. It is at those moments, that vows are like a train ticket. No couple wishes to pledge themselves to love, cherish, have and hold one-another for the "next little while." Brides and grooms hold a passionate belief that each is committed to forever. You buy the ticket planning to arrive at the other end of the line together. It costs you your sacred promise. And you board the train when you make those vows.
My October 1979 promises have landed me 29 years down the track, riding with the same love. We've gone through storms that rocked the carriage. We've struggled at stops here and there. But we bought one ticket, and boarded one train. I'm so grateful for the promise that has carried us to this place. Without our vows, we each might have criss-crossed our lives in short bursts one way, and then the other.
Where are you going? What have you pledged your life to? Why not land in the place you committed to go in the first place? To where have you purchased a ticket?
I've ridden trains, mainly brief commuter trips, or European city to city hops. And all trains everywhere have one thing in common: Once you board and the train begins to move, you have no power to change directions on a whim, no matter how much you might feel the need for such a turn.
While in the former USSR, our children were very young. My wife and I spent a great deal of time planning what we would do, should the rapidly opening and closing doors of the subway cars somehow separate us from one another. The nightmare scenario-- which thankfully never took place--was the possibility of our children exiting at a station, and the train moving forward with us still aboard. Imagine the panic of a parent, longing for the train to return to the station, yet knowing there is no stopping until the next.
During my years as a pastor, I've had the privilege of helping a hundred or so couples promise their lives to one another. Are there ever moments in married life when one partner or the other believes they might wish to go back, and reconsider their vows? Of course. It is at those moments, that vows are like a train ticket. No couple wishes to pledge themselves to love, cherish, have and hold one-another for the "next little while." Brides and grooms hold a passionate belief that each is committed to forever. You buy the ticket planning to arrive at the other end of the line together. It costs you your sacred promise. And you board the train when you make those vows.
My October 1979 promises have landed me 29 years down the track, riding with the same love. We've gone through storms that rocked the carriage. We've struggled at stops here and there. But we bought one ticket, and boarded one train. I'm so grateful for the promise that has carried us to this place. Without our vows, we each might have criss-crossed our lives in short bursts one way, and then the other.
Where are you going? What have you pledged your life to? Why not land in the place you committed to go in the first place? To where have you purchased a ticket?
Monday, October 27, 2008
Happy Anniversary to us!
Today is my twenty-ninth wedding anniversary!
Yesterday I preached about Jesus' echoing of the first commandment, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind." I'll spare you the entirety of the message, but...
The word we translate as "Love," has a much deeper root meaning than our U.S. version. The better translation might read: "Be loyal to the Lord your God..." Throughout the past 29 years, the romantic edge of our marriage has been wonderful. However, as in any relationship, sometimes romance waned a bit, or took a back seat to hospitalizations or family grief. There are seasons of life which are hard--agonizing even. But loyalty to the promise is enduring.
If you follow The Runaway Pastor to the end, you will experience this faith in, and commitment to the promise as I believe it is intended. One of the most important reasons I wrote this novel is to paint a picture of love as loyalty to a vow, verses "the way things seem to feel right now."
It is my hope and prayer that whoever reads The Runaway Pastor will come-away with a newly deepened commitment to stay true to their initial "I dos." A pastor who recently finished the entire manuscript has certainly testified to that outcome in his life, and for that I'm grateful.
Grace and peace to you.
Yesterday I preached about Jesus' echoing of the first commandment, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind." I'll spare you the entirety of the message, but...
The word we translate as "Love," has a much deeper root meaning than our U.S. version. The better translation might read: "Be loyal to the Lord your God..." Throughout the past 29 years, the romantic edge of our marriage has been wonderful. However, as in any relationship, sometimes romance waned a bit, or took a back seat to hospitalizations or family grief. There are seasons of life which are hard--agonizing even. But loyalty to the promise is enduring.
If you follow The Runaway Pastor to the end, you will experience this faith in, and commitment to the promise as I believe it is intended. One of the most important reasons I wrote this novel is to paint a picture of love as loyalty to a vow, verses "the way things seem to feel right now."
It is my hope and prayer that whoever reads The Runaway Pastor will come-away with a newly deepened commitment to stay true to their initial "I dos." A pastor who recently finished the entire manuscript has certainly testified to that outcome in his life, and for that I'm grateful.
Grace and peace to you.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)