Changing Church

Last year sometime, Nancy and I decided we would really embrace a church home. We picked a place and began to plug in. And I have to say it's been... awful.

I don't have nearly as much free time. Instead of sitting on my couch eating ice cream and watching TV I'm at church. OK, I still sit on my couch, eat ice cream and watch TV, but I feel way more rushed.

I've started to like the people there. I miss them when I travel. I worry about their kids, ailing parents workload and financial situations. I've even said prayers for them. Do you realize how much anxiety there is in carrying someone else's burdens?

What's worse is the people there seem to care about me! They ask about my life, how I'm doing and seem to want a REAL answer. It's bizarre.

Our decision to find a church and love it has come with a price. We have had to make different decisions about time, vacations and lifestyle. Entering into the lives of others and sharing our story with them has been a lesson in vulnerability and acceptance.

The decision to love a church, to love people, is always going to come at a cost. What I'm learning though is it has been good for me, challenged me, encouraged me and grown me. I care deeply for those people and something about that has changed me. And it's good. 

Hard Conversations

Nancy and I have had a couple of hard conversations this year. She didn't say it this way, but the bottom line is I haven't been caring for her.

I have a tendency to bounce through life oblivious to how my actions impact her and I can make impulsive decisions without her input. My insensitivity can leave her feeling ignored and unconsidered.

I would never intentionally do or say something to hurt her. Few of us in healthy relationships would. But the problem comes when I quit paying attention, when I don't consider how my actions, attitudes and offhanded comments might impact her.

The greatest threat to a healthy marriage isn't incivility, it's indifference. It's when we become so comfortable we get complacent.

We are constantly changing beings and as a result, there is always a need for study. I need to understand both who she is and who I am so we can better walk together.

The beauty of 27 years together is we could have these conversations in an environment of safety. There wasn't ever a worry anyone would run away. Even in the tension, we're going to wake up in the same bed in the morning.

As difficult as the conversations were, they were the easy part. The real challenge is still in front of me... change. 

You Can Take the Reservation...

Recently, when Nancy and I showed up to pick up a rental car, we were told we'd have to wait at least an hour and a half. Bewildered, I looked around and realized we were surrounded by people, weary from a day's travel, also waiting for their cars.

There were about 30 frustrated travelers wondering why the reservation we had made wasn't being honored. And more were streaming in.

Nancy and I started to laugh. We'd been traveling all day and we were ready to find a hot meal and a warm bed, but we were stuck and there was nothing we could do about it. We started laughing with the people around us too.

We laughed with the lady who's flight had been canceled earlier in the day, the guy who was meeting his boss for the first time and the guy who just kept saying, "But I had a reservation..."

We started cheering for people when their names were called. I remembered this Seinfeld skit, found it on Youtube and played it for everyone in the room.

Finally, an hour and 45 minutes later, when my name was called I threw my hands up and yelled, "I got a car!" Everyone cheered. After I got my keys I ran around the room, giving high fives and yelling, "Everyone gets a car today! Don't give up! You! Will! Get! Your! CAR!"

I think the word Nancy used was "obnoxious" when she talked about it later.

It was awesome!

I realized later, this could have been a totally different experience. If I had been alone and not with my best friend, I would probably have been miserable. But we decided to laugh and that changed everything.

Our attitudes changed. The attitude in the room changed. Frustrated and angry people began to laugh and were encouraged. Not because the situation changed, but because we chose to point out the absurdity of our circumstance.

It was a good reminder that my attitude doesn't only impact me, it impacts the people around me. My mood has "ripples" that bump into others. The impact of those ripples, for good or bad, is up to me. 

Real People

Nancy and I have been spending this week at a conference with people who work to care for missionaries. I've been here before and it has become a craved experience. But I've had trouble putting my finger on exactly what it is about it that feeds me.

I think it’s pain.

OK, I’m no masochist. I’m not looking for pain and I don’t think anyone here is either. But in this group there are some people with a profound richness of faith that humbles me. They are deep and loving and joyful. They are knowing, yet affirming and at peace.

And it’s displayed by people who have experienced and witnessed profound depths of loss and suffering. They are people who have spent years of their lives living with and walking beside people in their brokenness. Still they overflow with hope.

Sometimes I think we don’t believe our own hype. We pray no one scratches too deeply below the surface for fear they may find what’s really in there; a lost desperate person, just trying to connect faith with the realities of a fallen world.

But these people, people who have descended into darkness to rekindle sparks in a shattered heart, a journey no one escapes unscathed, these are real people. Light and love oozes out of them without a hint of pretext or platitude.

Somehow God can use the pain we experience to bring us to a deeper knowledge of him. We all know people like this. Many of us long to be like them. Few of us have the courage to follow them to the cross. 

Mundane Faith

I read some stories recently of people who lived amazing lives for God. They started orphanages, sacrificed wealth, gave up personal comfort and celebrity for the advancement of the Gospel.

We read those stories and think, God was honored.

I sat in a meeting last week with three ladies planning an event. They are bright, gifted, funny and extremely capable women. There they were wading into the minutia of what food will keep 30 kids and adults happy on a weekend retreat. For a guy with no attention to detail and who's happy with cereal three meals a day, it was mind numbing.

And God was honored.

We read stories of people with profound faith, courage and love. We marvel at them then quickly pull out our measuring stick to see how far we come up short. What we  miss is God is also honored in mundane faithfulness.

He's honored by the woman preparing another Sunday school lesson, the dad coaching t-ball, the student wrestling with test prep, the single mom trying to find her son's shoes, a board of elders debating new carpet or new toilets, an exhausted pastor at a loss for his next sermon.

And he is honored by three women planing a retreat for weary missionary families, longing for rest... and good food.

We are asked to be faithful with today, nothing more. Will anyone ever write a book about it? Probably not. But God is no less honored. 

Radiated Pain

Nancy and I were munching on some popcorn the other night when she said, "OW!" She felt around in her mouth and looked in the mirror to see if she chipped a tooth but couldn't really tell. It wasn't until the next morning when she tried to eat that she realized something was really wrong.

At the dentist she showed him which tooth hurt. He tapped it, scraped it and blew cold air on it. Nothing. She said, "I know it hurt earlier. It had to be that one... or maybe this one." When she tapped the second tooth, it moved and she winced.

The problem with nerve pain is it can radiate. The pain spreads out into areas not really damaged. You can't tell where the real wounding is.

This can be true with emotional wounding as well. It's why we come home, after a bad day at work, yell at our wife and kick the dog. They aren't the ones who made us mad, it's just our anger didn't have an outlet at the office.

It can be why we make decisions that are self destructive. Why the cycle of abuse continues. It's why a spouse would return to the abuser.

From the outside it's bewildering. Why would an normally intelligent person, be so out of control of certain areas of his or her life? It's because the source of the pain has been buried so deeply, walled off so completely no one is ever going to get close enough to exposed it.

People wonder how Christ can love everyone. How can grace be available even to the wicked? I think part of it may be in his ability to see past the radiation and into the source of their pain. He sees the hurt and longs to heal us.

Healing is there if we allow Christ, sometimes through the help of others, to poke around and find the exposed nerve. Like a visit to the dentist, it can be painful. But, in the end, it stops the radiation hurting us and the people we love. 

Good Church?

"Why do you like your church?" It's a a pretty common question in Christian circles.

You get all kinds of answers like, "The preaching is awesome. I love the worship. The children's program is amazing."

Those are all good answers. Messages that provoke change, worship that leads us to the cross, our kids being challenged and encouraged are all healthy things.

I freely admit I've had problems with Church, so I'm not sure I'm the most objective observer. But something in those answers feels wrong. It's like we're saying, "The people who serve me, do their jobs well." Those answers free me of responsibility.

I wonder what it would be like to hear, "The people there show me who Jesus is."

I think what we miss is:, people will put up with poor preaching and sorry music if they know everyone in the building loves them.

I can leave Sunday morning inspired, uplifted... and unchanged. But if you love me enough to challenge, counsel, care for and confront me, it's hard to stay the same. If you take the time to hear my story and love me enough to enter into it, that has the potential to change everything.

This doesn't free church leadership of working hard to shepherd well. All it means is, if we do our job, theirs is a lot easier.