The Parliament 2015: A Reflection

“Let all be healthy, let all be happy, peace, peace, peace.” This was the opening prayer of the first session I attended at the Parliament of the World’s Religions, a chant that the Hindu people say every day before meditation. The session, “Environmental Ethics: World Peace and Harmony through the Environment” didn’t necessarily blow my mind in regards to environmental ethics, but I was struck by the simplicity of that prayer and his advice thereafter: “The best way to get peace of mind is to pray for others to get peace of mind.” And there it was, over and over again – this reminder that Christianity is not the only religion where love for thy neighbor is of the utmost importance.

A love for others was everywhere, and I suspect, within most if not all 8,500 participants at this incredibly diverse religious conference in Salt Lake City, Utah last week. Among our daily themes: the widening wealth gap and income inequality, women’s rights, the indigenous people, war/hate/violence, climate change, and emerging leaders.  Yes, here one could truly sense the presence of the sacred, and a holy and genuine love for Mother Earth and all of her residents.  And I must say, this commonality of love, compassion, acceptance and forgiveness was refreshing, a vibe that I did not expect to grab me as much as it did.

You know, there was a time in my life when I looked with disdain upon the world’s religions outside of Christianity. Yes, an attitude of superiority and self-righteousness prevailed and I judged persons outside of my religion as “lost” or condemned, for no other reason than they were not “believers in Jesus Christ” as in: Christians.  But one need only spend half a day in this setting to seriously reconsider that assumption. Perhaps, I’ve been the lost one all along!  Professor Kristen Johnston Largen from Gettysburg Lutheran Seminary jokingly said as much when pressed after her presentation “Rethinking Salvation: Images and Metaphors for Salvation in a Pluralistic World.” A man asked her, “Who are the lost ones?” And without hesitation, she quipped “Christians!” I am sure we can all think of plenty of instances where we’ve been on the wrong end of bad behavior by those who claim Jesus as Lord. She rightly went on to qualify this jab at herself and the rest of us Jesus followers by noting that it is, after all, Christians who “are the ones in most danger of doing evil in Jesus’ name…” Truth be told, if you’ve ever judged or thought yourself better than another because of what you or they believe, then it ought to be painfully obvious that we are all lost. Thankfully, it is God who does the finding, not us.

The Parliament helped me to ponder the notion that Christianity does not reign supreme. But, fear not little flock, I’m still Christian through and through, and Jesus is my homeboy or rather, I am Jesus’ homeboy (to be theologically sound.) But if you find those five italicized words above offensive or you are feeling a bit uncomfortable with the idea that all these other religions can also point us to the God of love, then you may want to consider finding something else to do, because I’m pretty sure you’re not going to like the rest of this either.

The conference opened up for me the truth that faith communities are wise to not only seek collaboration and common ground inter-denominationally (between others within their own religion) but perhaps it is also in the world’s best interests that all of her different religions need to come together as one as well. The Dalai Lama believes that “compassion and tolerance are a sign of strength, not weakness,” and I am learning slowly and with great discomfort that he is right. For instance, I came to Salt Lake City with a tremendous amount of disdain for Mormons. Facing my own skepticism and negative perceptions of various systems of belief (especially Mormonism), I have been pressed from within and out that tolerance is hugely important if we are to practice what we preach (and when I say “we” I mean the collective “we” of most major religions): the daily practice of love, compassion and forgiveness towards ourselves and others. Therefore, if acceptance and love for the neighbor is the end all/be all goal of Jesus’s ministry (he taught us to “love our haters” for cryin’ out loud), then tolerance has got to be a noble step in the right direction, in my opinion. So, (swallowing hard), despite my unswerving mistrust of Mormons, I will (try, really, really hard to) tolerate Mormonism going forward.

Finally, at Sunday’s plenary on Climate Change, I really resonated with Brian McLaren when he said “something is trying to be born among us” and “the movement we need must transform organized religions into organizing religions” – two statements that I need to hear now as well as those who, perhaps like me of yesteryear, may find themselves believing their religion is right while others’ are wrong. For me, the “something trying to be born” has got to be a collective abstinence from this insatiable need to be right, this irrational need to be welcomed to the afterlife party while self-righteously looking down our nose at those who we think ought to be left out or lost for all eternity.

Because when I walked around all of those weird, joyful, kind, gracious, curious and open-minded people like me these last several days, I don’t have one ounce of doubt that somehow, someway, God has room for all of us. I also believe that God isn’t ready to let our world destroy itself, and that despite our best attempts to trash this planet, the Divine One, whatever name we assign Her (yes, I am aware I gave God a female pronoun), is begging us to think and be constantly aware that our choices, big and small, have the power to bless or curse, build up or belittle, love or hate this life we’ve been wonderfully and mysteriously given. So it’s time to “nurture the compassion, not the aggression within” as Jane Goodall so aptly put it. Yes, it’s time to live like Stanislov Petrov – a U.S.S.R Colonel who saved us all one unforgettable September night in 1983 when the universe decided to pull a prank and tempt nuclear war (The Man Who Saved the World); Petrov, a human being, just like you and me, didn’t listen to the noise, didn’t follow protocol, didn’t give in to the aggression, but instead when it mattered most, went to the depths of his humanity and listened to his heart.

Belief or unbelief, the life we’ve been given is our daily opportunity to extend to one another grace, harmony and peace, salaam, shalom (peace, peace, peace.)  I (try to) do this in the name of Jesus, what about you?

Let's Not and Say We Did...

In addition to running the half marathon as part of the "Facing my Nevers" campaign, I have also taken up something else...receiving personal training at the gym. I've been an on-and-off gym member over the last 15 or so years, and for the first time ever, I decided to shell out a few extra dollars a month to ... suffer. It seems odd I know, but with the quote "To get what you've never had you must do what you've never done" still reverberating in my brain, I figured it was time to see what I'm made of.  Turns out I am a big wuss.

Personal training is kicking my butt. I meet with my personal trainer once a week. It sucks. I try and psyche myself up each time, and each time I find myself barely surviving through the grueling 30 minutes of lifting, crunching, core and anything else she feels like putting me through that day. The go-to exercises I've been doing for years? I've been doing them wrong. Things I generally avoid because they hurt too much? Yeah, those are really "good" for you and I've been doing them every week now. As a pastor, I really pride myself on not hating anything or anyone. But I hate these workouts. I hate not knowing how much longer I have to do any particular exercise and just suffering through, feeling totally inadequate in my manhood and muscles. But what I really loathe are pushups (done correctly mind you) - pushups are evil. Hate, hate, hate pushups.

Yes, it's quite comical how much of a "sassy" client I am. I whine. I curse under my breath. I feel elated when she says, "One more" or "switch" and when she says, "Let's do five more" I instantly think to myself, "Let's not and say we did." In those moments, "no pain no gain" finally makes sense and yet I still hate it all the same. But it is exactly those moments that I now recognize WHY we all need to add some extra accountability in our lives to accomplish our goals - because if left to our own, we'd quit. We'd settle for "almost" and justify our "not quite our best" because no one else is around to say anything to the contrary.  No, if all of my cursing about pushups and tricep kickbacks and squats and burpees and exercise ball crunches is going to be worth it, I need to step out of the leader chair and do what I'm told. As much as I hate doing more than one pushup, when you're committed, you're committed.

Sounds great, but up until yesterday, I wasn't really all that committed, to be honest. I realized that when I was called out for not working out at the gym more often - and didn't really feel all that guilty. I know that my 30 minutes of hell is supposed to get easier if I work on these same exercises throughout the rest of the week post-personal training day. But... I haven't. Nope. Instead, I've just kept doing my usual thing of going out for a 3-5 mile run a couple days a week. Respectable right? Heck, I even did a half marathon! Yet, jogging, according to my personal trainer, will "kill" me in the end. I don't say this to throw her under the bus by any means, but her education and expertise in the area of nutrition and fitness has led to the conclusion that after a certain point, running really isn't doing "enough" for for a person's over all metabolic health. She wants me to give up running (gasp!) Say what lady?!  I was offended. My whole world started to spin. I kind of felt like Will Ferrell did when he took a tranquilizer to the jugular in Old School. Mind. Blown. Turns out the one thing I've been doing, and only doing, is actually keeping me from getting where I want to go. Again, if I want to maintain and stay where I am, then long-distance running seems to be a perfectly acceptable exercise of choice. But if I want to see new results, and tone up and be in the best physical shape of my life - the only running that passes the test is interval training - sprinting intermittently - in addition to weight-training and ab-work (another thing I loathe). And as much as I want to write her off, quit the gym and just do my thing, I know she's right.

So, I find myself at a real crossroads. I love running and the clarity it brings, the feeling of ticking off

a few miles before work, of crossing the finish line after a long race. But I also feel like I need to commit to personal training and give this a worthwhile try while I am paying the money for it, squeezing it into an already very tight budget. I know I am not overweight or in any do-or-die health risk scenario, but I also know I can do better.  And I really don't want to hate pushups for the rest of my life.

All of this makes me wonder about how much we all do this sort of thing with the rest of our lives. I wonder how many of us say we want to change or be more like Jesus or lose weight or stop obsessing about technology, but what we really mean is:  I want that kind of change to happen only if it means I can continue to take the path of least resistance.  I wonder what would happen if we stopped letting ourselves off the hook and actually put ourselves in a position to achieve our best by giving our best? What would that look like for you? What's the one thing you could or should give up so that something else might better fit in your routine? What's something you've always wanted to try but haven't yet? What's stopping you? For me, it's saying "No" more often to unhealthy habits and whining, and sticking it out when things are really tough or when things are not going the way I'd like them to. It's saying yes to my goals, commitments and aspirations even though I would prefer to do the same ol' same ol' because I am more comfortable.  I know I am capable - completing a half marathon has given me that confidence, but now it's just a matter of will - do I really desire the kind of change that only comes with taking the road less traveled?  

Running Grateful

This Saturday I am doing a first: competing in a half-marathon race. That's 13 miles - consecutively. I've been running for about ten years now, having completed a 5k and 10k several times - and by this time next week I will be able to add one more distance to that list.

But this race is different. Much different. Not only will this be the most miles I have ever attempted to run at once, but I'm pretty sure the Stillwater Half Marathon is not exactly a "half-marathon for beginners." Of course, Stillwater brings me back to memory of where I proposed to my wife some 13 years ago. I remember taking her up these steep steps to an off-the-beaten path place along the bluffs, where on a very chilly February 1st I dropped to one knee and asked the best question I have ever asked in my life. Yes, Stillwater and I have some roots, and just as those bluffs didn't disappoint in providing an awesome view for me and my fiance, I am sure they won't disappoint on kicking my butt on a 13 mile run 5 days from now. To which I of course must say: Bring. It.

You see, I signed up for this ridiculous race not because I have a love for extra long-distance running per se (I like to run, but 13 miles is a bit excessive) but I signed up because I needed a new challenge. And I needed and wanted a new challenge because I realized that being able to do such things as half-marathons is a blessing. It's a blessing simply because I can (attempt) to run 13 miles. Both legs are in working order, I am relatively fit, I had the money for registering and above all, the guts and openness to try something new. 

The difference about this race as opposed to so many other ones I've run is that my motivation goes deeper than just needing a goal to keep me running and exercising. My motivation has taken on a face (or several for that matter). I'm running because of my friend Carl Nowlin. I'm running because of my friend Tony Fair. I'm running because of my friend Chip Gunsten. I'm running because of all the people whose lives have inspired me to not take life for granted, but to give all, to take risks, to push and persevere and go for something bigger than yourself. I'm running because it's the least I can do with the life I have left in me. I'm running because many simply cannot do the same due to either disease or because their lives were cut short by circumstances outside of their choosing. So this one, while being an awesome motivator to keep me in shape over the last few months, means something much more to me.

With all this in mind, I've decided that when the hills come, I may have to walk. On most race days, my goal is to keep running, no matter what. I've ingrained myself to believe that in order to call the race a success, I will have to run the entire thing. But that's not how life is, is it? No, sometimes, when the going gets tough, you have to walk. You have to take baby steps. You have to give everything you've got to move a finger or blink an eye or squeeze a hand to communicate you're still there. So, I'm giving myself permission that when this race becomes painful or extremely challenging, I will let myself catch my breath and walk.  I'll do so thinking of all the hard times Carl and his family now face as Carl lives with ALS. I'll think of the many times Tony, a full time Dad and seminary student, had to go to the hospital or get chemotherapy, enduring through the hardest of times, yet who always kept moving forward, a little bit at a time and usually with a smile and positive attitude about it all. I'll walk up those mountainous hills, calf muscles burning, oxygen depleted, thinking of scaling that Dead Sea mountainside with Chip, who was living with cancer but whose life of peak physical health and mental determination propelled his body upward even though his cells were continually staging an attack within to bring him down. I'll think of Dave Rundquist, who loved to run but was unable to at the end of his life that had been cut short by a brain tumor. I'll probably think of Louie Zamperini, too. Yes, I'll keep moving forward, a little bit at a time, trying to keep a positive attitude throughout it all. I don't expect a finish in record time, or to complete this with personal bests in my splits  - but I will finish, and I will do so with the help of my great cloud of witnesses... hills and all. I don't know what to expect on race day other than a handful of painful stretches, beautiful views, adrenaline, joy and everything in between (rain is forecasted), but by the all sufficient grace of God, I'm going to finish this thing. 

Run with me. I'm not asking you to physically run alongside me... I'm asking you to do something like this in honor or memory of your loved ones -living or otherwise - whose lives have inspired you. I'm asking you to face a never, to tackle a first, to do something crazy and ridiculous, not because you feel obligated, but because you can - because you have life in the tank. Do something fun with the reasoning "why not?" or  "just because." And give - give of yourself in a way that costs you something. Give because so many continue to give life everything they've got through cancer, ALS, brain tumors and all. Give without being fazed by illness, tragedy or life circumstances that suddenly change. Give money to good causes and Go Fund Me charities, ministries, people and research that seek to make a positive difference in the world. Give time to your family and friends and do something you love, or something that scares you or boosts your energy - and do it all with gratitude for the life we've got - because if I learned anything in the last three years since Tony and Chip died as well as countless others who have expectantly or unexpectedly completed their mileage on earth, it's that life (and death) is unpredictable.  

Therefore, there's no time like the present to live like we're truly alive. My first shot at a half marathon comes this Saturday, May 23rd at 8 am - your prayers, positive vibes and encouragement are welcome.  Your friendship and love mean more than I can describe here - so may you know that above all, I'm running because I'm grateful.

Life as a Power Ballad

It's time to break out your classic rock or 80's rock (do we consider the hairbands 'classic' yet?) album of choice. Perhaps it's Journey, or maybe a little Lynyrd Skynyrd,  Led Zepplin, Aerosmith, or Boston - it doesn't really matter, but know that this post comes from the soul, like that awesome Jimmy Page guitar solo on Stairway to Heaven.

I am immersed in change at the moment. By accepting a new challenge and change in call to Word of Peace in Rogers, it's not like I didn't see it coming. I prepared as best I could for the onslaught of change, but your mind's eye and actually living it out are not always congruent. I learned this the hard way when I accepted my first call to Big Bend and thought 3-5 years there would be a piece of cake - but actually living it out proved to be much, much more difficult for me. All things considered, I tend to be a person who likes to mix things up and experience frequent change. If there were ever a spectrum of change, I know I tend to skew on the "liking change" vs "not liking change." Change is, after all, one of the only two certainties of life outside of the birth canal - the other being that we will all one day die. So I really have no excuse to complain or be anxious about the change around me right now. I like change, right?  And yet, when change is bombarded on you, its so much tougher to stay above the waves and not feel utterly helpless and overwhelmed.

If my life were a power ballad, right now I feel like things are picking up tempo, and the slow build is about to crescendo into ear-splitting awesomeness. The problem is that while I tend to welcome, even enjoy change, there is only so much one can handle at a time. The image of quenching your thirst with water shot out of a fire hose comes to mind - knocked down and soaked from head to toe and still really thirsty.

Most of the change is so completely unknown at the time - new people, new house, new neighborhood, new stores, new church calendar, new responsibilities, new office, new software, etc. Focusing on the massive in flux of changes will most certainly bury me in anxiety, stress and restlessness. I cannot control that which I don't yet understand, and that list seems to get lengthier by the day. Instead, I will focus my energy upon that which I know best. I know how to write and I know how to preach and I know how to pray and I know how to play and I know how to love others. As those epic rock songs have taught me over the years of air guitar and drum playing, there is never just one moment or climax that is the destination, but all the notes string together to make the whole a masterpiece, like Stairway to Heaven or Free Bird or Foreplay/Long Time.  I sense that this call will provide many sweet moments of simply rockin' out and I can't wait to experience and play them through.

If we are all honest with each other and ourselves, control is merely an illusion. I am reminded of this everyday by the Brian Andreas picture on my office wall. It's a StoryPeople picture and quote (slightly modified) that I find myself living out amidst these change-heavy days:

"If you hold on to the handle, she said, it's easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it's more fun if you just let the (Spirit) wind carry you."

Prayin' your new year is full of windy days and a strong soundtrack to accompany you!