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!

Goodbyes

I wonder why they're called goodbyes. Goodbyes kind of suck actually. They're hard to do, too. Perhaps Badbyes, or hardbyes?  Nah, as tough as they are, there is good to saying farewell. Leaving something behind almost always entails saying hello to something new, and hopefully, something really good. And while I know a new tomorrow in Rogers will be bright and awesome in many ways, leaving this place is difficult - really difficult.

It occurred to me that my last post may have come off overly negative about the last two years as a rural minister. I know now that it takes a specific type of person to minister in a rural setting - and I am not that type of minister. And when you're not cut out for something, all you're asking for is discomfort. Like a round peg (and I am quite round - more on this later) having to repeatedly place myself in a triangle shaped opening just doesn't work out too well. And it was this poor fit which ultimately caused my soul tremendous emotional heartache and unfulfillment. And to make matters (worse?) I grew very attached and close to many people here - so writing off Big Bend and looking for greener pastures was never something I found myself doing. I know now that those relationships and friendships provided enough motivation, purpose and comfort for the time being, but eventually, not even my love for this congregation was able to keep me from needing to find a better fit. And so, even though I know it's better for my sanity and soul for the long term, saying goodbye will continue to suck.

Emotional goodbyes are one thing, and a heart-wrenching experience to be sure, but I am also looking at making some psychological goodbyes as well. As mentioned in my last post, I'm not just in emotional recovery these days, but physically I need to change as well. I enjoyed several years of great health and then..... I turned 30 and the universe I'd come to know and appreciate started to really mess with me. I'm still fairly healthy, but it has become painfully clear to me that I am addicted to dope. Dopamine that is. When you're emotionally unhealthy you start looking for a dopamine fix wherever and however you can get it. So, couple my slowing metabolism with some emotionally tough sledding in my current context and what you get is one starved soul. And so I turned to a good friend, who always knew how to give me something to smile about, albeit briefly, on those cold, dark days of the soul when I was jones-ing for a dope high. What I'm trying to say is that I've been a slave for most of my life - but especially the last two or three years. And my buddy, my master?  SUGAR.

I need to break up with Master Sugar. And its gonna really, really suck. Or so I think right now. Me and Sugar go way back, and we're tight as an abusive relationship could ever be. Chocolate, candy, Swedish Fish, ice cream, cookies, marshmallows, bread, chips, juice - I'm all over it and then some. About the only sugar I've kicked to the curb is soda. Otherwise, I'm a sugar addict. And I ... can I even say it? And I need to break up with ... (Deep breaths - you can do this Keith) I need to drastically reduce my sugar intake. There. I wrote it. And I think I really mean it this time.

No thanks to some of you out there being rock stars when it comes to good health, exercise and meeting some attainable fitness and nutrition goals (you know who you are), I think it's my time to kick this habit for good. I'm also indebted to a Reader's Digest article I read yesterday, which is refusing to let my conscience go back to my sugar-daddy.

The Quiz: Are you a Sugar Addict?
1.  If you reach for one cookie or chip, is the bag empty before you know it?
2. Can you skip dessert but empty the bread basket?
3. Can you control your food intake during meals but lose it when you start to snack, especially on chips and crackers?
4. When you want to lose weight, is it easier to skip meals altogether rather than just eat smaller ones?
5. Are you tired all the time? Are there things you'd love to do but just don't have the energy for?
6. Once you've had "just a taste" of bread, bagels, muffins, crackers, pasta, or rice, do you go back for a second (or third) helping?
7. Do you spend the day on a roller coaster of snacking highs and lows, hitting the doughnuts in the morning, the vending machine chips or candy in the afternoon, and the ice cream at night?
8. Do you eat healthy around other people but lose it when you're alone?

I answered YES to almost every question, with the exception being that I said NO on number 2--I can't skip dessert! I am apparently "highly susceptible to food addiction, period."

This week's challenge:  Eat no more than 24 grams (or 6 teaspoons) of added sugar in 24 hours. (One teaspoon = 4 grams. When you see sugar grams on the label, divide by 4 to get the teaspoons.)

I share this because a little public humiliation goes a long way. I see some of you from time to time too, so as a way to a) know if you're reading my blog and b) give you permission to give me a hard time for my own well-being, I decided to lay it all out there today.

And so, the goodbyes continue.



  

What I Know Now

What I know now is more than I did then, different from what you know, and not as much as I'd like to know going forward.

I am finally emerging from the wilderness experience that has been the last two years of my life. And man, I have learned a lot.

I know now that I cannot ignore my emotions. To say my emotional life as a rural pastor was like a roller coaster is an understatement (not to mention an over-used analogy and a tad too cliche.) It's been tornadic. It's been abyss-like. It's been dysfunction-ally repetitive. And above all, it's been exhausting. While I know now that I was borderline depressed for much of the last two years, I can honestly reflect on those dark days with appreciation.

My time as a rural pastor wasn't entirely depressing of course. There have been many, many moments of sunshine and joy. I've established some incredible relationships with people of all ages and backgrounds, most with histories much different from my own. I know now that these friendships were the life-blood of my call to ministry here, and without them I would have emotionally perished a long, long time ago. I am grateful for God bringing these beautiful but flawed people (which is the definition of all human beings) onto my path. I am hopeful and confident I accomplished good things in their lives as they have done the same for my own.

What I know now, as I prepare to depart this rural context is that I still have so much more to know. I have cluttered my health, emotional and otherwise, with so much immaterial waste that I am simply ashamed to realize how unhealthy I am as a citizen and human being. My laziness has caused me to become much more ignorant and overweight than I am comfortable with, and I know now that only I am able to change this woeful trajectory. I lost several levels of self-confidence during the course of this two year depressed state of mine and while I know now that I am headed back in the right direction, I still have a ways to go to being fully repaired and restored.

Spiritually, I know now I have been redeemed and will be continually redeemable. That's the theology I subscribe to, and while it may or may not be what is culturally acceptable, Jesus has everything to do with this redemption and re-awakening. And I know that he is every bit as worth following now as he was back then.

Which leads me to a post-election day reflection. What I know now is more than I knew then, different from what you know and not as much as I'd like to know going forward. In other words, when it comes to politics, I am terribly ignorant. My sense is that I am not alone. And while I skew democratic these days, I am disgusted and frustrated with Washington as a whole, no matter if you're blue or red. I did a few questionnaires and a minimal amount of research on the candidates I voted for yesterday. So, I did my civic "duty" but I am increasingly anxious about where we're headed as the human race of the United States. I know now that I am becoming more and more convinced that if Jesus were physically walking among us today, he would be neither democrat nor republican. I am convinced that most of us Americans are blind and in need of a new imagination and vision for what it means to live, work and interact alongside one another and creation in this "free" land we call home.

I don't know if any of this made sense, but if nothing else, it's an honest snapshot of my soul - a soul that is breathing anew these days and on the verge of even more significant change in 2015 and beyond. And what I know now is that despite the rising ambiguity, tension and decline that appear to be taking over our ways of being together as church and as a country, I am hopeful. Yes, I cling to the hope that we'll keep talking to each other, no matter how different our religious or political views, and strive to listen, understand and pursue what it means to love people as Jesus loved them and what loving our neighbor as ourselves is all about.

The Wedding Dancer

Some of you have experienced a wedding dance with yours truly. Things have a way of getting out of hand fast, especially if the DJ is brave (and smart) enough to play lots of Michael Jackson music. Well, those days are becoming more and more behind me now (I didn't say they're gone completely) but there is hope the legacy has been passed on.

Enter Natalie. Last Saturday night, at the reception of a wedding I presided at, there was a dance. And while Pastor Keith wasn't exactly feelin' it, his 3 year old daughter Natalie most certainly was. No one asked her to go out on the dance floor. She didn't take anyone with her. She just knew that this was where she needed to be. And so she wasted little time, took zero breaks, and just danced her little heart out. Sure there were times when it was just arms flailing and shoulders swaying, but she stayed out there, all by her lonesome often. When the inevitable creepy old guy tried to take her hand and give her a twirl, Natalie was quick to deny that request with a look that said, "I don't think so." When the crazy little boy her age swarmed her for the Tanzmanian Devil break dance moves, she side-stepped herself out of danger with ease. When the floor flooded with people eager to do the newest choreographed dance (it was Electric Slide in my days), she followed along, did her best to keep up. I knew well enough to let her be, knowing that she wasn't interested in sharing the dance floor with her Mom or Dad - thereby letting Mom take the walk of shame when the attempt was made...and promptly denied.

Yes, she even did a pretty good "Elaine" (Seinfeld fans - you know what I'm talkin' about) a few times. All in all, it was a proud #YouGoGirl moment for her Mom and Dad. But especially for her "I love to entertain the crowd" dancin' Daddy :)

Last (Days) Laugh

Do you ever have those moments when someone says something and you think of a really great response, but you know you could never say it because its, well... too mean?

One of the things that's been bothering me about the congregation I serve is that I get asked too few questions. I love being asked about what I think or about something from my life, etc, but people, young and old alike, around these parts are pretty tight-lipped. I can count on one hand how many times someone has asked me a personal question. I know I'm a bit more talkative and extroverted than most people around here who hail from Norwegian roots, and I get that, but I just wish people were more brave or insatiably curious to ask more questions or try to really stump me. After all, I like me and love to tell about my story as well as to come up with all sorts of explanations for the unexplained.

So you can about imagine my delight when I was sitting with a couple of old-timers the other day, when a lady (not a member of our congregation) asked me out of no where, "Pastor? Do you believe we're living in the last days?" I almost choked on the barbeque sandwich I was eating and seriously had to stifle my laughter.

Without hesitation I responded in all truthfulness, "No." I then went on to justify my position and put her heart at ease that no one knows the day or the hour when blah blah blah that the world will end. But what I wanted to say, but my brain intercepted and ruled against it before reaching my lips was: "Yes, Rose, I believe you are living in your last days."

I'm pleased to know that no matter how rusty I've gotten over the last few years, that I can still make myself laugh.

May you do something today as though it were your last. Life is too short not to find the funny, so bonus points for sharing with me that last great laugh you've either given or received.

Spiritual Boredom

I love to quote movies, and one of my favorites is Wayne's World. There is a line that goes something like this: "I once thought I had mono for an entire year...just turns out I was really bored." Well, it turns out that Wayne and I are not so different. As some may know (or if you read my post "Some Assembly Required" a few months ago), it has been a long winter in my neck of the woods, and not just because of the insane windchill. I have found myself submerged in what I could only describe as "a depression." I never thought I was fully depressed, but definitely down and not my usual optimistic and enthusiastic self. Turns out what I thought was sadness, bitterness and borderline despair was really just "spiritual boredom." Let me explain.

I love to read. Web surfing, Facebook and email have demanded a majority of my love of reading of late, but when I can pry myself away from the screen or the banal fantasy baseball "research," I will immerse myself in one of several books I bring home with me from the office week to week. I've been chewing on a few good ones since the beginning of the year, never really intending to read them cover to cover, but take in just enough to feed whatever part of me that was hungry. There was one book that I felt nudged to take home for quite a long time before I finally did: "The Wisdom of Stability - Rooting Faith in a Mobile Culture" by Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove. Have you ever read something that truly nailed it for you? As in, you can't highlight or underline it fast enough because it resonated so profoundly with how you're feeling? Thank you Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, because your words half-way through this book did exactly this for my soul.

I could easily quote the entire book in this post. But I'm going to try not to do that. Instead, I feel I need to share that I am 100% with Jonathan on the importance of stability or "staying put and paying attention where you are", not only in a world which is becoming increasingly individualistic and void of community (how many of you reading this can name all the neighbors on your block?), but in the church where it is commonly known that ministers live and work as "transients." I have both heard and told others that we ministers are nomads - going everywhere but belonging nowhere. The last few decades pastors like me have been encouraged to move whenever and however often the Spirit says that it is time to go. The problem with this is that we all have the freedom of making ourselves ready, whenever and however often we choose, to pursue greener pastures. Granted sometimes opportunities and invitations come to us whether we feel we're ready or not, but in the mind of most newly ordained pastors like myself, the message is clear and simple: after three to five years in the first place you serve, have your bags packed and ready. Its a message that is simultaneously comforting and disturbing. Wilson-Hartgrove's Wisdom of Stability hits a nerve because of how counter-cultural and anti-first call the idea that "if we want to rise up into God's being, nothing is more important than rooting ourselves in a place where God can happen." And so, upon accepting this opportunity to serve a rural west-central congregation that is twenty minutes in every direction from the nearest gas station, I opened myself to the possibility of staying longer than five years. Gasp!

But its been incredibly difficult for me to wrap myself around this goal. I'm an outgoing, extroverted, adventure seeking, ideas man who desires to revolutionize everything I set my mind to...who can literally be snowed in and see no other human being outside of family for days on end. Where I'm going with this is simple: the concept of staying put in one place is both powerfully enticing and powerfully depressing, depending on the day. It was the latter for much of the last six months...until I read chapter five and realized that what I've been feeling is normal. I cannot share here how relieved I am. In the end, I haven't necessarily been depressed and needing a change in scenery or profession, but rather very much "spiritually bored" and in need of a change of perspective and reminder that "staying is itself a process, as growth is the product of struggle."

And so I'll leave you with an excerpt that was profoundly comforting as I achieved a level of solidarity on this issue I have not experienced since embarking on the task of staying put in this place nearly two years ago when I said "yes."

In a conversation about Jesus' instruction to welcome strangers, a Benedictine friend once confessed to me that the real challenge of hospitality is opening the door again and again to the brothers he lives with. "We Benedictines are supposed to welcome everyone as Christ," he said, "but sometimes when a brother comes through the door I mumble to myself, 'O Christ, it's you again." I laughed at the joke because I know too well how spiritual boredom can lead to a quiet disdain for the people I share life with. Little habits and phrases wear on my nerves as I ignore the needs of the people I have promised myself to in marriage, baptism, and community life. Washing their dishes makes me weary, and I avoid conversation. The thought of going on like this forever is overwhelming. Boredom tempts us to give up on the people God has given to us.

Can't give up now. Won't. I've put in too much to walk away because it's difficult. Spiritually bored or not, I trust that God is at work here and the call is for more patience and trust, and not to simply hit the eject button or to start planning my escape route. I plan to stay put and pay attention, nothing more, nothing less.

"Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." - Romans 5:3-5.

The Wisdom of Stability
25 Great Wayne's World Quotes

Mystery Dwelling

Two terribly mysterious and terribly tragic events in one week have my mind-wheels spinning on overdrive. One involving as massive search for a missing jetliner and another involving a small community in rural Minnesota. Both events have caused immense grief and broken hearts for the families and communities of victims. And both have more questions than answers, an incredible amount of mystery in world seemingly teeming with an abundance of explanations.

I've never been thrust into such wonder on both the macro and micro scale at the same time. Most days I am quite comfortable with mystery. There is something thrilling about the unknown. There is also a degree of freedom in a lack of knowledge, an exercise in letting go of having to know the how and why of everything that happens. We usually don't have much choice when the unknown occurs in our lives - a surprising diagnosis, a sudden turn of events, a modern day miracle - we only have the choice of how to respond. So, I can deal with that kind of mystery. I can let go of my need to control and force myself to stay in the moment and assess the 'what now' and the 'so what' rather than obsess over the how's and why's of life's unanswerable questions.

So it goes without saying that I am feeling beyond unsettled and uncomfortable with the mysterious this time around. I understand that a football field sized airplane is still hugely under-matched compared to the vastness of the earth's oceans. I understand that there are many ways to screw up a search and that without sufficient radar or operable transmitters, recovering this Malaysian 777 jetliner is difficult in every sense. But this kind of disappearance is something I'm only okay with when watching television or sitting in a darkened theater. Asking me to accept that in this day and age a flight full of human beings aboard one of the safest modes of transportation in the world can vanish and elude investigators for five days is such a tall order - one that I am incredibly uncomfortable and fearful with. To think that I or a family member could one day board a plane and in two hours time disappear is unfathomable. Disturbing. Maddening. Terrifying. There are no words to adequately describe what happened to Malaysian Airlines Flight 370 on March 8, 2014.

The next mystery hits much closer to home. While it is saddening and awful to think about what is a reality for the families of 239 missing and presumed-dead people on the other side of the world, it is even more devastating when the mystery hits in your own communal backyard. I don't know any of the persons aboard that airplane, nor any of their family members. But when I heard the news that a senior in high school died after fleeing a party in the early hours of a long-awaited spring evening in a neighboring rural town - time stood still in a completely different manner. My heart broke for more than Michael's family - but for an entire community from which he was known and loved. I had the privilege of living and serving in that community for one year while on my pastoral internship, so I know what kind of void a death like his leaves behind. I don't know that a place like that ever fully recovers. There are a few more details available here than there are overseas, but the questions are no less troubling. As much as we want to comfort one another amidst the aftermath of this enormous loss, there's just as much head-shaking and disappointment in the circumstances leading up to this very preventable death. But somehow, at least for right now, our judgment and finger-pointing must take a backseat to our prayers for peace and healing.

For me, dwelling in mystery is usually time well spent. Unfortunately, this is not one of those times.

Figure. It. Out.

Spring in My Snowshoe

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
or grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time I rest
in the grace of the world, and am free.
~Wendell Berry~

Going back to last fall, my attitude and outlook has been mostly chilly to the touch. The last blog post said as much through my frustration with some non-helpful instructions for setting up my snowshoes. Reading between the lines and I'm sure it was evident I've been feeling down about my life circumstances. Well, that all started to change when a few things happened... 1) Fantasy Baseball season started, 2) My birthday 3) a pleasantly surprising congregational council meeting and 4) I set up my snowshoes and broke them in finally. It was a bitterly cold day last week (shocker) but, I was over all just thrilled to be OUT of the house for a change.

It wasn't a perfect maiden voyage, and there were definitely some equipment issues and operator errors to be tolerated...but I snowshoed! Epic. There was even time for a fire and hot-chocolate with my snowshoe companions. For just two hours something broke free within.

Each day we are closer to spring. Each day the sun seems to shine a little brighter. And each day I can feel my spirits lifting, my attitude and outlook warming, ever so slowly emerging from the polar vortex of both climate and soul.

I have been so indebted to the gift of music over the last few months. From adding old favorites (Motley Crue, Metallica, Guns N' Roses, Queen) to rock out to or brand new ones (Gungor, Inception soundtrack, Mumford and Sons), to chill with, it's so awesome how music can both name and inspire one's mood. (I started this post to Ted Nugent's "Stranglehold" which provided just the right mix of motivation to write with a simultaneous reminder that "I Rock.")

So its been a long cold winter, but every now and then life throws reminders that progress is possible, a fresh start is merely an attitude adjustment and help comes to those who ask for it. Grace and peace to you..and remember, we're already one week into Spring Training.

Don't let crappy instructions keep you down. Just Google or YouTube that sucker.

  

Some Assembly Required

Last year it was the snow and this year it's the cold. So, so brutally cold. Coldest winter I can remember enduring. I thought it might be snowy like last year, so I ordered some snowshoes to help fight cabin fever. I've had them a little over a month now and they're still in the box. I decided to take a look at them today even though I had no intention whatsoever of going out in the -40 degree weather or whatever the heck it is these days. I was discouraged almost immediately because I quickly learned that there was some assembly required. Ugh. Do they realize that their "manual" makes zero sense to someone who has NEVER snow-shoed before? I don't know what to do with this:

The diagram looks nothing like the random assortment of straps with buckles that came with the snowshoes. I HATE when this happens. Just include a picture of how its supposed to look and let me work backward from that, like putting together a puzzle. So, now even if the weather permits me to blaze a trail, I'll only be able to stare blankly at this crappy little half sheet of paper with "instructions" of how to assemble my snowshoes. Where's the love for visual learners?


This little episode makes me think about the nature of my work in the church lately. So often it feels like God gave me a passion for blazing a trail in ministry and then sent me a pair or un-assembled snowshoes. What the heck am I supposed to do with this? I keep fumbling and bumbling my way around this place, letting my feelings and failures dictate and detour my leadership here, causing more feelings of hopelessness, frustration and resentment. It's been a vicious spiral for 18 months. All I wanted to do was snowshoe! I wanted to get out in the open air, marvel at God's good creation, and take in some adventures along the way. Maybe I'd even inspire a few others to join me, leading them around to some cool places and growing together in our love of snowshoeing. So, I guess I'll just have to keep making it up as I go. I'm not too proud to ask for help, and I appreciate learning something new, even if it is attaching straps to snowshoes, but I'm tired of the run-around, the red-tape, the BS that seems to so often block from doing that which I feel I've been nudged to do for over 15 years.


Ain't nothing fun about attempting to re-route a dysfunctional way of thought (personally) or culture (this congregation). Most days I don't have the slightest clue where to begin. I've been choosing my projects carefully and praying that there is something useful being accomplished through my preaching, teaching and care amidst a people I love but don't understand.


It seems the cold has infected my brain and attitude, leaving me focused on broken snowshoes indoors, praying I'll warm up and get back to doing what I've been designed to do.

     

21 Big Ideas

I recently attended a conference called “Christianity21” in Denver, Colorado. Christians and non-Christians alike were invited to come and speak about their BIG IDEA for the future of the Christian church in the 21^st century. The format was simple yet innovative: 21 people with 21 different ideas for 21 minutes each. There were also other presentations given by dozens of others attending the conference. These brave souls were asked to prepare their BIG IDEA in 21 slides for exactly 7 minutes of speaking. All in all, we heard 35 different people talk in 48 hours  - it was a fantastic event! Here are 21 ideas or insights I came home with that made an impact on me (in no particular order):

1. May we know what we’ve always suspected, that the God who created us is better than the God we created. (Jonathan Merritt)
2. I want to take God’s love personally. I tell you my story to honor your own. (Paul Raushenbush)
3. At the heart of God’s revelation, the margins are at the center of God’s concern. Why are the margins still at the margins of the church? (Noel Castellanos)
4. Faith is a team sport, not an individual competition. (Nadia Bolz-Weber)
5. As culture and science shift so too must religion. We need to make new narratives known! (Ron Martoia)
6. Let’s give up on the afterlife for awhile, accepting that death is the dark door of mystery and focus more on this life. (Kent Dobson)
7. Authority comes from existential, experiential, vulnerable and honest growth. That’s it. (Kent Dobson)
8. What if we ritualized words about hunger and being filled, or abundance and care instead of betrayal and brokenness before we shared Holy Communion? (ErikaMarksbury)
9. People want to be loved and belong – it’s our job to remind them. (Mike Foster)
10. Be ‘sanctified shot-callers’ by building up your street cred by what we do on the street. (Romal Tune)
11. Think big. Start small. Keep moving. (Charles Lee)
12. Culture trumps strategy & vision. Hiring someone innovative doesn’t change the culture. (Charles Lee)
13. Every 500 years there is a great emergence. (Phyllis Tickle)
14. Maybe we’ve finally arrived at the place and time when we’re ready to hear anew what the Spirit is up to and move the story further. (Phyllis Tickle)
15. Hope is a radical act of faith and courage, it is not weak. And it only comes after despair. (Sarah Bessey)
16. The face of Christianity isn’t changing, its already changed. (Enuma Okoro)
17. Live in your context both physical and digital because you are good news. Digital isn’t the opposite of real but the opposite of physical. (Jim Kast-Keat)
18. Why don’t we believe God is equipping us once we are breathed into existence and not just when we are called? God is not calling us to “do missions” but to be the church. (Jamie Wright)
19. What happened to God? We don’t know what we mean by God anymore. (Kent Dobson)
20. The best way to be innovative is to get out of your normal connections. Foster experiences from different scenes outside of your field – eventually things will start connecting. (Charles Lee)
21. The (political) middle does not always indicate an absence of conviction. Fierce conviction can lead to the middle. The middle is where peacemakers seek to hold hands with those on the right and on the left. (Sarah Cunningham)

Where Hope Finds Me

Yesterday I led an internment and burial service for a 12 year old boy who died unexpectedly while playing basketball.

Now that I've got your attention by a tragic reminder that we live (and die) in an unpredictable and fragile world, I'm open to your thoughts as to why this boy died.

I sure hope you are as speechless as I am.

Why are we so restless about having to acquire all the answers? Of course, science will be able to explain what happened in his body that caused his heart to stop beating, but I know there is nothing that autopsy report can reveal that will put all of our answers to rest. In the depths of our tremendous suffering at Breck's loss, our grieving is compounded with such terror that something like this could and does happen in our existence as human beings. Disease, missing chromosomes, blood clots, tumors - all beneath the skin and out of sight, we learn the hard way that we are not in control.

No one is. Is God? I don't know.

I do not believe in a Puppet-Master God or in a God who creates and then retreats to his control room to watch us destroy ourselves. For me, the truth about God is that God isn't up in the control room switching between screens and hitting buttons that send lightning strikes to earth or typhoons that swallow up towns or fires that wipe out entire teams of firefighters. For me, God is Almighty but that doesn't encompass the pulling of all the strings. Likewise, there is no way I can deny the stories and experiences from my life when I have felt God's presence and work on my behalf.  God is involved in my life in ways I cannot explain here, but I know God's love is real and true and powerfully transformative.  I believe God has a preferred future for all of us, and ultimately God's goodness conquers evil, but in the meantime, the creation is free to be as it was created and that will mean that with beauty and good there will also be shadows and suffering. As we suffer, I believe so too does God suffer, and more than we'll ever understand…  Somehow God is working in our midst for us and with us while still honoring our freedom. Therefore, when it comes to Jesus' death, I've come to really question and doubt the belief that God was only born into God's own creation as a baby in order to become a human sacrifice for the forgiveness of sins for the world.

So now, in the wake of the most recent death from my parish community (Breck was a beloved grandson, nephew and cousin of some of my members) the question of why arises again, this time in connection with the foundational truth of any ministers' proclamation: the death of Jesus Christ on a cross. I took one class in seminary that discussed the possibilities of why Jesus died before being thrust out into the pulpit in the Lutheran tradition to teach others. I'm discovering that one class wasn't sufficient for a thinker like me. But then again, school at present isn't a place where our questions are encouraged as a way of grappling with mystery but in order to arrive at conclusions and facts. How on earth though can we truly ever understand why a man would allow himself to be tortured and crucified unjustly? I stand before a congregation of people every week who believe I know the answer to that question - but I don't. I don't have the slightest clue why Jesus died. The popular answer is that Jesus knew he was going to die and did so because our forgiveness and ability to go to heaven was on the line. That used to do it for me, but then my mind never stopped thinking about it and now I really don't know what I believe. Is knowing the exact reason why that important?

You see, for me, hope still finds me in the midst of my suffering even in the absence of an acceptable theory behind the death of Jesus. For me, what is most important is that Jesus experienced death first-hand. Not only that but Jesus experienced what it feels like to one of us - to feel joy and hope, grief and disappointment, to be betrayed, abandoned, and forsaken. Why Jesus underwent such injustice when his life was on the line, I can only speculate. But something just doesn't sit right when I think that the only reason he died was to appease God's penalty for his childrens' sins.

Yes, hope finds me when I survey that wondrous cross because I believe God stepped on earth to get as close as possible to his creation and the hands, feet, eyes, ears and hearts of his beloved humankind. I believe God couldn't stand to be apart and was willing and able to do whatever it took to bring us to his side forever. But like a guest who has over-stayed their welcome or a person invading our personal space, God in Jesus Christ got just a bit too close for comfort so they nailed him to a cross. I don't really know if what I think fits into a category anymore, but perhaps for you seminary classmates out there, the closest I can get is the "Wondrous Love" theory. I can't help but wonder though...what if Jesus so truly respected humankind's freedom that he was willing to allow for even his own death, a death by the very hands, feet, eyes, ears and hearts that God created? A death not by design or pre-destination but as a result of getting too close and too intimate and saying too much of what we didn't want to hear...What if Jesus truly died for you - for your love, your hopes, your sins, your whole-existence from birth to even death just so he could be the only one truly for you in every way imaginable? What if?

It's a terrible mystery how a boy can step up to the free-throw line hoping to make a couple of shots and instead be suddenly stepping up to meet his Maker. It troubles me beyond all belief. And yet, something deep within me beckons and reassures that even in that moment Breck's Maker and Savior was with him in ways I'll never know or understand, and that that was not the end of Breck's story.

Seeking answers can lead to everything from anger to justice or from pain to peace, but in the end, knowing the why isn't as important as knowing Who is always beside, within and all around me. Hope finds me because I believe the cross wasn't the end to Jesus' story but rather one last barrier to overcome so that I might live forever with God - or more accurately - that God might live forever with me and with us.

There's a reason there are volumes and volumes of books and theories - it's hard to wrap this up in one moderately short blog post! I am still working this out and I'll probably change my mind about something by the end of the week.  But, for now, this is my working truth and I am intrigued by what truth other people operate from, so your observations, thoughts and comments are welcome and appreciated!

Important authors who have informed and inspired my thinking about this include:
John Polkinghorne (Quarks, Chaos and Christianity: Questions to Science & Religion). Rob Bell (Love Wins & What We Talk About When We Talk About God), Joel Green (Rediscovering the Scandal of the Cross: Atonement in New Testament & Contemporary Contexts) and Jurgen Moltmann.