Still Say Thank You

Gratitude is something I try to weave into my everyday life. I usually do a pretty good job doing so, but sometimes I lose sight of all the reasons I have to be grateful.  Sometimes I focus too much on what I don't have.  Sometimes when I'm hurting, frustrated and disappointed I forget to say thank you.  And saying thank you is important because even when there's a lot of stuff in my life going wrong I still have to be grateful for all the stuff that's going right.  Even when I am angry at God I still have to say thank you to God for being the Source that sustains me, for being the Source of everything that is good in my life.

There's a song titled, "Still Say Thank You", and every time I hear it I am pulled back to that place of gratitude.  I'm reminded that weaving a posture of gratitude into your daily life is absolutely essential to living well no matter what life may throw at you.  I hope that listening to this song will do the same for you.

Following the Way,
Kevin

Letting Others In

"It is not good for man to be alone." 

Genesis 2:18

This is the first social commentary on the human condition in the Bible and these ancient words are still so true in our modern world today.  Prolonged social isolation can have devastating effects on an individual and yet for many of us withdrawing is the first thing we do when we experience pain.  We run. We hide.  We lock ourselves in.  We lock others out, often the ones who love us the most.  We feel that we need to process the pain alone, but this is a very dangerous game we're playing.  Getting into the habit of shutting others out when in pain can lead us down a very dark road where we find ourselves unable to find the light again and too far gone for anyone to see us lost in the dark.  So why do we do it?  Why do so many of us shut others out when we need them the most?

I have my own reasons and maybe you'll be able to relate to some of them.

The Gift of Presence

I had dinner with a friend yesterday.  It had been a while since we had gotten together just the two of us and we finally got around to scheduling something and making it happen.  I can't tell you how much of a gift it was to have a simple dinner with a friend.  We took our time.  I got to her place at 6:30 and didn't leave to head home until 10.  In such a hurried world where everyone is in such a rush and everyone has so many things to do, it was such a blessing to feel the freedom to relax and enjoy the company of a friend without a strict time limit.

I went home feeling strengthened, unburdened and at peace.  Why? What caused that?  It wasn't the meal even though dinner was great.  It wasn't dessert.  Although I have to say that the frozen yogurt we picked up after dinner came close to changing my life!  It was the best frozen yogurt I had ever had.  I strongly recommend that you find your way to a Pinkberry in Cambridge or Boston if possible.  It will change your life or come pretty close :)  Anyway, as good as my mango frozen yogurt topped with fresh strawberries was (Thank you Jesus), that's not what made me feel better.  I felt better simply being in the presence of someone who cares for me.  It was the gift of her presence to me that made me feel better, made my problems feel more manageable, made me feel less alone.

The gift of presence.  There's really no substitute for it.  Especially when someone is hurting it's the best gift you can give.  Simply be present.  I know we're all very busy with so many things to do, but I would like to put forth a challenge.  Get better at responding to your emails.  Get better at returning your phone calls.  Get better at following up with a friend who wants to get together.  Give someone the gift of your presence.  It's more powerful than you probably realize.  Don't underestimate the difference it may make in someone's life.  Simply be present to those you say you care about.  You may change a life without ever knowing it.  Give someone the gift of your presence.  You are needed more than you realize.

Following the Way,
Kevin

Where is God?

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

These are not the words of a person who has no faith.  These are not the words of a person who doesn't know God.  These are the words of Jesus in the midst of agonizing pain on the cross in Matthew 27:46 and I'm so glad he said them!  Why?  Because knowing that even Jesus felt this way at least once enables us to be gentle with ourselves when we feel the same way.  Sometimes in the midst of great pain and difficulty we don't feel God around us at all.  We feel forgotten and forsaken.  We can't help but ask, "Where is God?"  Often we feel guilty or make others feel guilty for asking such a question, but this question is an authentic part of the journey with God.

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

Jesus was not the first person to ever say this or feel this way.  He is quoting Psalm 22, written a thousand years before his time.  People on the journey have been wrestling with this for a very long time: the felt absence of God in the presence of real pain.  I don't believe that God disappears when we are hurting, but that sometimes the pain we experience in life is so great it becomes all that we can see, all that we can feel.  It can become so overwhelming and blind us to everything else.  When you have lost your mother to cancer and you're only a teenager, when you have had 3 miscarriages in a row but still no children, when the love of your life has left you and has shattered your heart to pieces, it is hard to feel God, hard to see God in your life, hard to believe that God is still there.

Feeling this way is ok.  Anyone on the journey will feel this way at one point or another.  Don't lie about it.  Don't pretend it's not there.  Don't feel guilty.  Feel what you're feeling and bring it all to God.  Your frustration, your disappointment, your anger, your rage, bring it all to God.  Take comfort in knowing that you are not alone in feeling what you're feeling.  For thousands of years people on the journey have been struggling with the exact same feelings.  You are not alone.

I don't know why life can be so painful at times, but in moments when life has broken my heart and I can't see God and I can't hear God and I can't feel God, I sit and I wait.  I know that feeling forsaken is not the same as being forsaken.  I know that  I am surrounded by a God that I sometimes cannot feel because the pain gets in the way. And if knowing this isn't enough I sit and I wait until it is.

Following the Way,
Kevin

When It Hurts

Why, LORD, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?
Psalm 10:1

Has anyone else ever felt this way?  Are we willing to admit to ourselves that we have?  As believers far too often we get really fake with what we're feeling.  We're expected to smile and say, "All is well!" when all is not well.  Sometimes we think that faith requires us to actively deny the reality in front of us.  Ignore the pain; ignore the questions; ignore everything that doesn't fit into our neat and tidy, black and white theology.  That's not what faith requires and the result of hiding our pain is that others around us feel like they have to do the same thing.  Sometimes you end up with entire faith communities that are hurting, but everyone is suffering alone because no one feels safe enough to be honest about their pain, doubt and disappointment.

Let me be the one to say that this passage above echoes exactly what my heart is saying to God right now.  I take a look at some areas in my life and can't help but ask, "God, where are you"?

What do we do when it hurts?  I want to take a few weeks to talk about this.  Let's talk about all the things "good Christians" aren't supposed to talk about: our pain, our doubts, our disappointments.  Why?  Because we cannot say that we are in relationship with God without bringing our whole selves to God, everything: the good, bad and the ugly.  And we cannot say that we are in relationship with one another if we are not willing to be open and transparent with each other even when it gets uncomfortable. This is what it means to have authentic community.

To anyone who may be hurting right now please know that you are not alone.  Whatever you may be facing in life you are not alone.  We all have our pain, our struggles, our unanswered questions.  Let's walk out this faith journey together.

Following the Way,
Kevin

A Call From My Father

Yesterday was my birthday and thanks to the magic of Facebook I received SO many birthday wishes.  It was overwhelming.  Everybody and their momma were wishing me a happy birthday: friends I see all the time, friends who have moved away who I haven't seen in years, parents of friends, cousins, former grade school teachers, people I used to work with, I mean everybody!  It was nice.

I had a good day.  Some coworkers took me out to lunch and another one surprised me with a big piece of chocolate cake. Thank you Jesus!  Honestly though the day was a mix of joy and sorrow because I have been a mix of joy and sorrow for quite some time now.  There are things in my life that I am SO grateful for and other things that have caused me so much disappointment it hurts to even name them.

So last night, while I was hovering over this space between joy and sorrow I got a call from my father.  He called to wish me a happy birthday.  My father and I have never been close and I don't expect that we ever will be.  This used to bother me when I was younger, but I have come to accept it.  Just a week ago I was calling him to wish him a happy birthday and struggling to believe that my father is now 67 with many more years behind him than in front of him.  It's weird and scary.  Time is taking its toll.  The man who worked 2 jobs for years is now retired.

And yet time has made my father more human to me.  My father has never been able to love me as I needed to be loved.  He has never known how to give me what I needed.   I've known that for many years, but now as I look upon my aging father I also realize that he is just a man who loves me as best as he can.  Is it enough?  No it's not, but he's doing the best he can.  And that's probably the reason why out of all the phone calls, text messages and facebook posts I received for my birthday yesterday, a call from my father is what I'll remember most.

Following the Way,
Kevin

Looking Ahead To The Season Of Lent

As an evangelical Lent is one of the only seasons of the liturgical year that holds particular meaning for me.  Lent is a gift to a frenzied world: an opportunity to stop and look within, a chance for every believer to ask, “What does this Christian faith really mean to me?  What am I willing to give for it?  Many progressive Christians seem to think that sin no longer exists, that we can live our lives in whatever fashion we choose and a warm and fuzzy Jesus will never require more of us than we are willing to give.  Yet Lent is a season that reminds us that indeed sin is real and costly.  It is costly to God, costly to others and costly to ourselves.  Jesus’ agonizing death on the cross is proof of this.  And we are not following a Jesus who has no requirements of us.  What is this crucified Savior asking of me?  What do I owe the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world?  These are the questions I intentionally choose to wrestle with during the season of Lent.

So many of us have come from traditions that have beat us over the head with sin over and over again.  You couldn’t walk into church without feeling guilty and ashamed.  I grew up in an evangelical church and let me tell you the Catholics aren’t the only ones who know how to use shame!  Didn’t make it to Wednesday Night Bible Study?  Sin!  Forgot to say grace before lunch?  Sin!  Didn’t pay your tithes this week?  When Jesus comes back during the Rapture you’re going to be left behind!  And though the concept of sin has been terribly abused, the reality of sin does not disappear.  The acknowledgement of sin is not meant to be used as a tool to control, manipulate and shame others, but to provide an entrance for grace.  The acknowledgement of sin, the tendency in all of us to do harm to each other and ourselves creates a humility, a brokenness that leads us to discover the God who walks with us in broken places.  This is what comes to mind when I think of Lent: a Savior who came to earth to walk with us in our broken places, to save us from all the ways sin tries to rob us from truly living.

During the season of Lent what I find more important than giving something up although I will do that as well, is spending extra time in daily prayer examining myself in the sight of God.  It’s so easy to see the sin in others but can I see the sin lurking within my own heart?  What are the thoughts, attitudes and dispositions in me that separate me from God, from others and even my own soul?  “Search me O God and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.  See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting” (Psalm 139:23-24).  This is the cry of my heart and the prayer I will pray over and over again during Lent.  Jesus live out your resurrected life in me.  Cleanse me, wash me, purge me.  Make me aware of the things in me that are preventing You from dwelling in me more fully.

Whenever I approach God with this kind of humility God shows up with his presence and answers my prayers.  My eyes are opened and I begin to be aware of ways in which I fail God and others and myself, and the result is not shame or condemnation.  The brokenness revealed by the awareness of sin creates an entrance for grace.  “But where sin increased, grace abounded all the more,” (Romans 5:20). The brokenness creates more space in our hearts for God to dwell.  In the time I spend singing, praying and sitting quietly before God I feel washed over by waves of grace.  I feel that I am being carried by the Savior, the Lamb of God who has taken away my sin, is taking way my sin now and will continue to take away my sin in the future.  My response is love.  I fall in love all over again with this God, this Savior as gentle as a lamb, who walks with me in broken places and I commit myself again to following Jesus for the rest of my life.  Whatever it takes, whatever it may cost me my soul sings, “Take my life and let it be consecrated Lord to Thee”.  I will die to my own will and agenda in order to allow Jesus to live out his resurrected life in me.  Lent’s greatest gift is the reminder that I am completely dependent upon this God and it is this dependence paradoxically that liberates my soul and makes a full authentic life possible.  And this whole process begins with the acknowledgement of my own sin.

“It is in descending again into the darkness and silence of the womb of God do we reemerge into a world of light ready to begin our journey afresh.”

Following the Way,

Kevin