Joining the game.

I recently visited a school with no bleachers. Given its intentional small size, every student is needed. There is no place to sit and watch others participate, no place to look on and critique, no opportunity allowing time to make sure you can do whatever is asked flawlessly.

I left with a certain amount of intimidation. How would I have done in such a place? Looking back, I can see moments when I sat in the bleachers, letting others take the risk. The fear of failure or embarrassment was too often sitting beside me in the bleachers, and now I regret the times I played it safe by not playing at all.

Teddy Roosevelt spoke eloquently of those who are brave enough to enter the arena, the ones with sweat, blood and more than a few skinned knees. Brene’ Brown built on his words by encouraging us to dare greatly in her amazing book. Most recently, I watched a talk by Molly Barker challenging us all to have the courage to speak and live from our hearts.

It is a message that has been said in countless ways, but is so hard to do. Whether in our lives of faith, our relationships with others, or in our jobs, the bleachers are always calling, inviting us to come sit and watch. How hard it is to turn down the invitation, and harder still to get up once we’re seated, but I believe that’s what we're called to do. It is on the field, or in the arena, that true life, real relationships, fulfilling careers are to be found.

The choice is ours.

The game is on.

It’s time to get up and play.

For more on the subject:

Teddy Roosevelt’s speech           “The man in the Arena.”

Brene’ Brown’s book                   Daring Greatly

Molly Barker’s Ted x Talk             www.youtube.com/watch?v=hw8hnAq0wbQ

Listening in.

I recently attended a twelve-step recovery meeting where a gentleman spoke of his very special Big Book.* It originally belonged to his brother and was filled with underlined phrases and notes scribbled in the margins. It was as if his brother was guiding him down the path of sober living. Given he died a few years earlier, the guidance was all the more poignant. “The words are like fingers pointing the way,” his brother described. “It’s like he’s whispering in my ear.”

 “Pay attention to this.”

“I know exactly what this feels like!” 

“Could be describing my life.”

“Boy is this true!”

I couldn’t help but think of the Bible and how similar its books are to the one being described in the meeting. It, too, was written to pass along important information. Its authors were emphatic and made sure to point out when we should pay particular attention. They, too, did this to point the way for those who would come after.

To read the Bible in this way seems to make it more personal. Frederick Buechner described it as a group of people standing outside while people like you and I look down from windows above. Those outside see something they desperately want us to see.  They point and shout, hoping we will get a sense of what is beyond our sight. Sometimes the voices are confusing, the gestures distracting, but their emphatic efforts are like fingers pointing the way down the path of faith. They want us to know what they know.

Too often the Bible is worshiped and not read. Described as “The Word of God,” we lose the sense that it has come through people like you and me, people who, like the original owner of the Big Book, have lived life and come to learn important things. They have seen things they want us to see. They have describe life beyond our vision. We need to pay attention to what is underlined and the scribbled in the margins. It’s like they’re whispering in our ears.

* The Big Book is the general text of Alcoholics Anonymous

Advent II: For Behold . . .

The next phrase is almost as challenging as the first. As if unfolding their hands to show something of great worth, they say:  “Look!” . . .”You won’t believe this!” . . . “Hold on tight, everything in the world is about to change.” It must have been an amazing moment. The challenge comes not from understanding what they were saying, but doing it.

We live in a time when we can observe vast galaxies and tiny atoms, and yet we have all but lost our ability to see. We attend church dutifully and speak of the lovely flowers, but miss the daughter trying to cuddle during the sermon. We schedule Christmas parties for each weekend night in December instead of making a fire and telling family stories. We bemoan the holiday season with all its commercialism, as we join the parade to max-out our credit cards, instead of looking for innovative ways to say "I love you."

The angels had it right: Behold!

God is coming.

God is here.

Way back when, and right this minute.

All we need are eyes to see.

Maybe we've forgotten how to look.

Maybe we’ve been looking in the wrong places.

I don’t think theirs were words of judgment or chastisement. I think they were trying to awaken us, to remind us. They knew better than we, if we open our eyes, our hearts will follow. Who knows, we might find God sitting right beside us.