A Modern Litany

These are your opportunities . . . seize them.

These are your challenges . . . face them.

These are your successes . . . celebrate them.

These are your mistakes . . . learn from them.

These are your gifts . . . use them.

These are your weaknesses . . . embrace them.

These are your friends . . . treasure them.

These are your enemies . . . understand them.

These are your questions . . . ask them.

These are your wounds . . . show them.

These are your words . . . value them.

These are your arms . . . open them.

These are your hands . . . loosen them.

This is your life . . . live it.

Bumper-to-Bumper Theology.

I was recently in bumper-to-bumper traffic trying desperately not to lose it. I understand traffic caused by an accident, or debris falling in the road, but not the kind caused by accident on the other side of the highway, or caused by nothing at all. Unfortunately, this particular traffic jam was one of the latter and instead of honking, flipping people off, or driving down a lane I know is closing in 500 yards to get ahead of others, I thought it would be interesting to find the theological significance of bumper-to-bumper traffic. It wasn’t easy.

To help things move more smoothly in my line of traffic, I tried to travel evenly and not put on my brakes as often as the car in front of me. In a way, I was absorbing the slowing of another car which is the opposite of what creates this kind of back up in the first place. Every time I don’t put on my brakes, the car behind me doesn’t have to either, and slowly we chip away at the traffic jam as a whole.

Although I am not very good at it, I wonder if the same technique couldn’t help in life’s traffic? What if we all tried to refrain from putting on our brakes like the cars in front of us? Couldn’t we absorb some of the back up? Wouldn’t it diminish the overall traffic in some small way? For example, when someone says something mean, what if we ignore the comment, absorb the hurt, so it doesn’t travel down the lane to others? What if we refrained from passing along gossip? What if the selfishness of a person, organization, or country is somehow absorbed so the selfishness doesn’t get passed along (or expanded)?

It’s not easy to drive smoothly in erratic traffic, but, if we all tried, there would be less traffic. It’s not easy to live smoothly in a tumultuous world, but, if we all tried, the waters would calm and winds settle. 

Leaving the shade.

The moment was pregnant, but at the time I couldn’t understand it’s meaning. I am not sure I can a day later, but a blog is a wonderful way to explore the things that happen in one’s life and invite others to come along for the journey.

I was sitting in a small city square in Asheville, North Carolina, as a group prepared to perform in the modest amphitheater. Tourists like me were seated ready to listen, while over in the shade the city’s ample homeless population were assembled. Leaning on their backpacks and garbage bags, their arms were scared and eyes empty. 

“Look over there,” I said to my teenage daughters, “and tell me drugs don’t destroy life.”

The performers began, and I was surprised to see they were evangelical Christians. Before singing a praise song about God's presence, the leader spoke of the need for Christ and that abundant life is available to us all.

I have heard my share of such “preachers” and songs, and I was sorry the quality of both was not better, but the contrast between what was being said and sung and those sitting in the shade was stiking.

Telling others about Jesus is a fine and good thing to do, even a brave thing, particularly when standing in the middle of a city like Asheville, but is telling people enough? Is standing at a microphone the best thing to do when there are poor and desperate people sitting off in the shade.

I sat between the two. One claimed to have life, the other all but lifeless. Part of me wanted to roll my eyes at one and shake my head at the other, but I realized I was a part of both. I was once off in the shade searching for life in destructive ways until someone awakened me and told me the truth. There was no rousing sermon or inspirational song, nor has my life been flawless since, but I slowly began the journey out of the shade.

Maybe one day I’ll stand in the sunshine, but, for now, I celebrate the fact that I'm headed toward an abundant life. Today, I sit between where I was and where I'm headed. There’s no complete explanation why I am able to leave the shade, but I believe a lot of it has to do with what was being said at the microphone.