Complicated Journey, Simple Joy

A wedding creates a beautiful day; a divorce rocks a person's entire world. A promotion can enhance the wallet; being down-sized can bring a family to its knees for years. Being told by your doctor you're in good health can make your day; being told you have cancer can change your entire life and future.

It seems it is not the good times that are nearly as formative and life-changing (for good or evil) as it is the tragic, the season of loss. It was a beautiful day when I got married in 1971. When all of that blew to hell several years later, my entire life and even my future took a completely different trajectory. That tragedy catapulted me into choices and a lifestyle I had never imagined. The tragedy changed me--I became someone (something?) monstrous. Fortunately, that same tragedy eventually brought me to my knees as a broken man. I was now pliable; I could now be shaped into a loving man.

A second blessed marriage and four children later, life was relatively smooth. Then a decimating discovery that one of our children was being violated by an adult acquaintance of ours. Unspeakable grief. At times, murderous rage. But that eventually birthed a tender heart, deep compassion for those who have been victimized, and a forever-different but forever-closer relationship with our daughter.

Pain is formative. C.S.Lewis once said that "pain is the megaphone by which God rouses a deaf world." Pain gets our attention and it is often through pain, not pleasure, that God imparts to us and bestows upon us gifts and blessing that come only through the medium of pain. The author, Sheldon Vanaukan, calls it "severe mercy."

This week, my daughter whom I referred to moments ago sent me a poignant blog by a friend of another author, Donald Miller, who wrote A Million Years in a Thousand Years. I encourage you to take the time to read this eloquent slice-of-a-life and to savor the photographs. You will find it at:

http://donmilleris.com/2010/03/21/nellas-beautiful-story/

Grace and Peace on your journey, my friend.

Today I Laughed

"There is a time for everything. . . a time to weep, a time to laugh. . . " (Ecclesiastes 3:1,4)

Today has been a time to laugh. Our 7 y.o. granddaughter and her 5 y.o brother are with us for an overnight and will return home early in the morning. We've run, we've played. We built a scrawny snowman that, per her assessment, "looks like an alien." We played snowball tag this morning. We're eating whatever they want and whatever quantity of it they desire. We hid in the dark basement from Nana. We played Uno. We made popcorn and watched Princess Diaries 2 due to her pleading and in spite of his dismay. Judging by the look on his face you'd have thought we were watching Princess Diarrhea 2. I found myself watching the kids about as much as I watched the movie. Their expressions, their spontaneous reactions are funnier than any movie.

I laugh at their explanations of body reactions. e.g., "Mommy knows how to burp; she just swallows her spit." I laugh at the names they've given to certain body parts; dual appendages of the male anatomy are referred to, in hushed tones, as "donkers."

We make faces; we belch as loud as we can. We get it all out of our system--for tomorrow they will have to resume behaving. For the time being, it's like the UFC in that there are no holds barred. It's a free-for-all. The difference is we engage no fists, just fits--fits of laughter and joy.

Today is a time to laugh. And I am.

Plastic Jesus

When I was a little kid I carried a soft, cuddly , cloth "wittle bunny wabbit" wherever I went. It was safe and harmless and I derived much comfort from him. Years passed and when I turned 16 my mom made me a deal--I could get my driver's license if I agreed to quit carrying around "wittle bunny wabbit." I got my license when I was 19. It was tough.

When I was a little boy and eventually a pimple pummeled adolescent I also carried with me--everywhere I went--a soft, cuddly and safe Jesus. He never struggled with a bad thought, and viewed women through the most platonic of eyes. My soft and safe Jesus was scrupulous and compliant; he dotted each and every "i" and crossed all his "t's," while I, on the other hand, was crossing my eyes and making faces at the teacher. For that alone, I knew I was hell-bound on a speeding locomotive.

I didn't have a chance.

My Jesus, when he was about 12, came up missing, according to the gospel accounts, and his frantic parents found him in the temple, of all places. When I was 12 if I had come up missing the absolutely last place my parents would have looked would have been the church. "Oh, I bet Steve's studying in the preacher's office!" Yeh, right. While sinful boys like myself were engaging in everyday sinful activities like baseball and fishing, my soft and safe Jesus, in contrast, was asking his buddies to remove their yarmulke from their head and join him in a bible study.

I didn't have a chance.

I was led to believe that being a Christian--a follower of soft 'n safe Jesus--consisted of following the rules. And the rules were all prohibitive. "Don't. . . " "Thou shalt not. . . " "If you don't want to rot in Hell you better never. . . " I knew what I couldn't do; I had no clue what I could do.
The Christian faith was a negation of life. If it was fun, pleasant to the senses, or savored the moment it had to be wrong and "worldly." And I, on the other hand, was supposed to be "spiritual." God may have created this world for Adam and Eve's enjoyment, but they screwed it up for all of us, and now God is angry and regrets giving us all this "worldly" stuff, and now commands that we avoid, rather than enjoy, it. And besides, God created it for Adam, and my name is Steve.

Darn the luck.

So I guess we are called to live a life of begrudging obedience to the rules. We are to be a squeaky clean example to our unbelieving and used-to-believe friends and whatever we see them doing we are to abstain, while praying for them. That's what my Jesus would do.

Nonetheless, there are some troubling passages in the gospels which, at first glance, seem to paint a different picture of Jesus' lifestyle. Emphasis on "seem to ." There's that incident in John 2 where Jesus is at a wedding and they run out of wine and they go to him, of all people, with their dilemma. " Soft n' safe, life-negating Jesus, we're out of wine! Six stone jars, each containing 20-30 gallons, and we've drunk them dry!! Help!!" Jesus had to be upset with their slurred speech and that they had interrupted a bible study he was leading in the adjacent room, and to make his point and to show them their error of their ways he granted their request, but surely filled the jars with soy milk.
I'll drink to that.

I don't have a chance.