Forty years ago today, October 4, 1975, I married the person who would become my partner, my most constant companion, my critic, my love, a traveler through the world, my bride.
We have shared the struggles and the joys of growing older. Our bodies once slim and sound have begun to shift and falter, sputter a bit as Father time has exacted his toll. There is not much illusion left between us. She knows my faults and insecurities and I know hers. We still each know the ways to make the other happy or sad or mad. There is not much left that would surprise either one of us. Because neither of us are willing to avoid a good old fashion confrontation, we still can mix it up like newly weds, except that now we know where to hit causing the most damage. Even the arguments are long-standing, we don't have much new stuff to bring to the table. I have always felt that long marriages are made up of two tough-minded people, each demanding that the other bring their best to the marriage daily. Sometimes this means that it can get a little tense.
But along with the tough, hard, implacable existence we call marriage and life, there is another ledger being filled. There is the tenderness that can only come from someone who understands and without words comforts. We have both suffered loss of parents, she has agonized through her parent's divorce. There have been very long nights worrying and praying over our kids when they were suffering. The number of nights where we crawled exhausted into bed; her head tucked under my chin, clinging to each other as the dark and merciless world did its best to plow us under. But the common determination, the common fight in us both gave us the strength to batten down the hatches and lift a defiant unified fist in the face of the overwhelming odds. This woman, this lover, this fighter, this mother of my children has always had more strength and determination than I can fully explain. And together we have fought, at least to a draw, what the fates have thrown at us.
So the bodies have changed shape and the spirits are covered with scars, there is a part of us that has stayed forever young. The heart never seems to grow old. Perhaps this is the illusion we all hold until the very end. Perhaps this is the quiet voice in the final moments saying, "Not yet" You see there is still the moments that catch me by surprise. The jump of the heart when I open the door, cinderblock weight of my backpack and suitcase forgotten, and she stops and hugs and kisses me like the young lovers we once were. When we find a meal at home after a long week on the road and she scoots her chair to sit as close as possible simply because she has missed me, and how silly this sounds to outsiders and how precious it is to me. To wake up in the middle of the night and realize that the arm is numb from holding her, but not wanting to shift because it would mean just that little bit of separation that I am not yet willing to give up. The old heart would see all these things as mundane and familiar, the young heart cherishes all of these little moments, fresh and new as the first time we met. And now I realize that the heart we share will never grow old. She will always be my bride. My heart will never grow old as long as she is with me.
Godspeed to my bride, Beverly Jolly. As I have told you for the past 40 years, I have always loved you and always will.
Don
Thursday, October 1, 2015
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
What I Did This Summer
This was one of those summers that ended up being rather mundane. We all carry into our adulthood the idea that summer is a time of dropped schedules, impromptu ice cream and snow cone missions, cooking out, swimming in the creek (my childhood) swimming in the wide spot in the river in a spot called "the jenny hole" by my bride's family. Summer evenings with light until 9PM. And catching "lightin' bugs" after that. These summer memories are long and bring to mind the phrase "endless summer".
However, this year my bride had numerous school training sessions, both online and on campus. The normal cousin's camp never materialized. My work was both intense and stressful with little time to enjoy the moment. Grandkids had numerous camps and schedules just never seemed to sinc up.
But there was one event that can be fully accredited to the rites of summer.
I went camping with my son and my grandson. We managed to dodge the Noah-esque rains of early summer, and managed to find a weekend in the midst of the 100 degree stretch.
There was some purchasing of tent, lanterns (battery powered) fishing poles, throwing out old and non-working camping gear from service years ago. A general plan for menu. By the way, we got a pancake mix in a bottle, just add milk and shake. Other than a little lumpy it was pretty good. Of course anything cooked on the same griddle with the bacon is going to be good. I took a cot. The days of sleeping on the ground are over for this older body. We took my '92 Chevy pickup and just piled all the equipment in the back, lashed it down, and headed out.
We arrived well after dark and spent some time wandering around amongst the RVs, trailers, until we found a site. Rummaging around in the back of the truck we pulled out the tent and a lantern. The box holding the tent said it could be up in 60 seconds. What they mean is if you read the directions, it might be up in a reasonable length of time. After my son made me stop and read the directions by lantern light, we had the tent up, the cot set up with Isaac's bedroll stationed between us. The tent boasted it was a "6 man" tent, but those men would have to be a lot more comfortable with sleeping close than I am. It was fine for 2-1/2.
During this hour or so of set up I realized that there was absolutely no breeze under those trees. And it was close to, if not at, 100. By the time everything was set up I was completely dripping with sweat. When I finally settled on the cot I could feel the sweat gather up and run from under my hair into and around my ears and off my neck. I could remember only one other time I had camped in the old days with the Wrays, Frys, Jollys at Lake Coleman when I was that hot while trying to sleep. With no breeze sleep was a little long in coming.
But lights out created some memories that I will cherish. The tent had a mesh roof that we could see through. From our angle it looked like the trees were bending over and peering into our tent.
Me: "Isaac, it looks like the trees are looking into our tent!"
Isaac: "Grandaddy, trees don't have eyes"
Me: I had no response.
Then the reading of "The Hobbit", bedtime prayers, and the excited chatter of a little boy in the midst of two grown men trying to find a way to sleep. Sleep finally arrived about the time the temps dropped into the 80s.
The next morning was filled with fishing (they weren't biting, apparently they took the summer off) swimming in the lake (with those hot and cold streaks and the squishy mud) and lunch at the swimming area. We headed back to the tent to get some rest. When Ben and Isaac went in the tent to change from their swim trunks it was obvious that it was far to hot to rest in there. So I suggested a quick run into town and hit DQ while we decide what to do. I think the Blizzard helped us decide that one night was enough. So even with a disappointed camper we had a great time and have vowed to make a return to the camping when the weather is cooler.
This is the huge take from the weekend. The best memories are created while wasting time together. I think we get so focused on schedules, and production, and meaningful thoughts and words that we forget that the memories that last are the ones we didn't plan or anticipate. But I wouldn't trade this moment for anything. It was too hot, the fish weren't biting, sand and dirt infiltrated everything, and I loved every minute. I remembered that we don't have to have a reason or an agenda for spending time together.
Godspeed to those who have found the value in wasting time with those they love.
Don
However, this year my bride had numerous school training sessions, both online and on campus. The normal cousin's camp never materialized. My work was both intense and stressful with little time to enjoy the moment. Grandkids had numerous camps and schedules just never seemed to sinc up.
But there was one event that can be fully accredited to the rites of summer.
I went camping with my son and my grandson. We managed to dodge the Noah-esque rains of early summer, and managed to find a weekend in the midst of the 100 degree stretch.
There was some purchasing of tent, lanterns (battery powered) fishing poles, throwing out old and non-working camping gear from service years ago. A general plan for menu. By the way, we got a pancake mix in a bottle, just add milk and shake. Other than a little lumpy it was pretty good. Of course anything cooked on the same griddle with the bacon is going to be good. I took a cot. The days of sleeping on the ground are over for this older body. We took my '92 Chevy pickup and just piled all the equipment in the back, lashed it down, and headed out.
We arrived well after dark and spent some time wandering around amongst the RVs, trailers, until we found a site. Rummaging around in the back of the truck we pulled out the tent and a lantern. The box holding the tent said it could be up in 60 seconds. What they mean is if you read the directions, it might be up in a reasonable length of time. After my son made me stop and read the directions by lantern light, we had the tent up, the cot set up with Isaac's bedroll stationed between us. The tent boasted it was a "6 man" tent, but those men would have to be a lot more comfortable with sleeping close than I am. It was fine for 2-1/2.
During this hour or so of set up I realized that there was absolutely no breeze under those trees. And it was close to, if not at, 100. By the time everything was set up I was completely dripping with sweat. When I finally settled on the cot I could feel the sweat gather up and run from under my hair into and around my ears and off my neck. I could remember only one other time I had camped in the old days with the Wrays, Frys, Jollys at Lake Coleman when I was that hot while trying to sleep. With no breeze sleep was a little long in coming.
But lights out created some memories that I will cherish. The tent had a mesh roof that we could see through. From our angle it looked like the trees were bending over and peering into our tent.
Me: "Isaac, it looks like the trees are looking into our tent!"
Isaac: "Grandaddy, trees don't have eyes"
Me: I had no response.
Then the reading of "The Hobbit", bedtime prayers, and the excited chatter of a little boy in the midst of two grown men trying to find a way to sleep. Sleep finally arrived about the time the temps dropped into the 80s.
The next morning was filled with fishing (they weren't biting, apparently they took the summer off) swimming in the lake (with those hot and cold streaks and the squishy mud) and lunch at the swimming area. We headed back to the tent to get some rest. When Ben and Isaac went in the tent to change from their swim trunks it was obvious that it was far to hot to rest in there. So I suggested a quick run into town and hit DQ while we decide what to do. I think the Blizzard helped us decide that one night was enough. So even with a disappointed camper we had a great time and have vowed to make a return to the camping when the weather is cooler.
This is the huge take from the weekend. The best memories are created while wasting time together. I think we get so focused on schedules, and production, and meaningful thoughts and words that we forget that the memories that last are the ones we didn't plan or anticipate. But I wouldn't trade this moment for anything. It was too hot, the fish weren't biting, sand and dirt infiltrated everything, and I loved every minute. I remembered that we don't have to have a reason or an agenda for spending time together.
Godspeed to those who have found the value in wasting time with those they love.
Don
Thursday, August 20, 2015
When Worlds Collide
For those of you have been kind enough to follow (and occasionally comment) you know that I rarely write or even mention my work. There are a variety of reasons, but mainly it is just that work is not my primary focus in life. I work hard, as we all do, but my work has never really defined me. You also know that I have been on a decade long (or longer) journey in the spiritual disciplines. Hence the name of the blog. The struggles in this area have garnered far more space here than nearly anything else. The "disciplines" as I call them are both a comfort and a pressure. When I am stressed and lonely and depressed the disciplines bring me focus and discernment, it is also these times when the disciplines are the hardest to maintain. Consequently I find them to be the most valuable and most aggravating thing that I do.
Two years ago I left one of the most secure jobs in the industry to try and launch a little company. Only a small part of my motivation was financial. Mostly I wanted to create a company that had a certain culture. This was an opportunity to create a system built on integrity, honesty, collaboration, and ownership. The only flaw in the plan was the current ownership. They/he did not share my vision. It could be a cultural difference with him being Korean, and me being West Texas. Or it could be more personal. But to make a story short in this space, he decided to end our relationship, cutting corners on the original agreement. It would be easy to vilify him and his actions, but in the end I think it came down to the fact that he wanted to deal with people that he could better control and who spend less time making him think through his decision making process (that last sentence just took me 10 minutes to clean up).
So after 20 months of sales increases, bringing legitimacy to his brand, he found a way to cut me loose, to end the agreement and deprive me of the pay out at the end of the agreement. Angry, vindictive, vengeful, ashamed, fearful were the immediate reactions. Response options were numerous. Call all the accounts and tell them in no uncertain terms how unfair it was; legal action to claim my rights under the original agreement; stomp and fuss and try to create all sorts of mischief; these were the thoughts for the first several days.
But the mistake I made in carrying out all those satisfying responses was that I dug deeper into my disciplines. Silence and solitude were especially tough. Prayer and meditation were turbulent at the beginning. The scriptures from the old psalmist about "breaking the teeth of my persecutor" were scanned dozens of times in my studies. Righteousness demanded that I launch an all out spiritual war on this infidel, that the Creator's children could not be abused in this way!
Then in the midst of all this sound and fury, there came a small, still voice, "Don, listen to me." So I finally began to listen to the movement of the Spirit through the disciplines. My ears work pretty good, my heart can be stone deaf. It took two weeks to finally hear the entire message. The first part was pretty straight forward:
Do nothing in revenge.
Let it go.
Look to the future.
Trust Me.
I bucked and pitched and argued and fumed...and finally listened.
For the second part I am still like the little kid who has been forced to apologize, but you can tell by his stance and tone that the words are there, but the intent is still belligerent.
Second part of this message from my disciplines:
Find a way to help.
No! Absolutely not! I will not help him be successful at my expense!
Days later I wrote a letter to the owner and pointed out three areas where he is vulnerable. Revisions to this letter were numerous. I explained the spiritual side of my decision. I assured him I would do nothing to harm his efforts. And I wished him luck. This still sticks in my throat.
My decade long spiritual quest led me to this moment. In a world and industry that does not value integrity, does not practice honesty, and does not reward spiritual formation, the disciplines drove me to action that was so against my nature that it still stuns me and makes me wonder how foolish I am to even contemplate this action and to share it on this blog.
The other portion of this response is to let all of you know, who read this blog, that this is still an enormous struggle for me. I am still afraid of what this will do to me and my bride. We both are living sleepless lives. But I have never been more aware or more sure of the Spirit's leading through my disciplines than I am right now.
So the worlds collided in my head and in my heart. Who won? Who lost? What good did it do?
I have no idea.
Godspeed to those who practice the disciplines; Prayer, Silence, Meditation, Solitude, Study are great in theory, but SCARY in practice. Stick with it, the results are down the road.
Don
Two years ago I left one of the most secure jobs in the industry to try and launch a little company. Only a small part of my motivation was financial. Mostly I wanted to create a company that had a certain culture. This was an opportunity to create a system built on integrity, honesty, collaboration, and ownership. The only flaw in the plan was the current ownership. They/he did not share my vision. It could be a cultural difference with him being Korean, and me being West Texas. Or it could be more personal. But to make a story short in this space, he decided to end our relationship, cutting corners on the original agreement. It would be easy to vilify him and his actions, but in the end I think it came down to the fact that he wanted to deal with people that he could better control and who spend less time making him think through his decision making process (that last sentence just took me 10 minutes to clean up).
So after 20 months of sales increases, bringing legitimacy to his brand, he found a way to cut me loose, to end the agreement and deprive me of the pay out at the end of the agreement. Angry, vindictive, vengeful, ashamed, fearful were the immediate reactions. Response options were numerous. Call all the accounts and tell them in no uncertain terms how unfair it was; legal action to claim my rights under the original agreement; stomp and fuss and try to create all sorts of mischief; these were the thoughts for the first several days.
But the mistake I made in carrying out all those satisfying responses was that I dug deeper into my disciplines. Silence and solitude were especially tough. Prayer and meditation were turbulent at the beginning. The scriptures from the old psalmist about "breaking the teeth of my persecutor" were scanned dozens of times in my studies. Righteousness demanded that I launch an all out spiritual war on this infidel, that the Creator's children could not be abused in this way!
Then in the midst of all this sound and fury, there came a small, still voice, "Don, listen to me." So I finally began to listen to the movement of the Spirit through the disciplines. My ears work pretty good, my heart can be stone deaf. It took two weeks to finally hear the entire message. The first part was pretty straight forward:
Do nothing in revenge.
Let it go.
Look to the future.
Trust Me.
I bucked and pitched and argued and fumed...and finally listened.
For the second part I am still like the little kid who has been forced to apologize, but you can tell by his stance and tone that the words are there, but the intent is still belligerent.
Second part of this message from my disciplines:
Find a way to help.
No! Absolutely not! I will not help him be successful at my expense!
Days later I wrote a letter to the owner and pointed out three areas where he is vulnerable. Revisions to this letter were numerous. I explained the spiritual side of my decision. I assured him I would do nothing to harm his efforts. And I wished him luck. This still sticks in my throat.
My decade long spiritual quest led me to this moment. In a world and industry that does not value integrity, does not practice honesty, and does not reward spiritual formation, the disciplines drove me to action that was so against my nature that it still stuns me and makes me wonder how foolish I am to even contemplate this action and to share it on this blog.
The other portion of this response is to let all of you know, who read this blog, that this is still an enormous struggle for me. I am still afraid of what this will do to me and my bride. We both are living sleepless lives. But I have never been more aware or more sure of the Spirit's leading through my disciplines than I am right now.
So the worlds collided in my head and in my heart. Who won? Who lost? What good did it do?
I have no idea.
Godspeed to those who practice the disciplines; Prayer, Silence, Meditation, Solitude, Study are great in theory, but SCARY in practice. Stick with it, the results are down the road.
Don
Friday, July 17, 2015
What's In It For Me?
Moments of self-realization these days tend to be less “Aha” and more, “well crap”. Navel gazing tends to simply illustrate how large my belly is and not how deep my thoughts are. Recently there have been a few moments that have illustrated how my well- intended actions are really just a cover for some of my deepest insecurities.
My dad is 93. Just in the past few months he has lost most
of his mobility, a lot of his acuity, and sadly some of the humor and good
grace that has always been his character trait. So over the past year I have
been trying to “get his affairs in order”. This has all been done with the
highest sense of duty and dedication. We have arranged his estate, we have made
sure all the contingencies have been rehearsed, and I am confident that the
transition will be smooth and seamless. During all this time I have been
keeping my siblings informed, I have made sure all was above board, I have even
sought council and listened to advice regarding all the aspects of caring for
an aging parent. To the best of my abilities I have tried to make sure he and
his wishes are fully implemented.
And I have fooled myself into thinking that I was doing it
for his good. When in reality I was doing it to make my life easier when the
final moments happen in the not-to-distant future. So the moment was a “well
crap” moment in my life. I would have preferred the “Aha” moment.
My question is a
simple one. Have all these efforts made this a better moment for him or for me?
You see at some level I think it is a way for me to sponge up the little
remaining moments with him. Every time I go see him we end up working on some
aspect of his business. Of course some of that is because he can’t remember
from one visit to the next what we have done. He gets something lodged in his
head and becomes anxious that this issue is left unresolved. When one of the
other siblings or step-siblings ask about any of his life he gets confused and
consequently anxious. I have tried to coach the rest of the crowd to simply
tell him that I have it handled, but the anxiety remains and the questions keep
coming. But as I continue to handle the
issues the question nags at me, “Is this what HE needs at this moment?” How can
I know that his preference would be a nice conversation about the farm, or
Kiwanis, or the bus ministry from years ago? But the rest of it may be the
selfish knowledge that this is the only thing that will help me deal with the
final transition. Then I spend the ride home, morose, close to tears, and
wondering what happened to the funny, hyper-active, compassionate guy that I
have known for 60 years. And wondering about my own motives.
So the line from Kevin Costner in “A Field of Dreams” sticks
in my head and in my throat. “What’s in it for me?” Burned with shame and
remorse all at the same time. I suspect, to my chagrin, that what is in it for
me is a way to cope with his absence. We are interesting creatures that we can
build our own rationalization even knowing we are doing so. And it works.
In some ways I already miss him. The family calls me “little
Grady” and it is a misnomer. I look like him, act a little like him, but fall
short of his integrity and his accommodation to people and life. I will miss
those guideposts. Simply put, I will miss him and the knowledge that he is
here.
Godspeed to those who know this part of the journey well. I
seem to spend a lot of time looking at the map and wondering if I have wandered
off the path a little. Sigh.
Don
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Old and Still Learning
Yesterday I had one of those golden moments with my eldest grandson. He and two of my other grandchildren rode with me to the family reunion in Dublin, Tx and he was instructed by his mother (who rode in the other car with 3 adults and only one of the grandkids) to stay off his iPhone. Phoebe had her headphones on and had worm-holed her way into some musical. Lincoln was tuned into the 18th showing of Berenstein Bears. Eli mostly obeyed and really his mother left him with me, the one who has long since left the disciplining to the parents who thought these kids were a great idea. I am just along to lend a little humor and perspective.
So when we rolled through Glen Rose and Fossil Rim, we got to talking about dinosaurs and T-Rexs and mastodons and all things dinosaur-ish. We talked about the different "enes" with Jurassic dominating the conversation. But the conversation really took an interesting turn when I asked him, "What do you think about the Bible not mentioning these animals at all?" For the next few minutes we talked about the early chapters of Genesis and I mentioned a few theories that I had studied while getting my masters, when he said the most amazing thing.
"I think the dinosaurs happened before the bible, then God started the bible, (and this is the place where my mind was blown) and after that is finished he will start another bible"....
I looked at him trying to get my mind around the implications of that thought. Then looked at the road, then back at him, road, him. He had said it with such nonchalance, such assurance of thought. It had never ever occurred to me that this experiment we call humanity might simply be a phase of God's cosmic timeline. Yet this 12 year old, this cherished boy, this young man who has great athletic ability, strong in math, weak in reading, could easily get his mind around a concept as profound as he had just simply stated. There will be those of you who will see the true miracle here, I was speechless.
Think about the implications of this simple theory. What does this do to our science vs religion debate? What does this do to most of our philosophical "ologies"? End times debate becomes a much different conversation. And as often happens in my head the thought strings started going in all directions. Rex's peeking through the knothole in the fence in heaven (because you know they will keep us all separated) and wondering, "Who are those puny little creatures and how did they get here? God let them in?" Then centuries later, we are looking over the fence and wonder how the new "chosen" are so tiny that a universe of them fit on the surface of a golfball. Plus they look like mold. And on and on and on. It is only the human's arrogance that deludes us into believing that we are the end of the work that is called GOD. After all, we claim he is eternal. You think he wants to spend eternity with only us? Just look at the current debates on FB and I don't want to spend eternity with us.
This thought will keep me going for months. And it was uttered by a 12-yr-old boy who would rather be playing on his iPhone than talking to me. Humility comes in all forms.
Godspeed to all you grandparents out there. These grandkids are more than just little people to be spoiled. They bring insight and understanding and mind blowing new thoughts. Wow, just wow.
Don
So when we rolled through Glen Rose and Fossil Rim, we got to talking about dinosaurs and T-Rexs and mastodons and all things dinosaur-ish. We talked about the different "enes" with Jurassic dominating the conversation. But the conversation really took an interesting turn when I asked him, "What do you think about the Bible not mentioning these animals at all?" For the next few minutes we talked about the early chapters of Genesis and I mentioned a few theories that I had studied while getting my masters, when he said the most amazing thing.
"I think the dinosaurs happened before the bible, then God started the bible, (and this is the place where my mind was blown) and after that is finished he will start another bible"....
I looked at him trying to get my mind around the implications of that thought. Then looked at the road, then back at him, road, him. He had said it with such nonchalance, such assurance of thought. It had never ever occurred to me that this experiment we call humanity might simply be a phase of God's cosmic timeline. Yet this 12 year old, this cherished boy, this young man who has great athletic ability, strong in math, weak in reading, could easily get his mind around a concept as profound as he had just simply stated. There will be those of you who will see the true miracle here, I was speechless.
Think about the implications of this simple theory. What does this do to our science vs religion debate? What does this do to most of our philosophical "ologies"? End times debate becomes a much different conversation. And as often happens in my head the thought strings started going in all directions. Rex's peeking through the knothole in the fence in heaven (because you know they will keep us all separated) and wondering, "Who are those puny little creatures and how did they get here? God let them in?" Then centuries later, we are looking over the fence and wonder how the new "chosen" are so tiny that a universe of them fit on the surface of a golfball. Plus they look like mold. And on and on and on. It is only the human's arrogance that deludes us into believing that we are the end of the work that is called GOD. After all, we claim he is eternal. You think he wants to spend eternity with only us? Just look at the current debates on FB and I don't want to spend eternity with us.
This thought will keep me going for months. And it was uttered by a 12-yr-old boy who would rather be playing on his iPhone than talking to me. Humility comes in all forms.
Godspeed to all you grandparents out there. These grandkids are more than just little people to be spoiled. They bring insight and understanding and mind blowing new thoughts. Wow, just wow.
Don
Thursday, June 25, 2015
The Force Is Strong..
At a certain point in our lives we experience a portion of the journey that seems mundane. We get up, go to work, work, go home, go to bed.. Hit reset, do the same tomorrow. The world becomes routine and the people are always the same. There is certain blandness to the entire deal.
But every once in a great while we have something happen that gets the juices flowing. It can be something that starts another leg of the journey or it could be a split second of adventure.
Yesterday I was driving to work in my 2005 Blazer. I had gotten a late start due to a dust up between my youngest daughter's dog, newly named Knucklehead, and a donkey. Of course as I write that last sentence I realize that may be the better blog post. Focus is going to be an issue today. So the drive was a little different because I took a route that I normally avoid due to traffic. But today, because of my late start, I was clanking along at 50mph minding my own business and drinking my Starbucks. I was in the left hand lane as the highway was about to merge with another main highway. Suddenly I realized that out of nowhere someone's hubcap had come off and was spinning in my direction.
Now this hubcap was normal hubcap size, but I could see the little clips that are supposed to lock it onto the wheel spinning at highway speeds. And this is where my imagination kicks in. As I registered the enormous and seemingly unavoidable spinning wheel of death heading towards me at supersonic speeds, I found myself channeling an odd mix of Neo and Luke. The Blazer and I had only micro-seconds to bend ourselves (remember that now all this is in slow motion) away from the whirling blades of destruction. A dodge to the left onto the shoulder, a readjustment to the right to miss the barrier, a snap of a glance at the projectile as it spun past the copilot window, and then safely past the ominous danger. I looked ahead to find the enemy vehicle and spotted a beat up, small, white sedan. It was the moment of coming back to earth. It was simply a ride to work. Sigh.
In reality I probably looked a lot more like Po, and less like Neo. But the great things about imagination is that you can look any way you want. You can channel whatever you want. You can live in a world of danger and intrigue and wonder. For a moment your adrenals get this great workout, leaving the little guys in your adrenal glands clasping their hamstrings from the sudden effort. For a few minutes longer you get to enjoy the rush of adrenaline and be the star in your own movie. Perhaps we should have a little moment like this every day. Maybe it would alert us to the fact that life should be lived with a good load of adrenaline.
So I survived the attack. But I still had to park in my spot at work. Heft my backpack into my office. And begin the day dealing with unimaginative people and situations I had dealt with for years. Neo and Luke and even Po had to come inside and finish the paperwork.
But for one split second...the Force was with me...
Godspeed, to those who still live an exciting life, even if it is only in their head.
Don
But every once in a great while we have something happen that gets the juices flowing. It can be something that starts another leg of the journey or it could be a split second of adventure.
Yesterday I was driving to work in my 2005 Blazer. I had gotten a late start due to a dust up between my youngest daughter's dog, newly named Knucklehead, and a donkey. Of course as I write that last sentence I realize that may be the better blog post. Focus is going to be an issue today. So the drive was a little different because I took a route that I normally avoid due to traffic. But today, because of my late start, I was clanking along at 50mph minding my own business and drinking my Starbucks. I was in the left hand lane as the highway was about to merge with another main highway. Suddenly I realized that out of nowhere someone's hubcap had come off and was spinning in my direction.
Now this hubcap was normal hubcap size, but I could see the little clips that are supposed to lock it onto the wheel spinning at highway speeds. And this is where my imagination kicks in. As I registered the enormous and seemingly unavoidable spinning wheel of death heading towards me at supersonic speeds, I found myself channeling an odd mix of Neo and Luke. The Blazer and I had only micro-seconds to bend ourselves (remember that now all this is in slow motion) away from the whirling blades of destruction. A dodge to the left onto the shoulder, a readjustment to the right to miss the barrier, a snap of a glance at the projectile as it spun past the copilot window, and then safely past the ominous danger. I looked ahead to find the enemy vehicle and spotted a beat up, small, white sedan. It was the moment of coming back to earth. It was simply a ride to work. Sigh.
In reality I probably looked a lot more like Po, and less like Neo. But the great things about imagination is that you can look any way you want. You can channel whatever you want. You can live in a world of danger and intrigue and wonder. For a moment your adrenals get this great workout, leaving the little guys in your adrenal glands clasping their hamstrings from the sudden effort. For a few minutes longer you get to enjoy the rush of adrenaline and be the star in your own movie. Perhaps we should have a little moment like this every day. Maybe it would alert us to the fact that life should be lived with a good load of adrenaline.
So I survived the attack. But I still had to park in my spot at work. Heft my backpack into my office. And begin the day dealing with unimaginative people and situations I had dealt with for years. Neo and Luke and even Po had to come inside and finish the paperwork.
But for one split second...the Force was with me...
Godspeed, to those who still live an exciting life, even if it is only in their head.
Don
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
What If...?
There is a current debate and more then a little angst swirling around the data showing that the religious institution called "church" is eroding. It is clear indication from the number of attendees to the number of located churches that are diminishing that the institution is in decline. We can argue the finer points of this statement, but all the indications, which are numerous, point to a slow and agonizing death.
Along with the analysis of the data is the following concerns. Whom to blame and what can we do seem to be garnering a lot of the conversation. And the list for blame is extensive from the current entrenched leadership to the ungrateful young people and all in between seems to grow by the day. We have developed terms to catalog the different sections of this erosion, "Dones" and "Nones" and "Fringe" and "unchurched" all are marked as contributors to this demise.
A much shorter list is the "what can we do" column. It is, in fact, blank.
We blame the current leaders and assign them the motives of power hungry old guys. Almost without exception we say, "Individually they are nice guys, but as a group, they are to blame." My instinct tells me that it is easy to blame a group of men, but when we put someone's face to it that we know and love and respect, then we need an out. Thus the above statement.
The Dones and Nones have just said, "Screw it, we're out" and have left the building. Even though they/we still stand in the parking lot and toss religious rocks at the windows. It is much easier to stand outside and feel religiously superior to having to quash our natural instincts for argument and trying to help.
Young people of every generation have been on the road to hell since Cain knocked Abel to the ground and tried to cover it up. Nothing new here. It's just that they are so smug in their indifference. Drives me crazy.
Each group has their own issues and their own preconceived ideas about how this works and they are all partially right and mostly wrong. We have also blamed the erosion of the moral fiber of our culture. The Dems and Repubs can't get along, Breeders and LGBT are at each other, the number crunchers and the word eaters, the left and the right, the white and the others, on and on and on. The slow, but accelerating descent has most of us gasping for breath. And the church has not kept up with all these events and factions.
So the church is declining because the few reasons above and blaming all above. But WHAT IF the simple reason for all of this is because we have missed an important element of God's mission. You see, we tend to believe the mission is a static. It is a level to be attained, or a position to be defended, or a bulls-eye in the middle of a target. But if the mission is constantly moving from here to there and onward, then the "spot" we fixate on will be behind the place where God is moving.
An analogy that occurred to me this morning was mobile phones (by using that term I realize I have just given an indication of my age). The first mobile phones were called mobile because we could move about with them. It was not easy because the battery pack was equivalent both in size and weight to a cinder block. You had to have a shoulder strap and be in relatively good shape just to carry them. And they only had one function, to make a call or send a call. That was it. And you had to remember the numbers (yes, kids, like in your head) to dial them up. Of course you never knew who the incoming call was until you answered. Scary by todays standards. I think what the church has done is put a death grip on the technology of the earliest mobile phones, believing that this is the spot in technology that God has ordained as the end of the mission. So church leaders clamp down on this spot in the technology, squinch their eyes shut , and brand anyone with newer technology as a heretic.
"But just look at this new IPhone 6, it can send and receive emails, it can play music, it can..."
"STOP, STOP, Leave me Alone, God wants us all to lug around this mobile phone!"
"Listen, if you will just try it.."
"You are from SATAN, this mobile is just the way God WANTS it! Get out! "
Dones and Nones: "Forget it, these guys are just trying to control us, they are power hungry and don't care about us"
Young people: " Is he ok? Weird."
The trajectory of technology forges onward, as does the mission of God. It is not his place to slow down and help find comfort in old doctrinal distinctives or even old theology. It is a mission and it will move forward at the pace that works for the mission. We must find ways to constantly shed ourselves of the old "technology" and embrace technology that matches the moment. Before my email blows up, yes I am familiar with the "same yesterday, today, tomorrow" view of God. But I do not believe this pertains to method or practice. It pertains to the Nature of God. He is and always will be love, compassion, truth, integrity, etc. But He has shown both in the old book and in ticking through the decades since a willingness to change His methods and means to accomplish His mission.
To the leaders: unclench a little, peek around a little and see if you can see the trajectory of the mission instead of the moment in time that provides the most comfort.
Nones and Dones: Give the leaders a break, instead of categorizing their current posture in the least favorable light, how about we understand their fear of letting go and their stomach churning responsibility towards the community of faith?
Young people: You are way ahead of us. New theology is second nature to you, it terrifying to us.
But lets drop the pretense about having ANY answers and lift our eyes to the blazing comet above us that is the mission of God and try to find our place in that trajectory. None of us will see the end, none of us saw the beginning, but we can ride along while we are here.
Godspeed to the Spirit walkers who help us see the blaze, and to the ones who have just enough faith to let go of the cinder block of old doctrine. It is a wild and crazy ride!
Don
Along with the analysis of the data is the following concerns. Whom to blame and what can we do seem to be garnering a lot of the conversation. And the list for blame is extensive from the current entrenched leadership to the ungrateful young people and all in between seems to grow by the day. We have developed terms to catalog the different sections of this erosion, "Dones" and "Nones" and "Fringe" and "unchurched" all are marked as contributors to this demise.
A much shorter list is the "what can we do" column. It is, in fact, blank.
We blame the current leaders and assign them the motives of power hungry old guys. Almost without exception we say, "Individually they are nice guys, but as a group, they are to blame." My instinct tells me that it is easy to blame a group of men, but when we put someone's face to it that we know and love and respect, then we need an out. Thus the above statement.
The Dones and Nones have just said, "Screw it, we're out" and have left the building. Even though they/we still stand in the parking lot and toss religious rocks at the windows. It is much easier to stand outside and feel religiously superior to having to quash our natural instincts for argument and trying to help.
Young people of every generation have been on the road to hell since Cain knocked Abel to the ground and tried to cover it up. Nothing new here. It's just that they are so smug in their indifference. Drives me crazy.
Each group has their own issues and their own preconceived ideas about how this works and they are all partially right and mostly wrong. We have also blamed the erosion of the moral fiber of our culture. The Dems and Repubs can't get along, Breeders and LGBT are at each other, the number crunchers and the word eaters, the left and the right, the white and the others, on and on and on. The slow, but accelerating descent has most of us gasping for breath. And the church has not kept up with all these events and factions.
So the church is declining because the few reasons above and blaming all above. But WHAT IF the simple reason for all of this is because we have missed an important element of God's mission. You see, we tend to believe the mission is a static. It is a level to be attained, or a position to be defended, or a bulls-eye in the middle of a target. But if the mission is constantly moving from here to there and onward, then the "spot" we fixate on will be behind the place where God is moving.
An analogy that occurred to me this morning was mobile phones (by using that term I realize I have just given an indication of my age). The first mobile phones were called mobile because we could move about with them. It was not easy because the battery pack was equivalent both in size and weight to a cinder block. You had to have a shoulder strap and be in relatively good shape just to carry them. And they only had one function, to make a call or send a call. That was it. And you had to remember the numbers (yes, kids, like in your head) to dial them up. Of course you never knew who the incoming call was until you answered. Scary by todays standards. I think what the church has done is put a death grip on the technology of the earliest mobile phones, believing that this is the spot in technology that God has ordained as the end of the mission. So church leaders clamp down on this spot in the technology, squinch their eyes shut , and brand anyone with newer technology as a heretic.
"But just look at this new IPhone 6, it can send and receive emails, it can play music, it can..."
"STOP, STOP, Leave me Alone, God wants us all to lug around this mobile phone!"
"Listen, if you will just try it.."
"You are from SATAN, this mobile is just the way God WANTS it! Get out! "
Dones and Nones: "Forget it, these guys are just trying to control us, they are power hungry and don't care about us"
Young people: " Is he ok? Weird."
The trajectory of technology forges onward, as does the mission of God. It is not his place to slow down and help find comfort in old doctrinal distinctives or even old theology. It is a mission and it will move forward at the pace that works for the mission. We must find ways to constantly shed ourselves of the old "technology" and embrace technology that matches the moment. Before my email blows up, yes I am familiar with the "same yesterday, today, tomorrow" view of God. But I do not believe this pertains to method or practice. It pertains to the Nature of God. He is and always will be love, compassion, truth, integrity, etc. But He has shown both in the old book and in ticking through the decades since a willingness to change His methods and means to accomplish His mission.
To the leaders: unclench a little, peek around a little and see if you can see the trajectory of the mission instead of the moment in time that provides the most comfort.
Nones and Dones: Give the leaders a break, instead of categorizing their current posture in the least favorable light, how about we understand their fear of letting go and their stomach churning responsibility towards the community of faith?
Young people: You are way ahead of us. New theology is second nature to you, it terrifying to us.
But lets drop the pretense about having ANY answers and lift our eyes to the blazing comet above us that is the mission of God and try to find our place in that trajectory. None of us will see the end, none of us saw the beginning, but we can ride along while we are here.
Godspeed to the Spirit walkers who help us see the blaze, and to the ones who have just enough faith to let go of the cinder block of old doctrine. It is a wild and crazy ride!
Don
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