Telling better stories...

Honestly it sounded like an email forward and I wasn't paying full attention, but it went something like this: there was a woman with cancer. She was praying to God one night and asking all kinds of questions. She asked God why He had not created a doctor to cure cancer yet. God's response to this woman and her question was that he had created a doctor with the cure to cancer, but...because of pro-choice...the baby, who would have grown to cure the terrible disease, had been aborted. She was left to suffer. 

I have no idea if this is a true story. I have no idea where it came from or why it was being discussed over lunch. I'm not interested in the debate actually. 

It just left me with this terrible emptiness after hearing it. I believe the stories we tell matter. The stories we tell define things. This story (to me) didn't speak to the debate at hand, but told a story of a God who quits. A God who is waiting around the corner for us to screw up so he can point out our consequences. It was, or is, told to shame us. To guilt us. To fill us with that terrible emptiness. 

We need to tell better stories. Stories of the God of second and third and forth chances. The God who never stops running. The God who doesn't quit because we suck. Stories we find on page after page of scripture. 

Like the God of Adam and Eve. He could have ended it there after all. 

Noah spends few months on a boat, watches the world destroyed by God and rain, plants a vineyard, and then gets drunk in a tent. Give me the God who still gives us the rainbow after all of that. 

Moses said "no" a few times. He tried hard to talk God out of sending him. God never told the people of Israel, "well I was gonna save you but there was this guy who told me no..." Moses went because God didn't give up. 

David got another chance. So did Jonah. So did that woman at the well. And the one caught in the act. And Peter. And Paul. And me. And you as well. 

I know. I know. Insert stuff about obedience and sin here. All of that matters. I know. I promise. 

But can we start using more stories of a God who NEVER stops chasing His love for us because of the stupidity of us? Let's go looking for the redemption and grace of others because our own story found it first. 

"When we see and accept the unacceptable in our own lives, we recognize the unacceptable in other people's lives and yet accept them anyway. Then we are truly able to help others, to lead them to grace, to help them discover transformation." Jay Bakker in Faith/Doubt

God isn't going quit all of us because you had an abortion, or you cheated, or you lied, or you stole, or you cussed. 

God doesn't quit on his own story.  He'll see you from a long way off and start running towards you...

That is a story worth telling. 

After 11 years...

January 26, 2003 I drove to Aledo for my first day as a growned-up minister. Plus or minus 4,015 days later a few things have stuck with me...

God created you. So that means all of you. Happy, sad, and mad He created it all and saw that it was good. 

Certainty isn't all it's cracked up to be. 

Doubt is normal. 

I don't know is an answer. 

Karma isn't real. But I still find myself thinking it is. I just want God to like me and give me good things. 

Say thank you at the end of everyday. You grew, I promise. 

Hope is good. Have a little. 

People will always be broken, no matter how hard you try to put them back together. Keep trying. 

People will always be beautiful. They'll always surprise you if you keep at them.

Grace is deep and big. Live that way with yourself and with others. 

Being open is a must. Once you decide you have it all organized and figured out is the day you become completely irrelevant. 

Be diverse. Read things you don't agree with. Watch Fox News. Watch CNN. Eat food you've never tried. 

Have friends who are different than you. Race. Age. Sex. Political views. Religious views. Just be diverse. 

If you're going to have an opinion on something, make sure you actually have a connection to it. 

Better put: don't tell me what you think about a certain group of people if you don't actually know any of those people personally. 

Think before you speak. 

Sometimes don't think too much before you speak. 

Have friends with bald heads. I'd be lost with out my two bald-headed friends. Thank you Kevin and Craig for always being bald. And of course being there for me. 

Make friendships that last and remember they aren't just a number on Facebook. Make sure they make you better and let them teach you. (Thank you Shelley Lynn for sticking around and teaching me about life.)

Read. Then read more. 

Find out what idol you chase and tell someone about it. Then ask them to help you stop chasing something you'll never catch. 

Laugh at yourself. Trust me, you're an idiot a lot. Me too. 

Read your Bible and even forget what you think you might know about it. And please...read the Old Testament. 

Stop, sit, and drink some tea in the front yard. Trust me that work, the gym, the kid's practice, the yard, the house, and the nation will be okay. You aren't that vital. 

Go to church. Yeah, because you're supposed to. And because you need spaces like that. 

And have that one. That one person when it all goes good you can laugh with. And that same one person when it all goes to hell that you can hunker down and fight the storm with. Thank you Stacey for always laughing till it hurts with me...literally. And yes, we will hunker down again for the storm and come out laughing on the other side. Promise. 

Remeber, love wins. 

Basically after 11 years...love God and love others. The rest will take care of itself. 

I don't think I pray right...

I used to sit at Ranger games and pray. Not because I was a super spiritual child, but because I was trying to win God's favor so he would help my team win. I promised him I would be nice, clean my room, eat my vegetables, obey, or basically never do anything bad again. 

All I wanted in return was a win. 

The older I got, the more this mentality became a part of my life with God. I understood God to be weighing my choices and then determining my blessings. If something didn't go my way, then obviously God was not pleased with the choices that I had made recently. And if things went the way I needed, I hardly ever gave God much credit. Those things were mostly on me and my own awesomeness. 

Honestly, I'm just older now. Not wiser. I still have no idea what I'm doing in regards to prayer. I don't know what to ask for, when to ask for it, or even if I should ask at all. Sometimes I wonder if I'm not folding my hands right or if I forgot to close my eyes. I don't know if he listens or when he listens or even what language he speaks. God and I usually differ on how and when to answer prayers. He and I are totally at odds on who should face trials and who should get blessings. 

But I started doing a "bible study" every other Wednesday for a group of people in a nursing home. There are usually around 15-20 of them. Some of them can't speak. Some of them can't stay awake. A few cuss at me. Most of them have no idea what I'm saying or even what day it is. But still, we meet twice a month and "study". (Dementia Devotionals 401 should be a required class in seminary)

One week we read Matthew 6. Not because we wanted to exegete the Sermon on the Mount. Because I didn't plan anything that day, scrambled through my bible, didn't really care because they don't get it anyways, and landed there with Jesus talking about prayer. 

I just started reading and they started praying. I tried it again the next week. And the next. It keeps happening. More join in every week. And so for a few minutes, these mostly forgotten people, do whatever they can to say the Lord's Prayer. Even the most precious, confused, and spirited woman in the bunch...has moments of complete clarity and will almost lead us all with old school power and conviction. Then it's back to bingo, puréed diets, and hospice for us all. 

It is one of those tiny spaces between heaven and earth. Places we miss because we aren't looking or paying attention. 

God and I really aren't all that great at the moment. I'm a little (or a lot) upset with the way he's doing things. Once again he forgot to ask me my opinion on how it should go. I can't see what he's doing or why he's doing it this way. 

And I just feel like I haven't been praying right again...

But there is a group of sweet, old, and crazy people who are teaching me that praying isn't about knowing the system. It's not about karma or being good enough. It's not about being happy with life all the time. Or fully understanding what the hell is going on around you. It's not about asking for the winning run in return for a perfectly clean room. 

It's about gathering up all that you have and just showing up. As is. 

Tomorrow they'll be there at 10a. Some got there on their own. Others had to have help. Tomorrow I'm going to gather up all I have and show up as well. Broken for sure,  but looking for that tiny space between heaven and earth. 

Hope

"Let me tell you something my friend, hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane." 

                                               -Red -

I hope all day. I hope I'm busy. I hope I'm not too busy. I hope we have money. I hope the mailbox is kind to us. I hope I have enough gas to make it to cheaper gas. I hope dinner is ready. I hope for this. I hope for that. And then hope that I hoped enough. 

Hope can drive me insane. 

I don't know what I would do without hope though. Hope in people to get better. Hope in life that it'll turn around. Hope that God actually knows what he is doing. Hope in this story we are writing. 

Today I hoped the best for my little Laedin Grace as she started kindergarten. The last 5 years flew by and I can only imagine how fast the next 13 will go. 

Walking into school with her back pack on, nap mat in hand, lunch packed, hair done...she was excited and I was the nervous one. I hoped she wouldn't cry. Hoped she would look the principal in the eyes and shake his hand. Hoped she would make friends. Hoped she would eat fast enough at lunch. Hope, hope, hope. 

She did good. She put up with my endless pictures and hugs. I said goodbye 100 times, but she was already coloring. I started hoping she wouldn't forget who I was. 

I passed a lot of other parents and kids filled with the new hope a school year brings. I sat in my car, took a few deep breaths, and started driving. Hope keeps me going. She's writing an incredible story that has endless possibilities and that makes me smile. 

"Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies."

                                -Andy Dufresne-

Ill never stop hoping the best for her (or her sister). She's going to drive me insane with hope. I know because everyone is constantly telling me to "wait until she becomes a teenager"...but that's okay because I really do believe hope is a good thing. And she will always have her mom and dad's hope...

I hear she has to go back tomorrow and I'm already hoping it goes well!!!

The waiting room...

I went to church a lot, but I think I missed the class on doubt. 

I remember the classes on sex, drugs, and appropriate music. Baptism, worship, and tithing...check, check, and check. Been to VBS and retreats and summer camps. I know all about salvation in my particular community. I've read books from Max Lucado to Peter Rollins. Can say with ease all 66 books of the bible. Know a little about 4 part harmony and can sing "Booster Booster" very well. 

Still, I must have missed the class on doubt. 

The one where they help make sense of the doubt that creeps in when it doesn't all fit inside the box of pretty Jesus they feed you. 

The doubt that comes with an unplanned pregnancy, or with the night in jail, or with the house that won't sell even though you've "prayed about it", the doubt you'll make the next paycheck, the child that won't call and the doubt that they might not be okay, or the doubt that just comes from sitting in a waiting room and yeah...waiting. 

Don't get me wrong, I believe God is in each of the above somehow. He is God after all. But the answers we get sometimes don't ease the doubts. 

"It's God's will" or "it's all part of His plan"

I just missed the class that made those answers make sense in the midst of what seems like utter godlessness. 

Its hard for me to be the Peter that hops out of the boat in faith and walks on water. Most of the time I'm just the Peter that starts to sink with doubt. 

I doubt. I stand in the chaos of my life, and the lives I'm closest too, and ask God where he is...because sometimes I just don't see him. 

But recently nothing has brought me closer to God than wrestling with my own doubt. Releasing the need to have a fancy 3 part Jesus answer for everything and just learning to let go. That sometimes faith isn't about making sense of it all, but more about being present in it all. To be real and honest in every moment, even if that means you have doubts. Struggling with doubt doesn't make us less Christian, if anything it makes us more real. Or I guess that's how I see it. 

I'm grateful for a Jesus who understands my doubt and for a few people who will sit with me in the shit doubt inevitably brings.

Grace

"At this point I think it is too late to try and convert mamma to Catholicism. We'll just take our chances that God understands she was a faithful church goer of some kind. So, if you don't mind praying with her that would be good."

Actual quote from a patient's daughter. Most of the time I hear it from the other side...convert mamma from Catholicism. So this was a shock to the system. 

I wasn't sure God would even hear my prayers according to her. 

But I went and sat with mamma. We talked about her life in the Church of Christ. How she loved to sing "the good songs". She loves the creation story the most and asked me to read it next time I'm there. She seems like a very nice woman. Even a faithful church goer. 

Im not sure when I stopped caring about who goes to heaven and who ends up in hell. Both places matter, but I'm satisfied to let other people debate who is in and who is out. I just don't have time to keep up with a scorecard. 

Jay Bakker says "I want to hold on to my views lightly, to keep an open mind, and not feel like I've arrived at the end of theology. I want to put people first and live my life. I'm not out to save anyone from hell or win people to Jesus. I'm just trying to follow Jesus myself, and help people find grace and peace and acceptance in their lives."

I agree. 

Sent from my iPhone

Till death do us part...

A week ago I did a wedding. It was a beautifully normal wedding. Bride in white, sun shining, crying moms, and plenty of good eats. Vows, prayers, and limos. It was a wedding. 

A week later I watched a wife say goodbye to her husband of 54yrs. I imagined their wedding looked a lot like the wedding I had just done. Filled with smiles, laughs, and forever. They made their promises and rode off into the sunset.

Here they are...at the beginning. An entire life of adventures together right in front of them. Newness. Unknownness. Unbridled excitement.  Unable to stop smiling as they dance their first dance. Swept up in the emotions of forever. They have a million moments left...hand in hand they start the journey. 

And here they are...at the end. An entire life of adventures together behind them. They know each other totally. They've forgotten what life is without the other. They are swept up in the emotions of the end. They are dancing their last dance. Only a few moments remain...hand in hand one slips away. 

I stand in the middle. Trying bridge life and death with the people I live with. Praying for forever in one moment and the mercy of death the next. Makes waking up everyday all the more real. 

It's painfully beautiful at times...

Skipping church

Sometimes I wonder if going to church matters.

I walked into the bar this morning and this was the first thing I heard...

"Seriously preach, don't go canceling church again. We need that s*** man."

I had a wedding. A few people had a trip to the beach. We decided to just take a week off and recover/travel. Guess not everyone got the memo or agreed with the vote.

I walked in on a cranky group of people this morning. Short tempers and quick fuses. Cigarette smoke was extra thick and cuss words were flying. All I could do was laugh. Then someone else started laughing. Then we all laughed and someone said they missed Jesus.

We missed church. We missed communion. We missed being together. Maybe we were cranky because we didn't get some church last week.

That's never been the case for me in churches. I know a lot of people who secretly like when church is cancelled...they feel less guilty about not being there or not wanting to go. Church has become another obligation. Another thing they owe God.

After we laughed, we went back to yelling, cussing, and smoking. I didn't say we were perfect.

But I'm glad they value the space...

Pretzels, eggs, and the Trinity...

"Explain God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit and how they are work together because my trainer told me..."

That question flew at me this morning at church.

What strikes me is how sure I am about all sorts of things I think I know until I'm asked.

My first and most honest answer was "I don't know."

Seriously...you try and explain it to a group of people who don't know your Bible language. Who haven't read a commentary, or N.T. Wright, Tim Keller, or even Peter Rollins. You explain the ideas behind the Trinity without the benefit of passing them along to the senior pastor.

"I don't know" seemed like a good place to start conversation.

We fumbled around and talked about the Trinity being like an egg or pretzel. It was good.

In other jobs I've had "I don't know" would have meant upset parents, elder meetings, and discussions about my role...

I don't know. I like church when I don't have to know all the time.

When a church walks into a bar...

A church walks into a bar...

We just had one Easter service at the bar yesterday. We met a little early because our Baptist preacher friend was going to baptize a guy from his church. Before we knew what was happening the bar was filling up with members of his little Baptist church. Moms, dads, kids, and babies all dressed in their Easter best filled our little smoky bar.

We panicked to be honest.

We started serving drinks...non-alcoholic of course. Cokes and Dr. Peppers to the kids. Coffee for the adults. Serving, pouring, and leading was the owner of the bar who knows these people talk bad about her establishment because a few of them told her once when she visited their church. Everything was on the house and served with a smile. She even gave free refills.

One of us had a guitar and decided to play "Amazing Grace" as everyone was seated and just staring at us. Then we took them outside on our patio for more room. We stood and cheered as the preacher and his friend came out of the water. A few of my Catholic friends had no idea what they had just seen...they asked if that could be on next week's agenda.

We invited everyone inside for communion with us...only because they didn't leave and we didn't know what to do with them all. Our friend served bread and grape juice to anyone who wanted to join us. She's overcoming drugs and is trying to put her life back together. She's not always great at it. She lost her kids and desperately wants to get them back. She can't wait to tell her son that she served communion.

We shook hands and invited people back for a meal sometime. When everyone was gone, we laughed.

Nine people...a cook, a bar owner, a recovering addict, a hospice patient and her boyfriend, a chaplain, a bartender and husband, and one great friend of mine all laughed. We had just hosted a baptism and served communion to about 40 people on Easter...in a bar.

I promise we never planned any of it. Funny what God will do with a little space...

...and the bar served the church.

The New Normal

I like to think I try to be open to new.

My normal got new about 6 weeks ago. Each Sunday morning I drive 20 or so miles out to a little dive bar on Eagle Mountain Lake. Six to ten of us gather around coffee, doughnuts, and cigarettes and we talk about Jesus. A few of us know each other and others are meeting for the first time. We are Church of Christ, Catholic, Baptist, and mostly unknown. Some of us wear typical Sunday clothes and others wear pajama pants. Most of us come sober, but occasionally one or two arrive differently.

Each Sunday we read the Bible. The exact same Bible I've been reading for 33yrs. And each time has showed me that WHERE we read the Bible matters...

Want to see the creation story different? Read it with a group of people who can't imagine being created in the image of God because they've been told forever they aren't "good enough".

The fall of man? Way different story when everyone sitting there knows the dirt of everyone else. Something about our own equality makes reading God that much more real.

Discussing the 10 Commandments is totally different in a bar. Trust me.

Communion, complete with Welch's and official crackers, is special each Sunday because each time is a new experience for someone in the circle.

Most importantly we don't approach the Bible...there in that place...with right or wrong in mind. We don't have time for that. We get maybe 30-45mins and we try hard to spend it finding ways to interact with each other and Jesus through scripture.

We have no idea what we are doing or if you would call it right, acceptable, good, holy, or even orthodox. But we keep showing up each week and trying.

This is my new normal and any reader's prayers would be greatly appreciated.