I got bit in the . . . . .

Sometimes being a pastor is a bite in the butt! (yep, I went there)

I am not saying the job is bad. I am not trying to elicit any sympathy. And, I am not trying to make it seem more special or difficult than any other job. But, I am going to say that the practicing what you preach truism can really be a hard pill to swallow, especially for those who actually do preach for a living.

Case in point: I spoke last sunday about truth. Not truth in a philosophical sense where I would have to wade into issues of ontology and epistemology. These are good and right discussions - just not up for grabs on that Sunday. Instead, I was leaning more into the fact that we need truth as a community, need to speak and hear truth from others if we are going to be challenged to grow, and, finally landed on the incredible promise that Jesus makes about knowing the truth and the truth setting us free. All good, right and biblical.

Two days before I preached a person came into my office, and, over the course of the conversation essentially said (and here I know them and believe them to be trustworthy and lovingly motivated) that they thought I was fat. 

Truth. Loving. Gotta say that in the moment, the "set free" part was a bit hard to take in.

Then, yesterday, in the wake of speaking about truth someone else, unrelated, emailed me to tell me that they thought that "my waistline wasn't getting any smaller."

Truth. Again from a loving person. Again, hard to feel really like I was free.

So, a couple of things come out of this whole discourse. First, I think I was naive in my message. Not that it wasn't true and right in a factual sense. Just a bit naive. As one who had been the recipient of some loving truth this past week I have to say, even the most loving truth can sting. I think I will include that if/when I ever speak about this again.

Secondly, about the freedom thing: What if it's the case that the freedom isn't an immediate gift that showers over us in a nearly nirvanna-esque manner in the moment truth is spoken? Instead, what if the truth, at least sometimes, is more like a catalyst towards a measure of growth (or, in this case, hopefully of a growth that really is a shrinking) that will be freeing? Or, what if the truth spoken in love is like a course corrective, setting us on a new direction that will in fact be more freeing a life that we would have had without that truth? Again, I think that this would be different if/ when I speak about it again.

Why say all of this? Well, for the most part I think it's just honest. But, more to the point I think it shows that this life of following Jesus Christ has a lot of dimension - it literally creeps and seeps into every pore of our being if we let it. I also think it's worth mentioning simply because this whole process of following Christ is just that - a process. As such it takes time, effort, LOTs of effort at times, hard work, decisions, discipline, the help of others, etc.

So, here's hoping that day 2 of my resolve to hear and act on the truth that has been spoken to me goes as well as the first. And, who knows, maybe 6-7 months from now I will be able to tell you about what the freedom part feels, smells and looks like!

Redemptive Obstacles

This past Sunday afternoon I was - along with millions of others I am sure - watching the NFL play-offs. In particular, I was watching the Bears/ Packers game - the result of which I liked quite a bit! Go Packers! How can anyone not like Aaron Rogers?!? I digress.

While I was watching, my daughter came in the room. Now, she's not a football fan at all. In fact, as she came and snuggled up next to me under a blanket her only comment was, "Are you still watching football?" Far from feeling the need to justify my football watching, my keen paternal sense was that what she was really saying was, "When are you going to be done with the TV!?!?!" I digress yet again.

After watching a down or two with me she said, "Dad, this is violent!" I agreed. Then she said something that caught me up a bit, "Dad, I don't think I will EVER play any sports." Now she had my attention. 

"Why not?" I asked.

"They are too hard," she said. "I just don't see why people would want to put themselves through that."

Now, two things have come to the fore for me as I thought about that comment. (In the moment I had to let it go cuz, well, I was pre-occupied with watching the game. Poor parenting, sure - I'll give you that.

As I thought about it, two things struck me. First, I would be really sad if my kids didn't play some sort of sports. For me, as I grew up, whether it was baseball, basketball, football, hockey - it didn't really matters. Some of the best things I ever learned I learned from playing on a team. In addition, some of my best friends were friends I made playing on teams. For all of these sorts of reasons, sports of some kind seems almost indispensable for kids.

But, the thing that struck me most was her comment about how hard it looked to her to play a sport. All of that got me thinking about obstacles and how good some of them can be for us. Allow me to explain.

In a podcast I listened to the other day Malcom Gladwell (writer extraordinaire) talked about a book he wrote entitled, "Outliers." It's a great read. But, as he commented on the book he said that the one regret he had about the book is that he didn't spend a lot of time talking/ writing about the power and usefulness of obstacles. His example was about class sizes. He wondered aloud if all the thinking about small class size was really flawed. In particular, he wondered if there isn't a loss to kids if they are always in small classes with individualized attention. What if, in this sort of context they never learn to initiate things themselves, problem solve with others in a group context, etc.? In this setting, the large class size is seen as an obstacle to many - and Gladwell wondered if the removal of this obstacle might result in more problems than it's presence. 

Now, pedagogical arguments aside, the point seemed worth pondering. What I realized is that a lot of my parenting and pastoring revolves around the notion that if I remove enough obstacles my kids will flourish and people will grow in their faith.

What if this isn't the case? 

What if removing the obstacles and making things as easy and accessible as possible is really a hindrance for my kids - even if it feels right in the moment?  is the same true for people searching for faith?

Even more creatively - what would it look like to engineer obstacles for our kids to teach them perseverance. WWould the same apply to faith?

Or, are the cynics right - is it the case that the world and faith matters are so rife with obstacles that no one will ever suffer from a lack of them so make things as easy as we can for now?

Are there redemptive obstacles? The answer clearly seems yes. However, in what ways should this shape parenting? leadership? faith? life?

Eagle's Flight

Eagle's Flight!

The other day I needed a resource - a hard to find, really exceptional resource. It's the sort of thing that you just can't run out to the store and get. I called a friend - he didn't have it. I called another. He had it, but it was unavailable. Then, he said, "But you know, you should call "Eagle's Flight."

Eagle's Flight is a company that specializes in conferences, training, leadership development, etc. I had never heard of them. But, I called.

Can I tell you that they were EXCELLENT! Above and beyond. Exceptional.

Not only did they have the resource - they said I could use it, generously offering it for free for the time that I needed it. 

The "free" part is really nice. But, more than that I have to add that they were helpful, encouraging and listened to a perfect stranger make a request of them.

I don't make a habit of pimping anything/ product etc. But, I have to tell you - in a world were almost everyone is looking for a $ grab, these guys stood out for there helpfulness to be sure - but even more for their character! Well played "Eagle's Flight" - well played indeed.

Chemo

Last week I met with my parents at the Oncologist. My dad has lymphoma. While we were waiting my mom took out some lunch she had brought with her - apples, soup, grapes, etc. I looked at the apples and noticed that one of them was covered with a white-ish film.

"What's with the apple?" I asked my mom.

"I don't know," she said, "I washed them but it wouldn't come off."

"Well, I think that stuff causes cancer," I said. "So, dad, since you already have it, you have to eat that one."

That moment aside, this morning my dad is launching his very own "Good-Ship-Chemotherapy." He was diagnosed with a form of cancer that requires the treatment for the next 6 months. If I think about it rationally I know it's the required course of action, routine, common. And a part of me genuinely feels that way.  I mean, the stats say that we will all know someone who has undergone chemo in treatment of cancer from our family. Why should we be any different?

A book I was reading the other day talked about "postures." It's the author's way of talking about how you approach and live through certain events and parts of life - that you "adopt a certain posture" towards whatever is before you.

I am not sure what the posture is that one should adopt towards chemo. Part of me wants to say - "No big deal, lots of people go through this all the time." Sadly, if the crowds at the cancer clinic are any indicator this is really the case. Part of me also wonders if you are supposed to sound the alarm bell - "Hey, we got a crisis over here!!!" But that doesn't seem right at all.

Dallas Willard says "Do the thing that you know to be right and then expect God to bail you out." I am under no illusion that God's bailing me out equated to my dad being cancer free. But, I wonder what it would look like? So, my resolve is to pray for my dad and mom. That seems right. I'm also going to ask God to heal - he has the power to do it, and maybe that's what he wants to do. And, I think that the right resolve here would also be to simply look to and "fix eyes on" Jesus. Some might accuse me of being simplistic on this one. But, it seems like the right thing to do - in all things, good, bad, challenging and the rest - fixing eyes on, orienting hearts towards and asking for the leadership, care, home and Kingdom of Jesus in my life and that of my family.

Oh, and for the record, even my dad wouldn't eat the apple . . .