Four weeks ago I had knee-replacement surgery (left knee for those keeping score at home). Since then I've had to get used to some new realities, spent a lot of time in physical therapy, dealt with plenty of pain, and gradually seen strength and flexibility begin to return around my brand new knee joint. I've spent some time thinking about why I needed the surgery, as well as the benefits and adjustments coming my way because of it.
As usual, this has led to some metaphorical thinking on my part. So, here are some things I've learned from getting a new knee that I believe can also apply to leadership, organizational dynamics, systems, relationships, as well as the arc of your life:
My old knee no longer worked. The pain I was in was suggesting this, but getting it examined and having the x-rays confirm I was bone-on-bone removed all doubt that the legacy system of my original knee had to go. Most organizations/teams/people spend more time convincing themselves that they don't need to make a big change than wisely investing the time it would take to actually make and begin to live out the needed change. It doesn't work anymore. Admit it. Change it. Get healthy again.
Pre-surgery reality was a lot of pain. Post-recovery reality promises no pain and new movement/flexibility/the ability to focus on other things since I don't have to focus on my knee anymore. In between those realities is even more pain, hard work, a great deal of discomfort, and the learning-curve on how to fully utilize my new knee-joint. If you, your team, or organization is stuck in the "pre-phase" because you want to avoid the pain of deep change and having to learn how to live in a new reality, my advice is simple: man or woman up, grow a spine, be the steward of your life, team, organization you claim you are, and get on with it. In other words, be a leader. You stay in the "pre-phase" long enough, refusing to take the next step of the hard change, we'll finally refuse to listen to your whining. So will those with the power to get somebody else to do the job you were hired to do.
Because I'm a realitively young knee-replacement patient, I have more muscle mass that has to heal post-surgery than the typical knee-replacement patient. What's the lesson here? Simple. Stop relying on previous strength, success, security. It may in fact now be an obstacle to where you know you're to go next. If what used to be strength for you is now actually holding you back from becoming who and what you could be in the future, stop protecting that old strength. Push through it in spite of the pain, make it bend to new directions and realities, thereby establishing the strength you need for now and what's ahead. What got you here won't take you there.
It has taken a team to give me my new knee, and then an entirely different team to show me how to use it. Dr. Ballard and his team made sure the surgery went "beautifully" (his words), but immediately after the surgery a team at Memorial Hospital stepped in to make sure the first few post-surgery days went exactly as they needed to. Since I left the hosptial, another team of physical therapists are showing me how to use the new knee, how to move from a walker to a cane to finally no assistance at all. Plus, my wife and mom, as well as my daughter when she's visited, have made sure I've had the proper rest, diet, exercise, and encouragement at home to keep me on the road of progress. Don't rob yourself of the gift of the power of a team working together, especially if you're the one "in charge." If you're in a faith-based setting, stop using the word "community" like it's some sort of brand-name and instead take the risk of finding out what it really means. Like I said in one of last week's posts, if you want to go fast, go alone, if you want to go far, go together.
Hope you find some of this to be helpful/encouraging/challenging. And remember these words of an anonymous change agent from the past: "It'll feel better when it stops hurting."
Monday, March 19, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Class is back in session
This morning I was watching Paul Gilding give a talk on sustainability on TED.com (a talk I recommend you check out). In the middle of listening to Paul talk about our need to make significant change now in order to assure the future sustainability of civilization, it dawned on me that it has been quite a while since I've visited the TED site. I then realized that the other learning opportunities/outlets in which I have regularly engaged had all gotten pushed somewhat to the margins of my life over the last several months. This was difficult to admit, especially given the fact that one of my stated core values is learning.
As I listened to Paul I realized that what I've been doing since at least sometime last year is not really learning, but simply gathering information in order to then disseminate that information to others. Now, given the fact that part of who I am and what I do involves speaking in various faith-based and non-faith-based settings, acquiring a certain amount of information necessary to giving the talk is part of the gig. But, it seems I've turned learning into nothing but information gathering. I am glad for this realization, especially given what is now unfolding in my life in terms of next steps and new direction. If ever there was a time I need to be student, it's now and so I'm grateful for this morning's realization. I'm not talking about making some huge life-shift here. Instead, it's simply a matter of a slight correction in thinking and approach, which is how most of the truly important changes happen for us anyway.
As I listened to Paul I realized that what I've been doing since at least sometime last year is not really learning, but simply gathering information in order to then disseminate that information to others. Now, given the fact that part of who I am and what I do involves speaking in various faith-based and non-faith-based settings, acquiring a certain amount of information necessary to giving the talk is part of the gig. But, it seems I've turned learning into nothing but information gathering. I am glad for this realization, especially given what is now unfolding in my life in terms of next steps and new direction. If ever there was a time I need to be student, it's now and so I'm grateful for this morning's realization. I'm not talking about making some huge life-shift here. Instead, it's simply a matter of a slight correction in thinking and approach, which is how most of the truly important changes happen for us anyway.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Loyalty Part 2
A few days ago I wrote about the "loyal critics" each of us have, those people who live to tear down our ideas, words, us. The loyal critic is always around, showing up everytime we put ourselves out there. But today I'm writing about a different type of loyalty, the loyalty that one assumes is inherent in friendship. Unfortunately, that isn't always the case.
My dad told me a long time ago that the deeper I moved into life, the fewer true friends I would have. As with so many things he told me when I was young and knew everything, I didn't think this would apply to me. And, as with pretty much everything else he told me then, time has proven him to be right. Because of this, I place a very high value on friendship, knowing that it is something I share with only a handful of people. This is not a bad thing...it's just the way life is.
But, for each of us who place that high value on friendship, who know what it means to be a friend and to have a friend, we both know and expect that loyalty is at the heart of those friend relationships. I'm not talking about some blind acceptance of anything and everything a friend says or does. Instead, I'm talking about the willingness to stand with our friends no matter what they're going through, even if while we stand with them we're having to tell them how they messed up and what they need to do to clean up their mess.
I want and need those types of friends. Thank God I have them. But every once-in-a-while, something comes my way that thins the friendship herd, some sort of difficulty that causes me to see that I've misjudged someone's loyalty and commitment to our friendship. We have all had friends of convenience at some time. When it becomes clear to us that it is now inconvenient for that person to remain our friend, we often wonder about their disloyalty, and sometimes we're even shocked by it. More often that not, though, if we had only paid attention to things prior to the crisis, we would have seen the obvious: that this is not a person who is in for the long-haul, when it is no longer convenient to be your friend, they will be gone.
So, what do we do with this, knowing that disloyalty will continue to present itself in friend relationships? For some, shutting down the possibility of friendship with anyone and everyone is the answer, an alternative that I believe most of us see as no alternative. Instead, in the face of this kind of disloyalty I think we are best served to remind ourselves of who remains with us. While we feel the pain of the lack of loyalty by one, how many others still stand with us, proving once again that they are in fact in it for the long-haul? Maybe in the end, the disloyalty done to us is actually a gift, reminding us of the preciousness of the loyalty that remains.
Nothing I have written here is new or profound. But hopefully for some of us these words are a helpful reminder of who continues on the journey with us, who remains loyal not to a fault, but to our ultimate benefit, even when they are the ones having to tell us the inconvenient truth about ourselves. I believe that life is about learning how to become fully human. I cannot do that without the help of others who are on the same journey with me. I heard a saying years ago; "If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far together." I intend to go far, therefore I know that I will never have to go alone.
My dad told me a long time ago that the deeper I moved into life, the fewer true friends I would have. As with so many things he told me when I was young and knew everything, I didn't think this would apply to me. And, as with pretty much everything else he told me then, time has proven him to be right. Because of this, I place a very high value on friendship, knowing that it is something I share with only a handful of people. This is not a bad thing...it's just the way life is.
But, for each of us who place that high value on friendship, who know what it means to be a friend and to have a friend, we both know and expect that loyalty is at the heart of those friend relationships. I'm not talking about some blind acceptance of anything and everything a friend says or does. Instead, I'm talking about the willingness to stand with our friends no matter what they're going through, even if while we stand with them we're having to tell them how they messed up and what they need to do to clean up their mess.
I want and need those types of friends. Thank God I have them. But every once-in-a-while, something comes my way that thins the friendship herd, some sort of difficulty that causes me to see that I've misjudged someone's loyalty and commitment to our friendship. We have all had friends of convenience at some time. When it becomes clear to us that it is now inconvenient for that person to remain our friend, we often wonder about their disloyalty, and sometimes we're even shocked by it. More often that not, though, if we had only paid attention to things prior to the crisis, we would have seen the obvious: that this is not a person who is in for the long-haul, when it is no longer convenient to be your friend, they will be gone.
So, what do we do with this, knowing that disloyalty will continue to present itself in friend relationships? For some, shutting down the possibility of friendship with anyone and everyone is the answer, an alternative that I believe most of us see as no alternative. Instead, in the face of this kind of disloyalty I think we are best served to remind ourselves of who remains with us. While we feel the pain of the lack of loyalty by one, how many others still stand with us, proving once again that they are in fact in it for the long-haul? Maybe in the end, the disloyalty done to us is actually a gift, reminding us of the preciousness of the loyalty that remains.
Nothing I have written here is new or profound. But hopefully for some of us these words are a helpful reminder of who continues on the journey with us, who remains loyal not to a fault, but to our ultimate benefit, even when they are the ones having to tell us the inconvenient truth about ourselves. I believe that life is about learning how to become fully human. I cannot do that without the help of others who are on the same journey with me. I heard a saying years ago; "If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far together." I intend to go far, therefore I know that I will never have to go alone.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Loyalty Part 1
One of my favorite writers and speakers, Brian McLaren, often refers to his "loyal critics." This is a tongue-in-cheek reference to those people who tear apart anything McLaren writes or says, no matter how on or off-target he may be in saying it, or how on or off-target they may be in their criticism of him. They are people who stopped listening long ago (if they ever actually listened at all) to what McLaren is really saying. There are many reasons why Brian's loyal critics remain so loyal to tearing him down (political, theological, literary, etc.), and those critics come from multiple areas of our culture. The most vocal of his loyal critics, however, are Christians, people who claim allegiance to the same God and faith group to whom and to which McLaren claims allegiance. A sad fact indeed.
I share the same faith (or at least I think I do) as McLaren and his loyal critics. I am struggling through many of the same questions, hopes, fears, frustrations, and desires with which McLaren seems to be struggling, and I have voiced those questions, hopes, fears, etc., in various settings over the last few years just as Brian has (although his audience is much larger than mine). It seems that I too have collected my own loyal critics, a group who seem to be just as loyal and interested in commenting on my comments as are Brian's. I am not sure why this is, as it appears to take a tremendous amount of time and effort to keep up with what someone else is thinking, and I wonder at what cost the critics do this. Most especially, what are they losing out on by spending so much of their time on the thoughts of Brian, me, or some other person for whom they have contempt simply because they dislike our views? What opportunities for deepening their own critical thinking, their undertanding of life, as well as growing in their own faith are being lost to them because of their preoccupation with a person or persons with whom they deeply disagree? No empirical answer can be given to these questions, but I do know enough to know the answer is at least, "a lot."
What would cause each of us to begin to rise above the fray that grips so much of our culture and its toxic focus on whom/what we are against? What does a re-focusing of our attention on those things that actually contribute good to society look like? How do we go about achieving and sustaining such a shift in focus? Let's get even more personal. How do I begin to elevate my thinking and speech in such a way so that I find I am becoming part of the solution to the injustice, fear, and turmoil around me? How do you do that?
I don't have a list that gets you and me there, but surely the process includes caring less every day what our loyal critics are saying. They often say things that are hurtful, mean, stupid, and even destructive, but since the only thing that will shut them up is for you and I to shut up, well then, I say we make peace with the fact they will always be around, and return to our work of being part of the solution, part of the transformation of our neighborhoods, towns, and cities, that we deepen our own commitments to critical thinking, our own understanding of life, our own faith and spirituality, our own journeys of becoming fully human.
The loyal critics will show up as long as we show up. It's part of the gig if you want to be part of the solution. There is however another group of "loyalists" out there. More on them later.
I share the same faith (or at least I think I do) as McLaren and his loyal critics. I am struggling through many of the same questions, hopes, fears, frustrations, and desires with which McLaren seems to be struggling, and I have voiced those questions, hopes, fears, etc., in various settings over the last few years just as Brian has (although his audience is much larger than mine). It seems that I too have collected my own loyal critics, a group who seem to be just as loyal and interested in commenting on my comments as are Brian's. I am not sure why this is, as it appears to take a tremendous amount of time and effort to keep up with what someone else is thinking, and I wonder at what cost the critics do this. Most especially, what are they losing out on by spending so much of their time on the thoughts of Brian, me, or some other person for whom they have contempt simply because they dislike our views? What opportunities for deepening their own critical thinking, their undertanding of life, as well as growing in their own faith are being lost to them because of their preoccupation with a person or persons with whom they deeply disagree? No empirical answer can be given to these questions, but I do know enough to know the answer is at least, "a lot."
What would cause each of us to begin to rise above the fray that grips so much of our culture and its toxic focus on whom/what we are against? What does a re-focusing of our attention on those things that actually contribute good to society look like? How do we go about achieving and sustaining such a shift in focus? Let's get even more personal. How do I begin to elevate my thinking and speech in such a way so that I find I am becoming part of the solution to the injustice, fear, and turmoil around me? How do you do that?
I don't have a list that gets you and me there, but surely the process includes caring less every day what our loyal critics are saying. They often say things that are hurtful, mean, stupid, and even destructive, but since the only thing that will shut them up is for you and I to shut up, well then, I say we make peace with the fact they will always be around, and return to our work of being part of the solution, part of the transformation of our neighborhoods, towns, and cities, that we deepen our own commitments to critical thinking, our own understanding of life, our own faith and spirituality, our own journeys of becoming fully human.
The loyal critics will show up as long as we show up. It's part of the gig if you want to be part of the solution. There is however another group of "loyalists" out there. More on them later.
Friday, May 6, 2011
This time it was our turn to be "those poor people." You know who they are, the ones we see on the Today Show or CNN at 7am while we're trying to get to Starbucks so that we can face the morning. "Those poor people" stand in the rubble of what was just the day before a home, school, place of business. But then Mother Nature went into monster mode and decided to destroy in the worst way, without rhyme or reason, leaving us no possibility of explaining in the aftermath why the person standing in the middle of the pile that was once their home is getting help from their neighbor across the street who only lost a couple of shingles.
They picked through the rubble that once gave them sanctuary, rest, a sense of belonging, hoping to find just one thing intact that they could put in a box, even though many of them had no clue where they'd put the box or themselves at the end of the day. While some looked for a single sign of normalcy and comfort, others looked for someone, hoping and praying that the tornado had only taken their home and not their heart. Some prayers were answered, some not. For some, the only thing they heard was the sound of their own screaming when the news came, or God forbid, when they were the one to find her, him, them.
It was awful. It was heartbreaking. It was infuriating. But it was also something else. It was an invitation. It was a calling.
So we said, "Ok, let's see if we can get some food for this neighborhood by tonight." Facebook and Twitter were utilized. One connection led to 5 more, which led to 50 more which led to...let's just say alot. Then came the call to meet Principal Deb at Park View Elementary School. She told us she wanted to help in any way she could. Food was found, donations of supplies started coming in. Survivors of the tornadoes started showing up. Shell-shocked people began to be given back at least a tiny piece of their humanity. We didn't even know what to call it yet, but Park View Relief had been born. And that was day 1.
From there it just exploded, went from being a plan to feed some folks to becoming a full-scale relief effort. For most of us it was our first time doing this kind of work. Maybe that was our magic. We weren't experts, we hadn't done this before so we didn't have agendas or a template based on "before." We just kept stepping through the doors that opened, helping the people who kept coming to us. We knew what we could do and we tried our best to do it in a way that let those we served know that they were our neighbors, even if this was our first time to meet them.
Amazing stuff happened, both small-scale and large-scale. Members of the educational community came together as one to serve "our" families. Volunteers gave more hours than we could count unloading trucks, organizing the goods that were donated, cooking and delivering meals, handing out water, listening to stories of terror, loss, and survival. We did our best to cover the southern half of the county with as much love and hope as we could. A group of guys with chain saws came to be known as "The Chaingang" and the roar of their saws was heard throughout South Bradley as they cut people out of their homes and also gave them a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. A volunteer took off her shoes and gave them to a woman who no longer had any. A couple from Atlanta showed up in their airplane and asked us what we needed, flew back to Atlanta to buy the goods, came back with them and then stayed to work with us. A little boy saw that we had apples and acted as if he'd found hidden treasure. Two little girls donated their bed so that another little girl could have one. A Eucharist of juice and hot dog buns was celebrated so that we could remember what had been put in our hands to give to others, so that we could remember what was in our hands may have been ordinary and unspectacular, but it was also holy and miraculous.
Springsteen's words from Long Walk Home rang in the air: "Everybody has a neighbor, everybody has a friend, everybody has a reason to begin again." We tried to be all three. It appears we were. In short, we heard a calling and said "yes." There was no other answer to give.
Our county is forever changed by April 27. So are those of us who became this conspiracy of hope known as Park View Relief. We will continue to say "yes."
And now for what's next...
They picked through the rubble that once gave them sanctuary, rest, a sense of belonging, hoping to find just one thing intact that they could put in a box, even though many of them had no clue where they'd put the box or themselves at the end of the day. While some looked for a single sign of normalcy and comfort, others looked for someone, hoping and praying that the tornado had only taken their home and not their heart. Some prayers were answered, some not. For some, the only thing they heard was the sound of their own screaming when the news came, or God forbid, when they were the one to find her, him, them.
It was awful. It was heartbreaking. It was infuriating. But it was also something else. It was an invitation. It was a calling.
So we said, "Ok, let's see if we can get some food for this neighborhood by tonight." Facebook and Twitter were utilized. One connection led to 5 more, which led to 50 more which led to...let's just say alot. Then came the call to meet Principal Deb at Park View Elementary School. She told us she wanted to help in any way she could. Food was found, donations of supplies started coming in. Survivors of the tornadoes started showing up. Shell-shocked people began to be given back at least a tiny piece of their humanity. We didn't even know what to call it yet, but Park View Relief had been born. And that was day 1.
From there it just exploded, went from being a plan to feed some folks to becoming a full-scale relief effort. For most of us it was our first time doing this kind of work. Maybe that was our magic. We weren't experts, we hadn't done this before so we didn't have agendas or a template based on "before." We just kept stepping through the doors that opened, helping the people who kept coming to us. We knew what we could do and we tried our best to do it in a way that let those we served know that they were our neighbors, even if this was our first time to meet them.
Amazing stuff happened, both small-scale and large-scale. Members of the educational community came together as one to serve "our" families. Volunteers gave more hours than we could count unloading trucks, organizing the goods that were donated, cooking and delivering meals, handing out water, listening to stories of terror, loss, and survival. We did our best to cover the southern half of the county with as much love and hope as we could. A group of guys with chain saws came to be known as "The Chaingang" and the roar of their saws was heard throughout South Bradley as they cut people out of their homes and also gave them a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. A volunteer took off her shoes and gave them to a woman who no longer had any. A couple from Atlanta showed up in their airplane and asked us what we needed, flew back to Atlanta to buy the goods, came back with them and then stayed to work with us. A little boy saw that we had apples and acted as if he'd found hidden treasure. Two little girls donated their bed so that another little girl could have one. A Eucharist of juice and hot dog buns was celebrated so that we could remember what had been put in our hands to give to others, so that we could remember what was in our hands may have been ordinary and unspectacular, but it was also holy and miraculous.
Springsteen's words from Long Walk Home rang in the air: "Everybody has a neighbor, everybody has a friend, everybody has a reason to begin again." We tried to be all three. It appears we were. In short, we heard a calling and said "yes." There was no other answer to give.
Our county is forever changed by April 27. So are those of us who became this conspiracy of hope known as Park View Relief. We will continue to say "yes."
And now for what's next...
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Collision
"The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight." Those words from Phillips Brooks end the first stanza of his classic carol, "O Little Town of Bethlehem (Lewis Redner wrote the music)." It's a song I've probably heard at least once every Christmas season that I've been alive. As is the case with anything we've known for a long time, it's easy to have heard these lyrics so many times that we actually stop hearing them.
This Advent season I've had this "hopes and fears" line on my mind quite a bit. What hopes might Brooks have had when he made the visit to Bethlehem that inspired the song? What were his fears that sat in the same space as his hopes? Could his hopes and fears have in fact been the very same things? The collision of hope and fear experienced by Mary and Joseph, Herod, a group of shepherds, the Magi, Phillips Brooks, and you and me is one we typically try to avoid, usually to our own detriment. To not admit and tell the truth about how close our hopes and fears resemble each other is to not tell the truth about our own lives, our own personhood, our very humanity.
I'm a guy who really appreciates questions. Growing up in an ultra-fundamentalist setting that confused certainty with faith will do that to you. But sometimes, answers are needed. As I consider the implications of Brooks' lyrics, however, the answers seems to be elusive. Or maybe the is that I have in fact arrived at answers that leave me with equal parts exhiliration/hope and frustration/fear. Because to consider both the possibilities and the problems of Bethlehem is to have to come to grips with not what, but Who, creates those possibilities and problems.
The collision of those possibilities and problems, and the fact they've been brought by the very One we hope will save us from this tension, confronts everyone. Some just choose to ignore both the the collision and the tension, either through believing nothing about the One born in Bethelehem that night, or believing things about Him that He never said about Himself. One of the most inconvenient truths about the baby born in Bethelehem is that quite often He doesn't deliver "your best life now." Quite often He actually calls us to a very difficult life, even the hardest life imaginable. He promises to be with us along the way, but the way can be very hard, heartbreaking, damn impossible.
In case you've confused unexamined certainty with faith, and before you completely dismiss my rambling here, consider the collision and tension John the Baptist experienced, all brought on by the baby from Bethlehem now grown into manhood. John the gospel writer writes that John the Baptist pointed out Jesus and told everyone, "There He is! The One who will save us from all this trouble?" When you read John the writer's account of John the Baptist's words, it seems the Baptist had no doubt whatsoever, and he seems to be full of hope about the possibilities this Jesus person will bring.
Luke the gospel writer tells a different story, however. John the Baptist has been locked up for telling the truth about a crooked political leader. While in prison John sends some of his followers to Jesus, telling them to ask Him a very direct question: "Are you really the One we have been expecting, or should we go back to waiting for someone else?" It's unsettling to consider just who is asking that question. The very one who announced to the very sizable crowd that listened to him that the embodiment of hope and freedom had arrived is now asking the very guy he pointed out if he should expect anything at all from Him. John the Baptist seems to be saying, "Look, I've pinned all my hopes on you, and in a pretty public way. You're now a rock star and I'm stuck in a box waiting to be killed. Really!? Is this really the way it's supposed to be? You call this hope!?"
Jesus' answer to John's followers (which you can read in Luke 7:21-23) does nothing to alleviate John's problems. At the end of His description of the kind of transformative work He's doing, Jesus seems to be telling John, " The possibilities and the problems are the very same thing. Yes, I am the One so there's no need to look any further. And that truth needs to be enough, because a change in your circumstances isn't coming."
These aren't the kind of words we normally think about during Advent. We want words about light shining in darkness, angels visiting to announce good news of great joy, strangers showing up with gifts. We want the possibilities. I believe in the possibilites. But if I'm going to step into the story Jesus continues to tell, I have to accept the collision. Like I said earlier, it's a very inconvenient truth, but it is the truth.
So this Christmas week, whatever our possibilities and problems may be, whatever the impact of our collective collisions has been or is, even if we're having to send somebody else to ask Him if we should look elsewhere, I hope that when He speaks about blind people seeing, crippled people walking, dead people coming back to life, and those who need good news the most receiving it, He will be talking about us.
Dear God, let that be a possibility.
This Advent season I've had this "hopes and fears" line on my mind quite a bit. What hopes might Brooks have had when he made the visit to Bethlehem that inspired the song? What were his fears that sat in the same space as his hopes? Could his hopes and fears have in fact been the very same things? The collision of hope and fear experienced by Mary and Joseph, Herod, a group of shepherds, the Magi, Phillips Brooks, and you and me is one we typically try to avoid, usually to our own detriment. To not admit and tell the truth about how close our hopes and fears resemble each other is to not tell the truth about our own lives, our own personhood, our very humanity.
I'm a guy who really appreciates questions. Growing up in an ultra-fundamentalist setting that confused certainty with faith will do that to you. But sometimes, answers are needed. As I consider the implications of Brooks' lyrics, however, the answers seems to be elusive. Or maybe the is that I have in fact arrived at answers that leave me with equal parts exhiliration/hope and frustration/fear. Because to consider both the possibilities and the problems of Bethlehem is to have to come to grips with not what, but Who, creates those possibilities and problems.
The collision of those possibilities and problems, and the fact they've been brought by the very One we hope will save us from this tension, confronts everyone. Some just choose to ignore both the the collision and the tension, either through believing nothing about the One born in Bethelehem that night, or believing things about Him that He never said about Himself. One of the most inconvenient truths about the baby born in Bethelehem is that quite often He doesn't deliver "your best life now." Quite often He actually calls us to a very difficult life, even the hardest life imaginable. He promises to be with us along the way, but the way can be very hard, heartbreaking, damn impossible.
In case you've confused unexamined certainty with faith, and before you completely dismiss my rambling here, consider the collision and tension John the Baptist experienced, all brought on by the baby from Bethlehem now grown into manhood. John the gospel writer writes that John the Baptist pointed out Jesus and told everyone, "There He is! The One who will save us from all this trouble?" When you read John the writer's account of John the Baptist's words, it seems the Baptist had no doubt whatsoever, and he seems to be full of hope about the possibilities this Jesus person will bring.
Luke the gospel writer tells a different story, however. John the Baptist has been locked up for telling the truth about a crooked political leader. While in prison John sends some of his followers to Jesus, telling them to ask Him a very direct question: "Are you really the One we have been expecting, or should we go back to waiting for someone else?" It's unsettling to consider just who is asking that question. The very one who announced to the very sizable crowd that listened to him that the embodiment of hope and freedom had arrived is now asking the very guy he pointed out if he should expect anything at all from Him. John the Baptist seems to be saying, "Look, I've pinned all my hopes on you, and in a pretty public way. You're now a rock star and I'm stuck in a box waiting to be killed. Really!? Is this really the way it's supposed to be? You call this hope!?"
Jesus' answer to John's followers (which you can read in Luke 7:21-23) does nothing to alleviate John's problems. At the end of His description of the kind of transformative work He's doing, Jesus seems to be telling John, " The possibilities and the problems are the very same thing. Yes, I am the One so there's no need to look any further. And that truth needs to be enough, because a change in your circumstances isn't coming."
These aren't the kind of words we normally think about during Advent. We want words about light shining in darkness, angels visiting to announce good news of great joy, strangers showing up with gifts. We want the possibilities. I believe in the possibilites. But if I'm going to step into the story Jesus continues to tell, I have to accept the collision. Like I said earlier, it's a very inconvenient truth, but it is the truth.
So this Christmas week, whatever our possibilities and problems may be, whatever the impact of our collective collisions has been or is, even if we're having to send somebody else to ask Him if we should look elsewhere, I hope that when He speaks about blind people seeing, crippled people walking, dead people coming back to life, and those who need good news the most receiving it, He will be talking about us.
Dear God, let that be a possibility.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Thanksgiving '10
My favorite holiday is without a doubt Thanksgiving. I could list numerous reasons why it's my favorite, not the least of which involves food. Plus, Thanksgiving kind of seems like the calm before the coming yuletide storm. But, the biggest reason for my love of Thanksgiving is found in its name...it's a time set aside to think about those people, things, and events for which we are thankful, and then actually express that thankfulness.
So, in the spirit of the holiday, here are some of the people, things, and events that I am thankful for in 2010:
For Jeanine and how she keeps me laughing, sane, and dreaming.
For Jennifer, who has shown this year just what a strong, capable woman she is.
For being able to see Clapton live again this year.
For being able to be back in the Twin Cities, my other home town.
That in spite of who didn't want me, HCSO did.
For MOMENTUM (more on that later).
That the Lakers won the championship...again. Even better that it was over the Celtics.
That the '72 Dolphins remain the NFL's only unbeaten, untied Super Bowl champs.
For being part of Second Life of Chattanooga and its conspiracy of hope.
For Burns and CBC.
That I'm an Irreverend, and for the other 3 guys who are that as well.
For "The Turning" that has been 2010.
That I still haven't found what I'm looking for.
And finally, as I've said many times before, for being on the road I never expected, but secretly dreamed of, and for the One who made sure I found that road...or that it found me.
Happy Thanksgiving.
So, in the spirit of the holiday, here are some of the people, things, and events that I am thankful for in 2010:
For Jeanine and how she keeps me laughing, sane, and dreaming.
For Jennifer, who has shown this year just what a strong, capable woman she is.
For being able to see Clapton live again this year.
For being able to be back in the Twin Cities, my other home town.
That in spite of who didn't want me, HCSO did.
For MOMENTUM (more on that later).
That the Lakers won the championship...again. Even better that it was over the Celtics.
That the '72 Dolphins remain the NFL's only unbeaten, untied Super Bowl champs.
For being part of Second Life of Chattanooga and its conspiracy of hope.
For Burns and CBC.
That I'm an Irreverend, and for the other 3 guys who are that as well.
For "The Turning" that has been 2010.
That I still haven't found what I'm looking for.
And finally, as I've said many times before, for being on the road I never expected, but secretly dreamed of, and for the One who made sure I found that road...or that it found me.
Happy Thanksgiving.
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