I Don't Fit In

There have been times throughout my life where I felt as if I didn't seem to fit in.  Though I tried to squeeze my way into the popular crowd or with the cool kids, I couldn't deny the fact that I was more like the Charlie-in-the-Box from the Island of Misfit Toys than one of the G.I. Joe cool kids.  For some reason(s), I've tended to focus on what's 'wrong' with me or how I differ from others.  When I was a young boy, I wanted to talk about my emotions; my family didn't.  I lived in the country; my friends lived in town.  I lived in a trailer; my friends had houses.  I had short hair; others had long hair.  When I was finally allowed to grow my hair out, I rejoiced.  Finally, I can be cool like all the other guys.  Until nature showed up with other plans - curly hair!

At 17 years old, while my companions were 'living it up,' dating, hanging out, and so forth, I started my relationship with God.  Don't get me wrong, I'm eternally grateful I have God in my life; but at 17, it wasn't exactly the coolest thing to admit.  I didn't hide it, but I didn't push it in peoples' faces either.  Not until 21.  Then I stumbled upon a group of folks who were like me - other misfits on the Island trying to make it through life.  We all started attending a church together, formed a band, and thought we would tour the world with our keytars and mullets (yes...sadly the hair thing doesn't get better at this point). 

During this part of my life, I let others know about my beliefs.  And here's what I encountered: not too many people thought the way I did.  They really weren't interested in hearing about church, or the band's latest sell-out concert of 13 people, or about the condition of their souls.  Once again, Charlie needed to retreat back into his box and wait.  As I continued with this group of friends and church, life happened.  We never toured.  In fact, the bus we bought, the one we thought would launch us into the realm of uber-cool, caught fire one night as we were finishing the customizations to the inside.  Apparently, varnish for wood floors doesn't go well with electrical wiring on a 1958 GM bus.  Who'd a thunk it?!? 

But here's the real kicker - Now that I was Christian and didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the world, my thoughts and beliefs started changing, too.  And now, not only did Charlie not fit in with the rest of the world, Charlie didn't fit in with the Christian world.  Good thing for the Island of Misfit Toys!  I could chill there for a while to regroup.  And regroup I did!  And life continued to happen.  So much so, that I ended up in NC, remarried, a dad, an old student, and now a pastor!  Wow!  I have no idea what Island all this belongs on.  Maybe the Island of Surprise Endings.

And that's what hit me recently while I was reading.  This is a surprise ending.  I never would have guessed that I would be here - at this time and space in my life.  While reading the book Gifted by Otherness, I came across the following.  This is God speaking: "I made the stars and the planets to obey me.  And I made the angels and all the bright spirits to adore me. But you...I made you to surprise me."  Wow!  We were made to surprise God.  And all along I thought God surprised us - which God does.  But the fact the I am here to surprise God suddenly changes the story.  I am a Charlie-in-the-Box on purpose.  I don't have to try to 'fit in' because I already do.  I fit into God's world where all of us reflect God's crazy, creative, and misfit love.  God loves us so much that God visited with us in order to (re)connect with us.  What did we do?  We killed God.  God continues to visit with us.  What do we continue to do?  Kill God.  We kill God when we think we have God figured out, when we try to make God fit into our image instead of the other way around.  We kill God when we don't embrace our Charlie-in-the-Box selves and try to be what everyone else thinks we should be.  We kill God when we love others, but not ourselves.  We kill God when we try to fit a square peg into a chocolate covered potato chip. 

But God, the creator of we Charlie-in-the-boxes, and all toys, loves us as we are.  God took the time to sculpt us into the marvelous beings we are.  God wants us to understand that.  God loves us where we are, but doesn't leave us where we are.  God desires that we (re)connect with God and with each other.  We fit in because God intends for us to be here.  We matter because God spoke, "Light, air, bird, happiness, Charlie-in-the-box, love, amazement." 

So let us take the time during this Advent season (the time leading up to Christmas) to thank our Toy Maker.  Let us embrace who we are.  Let us embrace love - for God, others, and ourselves.  From one Charlie-in-the-Box to another...Merry Christmas!

Dry Spells, Dry Bones...

Ugh, I hate looking at my blog and seeing my last entry was in July.  Once again I feel like I have dropped the ball and let life get the better of me and my time.  But did it?  Did life 'get the better of me?'  It's true that I haven't posted anything in a while, but there is a big reason.  I've been experiencing a dry spell - particularly when it comes to writing, or simply in trying to get my thoughts in any semblance of sensible and logical meaning.  Dry bones.  My thought process seems like the valley of the dry bones where God placed the prophet Ezekiel (Ezekiel 37.1-14). 

At the moment, I feel like I'm better navigating through the valley, compared to a few weeks ago when the drought seemed deep and overwhelming.  I think I'm navigating better because I'm not consumed by the thought of dry bones taking over.  I recall the conversation between God and Ezekiel: "Human one, can these bones live again?"  "Lord God, only you know."  "Prophesy over these bones...I am about to put breath in you, and you will live again."  And I believe God is breathing into the dry bones of life's present moment.  Once again...life. 

I realize that life has its ups and downs, sowing and reaping, fertile and arid times.  And through all these times God is present.  God is present in the crispness of the morning air that signals the impending autumnal equinox.  God is present when people rally around a family who loses a loved one.  God is present when we accomplish the impossible.  God is present when the impossible seems to swallow us whole.  God is present when we walk through the valley of the dry bones.  God's breath flows through the four winds and touches all of Creation.  God breathes life. 

Maybe time spent in the valley of the dry bones is God's way of inviting us to be still and know that God is God (Psalm 46.10), and to be quiet so that we can hear God in the thin quietness (1 Kings 19.12).  The question is, will I allow my spirit the time to be quiet, especially when it's restless?  When it seems to be yelling at me to 'do something' will I just 'be' with God - not because I need answers or direction or purpose, but just so that I can be with God?  Society screams to us westerners to be producers...doers.  And God wants us to be doers...of compassion, justice, mercy, etc.  But God also wants us to be still and to find the peace that transcends our human understanding (Philippians 4.7) so that our hearts and minds will be guarded from the hot dry winds of the valley. 

Stop.  Rest.  Listen.  Open our hearts and minds.  Take in peace.  Share life when it's fresh and when it's crispy.  Love.  Trust.  Laugh.  Cry.  Be.

Eve's Story

I would like to tell you about a congregant of mine – Eve (name changed for privacy concerns).  Eve is the daughter of a well-known family here at my church.  She just graduated high school and is enjoying her summer break before heading off to college in the fall.  Well…for the most part she was enjoying her break.  Until recently.  See, a couple of weeks ago Eve and her friend were enjoying a warm summer Saturday night in Charlotte.  Lots of people had come out to enjoy the music and outdoor events.  As the evening progressed, a group of what some people might call “thugs” targeted Eve and her friend.  Because of what the girls were wearing and how they were acting, the group decided that they would give them “what they had coming.”  They would “teach them a lesson” they would not forget.  And they did.  They attacked Eve and her friend…in public…with people around…and no one intervened.  No one helped.  Even after the attack was over, people ignored their cries for help.  People just walked right by them. 

Oh…did I mention that Eve and her friend are gay?  They were attacked for merely being in a public setting enjoying the evening.  The group of young women who attacked them decided that they didn’t like their “gayness.”  So they attacked them…in public…with people around…and no one intervened.  No one helped.  Even after the attack was over, people ignored their cries for help.  People just walked right by them.  Until a fellow teenager saw them and used a cell phone to call 911.  The teen sat with the two girls until help arrived.  Although there was security for the night, they did not help.  The incident received no media coverage.  It was swept under the rug as if it never occurred.

When I was contacted by the family, my heart broke.  I know Eve.  I like Eve.  She has a sweet spirit about her – a spirit that has been damaged by others hatred and prejudice.  As I made my way to Eve’s house, my heart was racing because this was something that I was certain that I would not have the right words for.  I was certain that Eve would drop the “God bomb” on me and ask why God would allow this to happen.  Ugh.  What will I say?  I pray the whole way to her house.  I arrive to find Eve and her friend in a heated discussion.  I stand in the background, listening but trying not to eavesdrop.  Then it happens – the “God bomb” is dropped.  But not by Eve, by her friend.  “This is exactly why I don’t believe in God.  Where was your God when all this happened?” her friend drills to me.  My heart sank and my tongue froze.

Fortunately, Eve steps in.  She turns to her friend and says, “You’ve got it all wrong.  The only reason I’m still alive today is because I do believe in God.”  Complete silence fills the room.  Tears well up in all of our eyes.  Through the bitter disappointment, anger, fear, and sadness of this incident, Eve understands God’s grace and is able to put it into words so that all of us can understand and experience God’s grace as well.  Eve offers us her sweet spirit. 

I wanted to tell you Eve’s story for a reason.  And it’s not about what side of the gay fence you’re on.  It’s about offering love and compassion for our fellow human being, helping to end oppression and violence, and speaking up for those whose voice isn’t heard – whether the voices are gay, or homeless, or undocumented, or struggling with addiction, or fighting a mental illness.  It took a lot of brave people to help the Civil Rights movement stop oppression and violence.  It will take a lot of brave people to help end oppression and violence for all who are condemned by society.  But we must keep the words of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in mind when he said, “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”  How can I call myself a friend of Eve’s if I remain silent? 

May Eve’s strength and dignity rise up in all of us. 

Diversity and Difference, or How to Play Nicely in Others' Sandboxes

I'm finishing up my sermon for this coming Sunday where we will be addressing the last of Reuben Job's Three Simple Questions - Who Are We Together?  And this question really has me thinking about all that we are as human beings.  We can be so hurtful, vengeful, spiteful, and downright mean to one another, and yet we have within us beauty, patience, tenderness, selflessness, and love that surpasses mere words.  Over the years, I realize that we really aren't meant to be loners in this world.  I know...I've tried.  It's not that I don't like people or like to be around people.  I love people, and for the most part I enjoy being around them.  But...there are times where I feel the need to withdraw from crowds and enjoy some me time and space.  I think that comes from growing up in close quarters.  And it also seems that I have picked up this trait where I feel that I need to do everything myself.  Not a good quirk to have as a pastor.  Quite frankly, it's not a good characteristic to have with whatever you do in life.  Because...quite frankly...I can't do everything. 

This is where the Aw Dang! rushes from my inner most self and slaps me right into the middle of reality.  But this is okay.  God didn't create me so that I can know everything that there is to know.  It's just not possible.  And God didn't sculpt me into who I am so that I never share my life with anyone else.  What fun would that be?  Think of all the presents I wouldn't give to others.  Think of all the presents I would't get from others.  Think of the laughs and tears with friends I'd miss.  Think of all the shared times with coffee I wouldn't have.  Wait...share...coffee?!?!?  Oh, alright I'll share that too.  See...we are meant to share our lives - complete with warts and all.  We're meant to play in each others' sandboxes - together. 

And what a great gift it is to get to know about others who are not exactly like we are.  And guess what folks, that's everyone!  Because none of us are exactly the same.  And that's how God intended it.  We are uniquely different and diverse.  Yet, there are times where we tend to judge others who aren't similar to us.  And we tend to separate ourselves into our safe little groups of "fill in the blanks."  We are creatures of habit.  But this limits what God wants for us and it keeps us from living truly full and colorful lives.  Can you imagine if we lived our whole lives with people who were almost exactly like we are?  That's a scary thought.  Honestly, for me, that sounds pretty boring.  Cuz I can be pretty boring at times.  I know...I've been there. 

So God wants us to reach out and include others who aren't always in our normal social circle.  Can this be uncomfortable at times?  Heck yes.  But this is part of the beauty of the gift of fellowship that God gives to us.  Our relationships develop over time; they're not instant.  And every person who comes across our paths in our lifetime influences us one way or another, and they leave a little (or not so little) part of themselves with us.  And vice versa. 

One of the points I make in this week's sermon is that we can have unity in the midst of our difference and diversity.  Because unity and equality doesn't equate to sameness; unity and equality are achieved through solidarity.  We all have our unique contributions to humanity.  Unique, not better or worse.  Unique.  Important.  Needed.  All of us are important to God, loved by God, and created in God's image because of who God is.  We are reflections of an awesome Creator/Redeemer/Sustainer.  Sure, we won't always get along with each other.  But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't try.  That doesn't mean we should shut others who differ from us out of our lives.  Life is messy and complicated, yet it's also meaningful and wonderful.  So let's break out the Oreos and milk, and let's get some buckets and shovels out.  And let's invite others into our sandboxes.  Let's play! 

A Loving and Living God

Today my heart is sad.  You see...I didn't get my way yesterday.  And I often have a hard time with not getting my way.  But I prayed - and hard, too.  Maybe I didn't pray hard enough, or long enough, or loud enough.  I was convinced with all my heart that what I was praying for would be the best thing for the world that I know - Hickory and the state of NC.  And I even did research so that I would make a wise and well-informed decision.  So with research in my back pocket and prayers being sent forth, I awaited the outcome.  Ugh.  Not the answer I was hoping for.  Now what?

So I take the focus off of myself, and turn it to the One who is greater than "the given categories of our experience and is capable of opening our eyes to see a new world not constrained by our prejudices and agendas" (Anthony B. Robinson, Changing the Conversation: A Third Way For Congregations (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2008), 67.) 

Agendas.  Yes, even mine.  Obviously yesterday my prayers included my agenda, because I was convinced I was right.  Just like everyone who thought I was wrong, but who got their way.  In a nutshell, what I'm saying is this: whether I get my way or not, it will never change the fact that God is both a loving and a living God.  It means that God loves through the difficult situations in which we might find ourselves.  It also means that God is living through the difficult situations in which we might find ourselves.

So if I focus upon the One who is bigger than all of us and seek God's love and presence, it means that I can still hold on to hope.  It means that I can still offer that hope.  It means that I can still be part of that hope. 

And if I focus upon the One who is bigger than all of us, it means that I won't always 'get my way.'  It means I will be disappointed.  It means that my heart will hurt.  It means that my family and friends will be hurt at times.  It means that there will be times I must come to the throne of grace and cry out in anguish, "I don't understand!"  It means that I can cry out at the throne of grace and be comforted...and challenged...and called...and forgiven...just like all of us are. 

God calls us to abandon our old thoughts, our old ways, and embrace the radical love of Jesus Christ.  No matter what side we stand on, we are God's and God is a loving and living God in all of us.  This is hard to understand when we don't all believe the same things, when our right and wrongs don't always align, and when we break each others' hearts. 

But God is above our experiences, labels, thoughts, etc.  And yet, God is in them.  Let us all search for the loving and living God that is in the midst of Creation, whether we understand or even agree.

If your heart hurts too, may you suffer in dignity...like Christ. 

What Can I Do to Make a Difference?

Sometimes I find myself questioning whether I am making a difference in this world or not.  But, just so you can know me a little better, I tend to either 'overthink' situations, or I think that making a difference equals bigger, louder, more smoke and lights, fill Wembley stadium, walk on water, and so on.  But the longer I live, and the more I listen to my wife (2 very good things), I understand that making a difference in peoples' lives can be as simple as showing up.  In the pastoral world, we call it a ministry of presence.  I also like to call it a ministry of companionship.  But what does this mean?  I'm glad you asked.

See...when I get caught up in my rock star dreams, where I think that the only way I can make a difference in this world is to have thousands of people at a time listening to me speak or preach or perform musically, all I'm really doing is pointing to myself.  And I'm limiting what I think God can do.  And, if I think about the way God usually gets the job done, it's usually in a low-key, up close and personal way.  I realize there are some larger-than-life situations where God is at work, but for the most part, I think God is in the small stuff.  So, I want to be in the small stuff. 

And being in the small stuff means that (to borrow someone else's verbiage) average gets the job done.  What?!?!?  Average?!?!?  That's boring, right?  Well...it all depends on perspective and attitude.  If I take a rock star approach to making a difference, then yes, average is boring.  And if I take a rock star approach to making a difference, chances are I'll never really make a difference because chances are I'll never attain rock star status.  Sad, but true. 

Enter average.  Yes, average.  Taking an average approach doesn't mean that I'll do things half-heartedly or not care about what I do.  An average approach means that I am content with where I am.  In other words...where I am is where I am supposed to be.  Average means that I'll take the time to read a book to folks who are in an assisted living home.  Average means I'll make an effort to get to know the person who sits next to me in church (or in school, or at work, or on the bus...you get the idea).  Average means that I'll believe in the ideas God plants in my soul.  Average means that I can change the world, one belief at a time.  Average means that I'll stand up for those who are being oppressed and hated.  Average means I'll do what's right even if it's not popular.  Average means I'll love and accept everyone, even if they don't love and accept me.  Average means I'll show up and offer companionship even if I have no words.  Come to think of it, I should offer companionship before words, and oftentimes, in place of words. 

I guess what I'm saying is that if I live in the average world, I'm living!  I am living a full life, completely awake.  Average = full and awake.  Now this might sound contradictory or paradoxical, but I believe that God wants us to experience peace and contentment.  This doesn't mean that we won't fight to correct injustices.  It means that within the fight to correct the imbalances, we can experience divine peace and contentment that surpasses our human understanding.  It means that whatever we are going through we can experience divine peace and contentment.  It's not always easy, but it can be done. 

The things we do in the course of a day might seem small and insignificant to us.  But to others, our interaction might just be the saving grace they have been praying for.  And we might not ever fully know how deeply we touched someone, and we might not ever see the outcome, but if we're content with where we are, we'll remember that God can do greater things than we can imagine.

Here's to enjoying average! 

The Cost of Silence

I guess it's time to face my silence - both in the blogosphere and in life.  It's been a while since I've posted, and I could offer a list of time-consuming things that prevented me from writing, but that wouldn't change the fact that I've been silent.  In fact, the list of time-consuming things continues and more than likely will continue until the day I'm done on this planet.  So my list of time-consuming things can become a hiding place (of sorts) if I'm not careful.  The list, and everything on it, can become distractions and excuses and justifications for silence: I'm too busy; I'm too tired; I'm only one person; I need to take care of myself; How can I make a difference?; What do I say?  And the list can go on and on.

So...what to do?  And what do I mean: the cost of silence?  For starters, I didn't grow up going to church.  We didn't even go on Christmas, Easter, and Mother's Day.  Just wasn't in our vocabulary.  And that's okay; there are a lot of us out there.  But, if people in my life remained silent about God, I wouldn't be where I am today - a pastor, a believer, a disciple, and a man baffled by the unfailing love of God.  But, along my journey through life, people spoke up.  People invited me to know this God of love.  People taught me about this God of love.  And the people who taught me about this God of love are not all pastors, believers, disciples, and people baffled by the love of God.  They are children, patients, prisoners, folks without homes, the voiceless of society, the super wealthy, the middle class, straight, gay, black, white, documented, undocumented, loved, hated, older, healthy, ill, prominent, and average. 

And to me, this is who God is: diverse, complex, multi-layered, multi-faceted, colorful, beautiful, inclusive, accepting, inviting, passionate, creative, intense, and alive.  And all this can be summed up as: love.  And the kind of love God offers is sometimes incomprehensible.  It's unconditional; it gives without any expectation of getting anything in return.  But it has expectations.  This love expects for us to share with others and not keep it to ourselves.  This love expects for us not to decide who gets the love and who doesn't.  This love expects that we will not keep silent about those who are excluded, misunderstood, and judged.  But, if I speak up, especially for those who are excluded, misunderstood, and judged, this leaves me open for exclusion, being misunderstood, and judged.  And honestly...that scares me.  Sometimes it scares me into silence.  And this is what I mean by the cost of silence. 

But, perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4.18).  So if I let fear keep me silent, I am not loving and I am not sharing the unconditional love of God.  Yes, there is a cost for speaking up.  I might be judged as a rebel, a trouble-maker, someone distorting the Gospel, a liberal, or a whole slew of other names.  But hopefully the reward will be the betterment someone else's life because of love.  All of us are created in God's image.  And this blows my mind because we are so different and diverse in this world.  That means that God is different and diverse - like the above-mentioned list.  Too often I think we try to make God after our own short-sighted images.  Because we tend to hang out with people who are like us.  And if we're not careful, then we can think that God is just like us.  We try to make God conform to us. 

There are challenges in our lives - some thrust upon us and some we create.  And there will be times when choices must be made: Do I remain silent, or do I speak up? Will I include or exclude? Will I judge someone, or will I listen to her/him? Will I give or take? Will I try to protect myself, or will I share this unfailing love of God?  Will I help with healing and reconciliation, or will I promote the problem by remaining silent? 

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. says, "In the end, we wil remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."  May this inspire us to consider the cost of our silence, the cost of not receiving and sharing love, and the cost of a life that ends because hatred, injustice, and misunderstanding won out over love.