Happy Mother's Day (Belated)

I missed the boat on posting this yesterday, but thought I would put it out there today. For the women of our church community this year I decided not to get flowers or some kind of cheesy Christian trinket. I decided to write them a tribute of sorts - part praise and part prayer - that I wanted to inspire them to continue living and loving their children the way God dreams they could.

You see, I’ve been privileged to see up close two amazing mothers - my own mom and my wife. I don’t think I’ve ever once seriously wondered whether my mom loved me or not. It was always quite clear to me that she would do just about anything to see me live the way I think she knew I could. We argued, I rolled my eyes at her, she made corny comments that embarrassed me when I was 13 (and 14, and 15, and 16, and so on), and I’m sure I frustrated her to no end at times. But in everything I never doubted her sincere love and tremendous strength.

And now I am observing from an almost microscopic perspective the strength, character and wisdom it takes for a mother to navigate the troubled waters of preschool aged parenting. My wife works a 30 hour week outside our home for us to make ends meet. But I know (and you do too) that her work doesn’t begin and end when she punches the clock. It has already been ongoing as the children have been fed breakfast and lunch. Jacob has been taken to preschool and picked up again. Aislinn has visited the library, or the store, or a friend’s house. The house has usually been cleaned, the laundry done, and sometimes dinner has been made. I’m astounded by my wife, she simply blows me away. If I weren’t sometimes ashamed by the amount of work she can accomplish and still have time to invest in the kids, I would say how proud I am of her.

So, what I wrote may not apply to every mom, to your mom, or even to most moms you know (or think you know). But it does apply to these two, very unique, extraordinary women who have, moment by moment, changed my life.

Being a mother is not all flowers and cute baby smiles, no matter what the magazines and television ads display. The labor that brought your child into the world is only the beginning of a larger, more powerful work that you’ve been involved with ever since.

The strength of a Godly mother is unmatched by the fiercest of warriors, but is paired with the loving tenderness of a watchful eye and caring hand. The beauty of a Godly mother is unparalleled in a universe of wonders and beauties, and yet is as humble as a knee bent in silent service to kiss away an invisible tear.

They say a mother’s work is never done, and they are nearer the truth than they know. With grace and humility you have offered your gifts to the world of your children. Sometimes you have been rewarded with thanks and praise. And other times your best efforts have been met with refusal and defiance. But each time you have risen to meet the challenge of a new day you have declared your intent to provide a life of love and mercy to your children, no matter the response.

So it is for that labor, lovingly offered and gracefully carried out, that we honor you this morning. And with the honor comes our most sincere prayer for blessing, strength, courage, and wisdom to fulfill your noble calling.

May your strength be renewed by the God whose hands never falter in holding your own. May your beauty be enriched by the God who crowns creation with the most lovely of crowns. And may your wisdom flow freely from the God whose understanding and knowledge is beyond depth and limit.

My Confession

I shared this with our church on Sunday, as part of my reflection on the record of Jesus' conversation with the immoral woman and Simon the Pharisee in Luke 7:36-50.

It has been called by some the world’s oldest profession; an acknowledgement that as long as we can remember there have been people who sell their bodies for the use of others. So there at the feet of Jesus is a woman of a hundred titles, none of them wholesome, none of them flattering.

Her box of perfume broken, tears streaming from the careworn corners of her tired eyes, she sits hunched over his feet with her hair covering their dust. Habit has taught her to avoid looking men in the eye, and so she pays no attention to the gaping mouths and wide eyed stares of men whose contempt for her is exceeded only by their despite for Jesus.

I can watch the scene unfold; see him turn to the dinner’s host and gently inquire of his soul. I can see the breath of the men leave their lungs when he says her sins are forgiven. The corners of their mouths turned slightly upwards in an indignant gaze pierce my sight and soul.

And yet I’m drawn to the scene unfolding not by their contempt for her, nor their calumnies against him. Riveting my attention in magnetic fashion is the woman who sits unmoving save for the heaving of her chest in stifled weeping.

You see, I see myself in her. I hear in her soft, sobbing cry the echoes of my own voice. The tears so salting her cheeks remind me of moments in which my practiced façade crumbles and a light of truth shines in between the cracks.

How often have I sold myself, borrowing from an unknown future the capital for my present comfort? How often have I sold the dreams of God for my life short of their realization? How long has it been since my soul was touched with the gentleness of a loving God, and not used as a commodity in a barter for service?

I confess (do you hear me?) I have prostituted my heart for the praise of a few, and practiced my trade with a calculated desire for success. I have allowed my thoughts to be massaged into something less beautiful, less pure than the creator’s intent. I have believed the insidious lie that the approval, favor, and dare I say flattery, of another would somehow substitute for the gracious forgiveness of God.

And so I find myself sitting here now at the same dusty feet. My eyes spilling unknown tears, splashing the dust from the toes of my teacher. My ears waiting for the words to come; the words that in their being can somehow make me whole.

“Go in peace, “ he says.

I've been tagged...

Ok, so I guess I got "tagged" today in some cyber-form of "tag" in which I now become "it" and have to belly up and provide potentially embarassing information about myself in a world wide forum...

Well, it's really not that bad, so here's the dish:

Four Jobs I've Had:

• Dishwasher/Prep Cook at Patty Taft's Jazz Supper Club in Ellington, CT (one of my favorite all time jobs)
• Flagman for Atlas Fence Inc. which installed guardrail on roads in CT
• Pizza Delivery Man for Domino's Pizza in Riverside, RI
• Pastor of New Life Assembly in Wakefield, RI (a pretty good gig as well)
  

Four Movies I can Watch Over and Over:

• Lord of the Rings Trilogy (I've done this, believe me)
• The Matrix (the original...)
• Tommy Boy
• Field of Dreams
  

Four Places I've Lived:

• Ellington, CT (where I grew up, and if you pay attention to my profile a.k.a. "Smellington")
  
• Lewiston, ME (while attending Bates College)
• Barrington, RI (while attending Zion Bible College)
• Charlestown, RI (where I am now)
  

Four Shows I like To Watch:

• 24
• American Idol
• Red Sox Baseball
• Ok, I'll confess: What Not to Wear
  

Four Foods I Like:

• *Written while thinking the list would be shorter if it referred to foods I don't like...*
• Coffee (not sure if this counts, but I like to think so)
  
• Popcorn (if not dieting as I am currently I love it movie theatre style, slathered with butter)
• Swordfish
• Ice Cream

Four Sites I Visit Everyday:

• Boston.com
  
• Espn.com
  
• Alex McManus' Blog
• Pastors.com
  

Four Things I Want To Do Before I Die:

• Go to Ireland
• Write a book
• Open a cafe
• Visit every Major League Baseball stadium
  

Three People I Am Tagging:

• Andrew McNamar
  
• Nick Bousquet
  
• Rita McNamar (though it's questionable whether she'll respond...)
  

Immersion: Living on Mission

Good afternoon! I'm blogging to you today again from Java Madness, my favorite coffee shop in town. It's good to sit here, surrounded by people, feeling really, really alive - I love my job!

Anyway, once again I have three short pieces to share with you that I wrote for our Immersion gathering on Sunday evenings. The experience Sunday evening centered on what it means to live on mission with God, as we connect to him, each other and then to our community. We played in the dirt for a little while and shared some good conversation about how we each experience those connections. You'll miss the full effect without the hands-on element, but the written pieces might at least give you some food for thought.

Feel free to comment on any of the pieces anywhere you'd like - let me know your thoughts about what it is to live connected these ways.

Living on Mission: Episode One

Episode One: Making the God Connection

It's just dirt. Go ahead, reach your hands into it. There's something childlike (you might even say childish) about playing in the dirt. Your mom and dad may have told you not to do it, but there was this other voice inside you that often told you to do it anyway. Maybe it was the unconscious knowing that you are dust, and to the dust you will return. Maybe it was the secret knowing that God himself played in the dirt when he created the first man. Or maybe it was just more fun to obey that inner voice!

Under the dirt, waiting for your discovery is a seed. When you walked in you didn't know it was there – all you saw was a box full of dirt. So it is with most of our lives; the best things seem to lie hidden, buried under other layers waiting to be seized upon at precisely the right moment.

Almost as if from beneath layers of dirt and residue, God's voice seems to call out to us hoping we will be brave enough to reach towards him. Hoping we will forget the other voices that tell us to keep our hands out of the dirt, he calls for us to sink our hands deep into the soil, searching for the seed of promise he longs to give us. At times the beginning of the process feels an awful lot like groping in the dark, wishing to somehow hit on the something indescribable that we felt stirring in our souls.

But the feeling of success when you finally make the connection is incomparable. The difficult part is maintaining the connection once it's made, because there will always be other prizes that vie for your eyes, your hands, even your heart. But there is no greater prize than this connection to God; no greater seed of higher promise than the one he buries for us to find. He grasps you more than you'll ever grasp him. But his grasping is not that of command and control, rather it is the liberating call to live your life fully, finally, alive.

You've connected to the source of life – and so life can never be the same again.

Living on Mission; Episode Two

Episode Two: Making the People Connection

You didn’t know it then, but when you connected to God, you connected to everyone else who has joined themselves to God. You didn’t know it, and you may not have intended to, and it might scare you a little bit to think about what that means; but whether you wanted it or not, the connection was made.

The same life and vitality that is flowing into you is flowing into them. They’ve been liberated to follow the calling of the God who holds your future in his hands. And whether you know it or not, you need those people you’ve connected to. You are not traveling to that future on a solo journey, and you will not arrive on your strength alone.

When you rose from the dirt, the God-seed held in your hands, you rose as a new person, with a new network of relationships, some that you’re still just beginning to discover. It is these unexpected connections that will enrich your journey forward. The strange delight of an unlooked for word of encouragement; or the newly discovered pleasure of friends whose hearts and hands hold the same seed of promise – these are yours to be treasured and enjoyed.

You do not have to be left to grope in the dark again. On the other end of your seed will be one, two, or a hundred whose tears, fears, and joys will be your own, and yours will be theirs. Those bonds of love that were formed in the nurturing soil of God’s presence are stronger than any you have ever known. They don’t tear easily because they were made with the strongest of fibers, and they are sustained by the life-giving flow of Jesus’ love. God, the master planter, is creating a bountiful, beautiful garden from those related seeds.

Go ahead and give up on independence – it was an illusion anyway. Embrace the abundant joy of a life intertwined with those making the same journey, it will make the path that much sweeter.

Living on Mission: Episode Three

Episode Three: Making the Community Connection

The seed you grasped in your hand was meant to grow, not to remain in your hands. If you were meant to be commanded and controlled, and to have yourself moved about like a puppet on the strings, you might be expected to hold it fast. But you were called and liberated to live freely, and in your living, to produce more life.

The life flowing to you, from the source, does not end with you. It flows through you, ending in a fruitful connection to the rest of the community in which we have been planted. When you connect to God, holding that seed in your hand, you are promised more than just a better life for you, you’re promised the kind of life that creates opportunities for others to connect to God.

When we think about the beauty of a tree or a flower, we don’t think of it in the seed, or the branches, but in its fruit. When the flower blossoms, or the tree puts forth its fruit, it is then that we look on its loveliness in wonder and awe. The seed you hold in your hand has the potential to be beautiful – all of the splendor that can be is within that seed. The connections you make to others in the garden of God will support you, sustain you and inspire you to keep growing. But without fruit, those other connections will ultimately be in vain.

You will find that this is what you were meant to live for. A fruitful and productive connection to your community will inspire you to continue connecting to God, seeking over and over the source of your life. You will never have been more beautiful, your life never more attractive than when you’ve allowed your seed of promise to come to fulfillment.

Go ahead and eat the fruit – here’s to the promise of a better, more fruitful life!

The Party (Part II - Spiritual)

Good evening…I enjoyed a hand-crafted caffeinated beverage earlier this evening that I would normally call a cappuccino, but didn’t qualify as such. Made some horrible foam, and ended up with a latte - guess you can’t get it right all the time. On the positive side it gave me a chance to explain to my four year old son, Jacob, the difference between a good cappuccino and a latte. I think he grasped it. I’ve consistently told friends that I’m looking forward to the day that Jake can make my coffee for me, maybe that will be some kind of “coming of age” ritual, who knows?

Anyway, I started in my last post telling a parable of sorts that I shared with our church community a couple of Sundays ago. It was a parable in three parts, or with three aspects, so this post will touch the second aspect of the parable.

So, imagine we actually get out of the basement, out of the huddle. Imagine we are somehow able to conquer our fears and allow our presence to be felt in the party to which we invited them. Imagine that we make our way up to the party, accompanied by the King of the Kingdom, who wants his presence to be felt more than anything else.

What would our guests see when they arrived? Imagine with me that they saw a group of people who knew what it was to celebrate. That they saw some people who sang their songs with the passion of a person on a long road trip with the windows down and radio blasting. That they saw some people who laughed long and loud like their life depended on their ability to enjoy it. That they saw people whose joy was written on their faces plainer than their noses. That they saw people who celebrated like this life was not their last, but just the beginning of a greater party.

They might be surprised by just what they saw. Because they know the reputation of these stodgy, arms-crossed, uptight, New England church people. They don’t laugh, they don’t sing, and they certainly don’t show anything with their faces other than looking down long imperious noses at sinners like them. Somehow these people have transformed into the most beautiful and celebratory group, and they can’t help but want to be there.

They see a group of people who know that Spirituality doesn’t drain the joy out of life, but rather infuses it with a greater joy than has ever before been known. And there, in the center of the party, is the life of the party. He’s remarkably at ease in this setting, and it appears that his joy has been transferred to every other host at the party. He’s the King, and even the guests can tell who he is, and why he’s there.

On that mid summer evening with soft breezes blowing and music lightly playing there is something else in the air. It couldn’t be described as faint, it’s too powerful to be faint. It’s what makes the atmosphere electric, it’s what ignites the celebration of these curious saints. This night the party is alive, and at the spiritual center is this group of men and women whose connection to the king is undeniable and tangible.

The Party (Part I - Presence)

Good evening! I'm enjoying a hand-crafted (by my own hands) cappuccino at the moment, while reflecting on some ideas I shared with our church community this past Sunday. I suppose it was my best and halting attempt at a written parable trying to express my hopes and dreams for how we as followers of Jesus would interact with our local community. It was inspired by one of Jesus' shorter parables, in which he says, “The Kingdom of Heaven is like yeast used by a woman making bread. Even though she used a large amount of flour, the yeast permeated every part of the dough.”

The great power of Jesus' parables are in their ability to catch people off-guard, and, in effect, take the back door route into the hearts of his audience, setting them up for the truth he's delivering. In that vein, I offer my meager attempt at creating at least the framework of a parable to try to communicate truth to our church community.

Imagine with me this morning that we were going to throw a huge party for our community. Imagine if we were going to invite the community to attend our party, and we could send out an invitation in the mail to every single resident of South Kingstown. Make this party in your mind a real high-class affair, the kind that you’d get dressed up for, and that we wanted to make the invitation formal enough to match the occasion. So we send out this invitation that says, “New Life Assembly requests the honor of your presence at its Gala Celebration…”

Believe it or not, our invitations are actually received and accepted. Replies begin to pour in from around the town, with only a few declining the invitation. The tension mounts among us as we wonder what we'll do when they arrive. The preparations begin in earnest as the appointed day draws closer.

Finally the night arrives. It's a beautiful mid-summer evening, with a light breeze blowing off the ocean that makes the temperature just right. And there are streams and streams of cars driving from all over South Kingstown, parking up and down the streets around us, making their way to the doors of the building. Inside the building and out on the lawn the arrangements are all in place. The background music is playing and the scent of perfectly prepared seafood fills the night air. They can see in the windows and under the tents that everything is prepared but that the doors are locked, and there’s no one there to greet them, welcome them, and find their seats for them.

Looking in the doors our guests have the sinking feeling that they've somehow been duped - like guests that show up to a wedding only to find the bride and groom have flown to Vegas and gotten married in front of Elvis and two witnesses. "You would think," one says, "that they would have the courtesy to show up for their own party!"

Meanwhile the church gathers in the basement, huddled together (for strength is in numbers) too afraid (for all their strength) to open the doors and let its presence be felt among their guests. Too afraid that somehow the throngs of people at the door will overwhelm them, and turn against them if the food isn't up to quality, or the musical entertainment for the night is sub-par. Forgetting all the while that the King of their Kingdom has been waiting for the celebration to make his presence felt through them; they retreat, hoping to survive just one more day.

Happy Birthday, Jacob!

Today my son, Jacob, turns four. In case you're bad with math that means that four years ago today, Rita and I were in a hospital room, and she was (admirably and with great strength) preparing to bring our first child into the world.

It seemed like there were literally thousands of emotions that danced through my mind during those few hours that we spent in that room waiting for his arrival.

I had always thought I'd make a good father. Perhaps I was a little too confident in my own abilities, because I soon learned how difficult of a proposition that can really be. It requires great patience when you feel you have very little of it to offer. It requires an unrelenting kind of love that refuses to wilt in the face of intense conflict (if you've ever had a four year old child, you know of what I speak...). And it demands a lot of wisdom and skill that, many times, I frankly find myself lacking.

This afternoon Jacob and I went out to lunch at Friendly's for his birthday lunch (see above photo). I'd like to say it's a tradition, but since this is the first time, I'm not sure it qualifies yet. We had as advanced a conversation as possible as he munched on his grilled cheese and moved quickly to the all-important hot fudge sundae.

Jacob is four, but I feel like I've grown up a lifetime in the short years he has been part of my life. I have learned so much from him, and I can only hope that he's learning some things from me. His quiet and sensitive spirit remind me that patience and compassion are qualities that are reflective of our heavenly father. His inquisitive mind reminds me that there are some mysteries that should still take me by surprise, and that it's ok to say, "I don't know." His imagination intrigues me, helping me remember what it's like to create and dream, and inspiring me to do the same. And his energy - well, his energy reminds me that when you're passionate about something, you find the energy to pursue it.

Jacob, four years ago your arrival into my life brought such light and joy. I see them still in your face today, and I love what I see.

Happy Birthday, Jacob!

Friendship

A couple of weeks ago I wrote to a good friend of mine a short email. The text consisted mainly of a short quotation from C. S. Lewis’ book, The Four Loves.

“I have no duty to be anyone’s Friend, and no man in the world has a duty to be mine. No claims, no shadow of necessity. Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art, like the universe itself (for God did not need to create). It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”

Tomorrow I will go to help the guy I consider to be my best friend pack up a moving truck as he prepares to move from Rhode Island to Maryland. We’ll see each other again, I’m sure of it. And there’s this great blogging innovation that will allow us to keep opening windows into our souls for each other. But I can’t help but feeling, at least for the moment, that there will be something missed in the distance.

I’ve been reading a children’s book to my two kids almost every day for a week (you parents know how this goes…). It’s about a turtle named Franklin who has a bad day because his best friend is moving away. I don’t know if you’ve ever gotten teary-eyed while reading a children’s book, but it’s a pretty humbling experience. In that little kids book I was seeing the way that moving affects friendship, but was also reminded that it doesn’t destroy friendship, just reshapes it in a new way.

Our friendship has not been one of duty, nor necessity; but I can say without hesitation that it has given great value to my life in this world. Through our friendship I’ve grown as a man, a husband, a father, and a church leader. Through our friendship I’ve learned the value of character, consistency, and most of all, of having a deep and enduring passion for the work of God’s Kingdom.

Friendship may be unnecessary, but it is certainly not trivial. Its beauty derives from its rarity. God has, with this friendship, given me a rare gift. I hope that even as it changes, it will retain its beauty.

Thanks, Dale, for walking with me. And wherever the road winds from here, I trust our paths will continue to meet.