Without Guile

Sweet night.

We've had a busy day, and we're tired. Settled into our laptop spots in the living room, interacting with the world out there, and even a little bit with each other.

Our 6 year-old, Jonathan, has a buddy spending the night at our house tonight, so he is more excited than usual. We Redboxed a movie and a Wii game for our boys and Jonathan's friend, but the kids have instead gravitated toward the Legos in the bedrooms, which is a cool reminder that kids like to play, don't need much help doing it, and adults don't need to plan every minute of their lives for them.

But here's what just happened, that I am praying I will never forget:

Jonathan has a little thing he does now and then, when he is listening to the radio in his bedroom. We keep his radio tuned to K-Love, and his favorite artist is Toby Mac. When a Toby Mac song comes on, we usually find out about it when Jonathan comes running down the hall and, without a word, turns on the radio in the kitchen so we can hear the song too.

The best part is hearing his sweet, six year-old voice singing along with one of his heroes.

The lyrics to "Get Back Up" or "Me Without You" take on a whole new relevance when sung by your child.

Tonight, sometime after Kristi and I had drifted into laptopland, and the kids in Legoland had faded into the background, I became aware that the kitchen radio was playing, at pretty decent volume, and Jonathan's voice could be heard singing along with Toby Mac's new hit, "Speak Life". The spirit was contagious, and I couldn't resist singing along, too.

It was then that I realized the radio in Jonathan's room was on, and that he had done his usual thing, playing K-Love in his room, and turning on the kitchen radio to let everyone share in the joy of Toby Mac.

So, what about this meant so much to me on this particular night? He has done this many times; it's not a new thing. Why such a big deal?

The difference tonight is that a guest is here.

I am amazed and overjoyed that our son behaved exactly the same way in front of a buddy that he normally behaves when he is alone with us. He played the same music, shared the same joy, sang with the same gusto, and did it all without the slightest hint of hesitation, inhibition, embarrassment, or shame.

He didn't change a thing on account of a guest being present.

I distinctly remember doing quite the opposite while I was growing up.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not naive enough to think our six year-old will never experience embarrassment about the norms of his household when his friends come over. And I don't maintain any illusions that he will never behave differently with friends than he will in front of us. The innocence I saw tonight will not remain unspotted throughout our son's youth; I get that.

But what if....Can I even say it? What if...

What if, somehow, it could be?

A child growing up with such a sense of identity that it didn't matter who knew who he really was? A kid who knew it was OK to be honest? A boy or girl who could just sing their true song in their true voice, regardless of who would hear?

Of course, this transparency works both ways.

Just as an uninhibited child will share faith and family norms with friends, he or she will also express differences in faith and family norms with the very family who so carefully instilled those things. Parents can't ask for one, and not accept the other.

How do we raise children who will let shine the light God has placed within them, in front of friend, foe, or stranger, without feeling an obligation to filter, dim, or shade the light, or put it out altogether? Kids who will grow up into men and women free of guile? People who are who they appear to be? Husbands, wives, parents, and friends who sing the song their spirit is moved to sing, without shame?

When do our masks begin to form?

God, let us as parents nurture the sensitive flame of your spirit in the hearts of our children.

Father, let us never blow it out.

Whipping Out My Phone

I had a feeling someone was going to say it sometime. (OK, my wife has been after me about it for awhile now, but I've been putting off dealing with the issue...)

What a great blog post by Chris Wejr here. So timely for me, and perhaps for you, too.

Chris shares his conviction that we are all missing too many of the moments going on around us and among those we love, all in the name of our minute-by-minute commitment to electronically document those very moments.

Sounds like me!

One of my most telling examples of this is a piece of video I captured as a souvenir:

It was a great night.

Just me and Kristi, enjoying a concert we had looked forward to for months.

The awesome Gavin DeGraw opened the show, and when he took his performance into the audience, the crowd went nuts! Without even realizing it, we all divided ourselves into two groups:  Those who moved toward Gavin to try and get close enough to interact with him, and those who whipped out their phones to try and get a picture of him.

Those who lived a special moment, and those who documented it.

Can you guess which group I fell into?

Don't get me wrong. I think there is room to do both in almost any situation, and I think we are tremendously blessed by our gadgets that let us capture images so easily. 

But I have to shake my head when I watch this video and remember how Gavin DeGraw walked right by me, within just a few feet of me, with no one between me and him, and I didn't even reach out to shake his hand.

Later in the concert, Gavin performed his new hit, "Best I Ever Had", and one lyric in particular stood out:

"I'm looking at the crowd, and they're staring at their phones..."

Singing Satisfaction When I'm 40

"I don’t want to be singing 'Satisfaction' when I’m 40."

My Dad once told me about this quote from a young Mick Jagger, in the Stones' early years.

Apparently, Mick couldn't see himself in his 40's, still performing the same hits that made him a star in his 20's. While there is some variation in the accounts of what exactly he said, and what his exact age cutoff was for singing "Satisfaction", the quote has always made me laugh.

How could Mick have known he would still be rocking well into his 60's?

Whether we're singing the song or not, we all want satisfaction, no matter what age we're turning. So, what does satisfaction mean for you?

The right achievements, the right compensation and recognition for the work you do, the right relationships in your life? The right body? The right looks? All of the same in the lives of your children? The right number of blog hits, retweets, Facebook birthday wishes? (Aren't they great, by way?)

I think most of us would have to confess that we want most or all of the above.

An intimate walk with God? Yes, that too, right?

Some of us convince ourselves we can walk with Jesus while still craving all the same sources of satisfaction everyone else does.

I have fought hard to think this for a long time, and I think it's time for that to change.

Jesus is enough. His grace is sufficient for me. He brings satisfaction.

And if I ever lose the relationships, achievements, compensation, health and vitality that I want to have, Jesus is still enough. Whether or not the lives of my children end up being filled with everything I hope for them, Jesus is still enough. Whether or not anyone notices or respects me, or gives a rip whether I'm here or not, Jesus is still enough.

I am passionate about launching young people into successful adult lives, and I plan to keep rocking that music deep into the future, as long as I possibly can. It's what I believe I'm here to do, and I'm grateful to have a purpose.

But even if that purpose is ever taken from me, Jesus is enough.

And that's why I'm singing satisfaction when I'm 40.

"We All Got Bruises"

Lately I've been enjoying the song "Bruises", by Train.

It's a sweet song, a dialogue between old friends who cross paths after ten years and reflect back on their past relationships and experiences, many of which have left bruises.

The song strikes an optimistic note about how these bruises "make for better conversation", and are simply a reality of life for all of us. I'm no exception, and I'm sure you're not, either. Just like the song says, we all got bruises.

But this song has also reminded me that, while I surely carry my share of bruises left on my heart by others, there are people out there right now carrying bruises of their own, bruises that were left there by me.

Some of these bruises I have completely forgotten about causing, and others, I never knew I caused. Some I still remember all too well, and these hurt more than the ones I carry myself.

So, tonight I'm saying a special prayer for people out there carrying bruises I caused.

Father, please ease whatever pain they still feel from things I said or did.

Father, please let me remember bruises I caused that I could still heal, and help me see the opportunities I might have to make things right.

Father, please let me forget the things you're taking care of, and want me to forget.

And God, please help me to be kind.

The Spirit of the Shepherds

 

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger.

Luke 2:15-16

While we all know this story, I wonder if it's really possible to get inside the minds of these shepherds, to know what it was like to experience this heavenly interruption to the workaday routine? Probably not, but it is such a fascinating scene, that I can't help but wonder what it must have been like for these unprepared, unsuspecting men.

Besides reminding myself that I would not be whipping out my phone to record the scene and upload to You Tube, I have a very real difficulty placing myself in the shoes of the shepherds:

Being initially terrified by the angelic visit? -- Check.

Listening to the announcement without a word? -- Not a problem.

Feeling relief at the assurance not to be afraid? -- Definitely.

Wanting to see the baby the angel spoke of? -- Absolutely!

Actually leaving my job site with work in progress, and exposing the animals entrusted to my care to danger, to travel some distance back into town to search for a family of complete strangers in an unknown location, for a reason that wouldn't be remotely plausible to my boss, if he should ever ask?

Are you kidding?

What about the sheep? What if they got scared and wandered off? What if a predator attacked them? What if someone came along and stole some of them? What if the owner checked in, as Murphy's Law dictates, right when I'm gone and not paying attention?

Is anyone out there with me?

Anyone else so conditioned to being obligated to maintaining the routine of earthly responsibility, that the risk of consciously taking a pass on the arrival of Jesus into your world is a very real possibility?

I'm not talking about being too busy to notice He's there. I don't mean never hearing the message, or being persecuted or prevented in some way.

I mean knowing He is there, having every opportunity to go to Him, and deciding, like George Bailey did when Sam Wainwright offered him a ride to Florida, "I'm afraid I just couldn't get away."

Don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting anyone cast aside the responsibilities of life in the name of Jesus.

But there is something we should learn in the spontaneous decision of these shepherds to leave their flocks unattended in the fields long enough to get themselves to Jesus and be changed by His presence. To trust that everything would be all right long enough to see the One they needed to see, to get hold of a story they would be telling the rest of their lives. And I imagine there was joy in the Father's heart every time these men recounted this event to anyone who would listen.

What better time than now?

Step away from your work. Stop your routine. Disconnect from media.

It'll all be OK. Everything will be there when you return. The Father who wants you to know His Son will cover you.

And you will find yourself eager with anticipation for the next time His arrival is announced by angels in the sky.

He Does Understand

"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us."

John 1:14

"...we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."

Hebrews 4:15-16


He does understand.

He understands what it's like to live in a world where good and evil reside, side-by-side.

What it's like to see the best and worst in the human condition, in the same place, at the same time.

What it's like to wonder why some people do the most terrible things.

What it's like to see the grief of those who have suffered loss from which they may never heal.

What it's like to know that some may reject Him because of these losses.

What it's like to be tempted to think the worst about all people.

What it's like to be tempted to circle up into camps against one another.

What it's like to wonder when He is coming again.

He understands that we don't understand why. He understands how hard it is to witness things that are only possible apart from His presence, in the middle of the season when the whole world remembers the story of His arrival here. He understands that our minds long for an answer, even as we concede the fact that an answer will probably never come.

He understands the temptation to despair.

He understands when we ask why He doesn't prevent these things, if He understands them so well.

And He understands that by not guaranteeing us a life free of grief, He may very well lose some of us.

He simply asks us to trust Him, especially when those answers don't come, and nothing makes any sense.

And that's what I choose to do.

 

You Packin' Heat?



I am haunted by this news story:

A boy is dead who didn't have to die, and a man has killed, who might not have had to kill.

While I generally support the idea of concealed-carry permits, I have grave reservations over whether John Q. Public always understands what it means to measure one's response to the actions of others.

Yes, I understand that a citizen should have the right to draw on some criminal who threatens his safety, and I understand that criminals deserve to live in fear of whether their potential victims might be armed.

I occasionally visit the Chinese buffet that resides in the building where the Luby's massacre took place, and I, like everyone else, have wondered how many lives might have been saved if someone could have fired back at the killer.

(Of course, there is no guarantee that 6 or 7 random, panicked, civilian diners, pulling out firearms of their own in the middle of that chaos would have made anything better.)

We all know the narrative that is used to explain the need to pack heat:  The law-abiding citizen is just minding his own business, when the criminal seizes the moment, has a weapon and the element of surprise in his favor, and carries out the robbery, the assault, the kidnapping, the rape, the murder, or what have you.

And who hasn't wished this innocent victim could have been armed, and at least had a chance to ward off the attacker?

But the story above is different, isn't it?

Yes, the guy is claiming a shotgun was pointed at his car, and maybe it was. The surviving boys from the car are claiming there was no weapon in their vehicle, and maybe there wasn't. We will probably never know.

But what led up to the critical moment?

The innocent, upstanding citizen himself, John Q. Public, supposedly minding his own business, was the one who initiated the argument over the volume of the music, and made contact with the boys a second time when the music was turned up again. The guy who had no legal standing to order these boys to turn the music down. The man who was waiting five minutes for his fiancee to get in and out of a convenience store. The father who didn't live in the area, but was visiting town for his son's wedding. The visitor with no stake in the community in which he was a guest, and no connection to the boys he confronted.

Do you really think the volume of the music in the car next to him was not something he could have tolerated for five minutes?

Do you really think he could not have simply joined his fiancee inside the store if he didn't like the music in the car next to him?

Do you really think this matter was so critical that he needed to confront complete strangers he was never going to see again?

Do you really think something so important was at stake here, that it warranted introducing hostilities into a visit that was supposed to be about his son's wedding?

Surely not.

Why do you think this man confronted these boys?

Just because he was annoyed by their music? Maybe. Who hasn't been annoyed by the rudeness and presumption of someone's loud music? Or maybe this guy is just a complete hothead who confronts people all the time. Who knows?

Of course, now that his only priority is to avoid legal culpability for this killing, we will certainly see him portrayed as a kind and gentle soul who feared for his life and fired eight shots into a car out of pure necessity.

But I doubt he fits either stereotype, the hothead or the gentle soul. I suspect he is an average guy given to normal human emotions, and the fact that he was armed had something to do with the boldness he felt and the shortness of his patience, which prompted him to confront complete strangers over a trifling nuisance in a convenience store parking lot in an unfamiliar city he was visiting for his son's wedding.

Who doesn't feel tougher when insured by Smith & Wesson? Who hasn't fantasized about inviting some disrespectful punk to go ahead and make your day? Anyone might feel like the wrong hombre to fool with if a loaded gun were within easy reach.

Is it tempting for us to go ahead and start a fight we might otherwise avoid, when we know we have the power to finish it?

How do we handle the power to hurt other people?

Whether or not you're carrying a physical weapon, you have within your reach, at this very moment, everything you need to make someone bleed.

*Gossip.

*Ridicule.

*Condescension.

*Uncontrolled anger.

*Digs at character flaws.

*Assumption of bad motive.

*Reminders of past sin and its aftermath.

These weapons and others like them are more damaging than any blade or bullet, and are readily available to every one of us, without any permits or restrictions. When it comes to these weapons, we're all packing, aren't we?

Since we're all practicing concealed-carry, what kind of people ought we to be?

*Makers of peace (Matthew 5:9)

*Absorbers of insult (Matthew 5:38-42)

*Lovers of enemies (Matthew 5:43-48)

*Choosers of loss (I Corinthians 6:1-7)

*Refusers of revenge (Romans 12:17-19)

Where is maturity? Where is wisdom?

Wisdom and maturity are found when our easy access to the deadly weapon makes us less likely to pick the fight in the first place.

What do you imagine the shooter from the news story is now wishing he had done that day?