Meaningful

I read a quote some time ago from Bob Goff: "God isn't trying to make our lives easier; He wants to make them more meaningful." Could any quote be more apt? During this time of COVID-19, it seems that nothing is easy. Getting groceries is hard. Wearing masks is hard. Being without our normal fellowship and having our sense of community disrupted are hard. Some are dealing with jobs lost and lives lost. Health professionals are working more, or less. The way we all work has certainly changed. Schools are online, or off line. Some resources are scarce. Some resources are being produced in such great abundance that we now have recalls about ones that are poisonous. Who knows when the economy will ever return to normal? I suspect we will never get back to the normal we have. It's all difficult. So, so hard.

Do I believe that God caused COVID-19? No. But in His sovereignty, I do believe that He is allowing it. Why? I don't know the ultimate reason why, but I do know that He desires that we be holy over happy. This season certainly gives us reason to live that out.

Now is certainly not an easy time, but it is a time when things take on a lot more meaning. The arduous task of grocery shopping makes food prep and purchasing more meaningful and valuable. Masks cause me to realize the importance of smiling and otherwise having non-verbal communication. Physical distancing makes the ability to hug loved ones seem oh, so much sweeter. Having work, even if it is a lot of work to do it in these times, is a great blessing. Seeing the weight of decisions resting on the backs of public officials causes me to give thanks for this country, and to pray even more fervently for those that govern. Is this life easy? No. Is it meaningful? Yes.

We have a choice now, to complain and gripe and mourn, or to make the most of these days, to focus on what really matters. Who knows when this pandemic will end? Who knows when life will get easier? No one but God. May we make life meaningful in the meantime.

What's Wrong With Church is Me

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

I wrote recently about my struggles with church. I was writing about the church corporate, as well as some of the individual churches I've been and am a part of. I could church hop and try to find a church with which I don't struggle, but as Oswald Chambers so aptly wrote, "The day we find the perfect church, it becomes imperfect the moment we join it." That's what I didn't write about in my first post. I didn't write about what's wrong with me. Because I am part of the problem.

So what's wrong with me as part of the church?

I'm judgmental. As much as I want grace and peace and understanding, I don't always give it. I fail to speak the truth in love. Instead, I speak the truth passive-aggressively, or with barbs or manipulation. The truth of the Bible is the truth. Don't get me wrong. But there is a way to speak it in a kind way. Jesus did that. I need to be more like him.

I tend to be a silo. I don't always like meeting or greeting new people. I tend to stick with those I know. And people like me are what makes the church unwelcoming. I need to practice more hospitality.

I burn rather than build bridges. I am slow to forgive. I sometimes feel that I need to assert my way instead of listening to what others have to say. I need to be slower to speak, and as a result, slower to anger and more likely to build relationships.

I act like I have it together, and I don't. There are places and times for boundaries, but as Juli Slattery wrote in a recent book of hers I read, we need to be authentic with discernment. That means not leading people to believe things that are not true. I don't often intentionally mislead people, but I think people believe I have it more together than I do. That is maybe partly their perception, but also partly what I give off. I need to work on being more genuine.

I don't serve, and I don't always support those who serve. There are times and places for service and rest, but we're all called to do something to support the body, even if it's just praying. And we are called to respect and support and encourage those who serve. I do not always do that, either.

There are probably many other problems with me as a part of the church. I am a sinner. I have a responsibility in that. As Bob Goff writes, “If you try out yet another new church, all that will happen is that you will simply encounter as much trouble as you found in the last one. There is nothing wrong with your spiritual environment, but there is something desperately wrong with you. If you fail to correct that, you will be a spiritual tramp all the days of your life” (p. 144). I don't want to be that.*

But grace. God's grace. God's grace saved me. God's grace sanctifies me. May it continue to grow me so that I am less and less of a problem in the church. And may the church grow increasingly into what God intended until his final, perfect kingdom comes.

*Let's be clear. There are good reasons to leave a church, like heresy, or poor theology, or scandal. I don't think that is what Goff is talking about here. I think he is talking about leaving the church for more "superficial" reasons.

Who Is My Neighbor?

We had a compelling sermon this past week at church. I came away with the question, "Who is my neighbor?" It's a question that's been rattling around in my head for quite some time. I read Bob Goff's book, Everybody Always this summer. And I recently finished Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist. Neither book was entirely about neighbors, but they both referenced love and loving the people around us.

My job is to serve people, and I love it and am thankful for it. It is a privilege to walk with and encourage people in their journeys of life, particularly in the hard times. But I've been realizing that my service during the day can come at a cost to my family and friends during the rest of my life. The work I do always comes at a cost to those around me, because it is emotionally taxing and draining. But sometimes work comes at too much of a cost, where I'm putting work before family and friends.

The question, "Who is my neighbor?" for me, therefore, has become less about the general "who" and more about the specific "who." Shauna Niequist writes about the "home team," and encourages readers to really hone in on who that is. Bob Goff writes times and times again about not trying to be Jesus. Jesus is the Savior and Healer and Redeemer, and I'm not it! I'm realizing that part of my issue with work is that I'm trying to do too much, playing medic for the away team while my home team suffers. I need to do the work I'm called to do, but I also need to make time and space for the direct people in my life, the people who are behind and before me in the work I do. Because if I lose my home team, I've got nothing.

So who is my neighbor? Every human being that God has created is my neighbor! But there are some specific neighbors, my family and my close friends, that God calls me to serve in specific ways, and I need to find time and space to do it. By God's grace, may I never step over the bleeding neighbor at my doorstep to be a "savior" to the neighbor far away.

Eschewing Labels

Last night, on the cusp of completing nearly two weeks of training for my new counseling job, I read this quote from Bob Goff:

This quote really resonated with me, as my new company focuses on calling children and families by their names, rather than addressing them as "clients," or their psychiatric, learning disorder, or behavioral diagnoses. This is a learning curve for me, as my graduate education taught me that people preferred the anonymity of the title"client." But that's just the problem. The term "client" can be dehumanizing, universalist, deterministic. I work with people.

But you know what? Labels extend far beyond counseling. Think about the labels we hear in everyday life: Workaholic. Lazy. Perfectionist. Slob. Homosexual. Heterosexual. Stupid. Smart. Goody-two-shoe. Black sheep.  What if we got rid of these? What if we stopped referring to ourselves with singular words and started viewing ourselves as multiply complex PEOPLE? We are friends, siblings, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, grandparents, counselors, teachers, mentors, engineers, doctors, nurses, doers, resters, crafters, creators, singers, dancers, painters, handymen (and women!) etc. Or what if we got rid of even these conglomerations of labels and tore down the barrier of labels period? How would we relate to people?

What if we let issues be issues and people be people? What if we stopped trying to find words to describe life and just lived? Could we be more present? Could we be more productive? Could those who claim to be Christians love more like Christ loved? Could we begin to acknowledge the complexities of each unique creation of God? I don't think it's possible to completely do away with labels, but perhaps reducing their use can lead to fuller, richer lives and lifestyles.