The only solution is revolution

Take a step back, look at the world around us and be amazed.

I am firmly entrenched in middle age, but am stunned at the progress just in my time. For my mother, 80-years young, I can't even imagine what goes through her mind as the dizzying Information Age swirls around her.

Photo via Flickr by * Honest *

My life is with high-tech devices and sattelite images and instant communications. Data fills my desktops, the  airwaves, the cable systems and my phone. Routers and processors and motherboards all silently work to bring the information to the people.

Despite the physical evidence, the basis of our times is not the computer. The age in which we live is one of words. It always has been.

Few can argue the influence of the Internet and the proliferation of the silicon chip, but they are nothing without the syntax and sentences of the information that they proliferate. Without ideas, the bits and bytes of computers are empty carriers of energy.

Words and ideas still run our world. And this should give us hope. The "Word made flesh" is relevant even in this age. The words of Christ are too life changing to trumped by any smart phone or social network.

We need men and women take up “holy orders” and go beyond the norm of Christendom? We need a revolution of words. What a different world we would live in if Christians would take heed to the commands like:
Be at peace with all men
Die daily to self
Submit to authority
Turn the other cheek
Love your neighbor

Jesus spoke of another kingdom. He spoke of a life on this planet that was unlike any other experienced. But His words are nothing without those willing to live out the life.

A Red Letter Revolution.


Comment?

Everyone wants to talk about the weather, but no one wants to talk about life

“Man, it’s cold,” I heard the man with the frosty beard say, while he stomps his feet and pulls hiw coat up all the way to his ears.

“Yup,” Nick Wilson nods. “Barometers down. Cold as hell.”

Image by NASA's Marshall Space Flight Center via Flickr

I chuckle silently at the irony, the disparate contradiction of the description. But I agreed. It was cold. As I shoveled off the walk and threw salt like feed to the chickens, my breath froze midair and the crystals hang on my upper lip.

My neighbors and friends shuffled by to check their mail, arms shoved deep inside their pockets. And it seemed everyone wanted to talk about the same thing.

The window where I sold stamps was the literal center of the community. I heard about all the good deals, the bad characters, the broken cars, the rotten eggs, the bad tomatoes and yes, the weather.

“I've got 12 inches on my deck. “

“Snow’s so deep, the deer won’t be able to eat.”

“Rain flooded my basement.”

“My flowers got hit by the frost.”

“Cold front from Canada.”
"So hot it wilted my lettuce"

“High pressure”

“Low Pressure.”

Sometimes it seems that we’re nervous to talk about real life – the stuff like children and aging, love and divorce, betrayal and loyalty. With everything so much more important in the light of eternity, all we can talk about is the precipitation and humidity, dew point and frost.

It's a shared narrative, a common calamity. We all must endure the extremes together as community. We've haven't all lost a job, or a spouse, or a child, but we've all sweated under the blazing sun. We've all stood against the winter's blast. We all heard the wind howl.

We're so terribly obsessed with tomorrow’s temperatures, yet we could give a rip about eternity.

Care to comment? What's your weather like?

Every breath is a second chance

Blink.

Screech.

Slam.

Where am I? What happened?

It was over before I knew it started.

Headed to the store. Or was it work. I don’t remember. Where was I going? Where am I?

Kids in the car?

No. Good. 

Everything, slow motion. Dream-like. 

Puffy latex balloon pressing against my chest. Puff of smoke from the explosion makes me nauseous. Or was it the impact? Or my breakfast?

Sharp shards of glass in my hair.

Fingers. Check.

Toes. Check.

Salty taste in my mouth, seeping in from somewhere.

And then my memory kicked in.

When I was nine.

Mom ran into a parked car.

No seatbelts.

No airbags.

I went through the windshield.

And the other times. . .

Like when I fell off the horse.

Or when I slid down the snowy mountain, backpack slowing my fall.

Or when I spun the car around on the black ice, guard rail stopping me from the chasm.
And when the faceless man pressed a knife against my ribs

And this morning, when my eyes first fluttered open.

And every second between then and now. 

When love was shown to me when not deserved. The simple wonder of clear, crisp air. The comforting smiles of friends and family.  

They have all reminded me

That every breath

Is a second chance.


Care to comment? Click here.

A tale of two men

It had been a long day. Deadlines. A demanding boss. Angry phone calls. And the minute I came home, everyone tensed up. They knew something was wrong. At the first cross word out of my mouth, everyone scattered, suddenly finding "urgent" things to do in other rooms.

Photo by David Rupert

Those who know me see both sides of this passionate personality. I can be a load of fun when I’m on, and a real drag when I’m off-center.

But there’s really no excuse for the words spoken in haste, breathed in anger or frustration. Like another passionate man, the disciple Peter, sometimes I speak out of turn, then have to make amends. I bluster through situations, and then spend weeks undoing them. I have great zeal, but it's dampered by great indescretion. A complicated creature.

Angela Ambroise is a gifted writer who has been reflecting on the impact of her words. She too had a Peter-like moment of indiscretion – and another of remorse, when the full weight of her hasty words bore down on her.

“I had ugliness emerge from within me,” she writes. “One ugly unkind word after another rolled off my tongue. Then I remembered Peter. Peter saw his fault instantly. He repented. He moved on ... and the Lord used Him.”

I love Peter's passion. He loved His Lord. But He often lacked... grace and discretion. And that's a little like like me. How about you? You can comment here.

Check out Angela's featured post called, My Peter Moment. You can also read my round-up of other great blog posts from around The High Calling Network here.

Back to the Mines: Why Do We Stay in Bad Jobs?

The drama of the 33 Chilean miners trapped last fall was riveting.

Imagine the moment when the last battery pack went dead, draining the last remnants of hope. Desperation, anguish and anxiety hung in the dank air. 

It took more than two weeks, but rescuers punched a small hole into the cavern, and the men were eventually pulled out one-by-one.

One miner, who at 63 was the eldest of the survivors, passed on this bit of wisdom to his grandchildren:

“Never go into a mine,” he said. “Study another profession.”

Predictably, many of the miners have found other lines of work. Some have gone back into the industry, driving trucks, working in administration or supervision.

But some have gone right back, working underground in other mines.

If it were me, I would never enter a mine again. In fact, I would sleep with the light on the rest of my days. I would change all my 40-watt bulbs out to 100-watt torches. I would move to Ecuador and put my house on a swivel that that could always face the sun as it moved across the sky.

And I would never enter a mine. But then again . . .

Read the rest of this post over at the High Calling today, where I ask the question, "Why do we work in bad jobs?

You can also comment here.

You made me think

Last week I wrote about the writer's dilemma. In summary, we dance this line between writing what's on our heart and writing what someone will read. I concluded in the piece that we should just write for an "Audience of One" and ignore the applause, dismiss the comments, and not listen to the praise.

This principle, I thought, could be applied to preachers and teachers, singers and poets, sculptors and dancers. It could apply to housework, homework or yardwork. The feedback I got via comment and e-mail was varied. And I learned some things.  


My friend and High Calling Editor Marcus Goodyear, admitted that he needs an audience. "Maybe I just have trouble justifying the time without any kind of tangible affirmation."  He likens it to acting. What good is an actor who performs on an empty stage?"

For Michelle DeRusha, writing and her faith go hand in hand. One is a natural extension of the other. She doesn't think much about audience. "I think I write mostly for myself," she admits. 

Karen Eck said this. "If we share our (art) publicly, then it had better be with the intention of touching hearts and souls. If we ignore that element, then we might as well journal beneath lock and key," she said. "It is less myself stepping forward to be seen, as stepping back behind him while telling as many people as will listen about the incredible things he's been up to." 

Just A Pen says in a post the key is to "Love God. Love your Neighbor. Love yourself." Laura Boggess admits that she desires affirmation, "but it makes a difference to know that there are others on this journey with me." 

And for some of us, we have to write. Just like painters must paint and singers must sing. It's something ingrained -- so it's an imperative. Brock Henning said this. "It's a passion ingrained into their soul. Something feels empty when days have passed without a single word hitting the page."  But couldn't we do that just letter to paper and never show a soul?
 
My son told me this. "Dad, everyone likes to hear something nice from someone. It's human nature." Others have told me it's a sign of character deficiency to live for that affirmation and praise.  In fact, this tendency has led to destruction in my life. 


So -- the dilemma continues. Whatever you do -- in your part time or your profession, does it matter what others think? Leave your thoughts here. 

Mid-life careers -- the best is yet to come

"This breakfast is depressing," I thought.

A number of my friends and I were recently talking. Most of them unemployed. They've been for many months. A few have been searching for more than a year.

The talk was about fruitless interviews, endless applications and useless job fairs. There is pain -- and failure -- in their eyes.

They're all my age, stuck in the middle of life, feeling a little lost. Their career path is irrelevant in the modern economy. Their training is out of date. their experience worthless. They look at their hands that turned nuts and laid tile and built computer components and they wonder what's next.

A change in the economy, a turn in legislation or a restructuring and it could be me, looking at my own hands.

Billy Coffey's main character in Snowday reflects on his own mid-life.

"I'm just a man. Not too bright and not too stupid, not too rich and not too poor, not too happy and not too sad. A middle-of-the-road, ordinary man. That was me. Nice to meet you."

A lot of us guys -- and girls -- can relate. We all had big dreams at some point in our life. We all wanted to change the world -- find a cure, feed the hungry, start a successful business. But through a series of events, we are where we are.


How in the world did I get here?

Coffey says

"There are two things every decent person possessed in his or her life. One is a set of lofty goals that rise just out of reach and the other is a desire to do something good for the world."

Photo by Lisa

My life is pretty darn good right now, and the good news is that the best is still to come. God, give me goals and help me make a difference.

By His grace, these hands, this mind, this body can still be of use.

How about you? Comments here.

All we really need is an audience of ... One

The modern writer’s world is a complex formula.  Read books, go to seminars, listen to agents and literary experts and you’ll hear all about "platform." You see, you’ll never get a book deal unless you have an audience – a group of people who presumably cling to your every word and purchase your work. There are lots of writers out there building up Facebook and Twitter audiences, networking like a virtual cocktail party.


We are all scared that no one cares.

Whether you're a painter, a preacher, a blogger, a sculpter or an inventor, we're all joined at the hip as we dive into the mysterious waters of notoriety.  Secretly, we  hope for the synergy and massive audience that will put our work in demand. But the truth is that most of us will never achieve any kind of critical mass. We'll just plod on in anonymity. Am I fine with that? 

I interact with many writers at all skill levels. As in any art, the talent runs the gamat. There are some skilled craftsman who have the ability to tap into our minds and hearts with their words. They have a message that needs to be heard.

And there are others who are just writing because they have a desire to say something. Their skill is not exceptional, but they have heart and desire.  It does their soul good and there's a place for that. 

Few writers will ever see their name in print. My advice to them? Just write. It doesn't matter if you are never discovered, never published, and never lauded in magazines. It doesn't matter as long as you are writing to the right audience. And that audience might be limited to your friends or family. That audience might just be you. Or it might be God.

Let's be honest. The artist lives for the applause. The painter wants people to tilt their head and ooh and awe over the lines and the shadows. The writer wants to engage readers in emotion and response. The singer looks for the roar of emotion at the end of the song.

All of these things feed the ego, which does serve a purpose. It's the ego that keeps us going, that motivates and moves us. It gives us confidence. We want to make a difference and we will never know unless we hear something, anything.  Am I any good at this? Am I effective? 

Photo by Karenee Art, by permission

I wonder if we should just chuck the whole 'social engagement' thing. Wouldn't it be easier just to have an audience of One?

If I write for the admiration of the reader, then I will be motivated to tickle their ears and win their admiration. But if write for Him, then I'll be free in my spirit.

If I write strictly for the hoi polloi, then I'll be possessed with likeability, friends and popularity.

But if I write for Him, I'll listen, learn and put words to the song in my heart.  

"If no one else listens, that's fine," I say in my low-keyed-holy-sounding voice.  But, is it possible? Can I be freed of the shackles of praise, the false premise of cyber- friends, the laudatory words of strangers? Can I just write because the words ring true in my heart, breathed by His Spirit, and spoken by a broken man? 

While I want people to read me and I always am flattered and honored with words of praise, I hope that when it all boils down to it, I'm writing for the right reason.  That gives me boldness. That gives me confidence.

Is it possible to write, or dance, or work, or sing, or labor, or preach for an audience of One? Or do you need something more? What do you honestly think?


For more posts on the call to boldness and confidence, please visit Bonnie Gray’s Faith Barista.

Is there an "app" for life?

Linguists have tapped "App" as the word of the year.

If you own a smart phone, you already know that "app" stands for "application."

Sold as an add-ons for cell phones, apps serve as shortcuts to all kinds of things you never knew you needed. You can point your phone at the heavens and it will tell what star cluster you are viewing. You can have your phone listen to the radio and it will tell you what the name of the song is. You can take your blood pressure and upload it to your doctor. You can take a picture of a page of foreign-language text and it will translate it. 

There are thousands of apps -- and more on the way.

Indeed, we will have more toys and applications that we can ever imagine in the future. Stroll through the Computer Electronics Show in Vegas or browse through a tech magazine and your eyes will fill with wonder. 

What we don't have is an app for life.

In a relationship that needs mending, wouldn't it be nice to download a fix? Instant agreement!

Photo by Faith

If the money is a little short this month, an app could repair that too. Cash in the wallet!

If the boss at work was unbearable, an app could make things better. The corner office is suddenly happy!

If your wife or husband is unreasonable, there should be an app for that too. Harmony at the snap of the fingers!

But the truth is that no tech-guru can touch the problems of our soul.

  

I wish I could offer a download to repair all of life's problems. I would be rich and you would be happy. But the only application I can find is this principle, laid out many millenia before the 'tech-age':  "Trust in the Lord with whole heart. Lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowlege him and he will make your paths straight." Pr. 3.5-6

Download that!  Care to comment?

The status quo has got to go

This time of year, most of us have a few goals in mind. And why not? There’s no time like now to reassess our financial, career, family and spiritual direction.

I have a few myself. I’ve written them down with some steps to get to each of them. There’s much to be said for having some structure to help catapult me toward a destination.

Bradley Moore at Shrinking the Camel wrote a challenging post calling “Are you planning to grow?”  He challenges the assumption of achievement and encourages us to focus on growth instead.

“Growth is more of a lifelong process, a journey,” he reasons.  Especially when “Compared to the relative ease of checking off a short-term result.”

He asks, “Are your goals generating a richer meaning in your life?”

He has some great suggestions like

• Do something that terrifies you
•  Put yourself in a situation where you are over your head
•  Try something you’ve never done before

What's the most challenging goal you have this year? Comment here.

Blood.Sweat.Tears. Isn't there an easier way to do this?

Image by usag.yongsan via Flickr

Blood. 

Sweat. 

Tears. 

I really wish I could say it would be easier, but losing weight, deepening my spiritual walk and improving my relationships are all going to require some sacrifice. 

And as my doctor said during my "procedure," -- "You might feel a little pressure." 

That’s the nature of discipline. It hurts for a while, but the long-term benefits outweigh the temporal discomfort. (Still I ask, "Can't I just buy an app for this stuff?")

Larry Hehn’s delightful blog, Christians in the Rough, is a continuous dose of good medicine, but it doesn’t always go down easily. In a recent post, Larry acknowledges the struggle to live a better, more disciplined life by comparing it to a certain brand of effective, but wretched-tasting brand of cough medicine, Buckley’s Mixture.

The company was honest in the advertising. "It tastes awful. And it's worth it."

“We’ve all made some worthy resolutions over the years,” Hehn said in his post. “But how often have we backed away from reaching them once we get a taste of the discipline it takes to get there?”

Three years ago I worked hard to turn my life around physically, spiritually and in my relationships. I lost 30 pounds of fat and gained 20 pounds of muscle. But over the last few months that physique has ... slipped. It wasn't long ago that I studied and taught with fiery passion. Today, I just barely limp by in my faith. I used to be surrounded by friends who would encourage me and I could learn from. But by my brokenness, I lost my way.


Do I want change? You bet. But the reality is that none of this is going to be easy.


How about you? What's the toughest thing you are planning on doing this year? Comment here.

I have no idea

Love.  I guess I have always known about it. 

Cradled in my mothers arms, she whispered it to me. And I sensed it as I was consoled by my father, telling me that the bully's words didn't matter. I heard it when Nana reminded me I was important to her.

And it might have pricked a tiny hole in heart as I watched Jill ride by on her bicycle and I wondered what it would be like to talk to her.

Four fab singers told me it was all I needed. I found Solomon's song and read wide-eyed the tawdry, yet sacred account. The minister spoke of phileo, eros and agape. 

But I had no idea. 


I could sense it in others. Watching the couple at the restaurant, laughing and then narrowing their eyes in resolute seriousness. She, throwing her hair back while he watched in wonder. It changed people. It made them happy. And crazy.

Photo by Lisa

I read the words scrawled in trees and watched it play out from the stage and big screen. It was a simple note on the old piano and a raging symphony all at once. 

In school I read about it, the stuff of poetry and sonnets. Lovers in dangerous times, heroes acted heroically. Heroines swooned. 

But I had no idea. 

Eventually, I would fight for love, kicking at the darkness until it bled daylight*. Leapfrogging suitors, splashing cologne on my tender skin and wooing the maiden. And when I found it, I swore I’d never lose it. 

I smelled the fragrant skin. I touched the hair and watched the smile. A kiss. And then another.  

I waited at the end of the aisle, heard the promise. Holding hands in solemn unity untill death's parting.  

But I had no idea.  

It's a sacred thing, not to be tossed around carelessly. Still people use it to shower affection on their cats. And their cars. And their flannel sheets. And worse, fleshly pursuits with no heart twists the word beyond recognition. 

Webster-defined it's so constrained. Four letters. One syllable. Yet, eternity thunders. 

I had no idea, until I found the Author of the word, and I'm learning ...

How wide

and long

and high

and deep

Surpassing knowledge.

And I still have no idea.

"And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." Eph 3

Feel free to add your own thoughts here.

We are participating in Bonnie Gray's Faith Jam today, "What's the One Word that will define your year?" 
* Tip of the hat to Bruce Cockburn, "Lovers in a Dangerous Time"
Also inspiration credit to Chad Bruegmanof Red Rocks Church

"Somebody oughta"

I'm a regular reader of "Live with Flair," the creative outlet for educator and communicator Heather Goodman.

She's a great writer and has sharp instincts into the world around her.

I really liked her most recent post, "Make Yourself That Somebody."

She caught herself complaining about a safety issue on a public sidewalk. When she said out loud, "Somebody should really fix it..", she began to question just who "somebody" is!

And she concludes that we are that "somebody."

I find myself using the same expression.

Somebody ought to clean the spill in the breakroom
Somebody ought to sign up to serve nursery duty
Somebody ought to clean up the widow's yard down the street
Somebody ought to share a good word with that woman who has so many problems
Somebody ought to step up

Read her blog here, and I'm wondering, what kinds of things have you been waiting for somebody to do, and all along, it should be you?

Comment here.