Blue Like Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

“The Lord appeared to me from afar, saying, ‘I have loved you with an everlasting love; Therefore I have drawn you with lovingkindness.’”

From the motion picture Blue Like Jazz

This is the third time I have tried to write a blog about a very popular idea making the rounds in Christian circles. You can find it in books like Red Letter Revolution: What If Jesus Really Meant What He Said? and Blue Like Jazz, and hear it preached vociferously from lots of pulpits like it was, in fact, revolutionary. Actually, it’s not a new idea, but one that comes around every twenty or thirty years. The last time I remember it gaining this kind of traction was about thirty years ago, the last time Tony Campolo (co-author of Red Letter Revolution) was making the rounds with a previous generation and Ron Sider, the author of Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger.

The idea is this: People find Christ and Christianity unattractive because Christians are so mean, and if we were more kind and less hypocritical, people would like us and they would like God.

I was all grumbly after my second aborted attempt at this subject. “Really,” my husband suggested gently, “it wouldn’t hurt if Christians were nicer.” Aaargh! “But it isn’t about niceness,” I insisted. He shrugged. “Just sayin’,” says he, “it wouldn’t hurt.” Really, that’s hard to argue with. Most of the Christians I know are extremely kind, generous, hospitable, open-minded, loving, and all those good things. But there are many people in the world, and throughout history, who have had an opposite experience to mine. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt for more of us to be nicer – of course it wouldn’t.

A day later came this verse from Jeremiah (31:3): “I have loved you with an everlasting love; Therefore I have drawn you with lovingkindness.” BAM! I don’t even know where I saw it – in a card, a devotional, Facebook? All I know is I said, “It isn’t about kindness.” Then there was God, saying kindness is exactly what it’s about.

So yes, Christians should be kind, because we are God’s children and being kind reflects His character. In fact, I would go so far as to say if we find ourselves being consistently unkind, we need to re-examine whether or not we really believe what we say we believe. But we cannot, for one moment, entertain the notion that our kindness will save people, or change the essential truths of their existence, or even draw them to Christ. Your kindness may draw people to you, it may make them think you are a different kind of Christian than they have met before. But this isn’t even close to giving people what they need, and even if it was, as we used to say on the playground, “Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”

No matter how kind, how generous, how open-minded, how cool or progressive or poverty-commune-living or hard-liquor-sipping or coffee-in-church-drinkin’ we may be; no matter how high that “non-hypocritical Christian” pedestal is that people may place us on – unlike God, we cannot maintain it. Inevitably, we will topple from the pedestal, and the fall will be great. At that point, it will have been better if they had never believed we were kind at all.

It isn’t our job to shore up Christianity’s reputation. Our job is to be children of God, to never forget what He has done for us, and sometimes, His grace will spill over from us to others. What has He done? How did He “draw us with his lovingkindess?” Jesus told us in John 12:32, “And I, if I am lifted up…will draw all peoples to Myself.” This is kindness: that God wrapped himself in fragile flesh and became the only person on the planet who, unlike the rest of us, didn’t have it comin’. Then, He willingly took on death to save us from every evil thing that we are. Through His birth, death, and resurrection, He did the only really kind thing anyone on this planet has ever done.

If we want to show people kindness, we will show them Christmas. We will show them Christ.

"Some Are Born..."

Three-year-old Jacob stomps into the bathroom like a toothbrush wielding sumo.

His sing-song opera…“I am the youngest. You are the oldest.

But I am the STRONGEST! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

The older brother, no Esau, but a Joseph, pats him on his flaxen head,

And calmly douses his outstretched weapon with toothpaste.

These days, I’m attempting to make the psychological shift from nurturer of children to parent of nearly grown men. I wouldn’t for a million dollars exchange today for yesterday – but I can’t help but reminisce. I wrote the poem above when my sons were toddlers and, obviously, I’m more a prose girl. But sometimes I get the urge to wax poetic, and this silly poem is one of my favorites. It’s a snap shot of a moment in time, but it speaks volumes about the personalities of my two sons and their brother relationship.

Watching my sons brings other brother pairs to mind – my father and his younger brother, Wilbur and Orville Wright, and of course, Jacob and Esau. Each of my sons has respected the other’s strengths, and put up with each other’s annoying qualities, in a mostly good-natured manner over the years– this has been a gift. The interaction of my sons has also led me to conclude that the Biblical story of Jacob and Esau is as much, and possibly more, about the older brother as it is about the younger.

I ruminate about being an eldest, not through experience, but through observation. I am neither the youngest nor the oldest – I’m not even the middle. I am third of four siblings. I am the watcher, the chronicler of the family I was born into.

I am also the mother of an eldest, and the close friend, sister, daughter, and wife of eldest children, and I know this: it is not easy to be an eldest. Your person, the idea of you, your very existence, is imbued and burdened with the hopes, dreams, and expectations of those around you from the day you are born. It would be impossible not to disappoint at some juncture, but you are never free of it – that sense of being responsible, the natural burdens of authority and leadership. There are perks, to be sure, but they come with strings. You will never be free (like a third) or pampered like a youngest or an only child (circumstances of birth that come with their own challenges). Being the eldest sibling is the original, “What have you done for us lately?” job.

I completely understand Esau wanting to be free of the responsibilities of the eldest, and that understanding has made me come to admire the eldests in my life that much more. These eldests that I love could have walked away, sold their birthrights. As far as I can tell, it doesn’t enter their minds.

As I think about it, I remember that each of them has had their older sibling prodigal moments (“Dad, why do you let them get way with that? When I think about the thrashing I would have received had I…”) but these indignant moments tend to be brief. I have watched them take the lead in helping aging parents, keep the family connected by both encouraging and speaking the truth in love, always ready to step in when there is a need or challenge that the rest of us feel inadequate to face, advise and project confidence that reassures us about continuing on. Far from selling their birthright, they often refuse even the slightest offer of help – assistance that some might say only pride keeps them from accepting. It as if they were also born with some innate sense that this role is theirs to fulfill and no one else’s, so they err on the side of sole responsibility. By the grace of God, I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain. (I Cor. 15:10) This isn’t pride. It is obedience.

What of the rest of us? The younger, the middle…the third. Can we learn something about our own calling by watching them? Another of their responsibilities, that, teaching by example. God gives us the choice to be or not to be what He created us to be. We’re free to walk away. He doesn’t need us to help Him fulfill His purposes. But running away tends to end in a pigpen, or the belly of a whale, or grieving at a birthright cheaply sold. My eldests have taught me it is good, no matter how rough the path, to follow the one God has placed before us, refusing to be distracted by smoother seeming ways. We look to Him at each twist and turn and say, “Where next?” People are blessed by that action, both the person who acts, and those they travel with, as well.

And This We Know

Adam and Eve and their story have come to my mind often during this past election season. In the third chapter of Genesis, Adam and Eve rebelled against their Maker. The next thing they did was try to justify their positions. The fact that their actions were in direct contradiction to God’s words didn’t even come up. The point seemed to be, for Adam and Eve, that what they had done seemed the most reasonable course of action given the circumstances, and why couldn't God understand that?

Whether you believe Genesis is history or myth, it has survived because it points to the root of so many of humanity's struggles. This tendency to justify our position in an argument or controversy, rather than listen and truly examine our own assumptions, motives, and actions, is a bad habit we can't seem to shake. As far as I can tell (and this most recent election season was a good bellwether) this tendency toward self-justification is as rampant in the Church today as it is outside of it.

I know I am just as guilty of this error as the next believer, but God’s been working on my heart in this regard. As far as I know, nowhere in scripture do Christ or the apostles exhort us to defend our political or moral positions to the death. Why it took me so long to notice this, I really don’t know, but I am sure it has its root in our fallen human tendency toward self-justification. We are called to defend and guard the gospel – to encourage each other to remember and pass on the pure and unammended good news we were given.

“Now I make known to you the gospel that I preached to you, which also you received, in which also you stand, by which also you are saved, if you hold fast the word which I preached to you, unless you believed in vain. For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures.” (I Cor. 15:3-5 NASB, emphasis mine)

"Guard what has been entrusted to you." (I Tim. 6:20 NASB)

However, guarding the gospel does not mean endlessly justifying our interpretation of how it should be lived out. It does not mean reacting in anger and condemning people who don’t buy it. Paul was clear that guarding the gospel simply meant passing on the same news that Christ gave to the apostles, and that they passed on to the early church. That’s it. I find nothing in scripture that suggests we are called to defend or justify our church’s doctrine, our political positions, or our lifestyle choices.

There is nothing wrong with having strong views and opinions, any thinking person does. I enjoy a good discussion as much as the next girl. But if our discussions become lines in the sand that separate  us from each other, that fracture relationships rather than exhort, encourage, heal, and draw people to Christ, something is wrong.

Think about some two sentence summaries of New Testament books of the Bible. Here are a few to get you started - Corinthians: God is the judge, you are called to love - love God and love each other. Some ways you can love each other are: sacrificially caring for those who are poorer and weaker than you, watching what you say, and passing on the same gospel message I gave you. James: Watch what you say, help each other remember the gospel, and take care of the poor and the weak among you. If you believe what you say, your life will show it. Romans: This isn't about what you're doing, it's about what God's doing in you. Oh, and watch what you say and take care of those poorer and weaker than you.

Picture what it would be like if the most important point we wanted to make in any discussion was the hope of the gospel message. It wouldn’t take long for us to explain what is important to us, and after that, what would we be doing? Listening, and I have found that to be important for two reasons:

First, the odds are, no matter how right or mature we think we are, some of our opinions and actions and yes, even some of our interpretations of scripture, are wrong. One of God’s best ways to show us where we are in error is through the encouragement, exhortation, and correction we receive from other people. They get the opportunity to speak truth to us in love. We have the opportunity to admit we are not perfect.  In turn, our brothers and sisters share the mercy of Christ with us as they forgive us for our error. Done right, this is a beautiful, miraculous, relationship enhancing cycle. It could be argued that, after sharing the gospel and helping the poor, learning this cycle is the primary role of church communities in the lives of believers.

Second, it is impossible to know someone that we do not listen to. It is very hard to understand how to love another person without knowing them. We are called to love our fellow believers and the world the way that Christ loved. We cannot love others if we spend the majority of our time talking rather than intentionally listening - listening in order to understand, not in order to defend our positions.

I have traced my own issues with self-justification to a lack of trust in the promise of Romans 8:28. “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” And we know… Do we really? Do we really trust that God is doing exactly the work that He has promised in our lives, the lives of our fellow believers, and in the world He created and loves? If we really believe this, we will not be afraid - and we won't be afraid to listen.

Keep Climbing

“We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us: we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.”

Photo by Gina Pearson

Quick! What does this C.S. Lewis quote have to do with Polish mountaineers? In my opinion, one of the best outdoor articles ever written appeared in National Geographic a few years ago, and I’ve never been able to shake it (Himalaya Winter Climb, Mark Jenkins, 2008). During this season when temperatures start to plunge, it comes back to me. I remembered why when a friend forwarded this Lewis quote a few days ago. Outdoor enthusiasts regularly quote this article, however, I guess I saw it in a little different light than most others.

There was a group of Cold War-era Polish mountaineers who believed they were made to summit tall mountains. Stuck behind the Iron Curtain and cut off from all the highest peaks, the Poles began climbing in the dead of winter, when their mountains were at their coldest and stormiest. Winter mountaineering became identified with Polish climbers. As one of their early heroes would say, “Tell me what you have done…in winter, and I’ll tell you what you are worth.” Other climbers labeled them “Ice Warriors.”

When the Iron Curtain started to “crack” in the 1970s, it opened up new opportunities for these, by now, famous climbers. They convinced the Nepalese government to issue them the first ever winter permit to climb Everest.  Everyone thought they were crazy, suicidal, but “by character, by desire, and by experience, Polish mountaineers were inured to cold, wind, darkness and danger.”

In February of 1980, the Poles summitted Everest, the first winter ascent of an 8,000-meter peak. By the time I read about them, about half the 8,000 plus meter peaks in Asia had been summitted in winter by the Poles. But the original climbers were all in their fifties and sixties – grandparents – and so they sent out a challenge to the younger Polish climber jocks who had all taken up the easier summer climbing. Conquer the remaining six peaks in a winter climb and “you may count on us,” the older climbers said. “You may count on our help, our experience, our active participation. The choice is yours.”

Some of the younger climbers took up the challenge.  The older, more experienced winter climbers would go ahead of the younger ones.  They would scale the ice cliffs, secure the pitons, run the ropes, create the base camps – and the younger ones would follow.  Asked why they would put their aging bodies through that kind of torture, the most experienced member of the old guard said he wanted to “infect” a new generation of Polish climbers with “the joy of positive suffering – because if something is easy, you will not enjoy it, really.”

Back to Lewis's quote - here we have the Master Climber ahead of us. He’s given us the challenge of summitting, we have taken it up. He goes before us, scales the dangers, drives in the footholds, secures the guidelines, and asks us to follow. The avalanches, the rocks that fall, and the crushed bodies happen because there is sin in the world, yes. But He brought us to this particular mountain...in the middle of winter. He knew what we would face here. He knew we would be pushed to the brink of endurance, and He knew it would hurt. What we really want to know is this: Why make summitting so difficult? Why not the easy climb?

I don’t know the answer to that, but maybe this is part of it – He intends to infect our natures with the joy of positive suffering. If our goal is to summit, we need to live the truth that nothing truly good is easily accomplished - and what God intends to complete in us is nothing less than true goodness.

We are winter climbers who have never summitted. But the Master Climber tells us it’s worth it, we won’t regret it, we were made for this, and he promises we’ll make it. He’s been there, so we trust Him. We dig in, grab on, fix our gaze on his dim shape ahead in the snowy twilight – and keep climbing.

Zukunftsangst

We can get bogged down in the what-ifs, yet here in the Intermountain West, Fall has come anyway. The stifling haze from fires that ringed our valley all summer long has given way to the alpine lake blue of a cloudless autumn sky. Cold nights and warm days have left us canopied and covered in stained-glass colors. The long shadows mean rest for the land, and invite us to stop and savor the moment as well. I don’t pretend to know what the future holds for us, but I do know that days like these are gifts. If we drink them in and fill ourselves to overflowing with their beauty and wonder, they can sustain us.

I was reminded of this recently in an unlikely place. From the sublime to the ridiculous? Perhaps. I am not one to claim that everything I know I learned from my dog, but inspiration can come in small and surprising packages, especially those that embody unwavering devotion, easy forgiveness, and the joy of the moment.

He has found the perfect spot. The floor is freshly cleaned and has been gently heated these two hours since sunrise. He began here by staring, quivering and intent, through glass doors at the tall grass just beyond the strip of lawn. There are rabbits there. After an hour or so of no rodent encroachment, he relaxed into a sphinxlike pose. After another thirty minutes, all safe, he rolled onto his side. The white fur on his belly is radiant while his sleek flank shimmers blue, absorbing the light. Even his back, which would normally rest in cold shadow, is heated by the reflected warmth from the chair behind him. Last, but most important, his boy is near. He can hear him breathe. This is complete relaxation, all his good things coming together, and is rare for a hound like him.

He is not aware yet of the one thing that could disturb his rest. The upholstered chair he is snuggled against is not firm. It swivels.

The boy reading in the chair softly closes his book, but a finger holds his place. He looks to the clock on the wall and sighs. The chair moves to the left ever so slightly. The dog raises his head, blinking drowsily in the morning light. The muscles in his tiny body tense. Is this the end? The boy moves his head from side to side, yawns, stretches his legs and crosses them. Resettling, he opens the book, but the dog remains alert.

Does the chance that the chair might swivel outweigh the comfort of warmth? Does the realization that it will end destroy the joy of a perfect moment? His ears twitch, as if someone is whispering the answer. Slowly, his muscles relax and appear to melt in the pool of sunlight. His small head flops to the floor with a soft thud. His eyes close. Bliss.

What Was From The Beginning

What was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands concerning the Word of Life…

Picture the apostles, the struggle and responsibility. How to communicate the truth of their life-changing relationship with Jesus? Inspired by God, yes. Still, they were faced with the challenge of explaining what they had seen and experienced while Jesus was with them, and all that they had come to understand about the infinite breadth of God’s love for us. Far away from those other believers struggling to understand, somehow, the apostles had to speak the truth of it – in writing. Did they think, “How much will they really understand? How much can we hope for?” They wrote, and covered their words in prayer.

I hesitate to write about being a Christian and a writer. Even after forty-some years of trying to do it creatively, twenty of those semi-professionally, I still consider myself a novice. I feel the same about my relationship to the Word of Life. The two are bound up together and inextricably linked. I want both to be whole and healing, but how much can I hope for in this life?

…and the life was manifested, and we have seen and testify and proclaim to you the eternal life which was with the Father and was manifested to us…

How to communicate the seminal experience of your life, to those who have known only a fraction of the same experience, if at all? The apostles came to understand God’s eternal nature, His power, love, and sovereign goodwill toward us, as they walked the earth with God manifested – with the man, Jesus. They saw Him, touched Him, spoke with Him, heard the words from His own lips. They loved Him as a friend before they loved Him as their God. “You can, all of you, have this same rich experience of God,” they seem to be saying. “Listen! You can know this fellowship, too, and for an eternity.

Do I feel like such a novice because I’ve barely begun? Will I continue to ponder and illuminate my eternal relationship with the Word of Life through a heavenly version of creative writing...forever? Will I continue to improve, always increasing in understanding? “Further up and further in.” Infinitely? A heartening thought, that endless possibility.

...that we have seen and heard and proclaim to you also, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. These things we write, so that our joy may be made complete.

It seems the apostles never stopped trying, even to the point of death, to explain what their experience of Jesus and His death and resurrection mean for all of us. In every way they could think of – metaphorically, poetically, creatively, scholarly, in simple language and lawerly, sometimes just the straight, unvarnished facts – no holds barred, all genres employed, to communicate the truth. They believed that these things they wrote, and the results of their writing, completed what was begun the day they met Jesus.

A God who knows us and wants to be known by us is a miraculous thing - it is almost unbelievable. It is also the only thing that makes sense, our only cure, and our only way home. It seems I, too, am compelled to keep trying to explain the joy and freedom I have found in this fellowship with the Word of Life. I struggle to do it in every way I know how, in my relationships, my work, as I “come in and go out,” as I write. There isn’t just one way. It doesn’t have to be chapter and verse. Except sometimes. Sometimes it does. These things I write, so that my joy may be made complete.

Lola 2

This is the second in a series, catch the first one in the archives on the right to catch up!

 Personally, one of the things I most love about God is His incredible creative genius. We, being created in His image, are also made to create. When I see what we humans come up with, imperfect as it is, it makes me happy. It makes me glorify God. I can honestly say, part of what’s going on when I’m enjoying The Kinks’ song, Lola, is that I admire the creativity it exhibits, and it makes me think about the Creator who created the creator who created Lola.

  I don’t have this experience with all art. There is a lot of really bad art out there – a surprising percentage of which is created expressly to mock God and another percentage that’s created to do the opposite, but because it isn’t well thought out or true, it ends up mocking God all the same. However, I don’t believe this is true of Lola, or of a lot of “secular” art in general. Yes, I believe that God would probably be grieved at the lifestyle and culture that a song like Lola comes out of, and I should be, too. But Lola doesn’t glorify the lifestyle – in fact, part of the genius of the song is that it makes fun of itself. 

   It tells a story that people have loved in all its different forms for more than a thousand years – the country rube goes to the city, and he thinks he’s all that, because he got away from the sticks-in-the-mud in his small town. Practically the minute he gets off the bus, he makes a huge mistake due to his ego, stupidity and naïveté, that most people (including the audience) could see coming a mile away. Ultimately, the mistake leads to greater self-knowledge.

  

 By 1970, this story has been told a hundred different ways – everyone has heard it more than once. Yet, Ray Davies takes it and sets it to the bizarre chorus of the life he found himself in. With one bold, humorously self-effacing song he and his mates exhibit a cutting edge musical style, an amazing set of lyrics, and an astute commentary on society in general. I would say that’s worth admiring and, yes, even emulating.  Because there isn’t much new under the sun, and if Christian artists were striving to do what the Kinks did, and setting it to the chorus of their lives in Christ, think what kind of art we Christians would be producing. It’d be different than most of what we have currently – it would be better.

“…Girls will be boys and boys will be girls.

It’s a mixed up muddled up shook up world…”

  The words still apply. Seriously, I’d rather not struggle with this. I’d much rather play it safe.  It wouldn’t kill me if I never heard Lola again. I could go all Amish and walk away from pop culture altogether, it would be easy. I have that kind of personality – I home school my kids – I’m half-way there already.

  Except…except…Jesus never played it safe. Not once that I know of. It seems like most Christian artists are happy to do so, though. We’re pretty sure we know what we shouldn’t do, but that doesn’t get us anywhere until we hit on what we should be doing. Kind of reminds me of some other lyrics, by another of my favorite bands, 

“…The trouble is

We don’t know who we are instead…”

  I could walk away from Lola and all of pop culture, but that wouldn’t change anything, because I’d still be the girl who loves Lola. Isn’t that the heart of it – my desire? If Lola is wrong to listen to, it’s not that there needs to be less Lola in the world – there just needs to be less Lisa.

Thanks to Erika and her friends for the awesome picture!

Lola

Photo by Melissa Rose  

  There are a lot of famous Lolas out there, but the Lola of my title is the name of a song first released in 1970 by a Beatles-era band called The Kinks. I don’t actually remember hearing Lola for the first time until I was in high school – a good ten years after it was originally released in the UK. A survey of most of my peers reveals similar memories. I think the timeline went something like this: The Kinks were kind of the progenitors of punk rock, and the late ‘70s and ‘80s were when punk went pop. So all the people who wanted to be cool, but weren’t really, were into punk. Of course, that led to lots of Kinks retrospectives in places like MTV and a big Kinks concert tour in the ‘80s, and I guess the rest is history.

  For a certain segment of the population, which I happen to belong to, when Lola comes on the radio, we magically lose our inhibitions and start to sing “Luh, luh, luh, luh, Lola!” at the top of our lungs. It causes a sort of spontaneous flash mob where people stop what they’re doing, sing Lola together, and when the song ends, go calmly about their business. In my experience, this phenomenon can cross a lot of age, cultural, and religious boundaries – despite the fact that the song is about, as Wikipedia so primly puts it, “a confused romantic encounter with a transvestite.”

  It has been argued that The Kinks were the bridge from the rock ‘n roll of the ‘50s to the rock, punk, and New Wave of the ’70s and ‘80s. So I guess it is no surprise that they recorded some music that still makes people sit up and take notice. But my interest in this song goes beyond the academic. To put it simply, Lola rocks. While I would like to say it is the guitar riffs that I love and I don’t really listen to the lyrics, this wouldn’t be true. Of course, I wish the subject matter was different, but the lyrics are extremely clever. As a writer, I can’t help but smile and mentally applaud every time I hear them.

  Then I feel guilty as a Pharisee at a pork festival.  I can rationalize with the best of them, but it’s pretty hard to reconcile my love of Lola with “Whatever things are pure…” I feel similarly conflicted about other aspects of pop culture that I participate in on a regular basis. Being in the world but not of the world. Easier said than done – or is it? Jesus and I have been walking the road together for thirty-seven years, and I still find it difficult to walk this particular line. It affects everything in my life, from my relationships to my writing. So what’s a girl to do? I’ll think about this some more in my next post, but in the meantime, I am interested in your thoughts. Sing it with me now, “Luh, luh, luh, luh, Lola!” 

(Hear the song: Lola )

Father Knows Best

  I’m on vacation this week, visiting family.  Someone pulled out the old home movies and there we are, in all our childish, mid-century modern glory.  Grainy-filmed, year-after-year of tow-headed exclamations, smiles, and laughter as we pull dolls, robots, skates, out of brightly papered boxes.  Birthdays and Christmases, adults and children dressed in our very best, Grandparents clapping and exulting with us at each gift, Uncle mugging for the camera, older cousins helping us put together new toys, pushing us on shiny trikes, buffet tables covered with food and treats.

  Yes, we had a Leave It To Beaver childhood. Mom was June, Dad was Father, and while it wasn’t perfect, neither was it fake, as many in today’s world would want you to believe. It was real, and it was very good. Reflecting on those films and those years with my other three siblings, though, reveals some interesting differences in how we think about our childhoods. Each of us had a unique response to the way we were raised as we started to grow up.

  One of us found the world my parents created for us constricting, dutifully played the expected role, and as soon as possible left to create a very different life for their self and their family. One of us loved, and another enjoyed, the life in which we were raised, and both remember it in an idyllic, star filtered kind of way. These two have spent years attempting to recreate their childhoods with their own spouses and children, with varied levels of success. One of us just found it all somewhat puzzling, and increasingly touched down for only brief visits in between spending as much time as possible with friends.

  I can’t help but think about my own children and how they will remember the life Sean and I have given them. Parents can drive themselves crazy thinking about this sort of thing.  My sibs and I are prime examples of the truth that each of our personalities impacts our perceptions and reactions in a way that no parent can predict or plan for. We parents try to do our best, with the understanding that what is good for one child may not be what is right for the next. It could be that good parenting also means the realization that what was best for us, may not be what is best for our children – that the world they live in calls for a different approach.

  This is my question – can we, blinded by our past, see each of our children as the unique, God-works of art they are becoming? Parenting is an impossible privilege. God does not need us to help Him fashion our children – yet, He gives us the honor to do so.

  Participating in each other’s development – in the lives of our children, siblings, friends, other believers – is referred to in the Bible as a mystery, and it is. The wisdom to accomplish it is beyond us…but with God, all things are possible. That’s how we do it, with God. He in us, us in Him. Father knows best.

Become Beautiful

“Look at your mother,” my dad said, “she’s so beautiful.”

My mother was adorable, but she was going through a particularly rough patch of life when Dad made this statement. After spending the better part of two decades raising four children, she'd gone back to work and she was tired enough from a full-time job and still bearing a mother’s share of housework and child rearing. As if that wasn’t enough, her readjusting hormones were less than kind to her skin, and she had frequent debilitating headaches. She was carrying extra pounds and retaining water – you get the idea.

Mom rewarded Dad with a grateful smile. I thought, isn’t it sweet how he comforts her, makes her feel better. Then I looked at my Dad, and then at the two of them gazing at each other, and I realized I had it all wrong.

The look on his face was one of total adoration, admiration, and love. When she looked at him, she reflected all that love back at him. My dad wasn’t just trying to make my mom feel better. It wasn’t even that he truly believed what he was saying. What he was saying was absolutely true. Because he loved her like that and saw her as beautiful, she was made beautiful. “Yeah Dad,” I said, awestruck, “she is.”

Flash forward thirty years. “You’re so beautiful,” my husband of twenty-four years tells me. I scoff. “Well,” I say, “I’m glad you think so.” He slowly shakes his head, a wry smile on his lips. “You really don’t get it – you don’t believe me.”

I’ll tell you something I haven’t told him, though. I am starting to believe it. Seriously, I know I’m not the homeliest woman on the planet, but neither am I a vision of classic beauty, and I have always been okay with that. Yet, when my husband looks at me, I’m starting to see that same look on his face that I saw on my dad’s when he looked at Mom. It’s not the lusty, gusty, love-is-blind look of our early years. Some of that is still there, thank God, but more and more, I see that look in his eyes that sees all of me, knows all of me, and finds it breathtakingly beautiful.

This is a crazy kind of love, magical. The words materialize in my head, what kind of love is this? Then of course, it hits me.

What kind of love has the Father bestowed on us...?

What kind of love is this? It is unconditional love for even the most undeserving, and it transforms the beloved. This love is different from the world’s love like a hug is different from a push. This kind of love is sacrificial – it is an action – I have always believed that. I am coming to understand that it is also a way of being beheld, and it’s how God sees us.

I am very thankful for my father, and my husband. It doesn’t matter, though, who you are or what your situation – young or old, male or female, single, married, widowed, orphaned – if you are His child, you are being gazed upon by the God of the Universe through amazing, transforming eyes of love.

God looks at you and He doesn’t see your flaws, your wrinkles, your screw-ups. It isn’t that He is just overlooking your imperfections. He looks at you and He sees what you will be, finally – His beloved, perfect, in Christ.

What kind of love is this? It’s the power to transform. Believe it. Become beautiful.

Facebook's Greatest Hits: Sing A New Song

 Photo by Melissa Rose 

Welcome to our final week of the Facebook Friend Challenge. Thank you for joining me on this four-week journey. This last one may be the most challenging for many of us, so if you are ready, skip to the next paragraph. If you’re just joining us, we have been thinking about social networking practices. We’ve noticed that how we operate confirms recent research, which says we get out of social networking what we bring to it. This research has also found, however, that what many people bring to social media is a growing feeling of disconnectedness. We have thought about how we, who call ourselves Christ’s, are also called to bring light and hope to the world. We have asked the question, “What do we bring to something like Facebook?” We’re looking to make a difference, even on Facebook, and using Jesus’ example to guide us.

Jesus spent time alone. He had hundreds of needy people, nearly 24-hours-a-day, clamoring for His attention and care. Do you think He wasn’t tempted to spend every moment with them? The Bible says He was tempted with everything we are, yet He still regularly went off on his own to pray, rest, and recharge. If He could do it, we can, too. 

For the last few weeks, I've been thinking about how we can more intentionally connect with our friends on Facebook. In this last week, I'm writing about something a little different. I think this last, though, is crucial to enabling us to have the love and energy we need to really be there for our friends.

In my experience, and I’m not the first writer or researcher to suggest this, one of the most striking results of the social networking phenomenon is that solitude has become nearly non-existent. Thanks to social media, there is a world of people out there who are lonely, but never alone.

Human beings need solitude. We need to have thoughts and feelings that we don’t share with anyone but God. We have to have those times when we see only Him and listen for His voice and the truth it brings to our lives. Without that voice, we start to believe our own press, seldom a positive thing. In addition, the Bible frequently recommends that most of the thoughts that go through our heads should never come out of our mouths and certainly, they shouldn’t appear on our Facebook pages. We need to unplug for our own good, and for the good of our friends.

Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, the Smart Phone – they will all be there when we come back. We will miss a few things. God is the only one who can keep track of everything, all the time, and He does, so rest easy. When you come back to the social media universe, resist moving to the world’s beat. Sing a new song!

Facebook Challenge, Week Four: Disconnect for 24 hours. Bonus points for avoiding screens of any kind. Double bonus if you can get your family or a friend to join you.

Facebook's Greatest Hits: I'll Be There

Welcome to week three of the Facebook Friend Challenge! If you’ve got this down, move to the next paragraph. If you’re just joining us, we’ve been thinking about social networking practices. We have noticed that how we operate confirms recent research, which says we get out of social networking what we bring to it. This research has also found, however, that what many people bring to social media is a growing feeling of disconnectedness. We’ve thought about how we, who call ourselves Christ’s, are also called to bring light and hope to the world. We’ve asked the question, "What do we bring to something like Facebook?" We’re looking to make a difference, even on Facebook, and using Jesus’ example to guide us.

As everyone knows, Jesus enjoyed a good meal with friends. He hung out with people and shared their lives. Sometimes it was dramatic – probably with Jesus, it was never boring. Most of the time, it was just life together.

It could be argued that Facebook was originally created to help people connect at a certain time and a certain place in the real world ...okay, it was created by a guy in order to keep track of which cute girls were at the best parties at Harvard…but we’re about redemption here, right? There is no substitute for real-world, human contact. I love that I get to see a picture of the awesome steak my friends barbecued for dinner last night. They had a great time, and it makes me happy to know they were happy. However, we could only truly bond over that steak if I was there, eating it with them, and they live on the other side of the continent.


Last time, we considered the question of how many Facebook friends is too many, and I suggested that each of us has to determine that for himself. Since then, I’ve wondered, how do I make the tough decisions about which requests to accept and which to ignore? The principle that we’re looking at today can help answer that question.

We are innately curious creatures, we humans. We were created this way and it’s how we learn. Just like most things in life, though, it can be two-edged sword – fulfilling our curiosity can also become an unhealthy addiction. Researchers have discovered something interesting about people who use Facebook to coordinate and reflect on real-world contact. They tend to be more satisfied and happy in general than people who use social networking to keep track of those they never see in real life. The results are in and, clearly, there are better ways to spend a life than trolling the halls of Facebook but never connecting. Chatting and commenting on people’s posts are good, getting together in real life is better.

So, if I have to make a choice between accepting a request from an old high school friend that I haven’t seen for twenty years and won’t talk to again until my 30^th High School Reunion – or, accepting a request from someone I just met at church last Sunday – familiarity might incline me to go with the old high school friend, but it would be way better for both of us to accept the local new acquaintance. Facebook is a great tool for arranging help, encouragement, and connection with local friends. Let’s use it that way.

Facebook Challenge, Week Three: Use Facebook to arrange a meet with local friends in the real world…of course!

Facebook's Greatest Hits: Someone To Watch Over Me

Welcome to week two of my Facebook Friend Challenge. If you've been with me all along – thanks, and move on to the next paragraph. If you’re just joining us, we’ve been thinking about social networking practices, and noticing that how we operate confirms recent research, which says we get out of social networking what we bring to it. This research has also found, however, that what many people bring to social media is a growing feeling of disconnectedness. We’ve thought about how we, who call ourselves Christ’s, are also called to bring light and hope to the world. We have asked the question, "What do we bring to something like Facebook?" We’re looking to make a difference, even on Facebook, and using Jesus’ example to guide us.

Last week, we thought about looking beyond the image people project, not comparing our lives to others, and generally keepin’ it real. This week, we’ll go deeper into how we might better support each other.

 Photo by Melissa Rose 

Jesus spent the majority of His time with His closest friends, serving them, teaching them, listening to them, and encouraging them. Sure, Jesus had thousands of followers, and hundreds of disciples. But the Bible gives the impression that He saved the best of Himself for twelve guys, one of whom He knew would ultimately betray Him. 

Consider these facts: 

On Facebook, commenting on a friend’s status actually creates a greater sense of connectedness, for both of you, than hitting the like button - yes, people have researched this. A robot could hit the like button. It takes a real friend to make a thoughtful comment based on mutual affection. Being able to act on your friends' updates is especially great. For example, if a friend posts a request for prayer, don’t just tell them you’ll pray. Try to stop and pray for them – and then let them know you did. Finally, realize that Facebook is set up so that the people who post the most are the ones that show up front and center on your home page. If you haven’t seen a friend’s post for a while, they may be on vacation in Belize, or they may be taking a break from the social network – more power to them! But it’s also possible that they aren’t doing well and need to hear from a real friend. It’s easy to take a peek at their wall, or better yet, give them a call, and check in.

In light of the above, and Jesus' example, I’ve been wondering – how many people in a social network can each of us emotionally invest in without spending our entire lives staring at a screen? I’m talking primarily here about personal Facebook use, not professional networking (and we all know the difference…right?) From what I can tell, my friend from Junior High (who I’ve mentioned in previous posts) actually seems to be able to take care of his 998 Facebook friends much to their satisfaction. Ditto with my niece and the many followers of her photographic posts. Don’t ask me how these two I’ve mentioned do what they do – it’s just important that they do it.

Me? I’ve been on Facebook for a couple of months, now. I made a few friend requests. Mostly, I’ve just been experimenting with how many people find me through my maximum privacy settings and minimal profile information (because that’s how I roll). My friends are adding up, and I will soon hit my limit. Only you know how many people you can and should maintain meaningful contact with – but I think it’s important to consider it.

Facebook Challenge, Week Two: Think of a friend who hasn’t posted for a while. Find out what’s going on with him or her. If your friend is having a hard time, hang out with them, on the phone or in person, until they feel better. Alternate Challenge: If it’s been a while since you left more than a thumbs up or a smiley face, take some time and comment on your friends’ posts. Your comments must be more than one word – “nice”, “great”, “cool” don’t count.  “Love it” – one of my personal favorites, is also an automatic disqualification.

Facebook's Greatest Hits: Somewhere Over the Rainbow

                                                            Photo by Melissa Rose 

First, thanks for coming this far with me on my Facebook journey. If you've been with me all along, skip to the next paragraph. If you’re just joining us, I’ve been thinking about our social networking practices, and noticing that how we operate confirms recent research, which says we get out of social networking what we bring to it. This research has also found, however, that what many people bring to social media is a growing feeling of disconnectedness. I’ve thought about how I, who call myself Christ’s, am also called to bring light and hope to this world. I’ve asked the question, “What do I bring to something like Facebook?” 

Last time, I suggested four examples of how Jesus related to friends. It’s interesting to see how Jesus’ example seems consistent with what recent research suggests is the healthier approach to social networking – healthy for us, and our friends. That is what I’ll be looking at for the next four weeks, and if you’re up for it, we’ll give following Jesus’ example a shot with a weekly challenge. Ready? Here we go.

Jesus saw beyond the image that people tried to project. Rather than tearing them down or simply calling them out, He encouraged them in their real heart’s desire – to be the best version of themselves – to be the person God created them to be, in Christ.

One article I’ve read about the Facebook phenomenon equated people’s Facebook pages to the airbrushed photos of models on the covers of fashion magazines. Both are projections of an ideal – but neither is real life and never will be. As Jesus also made clear, comparing ourselves to other people isn’t helpful for anyone. It’s particularly damaging when we compare our lives as a whole to someone else’s few, stellar moments.

At the same time, it is helpful to know what our friends think are the best moments in their lives and the best versions of themselves. Of course, everyone wants to be articulate, interesting, witty, and upbeat with fulfilling jobs, fabulous vacations, dear friends, cute kids, and great spouses. But no one’s real, day-to-day life is actually like this, no matter how successful, rich, or famous they may be.

While I know that the “air-brushed” Facebook phenomenon is a common one, I can honestly say that my Facebook friends have also confronted a mountain of adversity in the last few weeks. These challenges have included career changes, chemo-therapy and other health issues, and the loss of close family members – and my friends have felt comfortable sharing their struggles with me and their other Facebook friends. In return, they have received a lot of encouragement and support, and this is a very good thing.

However, even these tragic times in our lives do not (thankfully) really represent the truth of our day-to-day existence. Sharing them with our Facebook friends is informative, can be helpful, and can result in opportunities for encouragement and comfort. But in the end, our really low points don’t represent the truth of who we are any better than our really high points.

Isn’t it true that life is not about these dramatic moments, anyway, but about the struggle in between? When I say struggle, I don’t just mean the really challenging trials. I mean the day-to-day struggle to be kind  and patient when we feel stressed, to not make our bad day someone else’s, to get up in the morning and go to work (or look for work) and come home and love our families, and then get up the next morning and do the same thing over again. The struggle is how we grow. Persevering through that struggle affects our maturity – it’s how we become the people God created us to be. The beautiful moments – the unexpected joy, the laughter, the sunsets and rainbow views – are just some of the ways God lets us know it will all be worth it.

So this is what I’ve decided to do: Join my friends in taking joy in the beautiful or dramatic times they post about. Comfort and sympathize with them through the really low points. Remember that the rest of their lives are filled with days of tedious struggle, just like mine. Keep my Facebook page as real as I can, and encourage others when they do the same. The self-portraits that my photographer niece posts on days when she’s not feelin’ it, when she does (and wears) nothing of note, are some of my favorites – puffy eyes, torn t-shirt, greasy hair, unmade bed, computer camera and all – that’s my girl!

Facebook Challenge, Week One: Compose thoughtful status updates this week that give your Facebook friends insight into the day-to-day reality of your life. Alternate Challenge - Find a recent friend post that seems particularly real to you. Encourage the friend in a comment and thank them for sharing. Bonus points if no one else has commented.

Facebook's Greatest Hits: These Are A Few of My Favorite Friends

                       Photo by Melissa Rose 

My husband, the poet anthropologist, recently reminded me of a time, fifteen years ago, when we were living in Santa Barbara, California. It was one of the hottest nights of the year and we were in our little apartment, lying on our bed, sweltering and sleepless. At some point in the night, the wind turned and the breeze started to blow in from the Pacific. Sean heard the wind’s shift and imagined the cool, salty air, like water, filling up the parking lot outside our bedroom window. Finally, the breeze spilled over the sill and flowed across us. We sighed, turned to each other, and smiled. This is how he remembers our lives together, in beautiful moments. Peruse his Facebook wall, and you’ll see something similar – our lives, in beautiful frozen moments.

My twenty-year-old niece had a scream as a baby that, in my experience, stands unrivaled. Her baby cries were mere foreshadowing, though, because she’s continued throughout her life to possess a personality that fills up whatever room she occupies. She’s passionate and unfiltered, talented and beautiful. Each morning, I’m greeted with photos and captions she posts on Facebook that are alternately heartrending and breathtaking, just like her.

I have a friend that I’ve known since we attended junior high school together. His gift, even then, was the ability to connect with other people – to make friends. Today, he has 998 Facebook friends, and he informs me that he recently cut back to only those he “knows and interacts with.” He’s not a corporate CEO, or a celebrity, or a TV personality. He’s just a 40-something guy who makes great coffee…with 998 Facebook friends, at last count.

Most of my friends would probably say my greatest strength and my greatest weakness is that I think, and I overthink. Here I am, a few weeks into belatedly joining Facebook, and can I just enjoy reconnecting with friends? No, I have to write a multi-part series about it.

All of this would seem to confirm recent research that I mentioned in previous posts. We tend to get out of Facebook what we bring to it. Ironically, statistics are showing that what many people bring to social networking is a growing sense of disconnectedness. These studies further suggest that for the lonely, involvement in social media only leaves them feeling lonelier. I’ve posed the question, can we who are called to bring light and hope to this world, change this game? What would Jesus do? How does He “befriend?”

Volumes have been written about Jesus’ time on the planet, and I’m not about to compete with them. I’ve chosen four simple examples that I think are typical of how Jesus operated with those He called friends. I like these four because of how obviously they exemplify that old saying, “All truth is God’s truth.” Yep, following Jesus’ example is startlingly consistent with what recent research suggests is a healthier approach to social networking. I’ll talk more about the research in future posts, but before that, what did Jesus do?

First, Jesus saw beyond the image that people tried to project. Rather than tearing them down or simply calling them out, He encouraged them in their real heart’s desire – to be the best version of themselves – to be the person God created them to be, in Christ.

Jesus spent the majority of His time with His closest friends, serving them, teaching them, listening to them, and encouraging them. Sure, Jesus had thousands of followers, and hundreds of disciples. However, the Bible gives the impression that He saved the best of himself for just twelve guys – one of whom, He knew, would ultimately betray Him.

As everyone knows even if they’ve never picked up a Bible, Jesus enjoyed a good meal with friends. He hung out with people and shared their lives. Sometimes it was dramatic – probably with Jesus, it was never boring. But most of the time, it was just life together.

Finally, Jesus spent time alone. He had hundreds of needy people, nearly 24-hours-a-day, clamoring for His attention and care. You think He wasn’t tempted to spend every moment with them – to meet every felt need? The Bible says He was tempted with everything we are, yet He still regularly went off on his own to pray, rest, and recharge. If He could do it, we can, too.

In my next four posts, I’ll think about how applying each of these examples to our social networking might help us all be better Facebook friends, and I’ll issue a weekly challenge. Get ready – this is where it gets real.