Lenten Practices: Harder Than You Thought?

Okay, confession time.

When I was thinking about what lenten practice I would commit to this season, I was going to go for something kinda hardcore.  Like fasting for 40 days.  Or at least 7.  Something that a medieval monk might do.  Or at least a 1970's evangelical.

But I didn't.  I decided to go for something a lot easier.  Like fasting three lunches a week.  And refraining from shopping.  While they don't have the 'wow' factor as the harder stuff, they seemed worthwhile, and I thought I could focus more on quality, rather than quantity.

But 'easy' has not turned out to be so easy.

Okay, is it just me, or is anyone else struggling with keeping up with their lenten practices?  I mean, for the most part I've been pretty good about the refraining part, but I catch myself just 'drifting' all the time!  And while I've definitely had couple of instances of 'deeper reflection' during these moments, for the most part, I am focused much more on just simply 'not doing'.

All of which is quite revealing to me...

So, let me ask you -- lenten practices: harder than you thought?

[btw, as I was composing this, Nadia just commented on the previous post about her struggles with the lenten practices.  Thanks Nadia!]

The Other 'Lent'

One of the vocational risks of being a pastor is that you use words differently than most 'normal' people.  (I am thinking of words like 'calling', 'charismatic', and 'election', among many others.)

Some time ago, I was having a conversation with someone about Easter.  And I guess I used the word 'Lent' several times. It was already about ten minutes into the conversation when my dialogue partner looked at me and said "I don't think I am understand what you mean when you say 'lend.'"  "Oh," I thought, "I need to watch how I speak my Christianese."

But that misaligned conversation has been helpful to me in thinking about some aspects of this 'Lenten' time, as I remember that the other definition of the word 'lent' is as a past tense of 'lend.'  As in, all of these things around us that we enjoy and feel incredibly blessed to have -- our children, our friends, our family, our world, our possessions, our health -- ultimately are given to us on a 'lent' basis, which is to say they are ultimately not 'ours.'  

Which means the thing that we ought to be most thankful about is not our children, our friends, our family, our world, our possessions, our health -- but rather the One who is so kind and loving toward us to give these things to us to love and enjoy for the duration.

Which actually is kind of a good thing to think about during this other 'lent.'  

May God re-orient my gratitude toward Him.

(So, what thoughts have occurred to you during this Lenten season?)

Sushi and a Sense of Calling

Vocation: lit. "a calling."

I stumbled upon the following trailer for a soon to be released documentary.  A word of warning: if you like sushi (Sam?), you are about to be hit with major temptation.  Seriously, I am thinking sushi might have been the fruit that Adam and Eve fell for...

I had a couple of thoughts when I saw this.  First, with Sam's Sunday message ("Living a Mission Driven Life") fresh on my mind, I connected with Jiro's singularity of focus. What happens when we understand our calling as disciples that deeply?  Might it cause people to take notice? 

Second, vocation.  Our small group discussion this week was partly on vocation.  What if we understood our vocation like that?  Jiro dreams about sushi.  And at 80 years old, having had all the accolades, he is strangely not about finding success in the 'world's terms.'  No franchising, no opening of larger restaurants, no fancy cars, no life of leisure, no long vacations to exotic places, no retirement to look forward to.  I mean, don't you get the sense that he would dream about sushi even if his little subway restaurant was all there was?  What if we measured the success of our work in different terms?

Contrast this with the movie I just saw, Margin Call.  Ultimately, it is the story of people willing to sacrifice whatever principle they call dear, for the sake of making lots of money.  The ends justify the means, and the ends are nothing more than having lots and lots of money.

Tell me your reaction to the video.  Whatever that might be.

Rethinking Community - Part 2

I heard a professor share recently that people who struggle with shame know that God “loves” them but experientially feel as though God doesn’t “like” them. That same sentiment is often expressed in the church (albeit masked as a joke) as “I love you in Christ, but that doesn’t mean I have to like you” (or for that matter, be friends with you).

So what does it mean to be part of a Christian community? What are our obligations to and expectations of our fellow Cross church members? Or to be more direct – is there an obligation to not just “love” but also “like” our fellow church members? OR is that an unrealistic and unhealthy expectation?

What do you think?

Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish

If you recognize the title of this blogpost, then you probably have already watched Steve Jobs commencement speech given to Stanford’s 2005 graduating class. (If you haven’t, you can check it out on Youtube.) It’s an amazing speech – personal, inspired, authentic. Jobs’ core message is neither original nor unique; others have shared similar sentiments in different contexts. But the combination of Jobs’ charisma, his captivating life story, and his [unparalleled?] contributions to technology – makes listening to Job's speech feel like you're listening to a spiritual message.

Which brings me to this question: In what ways is the Gospel message singularly unique? Or is the Gospel just a different version of an inspired commencement speech? Or to put another way, what should the Christian’s response be to a message that aspires to give you hope for the future (i.e. providence), inspires you to follow your inner voice, seeks to find meaning in suffering, and challenges you to live each day to the fullest – all without the need for God and Christ?

Share your thoughts.

Rethinking Community - Part 1

Quick. Think of three people from Cross Community Church (other than your family members and the pastors). Now imagine you’re out for a leisurely walk around town and you run into one of the three people you just thought of. If someone (a stranger) saw the two of you together and asked, “How do you know each other?” – what would you say? How would you respond?

My guess is that most of us would answer something along the lines of, “We go to church together.”

It seems to me that most, if not all, human relationships are varied and complex. It’s rare when a single association defines an entire relationship; our co-workers are also our friends, our siblings can be business partners, etc. But even in complex relationships, there’s usually one primary association that largely defines and shapes that relationship – and that association/relationship is the one we usually identify when we introduce people to someone else for the first time. Yes, Esther is my friend, but I still introduce her as my wife.

Every personal relationship has some measure of obligations and expectations and these expectations and obligations vary depending on the relationship. We have expectations/obligations of our co-workers and they are different from the expectations/obligations we have of our parents.

So here’s my question to all of us at Cross: If many (some? most?) of us define our primary relationship with one another as “going to the same church” –what kind of expectations and obligations do we have of one another? Can authentic community be built upon a foundation of “mutual church attendance?”

What do you think?

Don't Think About Elephants!

There is an old advice that is given to new mountain bikers where you are told "don’t look at where don’t want to go; look where you do want to go."  Sounds obvious, but what happens is that people see something hazardous coming up -- a cactus, a stump, a barbed wire fence running along the side of the path -- and their focus actually makes them run into the obstacle!  (This happens all the time, and the technical reason is because the act of turning to look at something shifts your weight to turn the bike in that direction.)  So what are supposed to when you see something scary coming up?  Well, look at where you do want to go.

I was reading something that said that telling people "don't be afraid" when they encounter a fearful situation can have the same effect. You say it enough time, and now you all you are thinking about is how afraid you are.  It is one thing to be aware that one should not be afraid, but you don't stop being afraid because you say "don't be afraid."  (How do you get someone to think about an elephant?  Well, tell them, "don't think about an elephant.")  You need something else.

According to Sister Maria in The Sound of Music, when life gives us thunder, we ought to think of 'a few of my favorite things.'  It isn't bad advice, and not far from the biblical one (which makes sense, since she was, after all, a nun).  When God calls upon Joshua to lead the Israelites after Moses (C'mon, really? Those are some big sandals to fill!), He encourages the fearful Joshua by saying "Do not be terrified, and do not be discouraged" but immediately follows it with "For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."  In other words, yes, this is scary, but now, remember something that will take that fear away -- I am with you.


Which is exactly the same thing Jesus tells his disciples in the upper room discourse in John.  Which is exactly the same thing we are told now when we encounter challenging situations that make us hesitate obeying God -- loving a neighbor, telling the necessary truth to someone, forgiving an enemy, etc., etc., etc..

Now stop focusing on the things that make you fear, and turn back.  Look at the path set before you by the One who brought you here.

See Me. See You.

For the last couple of weeks, I have been waking up to a new morning routine. My three-year-old son, who has become the default household alarm clock, stands next to my bed, grabs my nose (or some other part of my face) and shakes me awake as he says “Here you go,” handing me my glasses.  He sees this as doing me a terrific favor, and definitely delights in his role.  “Thanks, Max” I say as I open my bleary eyes to see his smiling face.

The funny thing about self-awareness is that you can't really become more aware by trying harder.  I mean, you have to try, but it is still like trying to see your blind-spot, which by definition is something you can't see.  How do you learn to see something that you cannot see?  You need help.  You need someone else to find your glasses.

Transformational growth can only occur as we begin to see ourselves--and our condition--honestly.  But this sort of self-awareness almost never occurs without help from an outside source, and the normal way in which the Spirit works, according to both Scripture and my observation, is through others.  “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another”, “spur one another on toward love and good deeds,” “build one another up”, we are told.

But the first step is to open ourselves up to others.  To give others permission--in the context of a trusting relationship--to speak into our lives.

This is hard for most of us, because we have learned much from our environment already about the careful management of our image and perception -- what comes out and what stays hidden.

But if we do choose growth, we are going to have to start by saying, both as a principle and in practice, “I need your help.  Help me find my glasses.  Help me to see me.”

As we begin a new season of transformation together, may we be courageous in our honesty, as we help one another cross-ward.

He Chose Us!

We are reading Brennan Manning's devotional "Reflections for Ragamuffins" at our church.  This blog is meant to create a sense of conversation for us, as we read this together.  This is a reflection based on today's (July 2) reading.


If there is any 'advantage' of being adopted -- I am told by my friends who have experienced it first hand -- is the sense that one was 'chosen'.  I saw you, and I chose you.  Of all the kids in the world, I chose you.  Set aside whatever conflicting motives that our consumerist culture might read into this for now.  Because love experienced at its deepest always involves this awareness that it is not something we have to do, but something we desire to do.

So today's reading was a simple one, whose title is also an apt summary:  "He chose us."  God chose us to be His, and even more so, His adopted children.  (Ephesians 1:3-4)  A rather gigantic statement.  God in His infinite freedom, chose us.  With no ability to offer God anything, with no guarantees of our affection, God chose us.  That's a pretty big deal.

Manning doesn't stop there though.  And then he dares to categorize us in the following groups:

1.  We don't know it.
2.  We know it but don't accept it.
3.  We accept it but are not in touch with it.
4.  We are in touch with it but don't surrender to it.

Which category describes you?  And what would it look like, if we did "surrender" to the truth that God chose us?

Reflections for Ragamuffins, first post...

Some of us at Cross have committed to doing a common daily devotional together.  We are reading Brennan Manning's Reflections for Ragamuffins in this first go-around, and I -- along with others -- will be doing some reflections on the Reflections.


Based on the reading for June 23, "Knowing Who We Really Are."


"Jesus' freedom from public opinion and nagging concern of what others might think enabled him to live with honesty and spontaneity.  There could be no facade, no mask, no pretense, no sham, no playing of roles.  For the Nazarene Carpenter, to have integrity meant to be genuine, to communicate authentically, to resonate with his feelings....  The injunction of Paul to "put on Christ" explicitly meant not to conform...but only to please [the] Father."


Okay, a little vulnerability here.

Ever since I turned 40 (which was a while ago), I have been fighting it.  Hard.  What is it?  Well, it is not looking like my image of what a "middle-aged" man looks like.  Someone who tucks in their t-shirts into their trousers.  Someone who wears the wrong kind of socks with the wrong kind of shoes.  While wearing shorts that are too short.  Someone who drives a sensible car, or a minivan, while wearing expensive sunglasses, because somehow that is supposed to offset the middle-agedness of the whole thing.

For all my fretting, I am afraid I have now become that other caricature of a middle-aged man -- the guy who is fighting looking like a middle aged guy.  The guy who tries to wear 'what the kids are wearing.'  The guy who tries really hard to keep up with the music and the lingo.

If only 'knowing who we really are' was as simple as Brennan makes it seem.  How many of us are not pretending, not fighting it?  Maybe you are not fighting your middle-age, but we are fighting something -- our past, our ghosts, our insecurities about our appearance, our insecurities about the level of competence and achievement, our families, etc., etc., etc..

The funny thing is, it is so obvious when others are doing it, but so hard to know when you are doing it.  And what is wrong with us that we form our relationships that so few of our 'friends' will ever tell us when we are being, as Brennan would say it "posers, fakes and wannabees"?

Peace.