I’m a classic over thinker. It shows up any time I stick my neck out there. I worry. I over analyze. And I constantly second guess myself.
And any time I speak out, I regret it. Sometimes for hours afterwards. I feel over extended. Like I foolishly revealed more than I should have.
Read MoreYesterday I got to meet one of my heroes. Her name is Krista Tippet, and she is one of the deepest people that I know. I say ‘know’ loosely, because I only just met her, and our personal interaction lasted all of 3 minutes. But in a sense, I do know her, at least her voice, through hours of interviews on her NPR podcast, On Being.
Read MoreYesterday I ended up having lunch with one of my oldest friends, Tim. We’ve known each other since 7th grade, spent a couple years of college rooming together, worked a few summers together at Forest home, were best men in each other’s weddings, have climbed numerous peaks and mountains together, and have continued to keep in touch to this day.
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I’m both fascinated and flummoxed by inspiration. At times it comes rushing in like a river, and other times feels bone dry. Writers and artists have all sorts of different means of tapping into their creativity. Some are structured and regimented, others whimsical and even superstitious. I find myself somewhere in between.
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This morning I awoke to snow! I’m staying for a couple nights at my friend’s cabin to get some writing done. I packed everything I thought I needed…pens, journals, laptop. What I failed to bring was a jacket and snow chains.
Read MoreTo guard my heart leaves hers exposed. But hers is the heart I’ve vowed to protect. And when I pour all my strength into protecting her heart, my insecurities shrivel. It awakens in me something deeper and nobler. My heart grows more courageous.
Read MoreThe deepest moments in life happen in heartfelt connection with others, that is almost beyond dispute. But to do so requires courage. Courage to be seen. Courage to lower our guard. To risk rejection. To face the reality of being overlooked.
Read MoreYesterday was Ash Wednesday. It is a sacrament that goes back hundreds of years in Christian tradition, but only a few years in my own faith journey. My first experience of it was visiting St. Catherine’s, here in town, and simply participating in their beautiful service. I found the whole thing so moving.
Read MoreThis year, I’ve decided to use a metaphor that Macrina Wiederkehr employs in her beautiful book, “A Tree Full of Angels: Seeing the Holy in the Ordinary.” In it she talks about the fairy tale of Hansel and Gretel, and how the two children were cast out of their home by a wicked stepmother and left alone in the woods but would follow a trail of breadcrumbs home. She compares that voice of the stepmother to the voice inside of each one of us, that false self that drives us from our home. That voice that tells us that we don’t belong, that we don’t measure up, and that we’ve strayed too far or have fallen behind.
Read MoreI am the master at disappearing whenever I’m tired or nervous or overwhelmed. I look for a distraction and poof, I vanish. I have figured out how to protect myself by disengaging. It isn’t meant to be personal. I’ve just learned, over the years, that this seems to cause the least amount of disruption. Or maybe it just feels like the least costly way to manage my own inner anxiety. When I grow tired or uncomfortable I am looking for the exit.
Read MoreThis has been a heavy week. This happens from time to time, where the darkness seems to be winning. When the clouds get so thick and heavy that it completely blocks out the sun. It can be overwhelming. And if you let it, defeating.
Read MoreYesterday I had my first lesson in playing Go. The game is over 2500 years old and is thought to be the oldest board game still played today. It is such an elegant, and yet overwhelmingly complex game to learn.
Read MoreIt’s summer in Laguna. There are plenty of indicators. June gloom every morning, for one thing. Long delays at every crosswalk. Tourists with awkward tan lines. Crowded beaches and the lingering scent of sunscreen wherever you go.
Read MoreI’ve always been terrified of sharks. Ever since that fateful night when I was 10 and my friend and I stayed up late, after his parents went to bed, and watched Jaws on HBO. All of us have regrets in life. That night is one of mine. I’ve never totally recovered.
Read MoreLast Sunday night Patty and I saw U2 at the Rose Bowl. So much has been written in response to this tour, commemorating the 30-year anniversary of the Joshua Tree album. I’ve seen so many Instagram photos from friends at the show. So many fond memories relived. My social media feed has been saturated with this event. I’m sure yours has too.
Read MoreLast week, I surfed the biggest waves of my life. Huge, double overhead Rio Nexpa. The surf was perfect. An A+ day. Our surf guide, Juan, couldn’t believe how lucky we were. We had the trip planned for months and had traveled all the way to Southern Mexico just in time for a huge swell.
Read MoreThere’s a song I’ve been listening to by one of my favorite artists, Glen Phillips. It’s called “Nobody’s Gonna Get Hurt” and is about all the lies we tell ourselves. It’s starts with the obvious lie, “the earth is flat” (sorry if that is a spoiler for anyone) and proceeds to much more subtle fallacies, the central one being that we can somehow live life well and avoid getting our hearts broken.
Read MoreWow, I can’t believe I made it all the way to 40! When I began this Lenten journey, I had no idea just how strenuous the climb would be. At day 20, I was creatively and emotionally exhausted. I found myself quoting that familiar line from Arrested Development… “I’ve made a huge mistake.”
Read MoreToday is Good Friday. Today we walk the Via Dolorosa. The way of grief or sorrow. It is the road Jesus walked, through Jerusalem, on his way to the crucifixion.
It is a painful story, filled with such mockery and hatred. It is filled with blood and dirt.
Jesus falls, several times. His burden is too great for him to bear.
But another picks it up…Simon the Cyrene.
He encounters women mourning for him, but all Jesus sees is their suffering. His heart breaks for them.
Jesus sees his mother. He tells John to care for her.
The thief next to him asks for a favor…remember me? Jesus’s response…I will.
As we walk this road, we pause at each of these stations. We reflect. We examine our hearts. Because Jesus is doing more than bearing his cross. He is helping us to carry ours. And as slight and as small as the sliver of cross we bear, it is somehow sharing in the sufferings of Christ. Paul tells us that as we share in his sufferings we share in his glory. Try to wrap your mind around that.
We pause, because otherwise we move too quickly through his pain. And too quickly through our own. We long for the grace of Easter morning. But first we must contemplate the enormity of the cost. Because when we stare into the heart of the crucifixion, we see into the very heart of the creator of the universe. What exists there is a purity of love so deep that it would give up everything for the ones He loves. For you.
There is a wonderful moment in John’s gospel before Jesus feeds the 5000. “When Jesus looked up and saw a great crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?” He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do.”
Jesus is always teaching. Always demonstrating. Not just walking on water Himself, but welcoming us outside of the boat.
In Mat. 16 Jesus tells his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life[a] will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?”
Tonight, we join Jesus on the road of suffering. And we realize that he is doing more than bearing our burden for us. He is teaching us how to carry our own. And as we do, He is speaking those words of encouragement we need so desperately. “You can do this.” “I’m with you.” “Just a little further.”
As we pause, we let the words sink deep into our hearts. They transform our burdens from unbearable weight to light and momentary affliction. And we fix our eyes ahead. To the joy set before us. And we carry on.
My friend Dave popped his head into my office the other day and said, “Super bowl Sunday coming up!” Now, if that is confusing to you, let me explain. This Sunday is Easter. Hopefully that isn’t a total surprise. And Easter, for Christians, is our big day. It is when we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. It is the victory over death. It is the sine qua non-without which nothing. As Paul says, “And if our hope in Christ is only for this life, we are more to be pitied than anyone in the world.”
But it is more than just the spiritual significance that gives the day its gravity. It is one of the three big days for church attendance. I’m not sure if it is #1, but it might be (Mother’s Day and Christmas Eve are close). It is a day when many will concede to come to church, even if it isn’t their normal thing. Often it is a gift to their mom. Or maybe it is a bit of nostalgic duty. Whatever the case, there are always lots of new faces on Easter morning.
Every year, as I prepare the message for Sunday, I find myself feeling a bit anxious. To whom do I preach? The regular attender, there to celebrate the heart of the gospel message about Jesus? The inquisitive guest, listening cautiously? The reluctant and guarded ones, skeptical and needing convincing? My heart goes out to all three. But honestly, it goes mostly to the skeptic.
I think it is because I relate. I struggle with my own forms of doubt. I’ve always been intellectually cautious, although curious. I love ideas, but I take some convincing. I withdraw when I feel the pressure of the group. I hate being coerced.
I see you skeptics, your guard up and your game faces on. I want you to know you’re safe. Because I’m not going to try to get you to commit to something you don’t believe. What good is that? I’m also not going to try to get you to admit you’re wrong and I’m right. That usually just pushes people away. I know it does me.
What I will do is to try to hold out to you something that I have found deeply moving and healing in my own life. I will do my best to show you a truth I find so beautiful. And we will follow that beauty to the goodness that it rests on. And behind that the truth that can set us free. In other words, we will look for transcendence. A truth that pierces in to the darkness of this world, that exposes where we are sick, and brings healing to our hearts.
Because resurrection is what we need. It is what our hearts long for. It is the power that promises us what we fear to hope for, that all things are being made new. That abundant life is the ultimate outcome. And that, even in a world with so much brokenness and distortion, this hope is already at work. In simple acts of love and generosity. In compassion and forgiveness. In restoration. In acts of selflessness and grace.
This is what we celebrate on Easter. It is what gives our lives meaning and hope. And it is there for all who believe. Even the skeptic, who can only muster the smallest bit of faith. Because just a little bit seems to be enough. Jesus tells the father pleading for the healing of his sick son that anything is possible to those who believe. The father’s response… “I do believe. Help my unbelief.” And that is adequate. The boy is healed. The man’s faith is confirmed.
So, skeptic, I want you to know that this Sunday you are welcome. You are the guest of honor. Unbelief and all. No pressure, I promise. And maybe, just maybe, you will receive something transcendent. Something good, and true, and beautiful.