It would have been enough

“Just a little bit more.” “Then I’ll be enough.” Two quotes from two men from two different generations.

Jim Carrey, as he announced the nominees and winner of best motion picture comedy, said he doesn’t just go to sleep as a regular guy. He goes to sleep as a two-time Golden Globe winner. And he doesn’t just dream, he dreams of being a three-time Golden Globe winner. “Then I’d be enough.”

John D. Rockefeller was the world’s first billionaire. After starting out as a bookkeeper apprentice at 16 years old, he eventually built his fortune in oil and business. When he was asked how much money is enough, he sarcastically quipped, “Just a little bit more.” His response wasn’t one of greed, but an admission that no matter how much money he made, it would never be enough.

My wife and I were watching an episode of The Chosen recently. There are a couple scenes that similarly portray Jesus seated at a table with his friends and one-by-one around the room, each states some faithful act of God “would have been enough”. Whether acts of deliverance for the nation, personal healing, or just his steady presence through their troubles, they acknowledge the goodness of God in each faithful act. He didn’t need to keep showing up for them because he had already done enough to prove his love for them, and yet, he just keeps showing up. We were then chatting this morning about the faithfulness of God in our lives together over the past 32 years of marriage, and we were overwhelmed to consider the countless times that God just keeps showing up for us. Whether we have fallen due to our own failure and clumsiness, or we’ve been pushed down by the cruelty of the world, he has always, always been there as a dad lifting us up, brushing the dirt from our knees and wiping the tears from our eyes. Each time would have been enough, yet again and again and again he just keeps showing up.

Perhaps like me, you can sometimes get distracted by the busyness of life. Maybe you feel a bit shell-shocked by bombs going off all around us every day. Social media fuels the fire of anxiety about the political divisions, the tension in our society and culture that feels like it’s being ripped in two. Issues and ideologies constantly fight for your attention like jealous lovers full of hate for any other that vies for your affection. We are told who to hate rather than how to love. Our differences are magnified while our common humanity is forgotten, dehumanizing those who disagree with “our side”. Through all noise and smoke and chaos, stop for a moment and take a breath. Consider the ways that God has showed up in your life. Tell yourself a better story. Remember all the good. Turn your attention to the blessings and beauty in your world. This doesn’t mean we forget about the tragedy and heartache that we have faced, but we acknowledge that we have made it through. We’ve all experienced the pain of failure, betrayal, loss, and countless other reminders of our frail humanity. I’ve been there more times than I care to count or admit. But every time, I have experienced the love of God picking me up, brushing me off, and setting me back on my feet.

Maybe this post is just for me. If you don’t relate to this, that’s ok. But for me, I need to remember the ways God shows up for me. I have to tell better stories and focus more on the redemption than the failure. There is enough hatred, violence, war, and division in the world. Sometimes it’s good to just take a break from the bombs and remember the blessings. I hope you can remember all the ways God has shown his love for you, and allow that to reshape your perspective today. And in the midst of all the noise, maybe we can be ones who can change the narrative. As we remember the ways we have been loved, let us love one another.

Meant to live

Life gets in the way of living sometimes. The daily grind of jobs, bills, and responsibilities can feel like a vacuum sucking the joy out of your life, replacing it with a suffocating discontentment that constantly tells you tomorrow will be different, but tomorrow never comes. We keep going around and around, hoping to be freed from the mundane and enter the story as the hero, or even as the villain. Anything but just an extra or afterthought. And yet, most of us….well, we’re just living life and getting by. We aren’t saving the world, and (thankfully) we’re not out robbing banks and wreaking havoc, either. I say, “We” in order to frame this in the third person and avoid the vulnerable honesty of “I”. I don’t like to say “I” because as soon as I do, “I” become responsible for the confession and “I” have to either continue in the same pattern or make a choice to change. If I generalize and say, “we”, I can stay personally removed from the indictment, remaining anonymously among the “we”, and sharing admission amongst the other 8 billion humans. So let me rephrase this to be clear. “I”, not “we”….I sometimes find myself simply living, surviving, treading water, and struggling to keep my nose above the waves. However, I’m grateful that’s not the end of my story. There is more, my friends. More for me, and more for you as well. If you feel like me at times, stuck in a maze wandering around looking for cheese only to realize the maze is just a circle going around and around, let’s pause a moment and discover the “more” that is available.

With infectious joy pumping through the speakers, the combination of piercing lyrics and a genuine smile radiates through the crowd. I’ve seen Switchfoot live in concert several times, and they never disappoint. Their energy on the stage is convicting and inspiring as Jon Foreman’s voice rings out, “We were meant to live for so much more. Have we lost ourselves? Somewhere we live inside.” Have we lost ourselves? More personally, have I lost myself? When I find myself simply coasting through life, disengaged and disconnected, have I lost or forgotten my purpose? It’s an interesting phenomenon that happens. When we ignore the reason for our existence, we end up just existing. Not thriving. Not fully alive. Not infectiously joyful. Just existing. I believe this is the key to the “more” that we were meant to live. It is in knowing and remembering our purpose. We set our eyes toward the purpose, keeping our hearts and our attentions fixed at all times. Like setting a goal, if I get too focused on the daily tasks and forget why I’m doing them, I’ll lose interest in the tasks because they were never the purpose. The goal is the purpose, so I need to keep my intentions focused on the goal so I don’t lose sight of the “why” and become disconnected from the goal. Similarly, our purpose must remain at the forefront of our thoughts, motivations, and intentions to keep our hearts from sliding into a dull and disengaged state of going through the motions of life but not really living at all. So, what is your purpose?

This can be a difficult question to answer. Believe me, I understand. I’d be lying if I said I have this all completely figured out. I lived much of my life in a perpetual state of confusion about my identity, purpose, and value. My identity was whatever someone thought about me, and my purpose was to try to make that impression as good as possible. The problem is that I could only keep up the facade for so long before the house of cards tumbled, and I discovered some serious flaws in the foundation I’d built. Somewhere deep in each of us is a heartbeat, a rhythm set to the tempo of our creator. His fingerprints are all over us, as we have been created by him and in his image. It is in God that we live and move and have our being. Our identity and our purpose. God is love, and therefore, as ones created in his image, we are to love as well. God moves with justice for the oppressed, so we should do the same. God proclaimed good news to the poor, which is what we ought to do as well. But these are all things we do. We love, we do justice, we proclaim good news, and we feed the poor, care for widows and orphans, welcome the foreigner, and so on and on. There is so much to do that we can lose sight of the purpose behind it and fall into a trap of doing instead of being. Our purpose is in the “being”. Being known and loved by God. Being thankful for life in our souls and the breath in our lungs. Being so overwhelmed by the kindness of God toward us that all the other good things just spill out to the world. Love is no longer a chore but just spills out onto your neighbor. Kindness isn’t veiled in feigned religious words but pours out of our lives on all those around us. Peace isn’t something we just pray for, but it radiates from our lives to bring healing to a world at war.

Sometimes it’s the same ol’, same ol’ mundane busyness of life that gets in the way, and other times it may be forgetting or losing sight of the deep purpose of our normal everyday. Whatever the reason, I have to remind myself that there is more. I choose to wipe the sleep from my eyes and remember I was created for more than just a ho-hum, mediocre existence. We were made to be a reflection of the creative genius of love in the flesh, of relentless hope in the face of darkness and despair. To do that, I need to once again get my eyes off myself, off my own, tiny little sphere of relevance. I lift my gaze to stare in awe at the magic and enormity of the truth that I, you, we were created on purpose. Created with purpose. As one of my favorite artists, Propaganda, says, “You are Heaven’s handmade calligraphy”. I stop viewing myself as nothing more than a sinner saved by grace. I am God’s handiwork; a masterpiece created to be a display of God’s love to the world. And so were you. So I choose the “more”. I choose to live fully alive, out loud with love and joy. I crank up the music and sing at the top of my lungs. I dance to the beat of God’s kick-drum pounding through my veins and remember that I was meant to live for so much more.

Lost in translation

I’m not trying to brag, but I’m currently sitting at a 458 day streak on Duolingo. I’ve been a lifelong learner of Spanish, starting in 7th grade Introduction to Foreign Language class. At nearly 50 years old, I should be completely fluent by now but unfortunately I’m still far from it. I listen to Spanish music, have a few native-speaking friends that I chat with anytime I can, and am frequently on top of the leader boards in the weekly Duolingo standings, but I still struggle. Years ago I was working as a Medical Assistant rooming a young girl who arrived at the clinic for an exam. As I did my best to explain to her in Spanish that she could get undressed, put on the gown, and wait for the doctor to come in soon, her friend told me that the girl was “embarazada”. I didn’t know that word, but it sure sounded like “embarrassed”, so I tried to reassure her that she didn’t need to be “embarazada” (embarrassed), but as it became clear that we weren’t quite connecting I went to ask another M.A. for some help with translation. It turned out that I was the one embarrassed as I learned that “embarazada” actually means “pregnant”. I wish I could say that was the only stupid thing I’ve mis-translated in Spanish, but a) that would be an absolute lie, and b) mistakes are just the natural way of learning. For another fun example of my blundering Spanish, check out a previous post Native Tongue.

Learning a new language is difficult, particularly as an adult. I have a friend who is nearly 80 years old who still struggles with English through his native French tongue, and he’s lived here in the U.S. for over 30 years. I’m telling you, if you haven’t tried to learn a new language you should give it a try. I’ve often heard people say that if people are going to live here in America they should just “learn the language”. Forgive me for saying this, but those seem to also be the same people that expect everyone to speak English when they travel to other foreign countries on vacation. Whether we’re talking about immigrants trying to establish a new life in a land of opportunity, or vacationers sipping Margaritas in Cancun, language can often be a significant barrier to understanding our fellow human beings. Experts say there are over 7,000 distinct languages, with new ones still being discovered and others that are lost and extinct. I’m just dabbling in Spanish and French. I can’t imagine identifying over 7,000 languages. That would break my brain for sure!

Perhaps there is a way we are designed to interact with the world that goes beyond any written or spoken language. When someone gives you a kind smile, it can speak volumes. Holding the door for someone can tell them they are valuable and you respect them. Sharing with someone in need inaudibly says, “I love you” in a way that anyone can understand. An act of kindness is a word spoken to the soul of another human being, regardless of their native language. Love speaks to the heart of a person in a way that no audible language can do. Speaking fluent, perfect Spanish, English, or any other language will never have the impact or touch the world in the way that simple acts of love and kindness do. I think we’ve all experienced this at some point and can relate to the feeling of being loved by someone else’s kindness. And, it must be said that the opposite is true as well. When we don’t show love or treat others with kindness, we dehumanize them and strip them of their dignity and value they deserve as someone who was made in the image of God. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that ALL men are created equal….” All means All, regardless of language, nationality, color, or beliefs.

No matter what language you speak, let your words be seasoned with grace. Let your life be dripping with kindness toward others. Particularly when you find yourself in a situation with someone who may look different, believe differently, or speaks another language, choose love to be the way you see them and connect with them. Immigration papers, or the lack thereof, does not determine the value of a human being. Worth is not determined by their ethnicity or native language. Don’t let love be lost in translation, but be clear and intentional in your love for God and for others. And, maybe if you feel so inclined, sign up for Duolingo and learn a bit of a new language so next time you’ll be able to tell someone in their own native language “Hello” or “Welcome”. Who knows, you might even end up making a new friend.

L.A. Native-ish

Arriving just a couple weeks before Christmas 1975, my first breath in this world was on Ventura Canyon Rd, Panorama City. Southern California welcomed me with open arms on a mild 60 degree winter day. Twenty miles in from Santa Monica and just a short drive south to Disneyland, I landed in the sunny San Fernando Valley. The heart of L.A. beat proudly in my chest as a City of Angels native…..for about a month until my mom packed up and moved my older brother and me to Klamath Falls, Oregon. We traded the beach, Hollywood, Mickey Mouse, and SoCal sunshine for a tiny, cold, high desert town in the mountains. We had family there, and my mom needed a fresh start and help raising two young boys, so we made the move and never looked back. Do I tell people I’m from Los Angeles? Technically yes I guess? I was born there but left while I was still breastfeeding and pooping in a diaper, so does that still count as being an L.A. native? If I ask someone who is truly from there, the answer is probably, “Nope”.

My wife on the other hand was born right here in Southern Oregon, where we live and have raised our family for the past 31 years together. She came home from the hospital to a big white house just a few blocks from our current home. The old schoolhouse where she went to kindergarten is right across the street from our front yard, and she still stops to chat in town when she sees her elementary school teachers. She is from here. We can hardly go anywhere without running into someone she grew up with or has known at some point in her 50 years here in this small valley. Truth be told, even if I did know as many people as she does, I likely wouldn’t go out of my way to say hello. Somehow she seems to never forget a name or a face, and will often re-introduce herself to someone she hasn’t seen in a few decades. She thrives off of making connections with people and acknowledging them. It’s really quite incredible, actually. Not at all the way I function. If I don’t have your contact in my phone and we haven’t seen each other in more than a couple years, chances are I’m just gonna keep on walking. Maybe you’ll get a head nod or a, “Hey! Good to see ya,” but that’s about as far as it’s going to get. But that’s a whole different issue altogether that I’m working through.

Sometimes the narrative about where you come from is more complicated. For me it has contributed to identity issues, feeling isolated, and questioning where, or if, I “fit”. I don’t know my biological father either, so that has sometimes added to the confusion and gaps in my own identity. Learning a bit about my heritage has helped me to mentally put some of those pieces together and not feel quite so fragmented. I’ve also had the blessing of being adopted by my step-dad when I was a kid, and he has taken me as his own son and truly shown what the spirit of adoption is all about. I better understand the depth of love that is described by being “adopted” by God because of the way my own adoptive dad has loved me. Over the years I have taken on many of his mannerisms and characteristics, often having people tell me, “I sure can tell that he’s your dad.” Maybe it’s just the matching bald heads, but something tells me it’s more than that.

What’s your origin story? Do you know both your parents and your family heritage? Did your family bounce around a lot so you had a difficult time putting down roots anywhere? Maybe your family history has been lost due to estrangement, slavery, or some other tragedy. For some of us, the narrative of our own origins is difficult to think about at all, let alone talk about it. Regardless of what your story is, where you came from, who your parents or grandparents or great-great-great grandparents were, you are here now. You are present in this life right now. You are loved, seen, and important right now, where you are, with all the brokenness and baggage that come from life on this planet. If you are reading this today, it means you are alive. You have the opportunity to live, to breath, to have joy and hope and laughter today. Your past doesn’t define you. Your origin story doesn’t define you. You, I, all of us who have accepted the offer to be adopted by God and call him Father, have an identity that nothing and no one can take away. We are given a new heritage, a new place where we fit, a new place to call home. God says, “I have called you by name, and you are mine.” I may not be a true L.A. native, but I have a new origin story. How about you?

Suns and Moons

August of 2017 here in Oregon was an absolute frenzy over the total solar eclipse. Vacation rental prices skyrocketed as everyone was taking full advantage of the excitement, with people traveling from all over the world to experience 9 minutes and 3 seconds of the sun being temporarily tucked behind Luna, the lonely and humble moon that smiles it’s old face toward the earth. Two nights ago, as we drove home I noticed the same moon, which had once blocked out the sun completely now appeared as nothing more than a sliver. Same sun, same moon, but different perspective. Interesting.

A couple years ago, I walked through the hell of deconstructing faith. I looked around at the church, I peered inside my own dark heart, and reflected on the motivations behind my life choices. It’s one thing to make a dogmatic profession of what you believe, but when I asked myself why I believe what I believe, that’s when some things started to boil to the surface. Like bringing out the impurities of gold, sometimes you have to turn up the heat, burn it all down, and discover what’s real, what’s true. In my desperation to live in authenticity, I proceeded to strip away the paint, the walls, and all the façade that I depended on to give my life a nice appearance but was lacking in substance. I had to tear it all down to the studs, question it all, and see what was left. It was like walking through the valley of the shadow; scary and threatening. Like a total solar eclipse, it was dark when my perspective was blocked and I couldn’t see the brilliance of the sun past the overshadowing silhouette of the gray.

Deconstructing faith has stolen the joy and life of many beautiful souls if it refuses to proceed beyond the eclipse. Getting stuck behind the dusty moon, we can forget that there is a radiant light of truth and faith and beauty outside of our current darkened state, but we have to be willing to seek it out and be open to receive it. Deconstruction can be a wonderful thing if and when it leads us to reconstruction. Rather than remaining in a state of disillusionment, kicking all the good and true things to the curb, and forgetting the faithfulness of God in your life, reconstruction pushes through to get out of the shadows and be rebuilt brick by brick. Deconstruction is the easy part. It’s the natural thing for our own selfish hearts, racked with fear and insecurity to doubt in the darkness what we’ve seen in the light. Reconstruction takes work, and guts, being willing to consider that which we cannot see and allow ourselves the humility to have faith in a God who is too big for us to fully understand.

You may be in a place of total eclipse, feeling like the light of your faith has gone completely dark. Or maybe there’s just a sliver of the moon appearing in your dark night of the soul. Either way, it’s just a matter of time before the fullness of the sun comes back to illuminate your world. Just don’t close your eyes. Keep your eyes wide open, looking up, seeking and asking. Deconstruction is not the end of your story or the final chapter of your faith journey. The moon, whether bright and full or completely absent from the night sky, is simply a matter of perspective, as it is only able to reflect the light of the sun from it’s current position above the stratosphere. Asking questions is not the thing that keeps us from the knowledge of God; it’s not asking the questions or being too afraid to accept the answers. Either way, know this: You are loved, right where you are, with all your doubts, questions, and fears, you are loved.