When I was young, a bee stung my finger while I was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. My mom later told me that I nearly caught the bee in my mouth.
Regardless, long after the pain and tears of that sting, I maintained an exaggerated fear of bees. When I saw a bee, I would bolt and run as fast as possible. My 3rd grade colleagues once witnessed my bee-avoiding skills during a P.E. kickball game. I never made it to first.
It's taken me quite a while to get over the fear of bees, but the old wisdom remains true: "If you don't panic, the bee won't either." Now when a bee comes near, I have learned to be quite calm. It's fine. The bee is curious. It'll leave, or you'll figure out what to do when the bee decides otherwise, is what I coach myself about in those moments.
But let me tell you how God fits into the picture. My reading for this morning was in Isaiah 7. Ahaz is the King in Jerusalem at the time, and he learns that Judah and Ephraim are against him. King Ahaz panics, but the prophet Isaiah reminds him in verse 4, "Be careful, keep calm and don't be afraid. Do not lose heart because of these two smoldering stubs of firewood..." and then concludes in verse 9, "If you do not stand firm in your faith, you will not stand at all."
This for me was a huge reminder of how we are to trust God in a way that ties in well with the bee lesson. When the "bees of life" come swarming--not even necessarily threatening to sting, but simply in the area out of curiosity perhaps--we are reminded not to panic, not to be afraid, to trust God and keep our eyes on Him. It's in the moments when we flinch--if even just for a moment--that we do foolish things, flail our arms, and get "stung."
God is saying "Don't flinch. You're okay."
More to come!
Jason <><
Monday, September 30, 2013
Monday, September 23, 2013
Called to Love, Easy to Hate
This weekend was great for riding my bike, so I made it a point to ride as many places as I could. It turned out there was more than just exercise I would get out of my rides.
As I pulled my bike up to a large business on Saturday, I realized that I'd have to walk right through the employee break area where workers took their lunch and smoke breaks in order to get to the bike rack. At that moment, there were 10 or so crowded around 2 tables. Conversations were centered around discontent and malice toward supervisors, disliked co-workers, the "system," and rude customers, and ways to cut corners in the work environment. There were quite a few cigarettes burning, and I caught a couple sneers as I intruded with my bike toward the rack.
To be clear, I'm not complaining about or labeling the group I encountered. I paint this picture to explain the situation better. There I was on a leisure day off, riding my bike for exercise and enjoyment, pushing myself not to drive--with no (major) worries about family needs, overdue bills, or unrelenting supervisors--strolling through a circle of hard workers with hard lives, who may not ever have the ability to dedicate a significant part of their off-days on exercise, leisure, and recreation. Simply put, we clearly represented, at least on the surface, two vastly differing groups in that moment.
I walked into the store shrugging my heart. There's little that can be done quickly to disrupt those stereotypes and tear down those walls in those moments.
But, as I returned to my bike to leave, I was immersed in a conversation that began the quick work of traversing lines of separation. I was able to go around the back of the circle this time to unlock my bike and strap my helmet on. Two young men were teasing a woman about still acting like a little kid all the time on account of her story of being distracted most of her workday by a juvenile event taking place outside of the store.
Quickly, the lives around that circle began to emerge as the girl replied, "Yeah, but I never really got a childhood. I had to raise me and my sister when I was real young. So I guess I'm trying to get my childhood now." Another, who had not been teasing the girl earlier agreed, "Yeah. Same for me. I hated my home, and my step-dad hated me. But what do you do? You want to leave. But where you going to go? You just raise yourself and get out--say see ya!"
In Luke's gospel (6:32), Jesus asks "If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them." This falls directly in line with the 2nd part of the greatest commandment to love our neighbors, and Jesus' insistence that we love our enemies.
It's easy to look at those who are different from us, identify all of their faults in the blink of an eye, and build barriers of dislike up against them. But it's not what we're called to do.
Instead, we are called to love those around us, those different from us. After all, it won't be but a heartbeat after our first blink and appraisal that we begin to see who we and those around us really are. Underneath the things that make us ugly always lie the things that make us human, beautiful, and more similar than we first imagine.
Let us be called to love!
More to come!
Jason <><
As I pulled my bike up to a large business on Saturday, I realized that I'd have to walk right through the employee break area where workers took their lunch and smoke breaks in order to get to the bike rack. At that moment, there were 10 or so crowded around 2 tables. Conversations were centered around discontent and malice toward supervisors, disliked co-workers, the "system," and rude customers, and ways to cut corners in the work environment. There were quite a few cigarettes burning, and I caught a couple sneers as I intruded with my bike toward the rack.
To be clear, I'm not complaining about or labeling the group I encountered. I paint this picture to explain the situation better. There I was on a leisure day off, riding my bike for exercise and enjoyment, pushing myself not to drive--with no (major) worries about family needs, overdue bills, or unrelenting supervisors--strolling through a circle of hard workers with hard lives, who may not ever have the ability to dedicate a significant part of their off-days on exercise, leisure, and recreation. Simply put, we clearly represented, at least on the surface, two vastly differing groups in that moment.
I walked into the store shrugging my heart. There's little that can be done quickly to disrupt those stereotypes and tear down those walls in those moments.
But, as I returned to my bike to leave, I was immersed in a conversation that began the quick work of traversing lines of separation. I was able to go around the back of the circle this time to unlock my bike and strap my helmet on. Two young men were teasing a woman about still acting like a little kid all the time on account of her story of being distracted most of her workday by a juvenile event taking place outside of the store.
Quickly, the lives around that circle began to emerge as the girl replied, "Yeah, but I never really got a childhood. I had to raise me and my sister when I was real young. So I guess I'm trying to get my childhood now." Another, who had not been teasing the girl earlier agreed, "Yeah. Same for me. I hated my home, and my step-dad hated me. But what do you do? You want to leave. But where you going to go? You just raise yourself and get out--say see ya!"
In Luke's gospel (6:32), Jesus asks "If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them." This falls directly in line with the 2nd part of the greatest commandment to love our neighbors, and Jesus' insistence that we love our enemies.
It's easy to look at those who are different from us, identify all of their faults in the blink of an eye, and build barriers of dislike up against them. But it's not what we're called to do.
Instead, we are called to love those around us, those different from us. After all, it won't be but a heartbeat after our first blink and appraisal that we begin to see who we and those around us really are. Underneath the things that make us ugly always lie the things that make us human, beautiful, and more similar than we first imagine.
Let us be called to love!
More to come!
Jason <><
Monday, September 16, 2013
Maturity Won't Cut It
Especially as a pastor, but for all people of faith as well, maturity and balance pay off tremendously in most situations. When we find maturity and balance in our lives, we find ways to respond and act in calm, reflective, and wise ways. We make good decisions, love more consistently, and endure hardships in healthier ways.
But sometimes maturity just won't cut it. Especially in our relationships with God.
A tragedy has recently struck deeply into the heart of Horizons and its connected families that will take much time and prayer to pull us through. At my first hearing of this loss, just as any I hear about, out of maturity, I begin cancelling out my prayers to God. I need to be mature about these things:
I can't tell God I understand it was this young man's time to go.
I can't tell God how mad I am or how unfair this is.
I can't ask God why He wasn't there or didn't protect this person.
I can't tell God I know that this is part of His plan.
I can't question what God's plan in all of this is or why it wasn't someone else.
I can't threaten God that He'd better make sense of this.
These are things we find ourselves saying and asking when we are young in our faith, in our beginning relationships with Jesus. But as we grow, we move from those responses to deeper responses.
So as I prayed last night, I eventually found myself with only one response:
God, be with us all and give this man's family strength, peace, and understanding.
That's all I could find permission to say. And in the moment, I realized it was insufficient. It was a great start, but in many ways it lacked the fullness of my heart's true position.
It was then I realized how my maturity in my approach to God won't always do me much good. How are any of us supposed to grow in true, honest, and deep relationships with our creator if we're holding so much of ourselves back--in the name of maturity?
God was waiting last night, listening, sitting with me, and saying, "don't you dare just share the stuff with me that fits. Give me all of you."
So last night, as I went to God concerning the loss of a good friend, a former member of Horizons, a great dad, and a gentle husband, I dropped the maturity approach and let God have all of me.
That's where relationships are born. That's what God desires more than anything: all of us.
"Don't be anxious about anything; rather, bring up all your requests to God in your prayers and petitions, along with giving thanks. Then the peace of God that exceeds all understanding will keep your hearts and minds safe in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:6-7).
Jason <><
But sometimes maturity just won't cut it. Especially in our relationships with God.
A tragedy has recently struck deeply into the heart of Horizons and its connected families that will take much time and prayer to pull us through. At my first hearing of this loss, just as any I hear about, out of maturity, I begin cancelling out my prayers to God. I need to be mature about these things:
I can't tell God I understand it was this young man's time to go.
I can't tell God how mad I am or how unfair this is.
I can't ask God why He wasn't there or didn't protect this person.
I can't tell God I know that this is part of His plan.
I can't question what God's plan in all of this is or why it wasn't someone else.
I can't threaten God that He'd better make sense of this.
These are things we find ourselves saying and asking when we are young in our faith, in our beginning relationships with Jesus. But as we grow, we move from those responses to deeper responses.
So as I prayed last night, I eventually found myself with only one response:
God, be with us all and give this man's family strength, peace, and understanding.
That's all I could find permission to say. And in the moment, I realized it was insufficient. It was a great start, but in many ways it lacked the fullness of my heart's true position.
It was then I realized how my maturity in my approach to God won't always do me much good. How are any of us supposed to grow in true, honest, and deep relationships with our creator if we're holding so much of ourselves back--in the name of maturity?
God was waiting last night, listening, sitting with me, and saying, "don't you dare just share the stuff with me that fits. Give me all of you."
So last night, as I went to God concerning the loss of a good friend, a former member of Horizons, a great dad, and a gentle husband, I dropped the maturity approach and let God have all of me.
That's where relationships are born. That's what God desires more than anything: all of us.
"Don't be anxious about anything; rather, bring up all your requests to God in your prayers and petitions, along with giving thanks. Then the peace of God that exceeds all understanding will keep your hearts and minds safe in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:6-7).
Jason <><
Monday, September 9, 2013
Broken Back Together
Just about the same time we think we have it all put together and that things are going great is when it seems God chooses to impart some of our greatest periods of growth. Know what I'm talking about?
Lately, a theme in my conversations when talking with peers and friends has been "brokenness." Although it can be a little startling for others to hear about my cracks and crumbles, it's a good theme for life and isn't necessarily the same brokenness we have when completely falling apart. It's more of a brokenness that moves a person forward and takes him or her to a greater sense of wholeness.
To be clear, only Jesus causes this kind of brokenness. I love how the disciples experienced and struggled through their own periods of brokenness that brought them to greater wholeness. In Luke's gospel (17:14-20), Jesus returns from the mountain top to find a man asking Jesus to cast a demon from his son. The same man also reports that the disciples couldn't do it when they tried. Later, the disciples ask Jesus "why couldn't we do it??" Jesus tells them that their faith has not yet grown to that sort of maturity.
In the short scheme of things, this makes sense. I imagine it's a tricky and difficult road to travel that leads to equality with Jesus. I haven't met any who have actually made the entire journey. In many ways then, the disciples' question is a no-brainer. You failed, dear disciples, because you're not Jesus. And that's okay.
BUT, here's where we begin to see the greater picture. We have to remember that this failure to cast out a demon occurs after the disciples are sent out 2 by 2 into the surrounding towns to heal, cast out demons, and tell people about the good news. This failure event happens after the disciples come back from their journeys reporting all sorts of successes. In this regard then, it makes complete sense that the disciples are wondering why they were not able to perform yet one more simple exorcism.
This is where we see the brokenness that brings the disciples closer to wholeness. Even after several successes, Jesus chooses to break them from those successes and cause them to go even deeper into their faith. At a moment when the disciples should be pros at healings and exorcisms, they instead appear, once again, as complete novice beginners. What we trust though, is that in this return to what surely felt like the first days of following Jesus, the disciples indeed grew in their faith understanding. Jesus didn't want them to stay where they were. Jesus didn't want them to get stuck having only a moderate sense of faith. He knew they needed to go deeper if they were truly going to be the early leaders of the church. And the only way to get there was through the sort of brokenness that he could offer.
So I celebrate the brokenness of this period of life--suddenly feeling like I've begun at the first step of ministry once again, seeking God's direction for the kind of leader He wishes me to be for the future of His church. Of course I can't wait for the wholeness to commence, but we may never be able to measure the time it takes to grow in God's likeness.
More to come!
Jason <><
Lately, a theme in my conversations when talking with peers and friends has been "brokenness." Although it can be a little startling for others to hear about my cracks and crumbles, it's a good theme for life and isn't necessarily the same brokenness we have when completely falling apart. It's more of a brokenness that moves a person forward and takes him or her to a greater sense of wholeness.
To be clear, only Jesus causes this kind of brokenness. I love how the disciples experienced and struggled through their own periods of brokenness that brought them to greater wholeness. In Luke's gospel (17:14-20), Jesus returns from the mountain top to find a man asking Jesus to cast a demon from his son. The same man also reports that the disciples couldn't do it when they tried. Later, the disciples ask Jesus "why couldn't we do it??" Jesus tells them that their faith has not yet grown to that sort of maturity.
In the short scheme of things, this makes sense. I imagine it's a tricky and difficult road to travel that leads to equality with Jesus. I haven't met any who have actually made the entire journey. In many ways then, the disciples' question is a no-brainer. You failed, dear disciples, because you're not Jesus. And that's okay.
BUT, here's where we begin to see the greater picture. We have to remember that this failure to cast out a demon occurs after the disciples are sent out 2 by 2 into the surrounding towns to heal, cast out demons, and tell people about the good news. This failure event happens after the disciples come back from their journeys reporting all sorts of successes. In this regard then, it makes complete sense that the disciples are wondering why they were not able to perform yet one more simple exorcism.
This is where we see the brokenness that brings the disciples closer to wholeness. Even after several successes, Jesus chooses to break them from those successes and cause them to go even deeper into their faith. At a moment when the disciples should be pros at healings and exorcisms, they instead appear, once again, as complete novice beginners. What we trust though, is that in this return to what surely felt like the first days of following Jesus, the disciples indeed grew in their faith understanding. Jesus didn't want them to stay where they were. Jesus didn't want them to get stuck having only a moderate sense of faith. He knew they needed to go deeper if they were truly going to be the early leaders of the church. And the only way to get there was through the sort of brokenness that he could offer.
So I celebrate the brokenness of this period of life--suddenly feeling like I've begun at the first step of ministry once again, seeking God's direction for the kind of leader He wishes me to be for the future of His church. Of course I can't wait for the wholeness to commence, but we may never be able to measure the time it takes to grow in God's likeness.
More to come!
Jason <><
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
"gNOme" Better Way to Celebrate!
This week's blog is a day late for two very important reasons: 1. It was Labor Day, and although it's not necessarily a religious holiday, seeking moments of rest, making time simply to be, and being thankful for the work that God has given each of us are spiritual pursuits I think are important. 2. Yesterday was my birthday, and it was a clear choice to make to not to get stuck on the computer the whole day.
It was a good day to be alive, and a good day to celebrate being born.
But today I write, not only to reflect on Labor Day, but to reflect on inviting others to celebrate what God has done in our lives--even when it involves changed plans and GNOMES!
I'm the kind of guy who tends not to toot his own horn too loudly, mostly out of the fear I'll honk it excessively and make a spectacle out of my own self-worthiness. Because of it, I've tended to let awards, special achievements, and other milestones simply happen in my life and only involve people who already want to be involved. Especially concerning birthdays, I'm not the kind of person to make sure everyone around me knows that my birthday is coming up.
While this may be a good practice in humility, it's not always the best. SOMETIMES, we actually need to let people know so that we can celebrate together and have a reason to be joyful. So I've been working on this a little more. I actually took a couple extra measures this year to let people know that I was turning 33 soon. I didn't make it a big deal, but took the chance to share. I'm glad I did, and NOW I share the results of such measures.
1. My sister, not wanting me to miss any ounce of my special day essentially planned a surprise birthday party for me at my parents' house in Norfolk. It was the kind of surprise party that it wasn't a secret, it was simply something she forgot to tell me about. We found out a couple days before, shifted our plans, and had a wonderful time with family--celebrating my birth and how great it is that God has given me 33 exceptional, love-filled years.
2. Several awesome friends and people from the church took a moment to send me a little note to wish me a great day. AND, some of them even went to the extent of decorating my office with OVER 50 GNOME AND LEPRECHAUN figurines, which are currently either staring or smiling at me right now, as I write (see the picture). What a great way to celebrate a birthday!! (the funny thing, it wasn't the youth or the children who did this!)
Thank you God for giving me life, for letting/causing me to share it with so many, and for giving us a chance to celebrate!
More to come!
Jason <><
It was a good day to be alive, and a good day to celebrate being born.
But today I write, not only to reflect on Labor Day, but to reflect on inviting others to celebrate what God has done in our lives--even when it involves changed plans and GNOMES!
I'm the kind of guy who tends not to toot his own horn too loudly, mostly out of the fear I'll honk it excessively and make a spectacle out of my own self-worthiness. Because of it, I've tended to let awards, special achievements, and other milestones simply happen in my life and only involve people who already want to be involved. Especially concerning birthdays, I'm not the kind of person to make sure everyone around me knows that my birthday is coming up.
While this may be a good practice in humility, it's not always the best. SOMETIMES, we actually need to let people know so that we can celebrate together and have a reason to be joyful. So I've been working on this a little more. I actually took a couple extra measures this year to let people know that I was turning 33 soon. I didn't make it a big deal, but took the chance to share. I'm glad I did, and NOW I share the results of such measures.
1. My sister, not wanting me to miss any ounce of my special day essentially planned a surprise birthday party for me at my parents' house in Norfolk. It was the kind of surprise party that it wasn't a secret, it was simply something she forgot to tell me about. We found out a couple days before, shifted our plans, and had a wonderful time with family--celebrating my birth and how great it is that God has given me 33 exceptional, love-filled years.
2. Several awesome friends and people from the church took a moment to send me a little note to wish me a great day. AND, some of them even went to the extent of decorating my office with OVER 50 GNOME AND LEPRECHAUN figurines, which are currently either staring or smiling at me right now, as I write (see the picture). What a great way to celebrate a birthday!! (the funny thing, it wasn't the youth or the children who did this!)
More to come!
Jason <><
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