Real People

 

I cried at church on Sunday.

We were reading from 

Palm to Passion 

And the emotion of it all just got me. 

 

I think we sometimes go on autopilot 

When we read the story of Jesus’s last week of life. 

We read the events and see them as history 

And forget that real people actually lived them. 

 

I think, too, we sometimes dismiss Judas’s betrayal as preordained 

And forget how difficult it must have been for 

Jesus to receive that kiss. 

 

For that matter, 

I think we sometimes see the whole week as preordained 

And forget how difficult the whole week must have been. 

 

The ups and downs. 

The moments of beauty and of horror. 

The silence and the noise. 

The praise and the condemnation. 

 

It was all lived in real time

With real people who had 

Real emotions and real pain.

 

All of the ways that we’re human now

Were all of the ways that people were human then

And the mob mentality then was just as strong as it is now. 

The mob mentality freed a convicted criminal 

While it condemned an innocent Jesus to death. 

 

It was ugly.

It was brutal. 

They came at him with swords.

They used violence against a peaceful man. 

 

It didn’t have to be that way.

And yet it was.

 

And still Jesus found it in his being to say

Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.

 

Today, on Maundy Thursday, 

As we remember Jesus washing his disciples’ feet, 

Serving his disciples his last meal, 

Going to the garden of Gethsemane, 

And being betrayed, 

May we remember just how real it all was

And may we cry at the emotion and weight of it all.

 

Jesus was fully God, 

But he was fully human.

And we humans haven’t changed much in 2000 years.

 

Amen. 

Carts

 

I bought a collapsible cart to go to Antiques Roadshow,

Only, I didn’t get to go to Antiques Roadshow,

And so I was left with a non-purposed collapsible cart.

Thankfully, Barb The First Art Teacher had been in the market for a collapsible cart,

So I was able to turn it over to her.

 

The day I took the cart to her house,

We used it to move stuff.

It was very nice.

Very practical.

And I was very pleased with the cart,

That now belongs to Barb,

Because I don’t have anywhere to store it.  

 

The last time I went to a hotel,

We used the luggage cart to roll our stuff to the room.

Individually, we were loaded down.

With the help of the cart, though,

We were free to walk at ease.

 

Every time I go to the grocery store,

Even if it’s just for one thing,

I get a grocery cart.

Chances are good that I’ll end up picking up quite a few things,

So it’s better safe than sorry.

 

“Why make things difficult when you can use a cart?” I say.

 

I wish that we could put our emotional baggage on a cart and

Roll it behind or before us instead of carrying its full weight on our bodies.

Sometimes, when we’re carrying the weight on our bodies,

It’s hard to see it for what it is.

If we had an emotional baggage cart,

Then not only could we see what we were carrying and make more informed decisions on whether we wanted to keep carrying it,

But we could also rely on something else to help hold the weight so that it’s not so debilitating.

 

Maybe counseling/therapy could be this figurative cart?

Or prayer?

Or healthy interactions with faith congregations?

Or journalling?

Or friendship?

 

I don’t know.

I just know that carts are extremely helpful

In carrying heavy stuff.

 

And I want to be a cart rolling person.

 

Amen.

Anger Explosion

 

I went to get my Covid booster last week.

My doctor said that I should get it before traveling this summer,

So I obeyed my doctor’s orders and got it.

 

At my local CVS,

There is a little area behind a red screen that is designated as the vaccination area.

As I was sitting there waiting for the pharmacist to give me my shot,

I heard a man on the other side give his name and birthdate.

I then heard the pharmacy tech ask for his government issued ID.

He was picking up a controlled substance.

The man asked why they needed his ID.

The pharmacy tech explained that it was the rule for controlled substances.

The man didn’t like that answer.

He began questioning why he hadn’t been told about this rule before coming.

No matter what the pharmacy tech—and eventually the pharmacist—said,

The man got angrier and angrier.

I started to feel a little afraid.

“This is the type of situation where someone could get hurt,” I thought.

“I really hope this man doesn’t have a gun.”

 

After what seemed like an eternity but was probably only 2-3 minutes of yelling,

The man eventually walked away, pissed.

“You can keep the medicine,” he declared.
“Because I don’t have my ID.”

 

This man’s response was likely a trauma response,

Triggered by something I will never know,

And it was likely fueled by anxiety over starting a new medication

(He mentioned that it was a new medicine a few times)

And a chemical imbalance

(I heard what the medication was for)

And a frustration at getting caught not having his license—

Which could be because he refuses to carry a license for personal or political reasons,

Because he accidentally left it at home and was aggravated with himself,

Or because he didn’t have a license because it had been revoked.

Or, the man’s response could have been fueled by racism.  

He may not have been able to get beyond the fact that the pharmacy tech and pharmacist were both people of color.

 

I don’t know.

 

Regardless,

His response was more extreme than it needed to be…

Yet, it was a much more normal expression of heightened emotion than I wish were true. 

 

May we, as a society, normalize healthy emotional expression and language.  

May we, as a people, learn to breathe and feel our emotions.

May we, as a church, hold space for people to heal from trauma.

May we, as screen addicts, remember that face-to-face relationships are important.

And may we, as God’s children, see beyond gender and color and treat all people as those worthy to be respected and loved.

 

Amen.

Heightened Emotions

 

Last week, 

When I parked my car to go into Starbucks, 

I parked beside another car. 

Crazy, huh? 

Even though I was in my parking space,

I opened the door carefully to make sure not to bump the car beside me.

 

As I was getting my cup to go in,

I heard someone beating on the window of the mattress store in front of me 

And frantically pointing at me as if something was very wrong.

I looked and didn’t see anything weird,

But the next thing I knew the guy was coming out of the store to speak with me!

He exclaimed, “Please do not let your car door touch the car beside you.”

I looked and it was not touching the car beside me, so I said, 

“It’s not.”

He said, “It was! We saw it!”

Annoyed, and someone shaken by the confrontation,

And afraid that the customer that the mattress store worker was defending would come out before I had finished my coffee 

And intentionally open his door to hit and dent my car,

I moved my car all together. 

 

Now, if the car would have been a brand new, expensive, spotless, scratchless, and dentless car,

Then I might have understood the disrespect with which I was spoken to.

Maybe.

But it was an old Nissan with plenty of wear and tear.

There was no reason for the owner to be that concerned about someone gently opening her car door to get out. 

I didn’t dent his car.

I didn’t scratch it. 

I didn’t have my key out, actively keying the side of the car.

But that mattress store worker sure made me feel like I had done something really bad and wrong.

 

We live in a society of heightened emotion,

Where the smallest things cause the biggest reactions

And insignificant things escalate to the point of violence. 

 

May we be a people who know when to argue back and when to walk away.

And may we somehow balance out the crazy with our sense of peace. 

 

Amen. 

 

---

 

By the way,

I don’t understand the point of the mattress stores in general, 

And I’ve hardly ever seen anybody in that particular store at all. 

But I can guarantee you that I will not set foot in that store to buy a mattress after being scolded by one of the workers

For an infraction that I did not commit.

Hurt Feelings

 Hurting someone’s feelings is different than insulting someone’s existence.

 

Hurting someone’s feelings is saying no when they really want you to say yes. Hurting someone’s feelings is not supporting a new hairstyle when a person wants to get their hair cut or dyed. Hurting someone’s feelings is not being appreciative of the hard work they’ve done to help you. Hurting someone’s feelings is disagreeing with someone on an issue that they feel strongly about. 

 

Hurting someone’s feelings is NOT insulting someone because they are differently-abled, Mexican, poor, gay, female, or non-Christian. Hurting someone’s feelings is not taking advantage of or manipulating them because they are perceived weaker than you. Hurting someone’s feelings is not joking about physical harm, lack of emotional boundaries, and abuse. Hurting someone’s feelings is not about using God’s name or conservative Christian values for personal gain. Hurting someone’s feelings is not using your voice to promote fear and hatred. Hurting someone’s feelings is not promoting patriotic freedom over universal decency. 

 

Hurt feelings pass. Damning character does not. Hurt feelings are not a matter of life or death. Attacks on identity and worth are. Hurt feelings stem from fatigue or oversight. Chronic insults stem from arrogance and heartlessness. Hurt feelings come from being human. A pattern of judgment comes from deep brokenness. 

 

I am white. I come from a position of privilege and power. I come from a place where I could let fear overwhelm me. God forgive me when I am blinded by privilege, power, and fear and fail to see that there is enough love and wealth and freedom to go around. Amen. 

Where My Demons Hide

Okay, okay. I admit. I’m a little behind on technological times. I still have a phone with actual buttons and my Willard is almost a decade old, but I like to think that I’m capable of catching up with the times if I so choose. I just haven’t yet chosen.

I guess it’s no wonder, then, that I didn’t realize until sometime last year that people actual make a living making music cover videos on YouTube. I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but I accidently stumbled upon one such artist and was so amazed by his work that I kept listening to his songs. In the months since then, I’ve continued listening to his work—and many other independently funded artists’ works—and in the process caught up on a lot of the current pop music that I often miss out on by listening to books on CD.

One of the songs I’ve frequently heard and even caught myself singing along with is “Demons” by Imagine Dragons. It wasn’t until hearing yet another cover of the song on TV, though, that I actually paid attention to the words.

A few weeks ago, on Palm Sunday, a live performance of “The Passion” was aired on Fox. My parents and I recorded the special but hadn’t had a chance to watch it until last Saturday—and even then it was only me. Honestly, I didn’t know exactly what the production entailed—just that it was a modern version of the last week of Jesus’ life, that it was set in New Orleans, and that it was rumored to be quite powerful.

I must admit: When the special first began I wasn’t overly impressed. I thought that the next two hours were simply going to be filled with songs and narration like a modern music awards show—but I was wrong. It was similar. Yet it was so much more. It was focused and centered around a life-changing theme. And it presented Christ’s message of love, grace, and hope in a powerful way.

Not surprisingly, I cried a few times. And not surprisingly, I ordered the CD. Yes. The CD. I like to have something to hold and look at.

As I was listening to my new CD yesterday, I suddenly found myself sobbing. I’m not talking about leaking a few tears, I’m talking about full blown “ugly-crying” (as Mister Pastor Patrick said on Sunday morning). Out of the blue, I felt like my heart was going to explode in gratitude for Christ’s unwavering love and grace.

The song was “Demons” by Imagine Dragons. The characters were Judas and Jesus. The emotions were defeat and anguish. Judas was defeated by his own humanity and anguished over his inability to escape his demons. Jesus was defeated by misunderstanding and betrayal and anguished over his friends’ inability to accept unconditional love. On some days, I am Judas. On others, I am closer to Jesus. I get it. The core of me gets it. Even without a lot of modern technology, I get it. And maybe using this little piece modern piece of technology, you get it, too?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8oe4KHMUVE
"Demons" as sung in The Passion
Judas: When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood’s run stale
I wanna hide the truth

Jesus: I wanna shelter you

Judas: But with the beast inside

Judas and Jesus: There’s nowhere we can hide

Judas: No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed

Jesus: This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come

Judas: When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide

Jesus: It’s where your demons hide

Judas: At the curtain’s call
It's the last of all
When the lights fade out
All the sinners crawl

Jesus: So they dug your grave
And the masquerade
Will come calling out
At the mess you made
Don't wanna let you down

Judas: But I am hell bound

Jesus: Though this is all for you

Jesus and Judas: Don't wanna hide the truth

Judas: No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed

Jesus: This is my kingdom come

Judas: This is my kingdom come
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide

Jesus: It’s where your demons hide

Judas: They say it's what you make
I say it's up to fate
It's woven in my soul
I need to let you go

Jesus: Your eyes, they shine so bright
I wanna save that light
I can't escape this now
Unless you show me how

Judas: When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Love Heals A Frozen Heart

Monday’s word of the day was ruminate. Ruminate is a verb that means: 1) to go over in the mind repeatedly and often casually or slowly or 2) to chew repeatedly for an extended period. I have been ruminating the movie Frozen ever since seeing it Sunday.

I don’t want to spoil the movie for those of you who haven’t seen it, so I’ll just say this: Sometimes we declare our truths before we’re able fully to embrace them.

Now…I have a feeling that I may be the only person in the world who has written this statement in response to this film, but I’ve spent a lot of time ruminating why Frozen didn’t immediately become my all-time favorite Disney movie and the above statement is why.

Case in point, I started learning a new life-vocabulary at the beginning of March 2007. This vocabulary eventually helped me reframe everything I’d ever known and literally changed my life and worldview.

On March 28, 2007, I wrote my own personal “power ballad” – my own statement of who I am regardless of who the world wants me to be.

Do I believe the words of this song? Absolutely.
But had I fully arrived at living its words? No.
In fact, there are still days when I have trouble living them.
Yet I know they needed to be said when they were said—
Truths declared before I was able fully to embrace them—
Because I know, now, that simply speaking these truths released them into being
And ultimately allowed Love to heal a frozen heart.

Whole
3/28/07

A cloud of yellow comes and settles on my soul
Replacing sheets of white—cold
Nature has been waiting for this yellow on my soul
Agonizing in the pains of death

Tender, warm, new buds they bloom and yellow floods my soul
Bitter, stale the old passes away
My throat is scratchy from the yellow on my soul
My words are hoarse from the dark night

But listen now: this is my voice
It’s bursting into life
Singing with the colors of our God…

Three short months extended into countless draining years
Deceiving lies leading astray
Destructive screaming from this world created chaos here
Whispers of the truth could not be heard

But listen now: this is my voice
This is who I am
Created in the image of our God
Loved not for the things I do
But loved for who I am
And who I am learning to be

I’m not perfect—I will fail
But I believe in God’s grace
I am gifted and unique
I am worthy of God’s grace
I’m authentic—I’m okay
And I stand upon God’s grace
I’m on a journey—not alone
I’m a member of God’s grace

So listen now: this is my voice
This is who I am
Created in the image of our God
Loved not for the things I do
But loved for who I am
And who I am learning to be

Yes, listen now: this is my voice
It’s bursting into life
Singing with the colors of our God…

A cloud of yellow comes and settles on my soul
Replacing broken sheets—whole…

Jesus Knows How I Feel

I’ve always enjoyed bowling. Growing up, when visiting my grandmother in Florida, I’d often ask my cousin and brother if we could go play bowling. They’d always tell me that you don’t play bowling but that you bowl. It took me a long time to get the language right but I finally did. I went on bowling excursions with my youth group in high school, took bowling for PE in college, and bowled with a league while in SC. I actually just put my 2012/2013 USBC membership card in my wallet last night.

One of my favorite bowling experiences, though, occurred not when I was bowling seriously but when I went bowling for my 21st birthday. I was serving on a summer missions team in the mountains at the time so my parents and sister drove across state to spend the day with me. That birthday bowling excursion was a very welcome break in the summer because we were serving on staff at a camp for adults with physical and mental disabilities at the time. I was way out of my comfort zone.

On the first night of the camp, the kitchen staff served spaghetti. The camper sitting across from me had spaghetti all over his face and watching him eat it made me physically feel ill. Later that night when the campers entered worship I quickly realized that I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I don’t remember if it was that night or sometime later in the week but I remember finding myself sitting outside in the parking lot, guitar in hand, crying out to God in weakness and insecurity. It was that night that I had one of the most profound realizations of my life and recorded it in this song:

Jesus knows how I feel because he's been here before
He has felt all the pain, he has felt all the joy
That comes in this life, through living each day
Through learning to love, and give it away
Jesus knows how I feel

I see them there, their hearts cry out
For a voice to simply talk to them
But my voice gets stuck in my throat
Just like a child too shy to talk to a neighbor

So I fall down to the ground
I can't get up, my strength is gone
These tears I've cried have drained my soul
And I don't know how to let go

I see them there, their hearts cry out
For a hand to simply reach and touch them
But my hands are stuck behind my back
And I don't know how to untie them

So I fall down to the ground
I can't get up, my strength is gone
These tears I've cried have drained my soul
Will compassion ever flow?

Jesus knows how I feel because He's been here before
He has felt all the pain, he has felt all the joy
That comes in this life through living each day
Through learning to love and give it away
Jesus knows how I feel

And I believe that Jesus does.

Jesus saw people, had compassion on them, laughed with them, cried with them, spoke to them, and touched them. Jesus knew when people were hurting and Jesus did whatever he could to take their hurt away, treat them with dignity and respect, and make their lives a little better.

There is a lot that I don’t understand in this life. I don’t understand sickness, disease, trauma, long-term illness, disabilities, pain, crime, or anything else that causes suffering. I don’t understand why bad things happen to good people and I feel sick when I think about the process of death and dying. I didn’t understand things on that night when I went bowling in 1998 and I don’t understand things now as I embark on my journey of chaplaincy.

But I do understand this: I don’t have to understand everything and I don’t have to make everything right. Like Jesus, I only need to see people, have compassion on them, laugh with them, cry with them, speak to them, and touch them…just as I ended up doing after sitting in the parking lot that night in the mountains.

Jesus knows how I feel (even if he never bowled). And a lot of other people do, too. And I’m so very glad.

The Trophy File

Words are very powerful to me. Both good words and bad. Silence is very powerful to me, too. Yet I realize that silence is sometimes exactly what is needed.

Over the years, I have collected a “trophy file” of words that have wounded me in some way. I suppose that there is irony in calling it a trophy file; however, I do believe the words to be trophies—markers of the learning that has come through stupidity and mistakes, the healing that has come through time, and the redemption that has come only through the love of God.

I admit that I do think with my emotions. It’s how my brain is wired. The most important thing in the world to me is harmony in relationships—peace—connectedness—healthy closure—things between people being right--love--I love so deeply that it's ridiculous. I filter all information through this lens. Unless I stop and make myself do otherwise, I make all decisions through this lens. As such, I need people who are honest with me and who think differently than me to balance me out. I also need to be reminded that stepping back and letting time and silence take their course is sometimes the only thing that I can do. After all, relationships—no matter what kind—are always two sided.

Below are some of the words from my trophy file. You’ll notice the year I received the words and the current status of the friendship. You’ll see that while not every broken relationship has healed, many of them have—if not to the point of active friendship then to the point of peace on a spiritual level that I see in my dreams.

As I sit in Asheville with a friend today, a friend whose friendship began fifteen years ago and has weathered the course of time, I am grateful for the people in my life—past, present, and future—for the opportunity to know and to be known—even when it includes the stinging reality of hurt—and for the ability to love with God’s love—that is always willing to welcome someone home.

1999: “I don’t want to see you, talk to you, or hear from you ever again.”
Current Status: Friends on Facebook. Made peace a few years ago online. Friendship of mutual respect and concern for one another’s lives.

2004: “I will not endure any more from you.”
Current Status: Not in contact, though we did run into one another in 2010 and have a peaceful conversation.

2006: “I would ask you to respect, from now on, my request that you allow me to be the one to initiate contact with you, and that you do not e-mail, text, IM, call, or visit unless I do so first, without exception. Thank you in advance for not contacting me again.”
Current Status: Not in contact. At all. Five years and counting.

2007: “How can I not be angry with you, yet still have no desire to have a friendship with you? I have not figured out how to want to maintain a friendship with someone for whom I have no respect.”
Current Status: Not in contact, though ran into one another in 2011 and spoke awkwardly. Completely blocked from Facebook (as in I know she has a FB page, but to me she does not exist.)

2008: “I don't want you to contact me in any shape or form. I don't want our friendship to get any worse than it already is.”
Current Status: Very good friends. In real life and on Facebook. Made peace through time, honesty, and conversations in person and online.

2010: “You might believe in me, but I lost all respect for you a long time ago.”
Current Status: Friends on Facebook. The friendship is still rocky but it is one of ultimate care and support.

2012: “If you needed someone to trust, then you chose the right person. I love you.”
Current Status: No longer friends. Sudden cut off. No words. Less than 24 hours after normal conversation, completely blocked from Facebook and the ability to text or call. I received no explanation whatsoever.

2012: “You think with your emotions. To me, emotions cause irrational decisions and irrational logic because they change based on circumstance. If I don't trust your thinking, then I won't want your insight (which I've deemed unstable in my mind).
Current Status: Friends. In real life and on Facebook…even though the friendship challenges both of us.

God, thank you for granting us the messy beauty of relationship…and for sticking with us through thick and thin. I love you. You are steady and faithful, even when this world is not. Amen.

A Sad Maundy Thursday

I had a hard time deciding on my Facebook status question this morning. It’s Maundy Thursday. I didn’t think that a fun, random question was appropriate. And then I started weeping. It’s Maundy Thursday.

Even in Baptist tradition, we’re aware of the events of Good Friday. We know of the trials and the beatings and the brutal crucifixion of Jesus. We know that Good Friday was a very bad day—a very dark day in history—a very sad time for Jesus and his disciples. Jesus was condemned to a criminal’s death. The disciples didn’t understand. They wept. They were scared. The sadness and fear were palpable…

But what about Maundy Thursday? What about what Jesus must have been feeling then?

On Tuesday, I asked everyone about their favorite story of Jesus. My best friend’s mom wrote: Garden of Gethsemane, asking God to take the cup from me. It's comforting to know that even Jesus asked to be spared from the evils of life.

That’s one of my favorite stories, too. Yet it’s so extremely painful to read. To know that Jesus was in anguish. To know that he earnestly prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me…”. To know that he was scared. To know that he struggled with leaving behind the people that he loved—that he prayed for God to take care of them and to protect them from evil because he couldn’t do it anymore. To know that he had been betrayed by one of his disciples—by one of his friends in whom he had placed his trust. To know that he had cared enough to wash feet and that he had served his last meal for the last time and that he had sung a song with his disciples and that the life that he had enjoyed on earth was soon coming to an end…

I don’t know about you, but I am filled with sadness for Jesus. I am filled with sadness and grief and heartache and hurt for this man who loved unconditionally and sought to draw all persons in to the love of God. I am filled with sadness and grief and heartache and hurt for this man who felt sadness and grief and heartache and hurt just like me. Betrayal is not fun. Endings are not fun. Facing uncertainty and pain are not fun. Leaving behind loved ones is not fun. I know. I have experienced all of those things. And so did Jesus. On this day…this Maundy Thursday.

It’s appropriate, I think, that it’s a cloudy and overcast day. This is a sad day. Tomorrow is a sad day. I feel so sad for Jesus. I wish that I could give him a hug. I wish that I could remind him that everything is going to be okay. Because right now it doesn’t feel that way. Right now, on this Maundy Thursday, everything is just so sad. And right now, I feel more connected to Jesus’s humanity than ever before…