Gracious

I was recently talking to an old Christian camp friend about the

Hot button issues of

Immigration

The LGBTQ+ Community

Pro-life vs. Pro-choice policies

Racism

And

Sexism.

Fun, huh?

 

She made a comment that brought tears to my eyes.

She said:

These are the things my husband and I talk about.

We wonder aloud at how 160+ years ago,

The church was on the wrong side of slavery and

Ask ourselves if given a comparable space and distance,

We might discover that we’re on the wrong side of things now.

We finally settle on this thought:

When we get to heaven,

We would rather hear God say,

“You thought me more gracious than I am.”

Than

“You thought me more harsh than I am.”

 

I don’t know about you,

But in serving a God who deems himself “love,”

And throughout scripture welcomes the outcast

And loves the unloveable,

I would much rather be more gracious than I ought

Than be more harsh than I should.

 

The gospel of Jesus Christ is one of life-giving freedom.

We are saved from fear and damnation, and

Are given a glimpse of eternal life…

May we live as though we’ve been set free to love.

May we live as though God so loved the world.

 

Amen.

Surprised by God

 

If I understand correctly,

To be a Christian is to

Believe in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

It is to believe in the transforming power of Jesus’s love and

To try to live on earth as one day we believe we will live in heaven.

It is to seek to follow the way of the cross

That was transformed and redeemed through a life lived less in judgment of the poor, outcast, and socially unacceptable and more in welcoming grace.

One’s standing as Christian

Is not dependent on one’s perceived sinfulness

Or one’s perceived holiness.

It is not dependent on

Rich, poor

Black, white

Gay, straight

Jew, Gentile

Man, woman

Pro-life, pro-choice

Political party or anything else.

To be a Christian is to trust Christ with our lives and

To follow our understanding of the Living Word of God,

Revealed to us in Jesus Christ,

Still speaking to us through the Holy Spirit.

God is alive and active.

God is bigger than human comprehension.

So maybe those of us who claim

Christian

As our name

Should spend less time condemning and

More time accepting

That we might be surprised at

All the people God loves.

God Still Is

 

I was away at a retreat this past weekend,

But I got to go home for a few minutes on Saturday.

While I was there, I took off my shoes.

As I was getting ready to leave,

I thought to myself,

“What color shoes did I have on? Blue or green?

That’s right. It was the green.”

(I have multiple pairs of the same shoes—just in different colors.)

So I put my shoes back on,

Got the stuff I’d gone home for,

And went back to the retreat.

 

When I got there and started talking to a friend,

She said,
“I see you changed shoes while you were home.”

Thinking to myself, “Oh. I must have put on the blue shoes after all,”

I looked down to see a blue shoe on my right foot…

And a green shoe on my left!

“Oh goshk,” I said. “I put on two different shoes.

And I even stood there and debated which ones to wear!”

We both laughed.

And then it was my turn to speak, so

I totally, 100% forgot about my mismatched shoes until someone later said,

“Umm, Deanna? Is there a reason you have on two different shoes? 😊”

 

Friends:

There I was, delivering a 25-minute talk about grace,

Playing my guitar,

Speaking about communion,

And serving communion to everyone in the group…

In totally mismatched shoes!

 

What a beautiful picture of proof that

I don’t have it all together!

Sometimes, I am a total mess.

Sometimes, I overthink.

Sometimes, I doubt.

Sometimes, I say or do stupid things.

Yet God still is…

 

Working to create good from my worst mistakes,

Working to create life from my deepest grief,

Working to create light in my darkest nights, and

Working to create hope in my anxiety-producing fears.

 

When I seem to have it together,

And when I clearly don’t,

God still is…

 

And God still is…

With you, too.

 

Thanks be to God.

The Gospel

The law damns us.

The gospel sets us free.

The law controls us.

The gospel releases us.

The law judges us.

The gospel pours out grace.

The law keeps order.

The gospel brings radical upheaval.

 

I’ve spent most of my life living under the law,

Feeling judged, damned, and never enough

Because I can never rid myself of the sin that lives within me.

 

But that’s just the point.

There is NOTHING I can do to overcome my brokenness,

So Jesus did it for me.

 

Jesus lived a life that ushered in abundant life on earth with the promise of eternal life beyond.

Jesus died a death that paid the price for sin.

Jesus was resurrected into a life that defeated evil and death.

Jesus transformed the cross from a symbol of shame to a symbol of hope.

Jesus is gospel.

Jesus is hope.

Jesus is grace.

Jesus is love…

And love sets us free.

 

For the past five years, I’ve been learning about this Jesus anew.

It’s not a Jesus bound by the law,

It’s not a Jesus bound by failed human attempts of righteousness,

Rather it’s a Jesus who healed people from all walks of life to demonstrate that the Kin-dom welcomes all,

It’s a Jesus who chose messed-up, fallible creatures to carry his message of redemption,

And it’s a Jesus who really does love us and has called us to be part of his body,

Which is a really beautiful thing.

 

If you have been damned by the law.

If you have been controlled, judged, and kept in line by the rules and regulations of denominational and religious polity.

Then remember the gospel.

Remember freedom, release, grace, and love.

Remember that Jesus brings radical redemption to ALL who will believe—

Oh God, help our unbelief!

 

Amen.

 

Yes. And. I Love You.

 

You look at me and say:

 

I stole a lot of things when I was younger.

I used to do drugs.

I’m addicted to pain killers.

I once drank so much that I blacked out and ended up in bed with someone I didn’t know.

I’ve had to have someone hold my hair back more times than I care to admit.

He told me he didn’t want the baby and took me to get it taken care of and now I feel very empty.

I’m the other woman.

I never wanted to be a mother.

I don’t love him anymore.

I’m divorced.

He’s abusive.  

I walk on eggshells in my own home.

I don’t feel safe.

I’m on medication for depression and anxiety.

Sometimes I don’t shower because I don’t have the energy.

I have $15000 of credit card debt.

I’m on food stamps.

I go to the food pantry.

I hate my job but it’s what my family expects.

I miss him every day.

I’m exhausted.

I binge watched movies all day so I didn’t have to think.

I’m gay.

The only thing that keeps me alive is not wanting them to find me dead.

I don’t believe in God.

God makes me angry.

I don’t even know if I believe in God anymore, yet I’m their pastor.

 

I look at you and say:

 

Yes.

And.

I love you.

 

Amen.

 

**Adapted from 1.23.14’s note, “Say The Same Thing.”**

**Listen on Spotify: https://anchor.fm/deatonnotes/episodes/Yes--And--I-Love-You-e2eoc42

Wicked The Sixth

 The first time I saw Wicked, I cried.

The sixth time I saw Wicked, I cried.

I don’t remember much about the 2^nd-5^th times,

But I wouldn’t be surprised if I cried.

 

It’s this one scene.

Galinda gives Elphaba, her arch enemy, a pointy black witch hat and tells her to wear it to a party that everyone will be attending that night.

Galinda does this to be mean to Elphaba, but

Elphaba doesn’t realize Galinda’s spite.

She wears the hat to the party as told.

Everyone laughs.

Elphaba sticks out like an even sorer thumb than her green skin.

Even so, Elphaba begins to dance,

Alone.

Something in Galinda shifts.

She begins to dance with Elphaba—

Doing Elphaba’s unique dance moves.

Everyone else then dances, too,

And somehow, the angst and loathing between Galinda and Elphaba begins to disappear.

It’s a beautiful moment.

And it makes me cry (possibly every time).

 

Seeing past differences is a beautiful thing.

Grace is a beautiful thing.

Reconciliation is a beautiful thing.

Friendship is a beautiful thing.

 

Being good isn’t about being superficially perfect,

Rather it’s about seeing others for who they are and encouraging the best in them.

 

May we be good and hold to beautiful things,

And may we have the courage to suck up our pride and

Ask for forgiveness—

Whether it be through words or actions—

When we realize we’re wrong.

 

Amen.

 

PS. I took Amelia The Niece to see Wicked for the first time last Wednesday night. She said, “I really enjoyed it and everyone was very talented.” When asked her take away from the show, she said, “That it’s important to stand up for what’s right even if it makes you look bad to others.” What about you? For those who have seen the show, what was your take away? I’d love to hear.  

Who Cares?

If you were at Antioch yesterday morning, then you heard a somewhat diverse set of music. We started with a modern praise song, led by the praise team, and then we went directly into a congregational rendition of “Victory in Jesus.” Next we moved to another congregational favorite of “Just A Closer Walk With Thee,” followed by a very unique, somewhat high church, full of intricate, sometimes dissonant harmonies, choral arrangement of “Abide With Me.” We ended with one verse of “Blest Be The Tie.”

While I was very pleased with the choir’s rendition of “Abide With Me”—it was tough and we had worked really hard to prepare it for worship—and while I always enjoy singing “Victory In Jesus”—after all, it was one of the title songs of my former band—and while the girls of the praise team did a good job introducing a new song—what really hit me yesterday was “Just A Closer Walk With Thee.”

As I was standing in the pulpit singing, I suddenly caught myself smiling and thinking, “Yes!! This!! I hope everyone in the congregation and the world is listening!! This is so important!! Did you hear it, people?! You just sang something HUGE!!”

And what was it that evoked double exclamation marks after every thought?

“Through this world of toil and snares,
If I falter, Lord, who cares?
Who with me my burden shares?
None but Thee, dear Lord, none but Thee.”

Did you catch that?! Really catch that?!

The world is full of toil and snares, speed-bumps and potholes, obstacles and heartaches, failures and heartbreaks, injustice and bigotry, judgment and condemnation, mean people and meaner people, and all kinds of other mayhem that will trip us up. With every feeling of safety. With every risk we take. With any attempt at anything at all, we run the risk of success or failure. And guess what? We’re going to mess up as many times as we get it right! We’re going to goof as many times as we reach near-perfection. We’re going to falter as many times as we experience clear-sailing! But…who cares?!

Really? Who cares?!

What does it matter?!

We’re still alive.
We’re still human.
We’re still able to move forward on life’s journey.

So who cares if we falter??
Really? Who cares?!

Because, in the end, the God who created us and loves us is the same God who never leaves or forsakes us—faltering or not. The same God who created the universe and offers redemption to the world is the same God who shares our heartaches and burdens—willingly surrendered or not.

I don’t know about you, friend, but this all makes me smile and sets a little part of me free.

When Broken

When Broken…11.21.16

An internal auditor came to speak to us during class tonight. In typical nerd fashion, I found her information quite fascinating, and I not only took a lot of notes but I also asked a lot of questions. I will spare everyone the details, but I must share this: If ever you see any part of the Fraud Triangle, then consider it a red flag. “And just what is the Fraud Triangle?” you ask. Well, here is your answer:

Point One: Pressure. Pressure can cause a person of integrity to commit fraud even though he/she ordinarily would not. Most people live their lives with good intentions but intense pressure can tempt us in ways we didn’t think possible. Medical bills, addiction, living beyond means, unexpected death. Any or all of those things can put undue pressure on a person and cause him/her to think, “If I can just pay of this bill—if I can just control this situation—if I can just take care of this—then I can rid of this pressure and then start over.”

Point Two: Rationalization. A person will only willingly work so hard before he/she feels that he/she deserves some type of validation or encouragement. When that validation or encouragement doesn’t come through healthy avenues, then sometimes we start to think thoughts like, “I don’t get paid enough for everything that I do, and it doesn’t look like I’m ever going to, so I might as well take what I deserve.”

Point Three: Opportunity. When there is a crack in the system—a loophole—an occasion for secrecy—a thought of, “Well, no one is watching…”—and pressure and/or rationalization are whispering in a person’s ear, sometimes temptation is too strong and a person gives into the opportunity to break the rules—whatever the rules may be.

People will do crazy things when they are broken.

All people. Not just those that we think of as “different” or “other” or “immoral” or “them.”

Under any circumstance. Not just shady situations.

No one is above pressure, rationalization, or opportunity.

No one is above just flat out messing up when we are broken.

So maybe we should stop judging so readily and start extending grace more freely.

And maybe we should start asking for and receiving help when we find ourselves gliding along the lines of a triangle like fraud.

Dignity And Worth

Have you ever heard a song that punched you in your gut and spoke to the very core of your being? I had that experience over two weeks ago and haven’t been able to get the song out of my head since.

In short, the song is about a son who longs for approval and acceptance from his father. It shares the singer’s gut-wrenching journey from ideas like,

“You’re the last thing I wanted or needed, boy. You make me sick. What am I supposed to say when my friends talk to me about you? Sure, I made you and you’re in this family, but all you do is embarrass me. I give you a roof over your head, food to eat, and pay for you to go to school, yet this is how you repay me? You’ll never amount to anything, boy. It’ll serve you right if you grow up miserable and lonely.”

to ideas like,

“Son, I need you to forgive me. I grew up learning that a man was only a man if he was tough and played sports—if he never cried—if he never showed weakness—if he was the head of the household, no questions asked. But now I’m not so sure. I don’t understand exactly who you are, and you’re very different than me, but I’ve realized that you’re you, and I want you to keep being you—no matter what my friends or anyone else says.”

Needless to say, by the end of the video—a stripped down recording with only acoustic guitar and voice—I was crying quiet tears.

Almost a decade ago, in the middle of a night when I couldn’t sleep, I got up and went to my computer and typed out these words:

I think that we each just want to be loved for who we are. Period. Not the idea of who we could be. Or the roles in which we function. Or the services, gifts, and talents that we offer. But who we are. Good, bad, ugly. I think we each need to know that we are honored and adored not by virtue of performance and perfection but by the triumph of waking up each day, breathing, and giving life a try.

I think that we each need places of unconditional acceptance: places to call home. We each need to know that, to someone, we are not second best--to someone, we are the cream of the crop,
the top notch, the best thing since sliced bread. Ideally, I think, we each receive that love from
our families. Ideally, our hunger for acceptance is satisfied by the seeds that gave us birth or the partnership that promised to honor and cherish. Ideally, we find comfort and peace in the place we lay our heads. No pretense. No intimidation. No fear. Just rest. And satisfaction. And joy.

But when those things are not there. When we are uncertain of our value. When we question and doubt the inherent beauty of existence. When we feel used, or reduced to function and performance, or we fear failure and disappointment. When we're forced into a mold that was not ours to live, paralyzed by discomfort, lost. When our spirits are not nurtured and allowed the freedom to soar--to explore the world and discover the depths of creation, the places where we fit, the points at which we flourish--we slowly begin to die: our bodies exhausted, our hearts wounded, our minds numb, our spirits suffocated and…then what?

I suppose we pick up the pieces and begin to live again. I suppose we apologize for reducing people to ideas and roles and function, for identifying individuals by what they do rather than who they are--what they like, how they love, when they dream--for not celebrating unique personality but honoring the status-quo. I suppose we vow never to let anyone feel as if she is not loved for who she is. Period. I suppose we fill the gaping hole called needy
beast with the unfathomable love of God, manifest both in God's still small, unexplainable voice and the loud voice of tangible community, and let that love transform the very core of our being. I suppose we allow ourselves to feel again, to experience and release emotion, however raw and difficult, however many tears it brings, and give it permission to bridge the gap between knowledge and understanding.

We are all loved for who we are. We are all created to be who we are. But I think we each just need to be reminded of that fact through words and deeds and actions and gifts and time—that we each need to know that we are loved for who we are. Period. Over and over and over and over and over again.

Friends, I dare say that there are more people than not singing that songwriter’s song and waking up in the middle of the night with hearts about to burst. I dare say that there are more people than not picking up broken pieces and trying to salvage them through time, hope, confession and forgiveness. Each of us is human. Each of us makes mistakes. Ever so often or every single day, each of us makes poor choices and passes harsh judgments. Each of us struggles to love and be at peace with ourselves though most of us don’t realize the struggle. Most of us allow or force the struggle to lurk in the shadows of hyper-functioning, power, and control. Yet, in the end, way down deep, don’t 99% of us just want the same thing? To safely love and be loved? And to live with a sense of purpose and the certainty of safe acceptance?

Oh God: For all of the times we have acted as the father at the beginning of the songwriter’s song, forgive us; and then allow us to journey with one another not to a place of harsh opposites behind walls of difference but to a place of loving openness in front of those walls. Help us to arrive and live in the space of the father at the end of the songwriter’s song and to love people as they are—even when we don’t understand or agree—and to value their dignity and worth as your creation. You are the One who has the ability to grow and transform. You are the One who ultimately changes lives. Help us to leave the changes to You as you work through our steady love and help us to trust You enough to do Your work in other people’s lives—and in our very own. I love you. Period. Always and always and forevermore. Amen.

Forgiveness Is A Tricky Thing

A friend mentioned Little Rock, Arkansas, in passing earlier today. Ever since she mentioned it, I’ve been singing the song Little Rock by Collin Raye.

Strangely enough, Little Rock is one of my favorite songs. It’s led by keys. It’s real. And raw. It’s the confession of a broken man longing to be whole again. It’s the heart of a guilty man longing to be free:

Well I know I've disappeared a time or two
And along the way I lost me and you
I needed a new town for my new start
Selling VCR's in Arkansas at a Wal-Mart
And I haven't had a drink in 19 days
My eyes are clear and bright without that haze
I like the preacher from the Church of Christ
Sorry that I cried when I talked to you last night
…
I don't know why I held it all inside
You must've thought I never even tried
You know your daddy told me when I left
"Jesus would forgive but a daddy don't forget"
…
Lying here upon this motel bed
My thoughts of you explode inside my head
And like a castle built upon the sand
I let love crumble in my hand
I think I'm on a roll here in Little Rock
I'm solid as a stone, baby, wait and see
I got just one small problem here in Little Rock
Without you, baby, I'm not me

No. I’ve never been married or struggled with alcoholism. I’ve never moved to Arkansas or worked at Wal-mart and I’ve never had anyone’s dad tell me that Jesus would forgive but a daddy don’t forget. But I have watched relationships and friendships crumble. And I have lay in bed with thoughts exploding in my head. And it’s so hard—knowing that something is broken—but being helpless to fix it—save for a humble, trying heart, and an honest, open spirit.

I don’t know if Little Rock tells a story that really happened or if it was written to be a good song. Either way, I find myself wondering: Did the person on the other end of last night’s crying forgive him?

Forgiveness is such a complicated thing. There is the person who has done wrong and the person who has been wronged. Sometimes the person who has done wrong doesn’t think that he/she has done wrong and sometimes the person who has been wronged thinks that he/she deserves the wrong. Sometimes the person who has done wrong doesn’t care to fix the wrong even if the person they have wronged is offering forgiveness. And sometimes offered forgiveness isn’t received for fear of strings attached—because sometimes strings are attached instead of flowing unconditionally.

For those of us who have grown up in church, we know that God offers unconditional love and grace—free, a gift, no strings attached. We also know that we should live as Jesus lived—with unconditional love and grace. Yet Jesus does something peculiar in John 5. The text reads:

Some time later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish festivals. Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, “Do you want to get well?” “Sir,” the invalid replied, “I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me.” Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.”

Did you see that? Jesus asked the man if he wanted to get well. In other words, in order for the man truly to be healed, the man first had to want to be healed. It wasn’t enough for Jesus alone to want to do the healing.

The man in Little Rock wants to be healed. He is singing his desire for forgiveness from the core of his being. Does the partner in the song forgive him? We don’t know. But I dare say yes—because I want to believe that his partner’s offer of forgiveness met his openness of receiving forgiveness at exactly the right moment…and then that they kept working at it together.

Do you want to be healed?
The pool = living water = dive in?
Do it? Accept it?
Grace, forgiveness, love.
Is there.
Do you want to be healed?

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

Not My Proudest Moment, But...

A good friend recently shared with me a conversation that she had with her youngest son after visiting a zoo. I giggle every time I think about it. The conversation went something like this:

Son: Did you see the size of the balls on that tiger?!
Friend: Yes. He did have large testicles. Your brothers would have probably appreciated seeing those.

She went on to say to me, “Not my proudest moment as a mother, but…”

I don’t remember what was after the “but” because the statement that I hear is this:

Not my proudest moment, but there is laughter…

-------

A few weeks ago, on the very day that my church voted to make me the permanent part-time music minister, I threw a little fit after worship. The Sunday night before, the praise team and I had spent a couple of hours moving our equipment to the sanctuary and setting it up for the summer’s blended worship services. I knew that a wedding was scheduled in the sanctuary for the next week and I knew that we would need to remove my guitars and other things from the stage, but I didn’t know that we would have to move everything and undo the hours of work that we’d just done. As a team of good-hearted men swarmed the stage to help clear all of the equipment, I got really frustrated. In my frustration, I became mean. In my meanness, people began treading lightly because they knew that I was frustrated. And…yeh…it was ugly.

Not my proudest moment, but there is grace…

-------

Yesterday, while we leading the first hymn, “Come All Christians, Be Committed,” I had the thought: “Wait. This hymn-tune sounds very familiar. Wait. I think it might be the same tune as ‘The Servant Song,’ and we’re singing that next. Is it the same tune?!” Yes. Yes it was. Eek! On the night that I’d planned the music for yesterday’s service, I’d paid so much attention to song lyrics and incorporating both the choir and praise team that it hadn’t occurred to me that I’d chosen the same hymn-tune. Oops.

Not my proudest moment, but there is faith…

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The rental house that my family and I rented at Hyco Lake last week was on a lane that had a roller coaster-like hill. My oldest nephew, Jack, absolutely loves roller coasters. In fact, if given a choice at this point in life, he would be a roller coaster designer and operator. Naturally, I decided that it would be fun to put the car in neutral as Jack and I descended the hill while going to the store on Tuesday. I used to do this all the time at the camp where I worked. What wasn’t so natural was deciding to leave the car in neutral and let it roll back down the hill upon our return. But. I did. Then we rolled back up. And down. And up. And down. Until the car ran out of momentum. Like the Pirate Ship. Or some other amusement park ride. Jack was grinning. I was, too. It was really fun.

Not my proudest moment, but there is joy…

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And through it all,
Through all of our non-proud moments of humanity—
When being a mature role model goes out the window,
When acting as a Christ-like minister is impossible,
When planning ahead messes up—
There is laughter and joy and grace and faith…
And love.
Yes, through it all:
There is love.

Sweet Moment: That Dog

Last Tuesday, I took Bullet to the knee-replacement rehab facility to see Dad. He quivered on the way there because he didn’t know where he was going, but once he got there and saw my dad he was overjoyed. He jumped onto my dad’s leg and practically danced around the room singing, and my dad was so happy to see Bullet that he endured the pain of claws digging into his still-healing wound.

Mistakingly thinking that Bullet needed to pee, I put him on the grass on the way to the car. As soon as I put him down, though, he bulleted straight back to the institutional door. He longingly looked in the window while he scratched on the door, seeing a long empty hallway keeping him from his favorite person in the world…

Fast forward to Saturday:

My brother and two of my nephews surprised my mom and me by driving down to help get my dad home. After going to the Chinese buffet per Dad’s request, we met at the house in our separate vehicles. My plan was to go into the house and roll up any carpets that might be a hazard and to help my dad get safely settled in the house before getting Bullet.

As I headed toward the front door, however, my dad, slowly turning himself to get out of my brother’s van, looked at me and said, “Are you going to go get Bullet?”

I said, “Well yes. But I was going to go into the house first and make sure everything was safe.”

“You should go get Bullet…I want to see him…like—now.”

And so I went to get Bullet from his porch. In between barks, he was speaking so loudly that I could hear him in our yard. He was also scratching at the door, wagging his tail excitedly, and jumping up and down in anticipation of his emancipation all at the same time.

And Bullet bulleted over to my dad.

And they talked to one another as if it had been weeks since they were together.

And Bullet kept trying to kiss my dad.

And the two have pretty much been inseparable since.

Sweet story, huh? And it portrays Bullet as a sweet little loving dog, right? A dog you might like to meet?

Here’s the truth: To everyone other than my immediate family, Bullet is a mean little sausage dog that has been portrayed as a grumpy old man. In his protectiveness of my dad and his neuroses of being abandoned and abused as a pup, he comes across as a ferocious fat ball of fur. He will hesitantly let you feed him with one hand while he growls at the other, and he will allow you pet him if either my dad or I am around. But…if you wanted to visit him today, you’d be out of luck. He’d bark at you. Non-stop. Today. Tomorrow. And many days to come. After all, it took him a solid year to learn to trust me.

Sometimes he’s embarrassing. Sometimes we just want him to hush. Sometimes we wish he were a more welcoming dog. And yet…still…we—especially my dad—love him…just as he is.

I suppose that this is how it is with people from time to time. We get hurt. We find ourselves abandoned. We become defensive. We act out of the need to protect. We grumble and act hypocritical. We take a long time to let down our defenses. We act ridiculous. We make too much noise. We pretend to be stronger than we really are. And yet we need to be loved and we find that love is the single greatest change agent in the world.

Thanks, Bullet, for teaching us about love once again…even if you did just pee on my mail.

That Statement Again

A few years ago, my friend Kay and I started sending each other statements seen on church signs around North and South Carolina. What started as a mission to find funny sentiments to decorate her apartment has become an enduring purpose of communication. We may go months without writing but then one of us will find something worthy of sharing…and then we are connected again. That happened today, actually, after I rode by a sign that said: No bunny loves you like Jesus. Find us on Facebook. I laughed aloud. Then I wrote Kay. And we both agreed that the sign was a little late for Easter and that it was an interesting marketing strategy!

Because of this long-enduring connection with Kay, I find myself reading church signs every time I can. While there are a lot of signs that could stand improvement, there are some that are really good. I’ve found one sign on my way to and from work to be particularly encouraging this year. For instance, at the beginning of the year, when I wasn’t certain that I would adjust to being back in the classroom, I’d drive by and read, “You can make it.” It never failed. When I read those four simple words, I felt them making their way into my heart. God was speaking to me. And I knew that I would make it.

So I suppose that I shouldn’t be surprised that the church sign in mention gave me goose bumps yesterday. After a frustrating Monday and Tuesday, and memories of a really rotten Wednesday last week, I wasn’t overly thrilled about going to work. Yet as I drove that familiar road to school and passed that familiar sign, I found myself reading, “Pray grace over your situation,” and I literally chuckled to myself because I had been wondering how I was going to let go of the aggravation I’d been feeling all week and there was the church sign answering my wonderings. Pray grace over the situation, Deaton. Remember: “I love youregardless of how well you’re performing.”

Ah.

There’s that statement again.

“I love you regardless of how well you’re performing.”

Or more specifically this week: I love YOU, as a person, because you ARE a person, and there IS something good in you, even if I cannot find it right now BECAUSE of your performance which is basically not a performance at all and I don’t understand how you can not do your job and play the martyr and take and take and take. Yet. I (must) love YOU because you are a PERSON. And I am a person, too. And we are all worthy of love simply because we are people.

Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control.
Pray for your enemies and love those who persecute you.
Do not become weary in doing for at the right time you will reap a harvest if you do not give up.
I love you regardless of how well you’re performing.
Pray grace over your situation.

And then somehow,
With time and with breath,
Frustration will begin to fade away,
Light will begin to filter in, and
People will be seen as people...
Thanks be to God,
(and church signs)
Amen.