We have this greenhouse on our property. I have never been accused of knowing anything about gardening, but it seems rather large to just leave there as an empty lawn ornament. (A really, really big, ugly lawn ornament). I remember gardening with my mom when I was a kid, but 'gardening' back then seemed to mean "Mike, pull the weeds in the garden" or "Mike, go water the garden," or "Mike, go mow around the garden, and make sure to blow the grass away from it not towards it." And I was completely terrified (still am) of Garden Spiders. They absolutely creep me out. Needless to say, I didn't like gardening that much.
Now I find myself with this big growing dome thing on our property that has all these planters in it. And somewhere from within there is this stupid desire to save money on food costs. So I am revisiting the whole 'garden' thing. To make a long story short, I am learning that regardless of how much I pray, believe in faith, trust, go to church, or say the right things, not much is going to grow in there until I fertilize and water and plant something. It doesn't seem like alot. I might be really hungry, and all I can do right now is water the plants. It becomes a movement into what Papa has given me to do, sorta like walking in faith, only I am willing to excersie what I can to do my part. I don't have a right to gripe because I am hungry if I am unwilling to do what I can. I am learning that getting things to grow isn't up to me, because I can do the tilling and fertilizing and planting, but I can't do squat to get the little buggers to grow. I can't make it happen.
I was just our there watering a few minutes ago, and some of the seeds we put in the ground are popping up. Others are no where to be found. In some sections we have absolutely nothing up. In other places there are plants growing that we didn't put there. It is the weirdest thing. Some of the plants came up really quick. Others take forever. I feel funny watering the soil with nothing in it. Watering dirt. It feels pointless. When I was a kid, I remember the big fad teaching that went around telling everybody to talk to their plants. It was supposed to make them grow better. I stood out there today and looked at thriving plants, shriveled plants, and areas with no plants at all and actually thought about talking to them.
There are things I can do, and things I can't do to grow that garden. It doesn't really matter how hungry I am; I find that there is only so much I can do to make the food come. So that I do, because it's my part of the equation. The rest in up to Him. And it's ironic how hard it is to tell the difference between those two - the stuff I can do something about and the stuff I can't.
There is a point to my story. I have been encountering a lot of people lately who whine about their situation, and how they can't do anything to change it. I tell them there is always something they can do. They just don't want to do it. They like to be seen as powerless because then others will feel sorry for them and maybe solve it for them. But they don't want to put the seeds in the ground. They want (and expect) Papa to do it all for them. They get mad at Him when he doesn't. And they use their choice to be powerless as an excuse to feel sorry for themselves and angry at the world. If nothing else, they at least have the power to decide how they are in the world, and who they are.
Each of us has seeds we can sow. And each of us has a lot of growing to do that we can't make happen. Our part is to do what we can, and not expect God or others to do it for us. What kind of garden do you want?
Monday, April 28, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Learning to live authentic
I met with a friend today. A very cool guy that I met recently in the area. We got to talking about how most of us men do what we have to do so we can do what we want to do. It was a very interesting discussion that led us to asking the question 'Why do we do anything that doesn't come from the place of authenticity within us?'
I understand that sometimes we work a job that is tolerable so we can be freed up on weekends to do what we really want. We live some of our lives from a place that is authentically connected to our hearts, but the rest can be mind numbing and unstimulating. We do it because that is the pattern set out before us by the previous generation. I'm not saying it is wrong or anything like that. I am just saying that maybe we should question if that is really the way we want to live.
Is it your decision to spend X amount of the hours you have been given doing what you don't put much heart into? Is it your decision to do the busy stuff, the stuff that we have to do, in trade for a few hours where you get to do the stuff that makes the blood pulse through your veins? Have you ever considered that it doesn't have to be this way?
I believe that we have settled, especially as men. We bought into some BS somewhere that taught us this whole line of thinking. I am not saying it is wrong. I am just asking the question if it was Papa's intention for us to adopt this style of life. Wouldn't it be more congruent with His heart for us to live from ours? Or did Jesus die a brutal death to give us life - life not very abundant?
What percentage of the hours of your day are spent living authentically? That might not mean changing everything about your life. It might mean choosing to be fully in whatever happens in your life, to make peace with it and enjoy authentically all that you can. It might mean doing something radically different.
If your authenic living quotient was more important than your IQ or your income, how would you live differently? And which will matter at the final buzzer?
I understand that sometimes we work a job that is tolerable so we can be freed up on weekends to do what we really want. We live some of our lives from a place that is authentically connected to our hearts, but the rest can be mind numbing and unstimulating. We do it because that is the pattern set out before us by the previous generation. I'm not saying it is wrong or anything like that. I am just saying that maybe we should question if that is really the way we want to live.
Is it your decision to spend X amount of the hours you have been given doing what you don't put much heart into? Is it your decision to do the busy stuff, the stuff that we have to do, in trade for a few hours where you get to do the stuff that makes the blood pulse through your veins? Have you ever considered that it doesn't have to be this way?
I believe that we have settled, especially as men. We bought into some BS somewhere that taught us this whole line of thinking. I am not saying it is wrong. I am just asking the question if it was Papa's intention for us to adopt this style of life. Wouldn't it be more congruent with His heart for us to live from ours? Or did Jesus die a brutal death to give us life - life not very abundant?
What percentage of the hours of your day are spent living authentically? That might not mean changing everything about your life. It might mean choosing to be fully in whatever happens in your life, to make peace with it and enjoy authentically all that you can. It might mean doing something radically different.
If your authenic living quotient was more important than your IQ or your income, how would you live differently? And which will matter at the final buzzer?
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Talking with a homeless dude
We have this homeless guy in our town. He sits out in front of this one store that he seems to like. I have seen him there a couple times, and expected him to probably move on to another town, but he was there again today. So I stopped and talked to him.
Homeless people are a unique breed. This guy's name was Chris, and he was from California. Usually I respond like a typical Christian around homeless people - either treat them as a project to save, or ignore them. Today I decided to not do either. So I sat down and talked to him. He told me he was on the streets because people messed with him wherever he went. He said the cops in the area arrested him for sleeping in the park and put him in jail for a month. Evidently it's illegal to sleep in the park. So he sleeps in the alley now. Evidently it isn't illegal to sleep there.
He seemed pretty normal - I was kinda surprised. Usually homeless people I talk to are mentally ill or strung out or really hard to communicate with, but Chris was easy to talk to. We sat there for 20 minutes shooting the breeze. I told him about some things in my world, and he told me some things in his. And as I sat there talking to Chris, I was struck that it seemed pretty normal to talk to him. He was a person, not a project to fix or a problem to be ignored.
I wonder why we don't just get to know people sometimes. I don't just mean homeless people. I mean everyday people. Why do we have to treat them as ministry tasks to be saved or to be repaired or transformed? Couldn't we just see people?
It reminds me of the healing where Jesus heals this guy who was blind, but when Jesus asks him what he sees, he says he sees people, but they look like trees to him. I guess they were still all blurry. I heard one preacher try to explain that there were two healings in this story. One from blindness, and the other from nearsightedness.
I get a feeling that alot of Christians see people like trees - something to be changed. They don't see people. We look at people and throw them in a box labeled 'homeless' or 'drunk' or 'different denomination' or 'non-christian' or 'party guy'. We see reasons to not see people. We see barriers, not brothers.
I might go visit Chris again. I know where he lives. Now I'd like to get to know him.
Homeless people are a unique breed. This guy's name was Chris, and he was from California. Usually I respond like a typical Christian around homeless people - either treat them as a project to save, or ignore them. Today I decided to not do either. So I sat down and talked to him. He told me he was on the streets because people messed with him wherever he went. He said the cops in the area arrested him for sleeping in the park and put him in jail for a month. Evidently it's illegal to sleep in the park. So he sleeps in the alley now. Evidently it isn't illegal to sleep there.
He seemed pretty normal - I was kinda surprised. Usually homeless people I talk to are mentally ill or strung out or really hard to communicate with, but Chris was easy to talk to. We sat there for 20 minutes shooting the breeze. I told him about some things in my world, and he told me some things in his. And as I sat there talking to Chris, I was struck that it seemed pretty normal to talk to him. He was a person, not a project to fix or a problem to be ignored.
I wonder why we don't just get to know people sometimes. I don't just mean homeless people. I mean everyday people. Why do we have to treat them as ministry tasks to be saved or to be repaired or transformed? Couldn't we just see people?
It reminds me of the healing where Jesus heals this guy who was blind, but when Jesus asks him what he sees, he says he sees people, but they look like trees to him. I guess they were still all blurry. I heard one preacher try to explain that there were two healings in this story. One from blindness, and the other from nearsightedness.
I get a feeling that alot of Christians see people like trees - something to be changed. They don't see people. We look at people and throw them in a box labeled 'homeless' or 'drunk' or 'different denomination' or 'non-christian' or 'party guy'. We see reasons to not see people. We see barriers, not brothers.
I might go visit Chris again. I know where he lives. Now I'd like to get to know him.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Finding Hope
I remember getting on the school bus for the first time when I was a little bugger. It was quite an event, and remained quite an event for the next 10 years until I got my license. You see, we were one of the first ones picked up in the morning and the last dropped off each night. We lived in the country - actually, we lived where the word 'boondocks' was invented. We were the farthest from the school that you could be and still be in the school district. We rode for almost an hour and a half in the morning and an hour and 45 min at night. Needless to say, the environment of the school bus became a formative place for me.
One of the first kids I met on the bus was a shy girl from across the block (that meant several miles away). She rode almost as far as I did, and her name was Hope. I had never met anyone with a name like that. Hope and I rode that stupid bus until we were upperclassmen and got our licenses. And the one thing that I remember about Hope was that nobody noticed her. She was a cute girl, but shy and kind of a wall flower in almost everything. She wasn't one of those girls with attitude; she was one of those girls that got overlooked in almost everything. She always struck me as an undiscovered gem. She always looked like she was about to blossom and someone might notice her, but it never quite happened. She always seemed to get lost between the bus pick ups and the bus drop offs. Nobody seemed to want to take the time to see her, to draw her out, to celebrate who she was.
I have clients sometimes that can't seem to find hope. I want to tell them that she's there if they would notice her, but they probably wouldn't get it. What I have learned over the years is that we can't live without hope. I don't mean the girl on the bus. I mean that sense that things will work out, they they will be okay, that there might be an end to our struggles just around the corner. At our core, I believe each of us longs to know there is hope for us. When we feel the most flawed, we want to know that it will end someday. When we are at the bottom of life, we want to know there is another day coming. When it finally hits us that we will always reap what we sow, we hope for the day when the old seeds of sin die and the good ones we've sown begin to produce. I personally find that having hope can make or break my day, my week, my life, my relationships. And for me, hope is the stubborn insistence to believe Papa is still working and knows my plight, and cares (more than I could ever imagine).
I wonder how much our lives would change if we were to notice hope? I wonder if we were to draw her out, if we were to appreciate that gem, how much more often we would see her. I wonder if she is always there and yet unlooked for.
One of the things that I think I do well as a coach is help people find hope. Having missed her most of my childhood, I work hard to see her now. And I find she is everywhere - when I look for her.
PS: Somewhere out there in the world there is a Hope that I grew up with. I don't ever expect she will read this. But if she were to read this blog, this is what I would say; I'm sorry I stood around like the others and let you disappear into the background. I wish I would have worked harder at celebrating the undiscovered gems in life back then, so today I would notice them more frequently. Because I think if I were to see the undiscovered gems now, I'd see more clearly my Papa's face.
One of the first kids I met on the bus was a shy girl from across the block (that meant several miles away). She rode almost as far as I did, and her name was Hope. I had never met anyone with a name like that. Hope and I rode that stupid bus until we were upperclassmen and got our licenses. And the one thing that I remember about Hope was that nobody noticed her. She was a cute girl, but shy and kind of a wall flower in almost everything. She wasn't one of those girls with attitude; she was one of those girls that got overlooked in almost everything. She always struck me as an undiscovered gem. She always looked like she was about to blossom and someone might notice her, but it never quite happened. She always seemed to get lost between the bus pick ups and the bus drop offs. Nobody seemed to want to take the time to see her, to draw her out, to celebrate who she was.
I have clients sometimes that can't seem to find hope. I want to tell them that she's there if they would notice her, but they probably wouldn't get it. What I have learned over the years is that we can't live without hope. I don't mean the girl on the bus. I mean that sense that things will work out, they they will be okay, that there might be an end to our struggles just around the corner. At our core, I believe each of us longs to know there is hope for us. When we feel the most flawed, we want to know that it will end someday. When we are at the bottom of life, we want to know there is another day coming. When it finally hits us that we will always reap what we sow, we hope for the day when the old seeds of sin die and the good ones we've sown begin to produce. I personally find that having hope can make or break my day, my week, my life, my relationships. And for me, hope is the stubborn insistence to believe Papa is still working and knows my plight, and cares (more than I could ever imagine).
I wonder how much our lives would change if we were to notice hope? I wonder if we were to draw her out, if we were to appreciate that gem, how much more often we would see her. I wonder if she is always there and yet unlooked for.
One of the things that I think I do well as a coach is help people find hope. Having missed her most of my childhood, I work hard to see her now. And I find she is everywhere - when I look for her.
PS: Somewhere out there in the world there is a Hope that I grew up with. I don't ever expect she will read this. But if she were to read this blog, this is what I would say; I'm sorry I stood around like the others and let you disappear into the background. I wish I would have worked harder at celebrating the undiscovered gems in life back then, so today I would notice them more frequently. Because I think if I were to see the undiscovered gems now, I'd see more clearly my Papa's face.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
What's in the heart
I have this process I go through sometimes. I am doing it right now. I pause for a moment and ask myself the question "What is in my heart right now?" Then I pause again and listen. Pretty profound, huh?
I guess I believe that the heart is where Papa is going to speak to me most of the time, so going there makes sense. Sometimes I hear Him there. Othertimes I hear louder voices that I have begun to distinguish as not His voice. Like right now, as I look in my heart, I find fear. It is pretty big fear too. I don't like it. I want to get really busy with something so I don't have to look at that place inside of me, so I don't have to listen. But if I choose to stop and listen, I have to listen to the fear. Not like it is right or wrong, but that I can learn from it and follow it to the foot of the throne again.
Today, the fear is pretty big, and when I listen to it for very long, I hear it tell me this. "Life is too good. You are going to screw it up. You had better get your ass in gear and do something or this will all go away. Because ultimately it is about you - this is your making, and yours to unmake. Work hard, make it happen, spin the plates so the ride lasts longer".
The road has taken us to some very new and wonderful places. I spend my days getting to do exactly what I want. My needs are met, and I even have a new toy (it has two wheels and a motor). Everything is as I have always longed for it to be. I have it made. That doesn't mean that life doesn't have its share of problems. But it means that if I could design the perfect life, this would be it. I'd make it just like this.
I have never experienced this before. I have always been running after the bigger and better. The truth is I am happy, and I don't know what to do about it.
And I am convinced inside that it will all fall apart if I don't hold the world together. The funny thing is that I didn't do much to make life this way - it is a gift from God. Literally. He worked things out, He brought us here, He is to blame for all the greatness of life. The fear in me tells me it is up to me. The truth inside of me reminds me that this is about Him, not me, and there isn't much I can do about it. I sat through a horrible season in life for several years, where thing after thing came down on me. I suffered. I know that sounds a little dramatic, but those who know where the road has taken me the last few years would agree. Injustice was done, life was unfair, people were nasty, and I suffered through and still believed in Papa's love. Now I find myself in a new season where things couldn't be better, and I am having a heck of a time 'suffering through' this one. I guess it was easier to see 'testing of my faith' as enduring when things went wrong. Now that things are much more pleasurable than I ever imagined they could be, I am learning a new lesson about getting my faith tested. I am faced with tough questions like "Will I stop worrying about how I can screw this up and just enjoy it?" Or the question "Will I trust Papa when He gives good things? I trusted Him when everything was taken away. How about now?"
Suddenly the story of Job comes to mind. Not that I have been through anything compared to him, but I wonder if it was hard, after all the loss and all the suffereing, to fully enjoy all that Papa gave him at the end of the story?
I am learning that He is good and He is my loving Papa, regardless of what happens around me, good or bad.
He is. And that is enough - or at least I am learning.
I guess I believe that the heart is where Papa is going to speak to me most of the time, so going there makes sense. Sometimes I hear Him there. Othertimes I hear louder voices that I have begun to distinguish as not His voice. Like right now, as I look in my heart, I find fear. It is pretty big fear too. I don't like it. I want to get really busy with something so I don't have to look at that place inside of me, so I don't have to listen. But if I choose to stop and listen, I have to listen to the fear. Not like it is right or wrong, but that I can learn from it and follow it to the foot of the throne again.
Today, the fear is pretty big, and when I listen to it for very long, I hear it tell me this. "Life is too good. You are going to screw it up. You had better get your ass in gear and do something or this will all go away. Because ultimately it is about you - this is your making, and yours to unmake. Work hard, make it happen, spin the plates so the ride lasts longer".
The road has taken us to some very new and wonderful places. I spend my days getting to do exactly what I want. My needs are met, and I even have a new toy (it has two wheels and a motor). Everything is as I have always longed for it to be. I have it made. That doesn't mean that life doesn't have its share of problems. But it means that if I could design the perfect life, this would be it. I'd make it just like this.
I have never experienced this before. I have always been running after the bigger and better. The truth is I am happy, and I don't know what to do about it.
And I am convinced inside that it will all fall apart if I don't hold the world together. The funny thing is that I didn't do much to make life this way - it is a gift from God. Literally. He worked things out, He brought us here, He is to blame for all the greatness of life. The fear in me tells me it is up to me. The truth inside of me reminds me that this is about Him, not me, and there isn't much I can do about it. I sat through a horrible season in life for several years, where thing after thing came down on me. I suffered. I know that sounds a little dramatic, but those who know where the road has taken me the last few years would agree. Injustice was done, life was unfair, people were nasty, and I suffered through and still believed in Papa's love. Now I find myself in a new season where things couldn't be better, and I am having a heck of a time 'suffering through' this one. I guess it was easier to see 'testing of my faith' as enduring when things went wrong. Now that things are much more pleasurable than I ever imagined they could be, I am learning a new lesson about getting my faith tested. I am faced with tough questions like "Will I stop worrying about how I can screw this up and just enjoy it?" Or the question "Will I trust Papa when He gives good things? I trusted Him when everything was taken away. How about now?"
Suddenly the story of Job comes to mind. Not that I have been through anything compared to him, but I wonder if it was hard, after all the loss and all the suffereing, to fully enjoy all that Papa gave him at the end of the story?
I am learning that He is good and He is my loving Papa, regardless of what happens around me, good or bad.
He is. And that is enough - or at least I am learning.
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