The Comedy of Summer Plans

Summer plans are funny. In May, we talk about all the things we'll do this summer. In September, we try to figure out what to do with the residue our unmet expectations leave on our lives. Now it's October. As a pastor, this means I'm busy. A colleague in ministry, also a Vikings fan, is at the Jets-Vikings game tonight. I'm not.

To watch the game tonight on television I had to arrange things with myself and get serious about not sitting with the laptop on my lap. Of course it is ... right here ... on my lap, my fingers tapping the keys.

Perhaps you were expecting theological reflection. This is. If I don't put this laptop down immediately, we all have solid evidence that I have a theological problem. Reformed theology rests, laughs off drivenness, taunts "rat race," image maintaining anxiety.

The summer's over, in more ways than one. I'm shutting this thing off.


(By the way, I took a look at all my unposted blogs that I was going to haul out. See below. There was a reason I didn't publish these! So, the last entry is the last of its type.)

The problem with problems

This is part one of a series of older, shorter blurbs of mine that never got posted...

"Watching the Masters (a golf tournament, for those of you who don't know or don't care) reminds me how bad I am at golf. Golf is a series of problems; it's "a good walk ruined" said Mark Twain or somebody like him. Maybe golf bores or angers you, but it is like any other sport or art; it's hard. It's a challenge to get the little ball in the hole or the basketball in the hoop or the baseball over the fence. Opera, sculpture, Shakespeare, and Beethoven are also difficult. Any great thing is difficult. I know this, but something in me seems addicted to forgetting it. If I hit the ball in the water or play a wrong note, I think it's bad. I think I'm bad. No. It's just hard. Hard things come by trial and error. Life is hard. Even the best golfers play like me sometimes.

Sometimes it's preferable to watch others go at it. Sometimes it's easier to sit it out.

But then I remember: easy's got nothing to do with it.

Finishing Well

I'm 45 years old today. Certain numbers hit people in different ways. We all have birthdays that come and go without much drama, but we all also have those birthdays that hit us hard. Time is running out. For some reason turning 27 was hard for me. I think 53 was a hard one for my dad. 30 and 40 are classically difficult. 45 is nothing to sneeze at. I better get going. My to-do list is now a to-do soon list. Someday is today. This is how I'm feeling. I think it's healthy. In fact, I'm convinced it's God. To be someone who attempts to follow Christ is to be someone who yearns to finish well. Nothing has more appeal.

But finishing well means something different at 45 with two little kids than it did at 27 when I felt like I was still too much of a kid. It means something different when there's no part of any competition or contest anywhere that seems more interesting than having the time to sit outside on my deck and read a book. It means something different when I genuinely let go of what people think and say about me, good or bad. It means something different when time is precious because it's something I can give to others instead something I can give to myself. It means something different. Getting older means there's less time left, but it also takes the pressure off. My teenaged dreams of greatness now are safely dead and buried. I don't even listen to U2 anymore, never mind want to be their keyboard player. There are all kinds of things I can forget about, put away, dismiss, and release into the wind.

Why do people complain about getting older? Especially Christians? There's a sweetness to this. I'm enjoying, like never before, a great cup of coffee, a pending thunder storm, and an unmowed lawn that I won't harm of blade of today. The striving of youth with all its perspiring ambition gives way to the smiling, settled indifference of slightly weary middle age. (How's that for bad writing!) Now I want to do things because I want to do them, not because I want them to do something for me. I feel urgency and drive, but they're different. They're calmer and less prone to frustration. Is it possible that the older you get, the younger you feel in your spirit? Is it possible that the more certain and abundant your failures in life have been, the more you can really succeed in ways that satisfy your spirit?

One thing is certain.

There's an amazing difference between the life God chooses for us and the life we would choose for ourselves.

Work at Not Being a Jerk

I've seen people act like jerks. It's part of my profession. Pastors see people at their best and at their worst. We also see many people act like jerks. Every pastor I know has struggled with this. We want people we're charged to care for not to sabotage themselves spiritually or socially and not to hurt others. Of course, some people do it anyway. We then have the difficult job of trying to help the jerk, trying to help others not be jerks themselves in reacting to the jerk, and trying to undo the damage to the environment that jerky behavior causes. The official definition of a jerk is "a contemptibly obnoxious person." Herein lies the true problem; it is the contempt. I know it's the adverb in this definition, but contempt is the real edge of jerkiness as well as the problem inside the hearts of those who are affected by it. Obnoxious behavior by itself doesn't hurt anyone. It's when contempt drives it and contempt informs how it is experienced that people start hurting themselves and others. Here are some approaches that help me in dealing with jerks:

1) Don't take their behavior personally. This is the root of contempt. To hold people in contempt is to disregard them, to look down on them, to see oneself as better than them, to scorn them, and to see them as worthless. This is exactly what jerks do. They disregard you and your feelings. Don't let them. You accomplish this by not taking it personally.

2) Don't be a jerk to those who are being a jerk to you. Don't return the favor. Don't apply a backwards golden rule. Contemptibly obnoxious behavior is contagious. It can be like a cancer. Recognize this and take it seriously. Don't drink from the cup of contempt, no matter how tempted you are. The temptation is great too. Don't underestimate this. Often, jerky behavior seems like the best route. It never is.

3) Consider the real source. People act like jerks, but this doesn't mean that they are jerks. Sure, they define themselves and even defend their behavior as jerks. Hard core jerks are hard to talk down from their perches of contempt. Nevertheless, and no matter what they say, this is not who they really are. Often personal pain is the seed for contemptible conduct. Bullies are suffocating in their fear. Blamers are trapped by deception and insecurity. Bashers are burning inside with anger. Show them pity, not contempt. They need the forgiveness and healing of God that comes through Christ. Pray for them to get it. "Lord, have mercy on this wounded person. Keep him/her from continuing down this path. Keep me from showing them contempt, from joining them. Give me a heart to love even those who act like jerks. Amen."

Men's Room Cleaning Insights

A few teased me for how long it took me to clean the toilets and everything else in the main men's room in our new building over the weekend. I defended myself poorly by recounting the fact that construction workers have been using (and not really cleaning) this men's room for months. Also, those stickers on new toilets, urinals, and sinks can be a bear to remove. Anyway, here are some profound insights for life derived from my "leisurely" cleaning of the men's room in the new building.

1) The smallest thing, dust, can present the biggest problem. This is how it is throughout life. The small things, especially the really small things, hog up all our time and energy. There was dust everywhere. It was on every surface. The bathroom will need another cleaning next week to get it ready for Easter because there will be more dust. There is always more dust. Small stuff happens. We can decide not to "sweat the small stuff," but we still have to deal with it and there is sometimes a high cost in dealing with it.

2) The nasty mess inside each of the toilet bowls was the easiest thing to clean. Harsh chemicals, blue and fresh smelling, combined with a simple, sturdy brush, tidied things up quickly. One possible reason I was alone in my cleaning project was how scary and disgusting these bowls seemed. Life is like this too. The problems that look big are often no problem at all.

3) Sometimes we're asked to sacrifice control for convenience. This bathroom has automatic sinks. You just put your hands under them and they pour forth luke warm water. This is fine unless you're trying to clean the sink! It was quite of battle of wits between me and the little invisible hand-detecting eyeballs hiding out there somewhere under each faucet! I learned to trick them by quick motions. I felt a little like Neo from the Matrix. I'm just glad those guys who timed my cleaning efforts weren't there to watch this. I would never hear the end of it. Is convenience worth the control we sacrifice for it?

Aren't you glad I wrote about this here instead of using it in a sermon? Can you see the PowerPoint pictures of toilets and brushes? Probably not, eh? Perhaps the final insight here is that we can learn from anything on any day.

Seasons

It is difficult to write about some things in a given platform. Were I to write about what I've been thinking lately, I suspect this tiny blog, because it is public, despite the fact that it is seldom read, would not be the appropriate place. I had a formal conversation with a respected colleague today who knows me well and knows well the details of various situations I find myself in as a church pastor. She diagnosed me as someone in transition. She did not intend for me to experience her reflections as a diagnosis. I offered the visual of a river with a slow but constant current. The current is sometimes too slow; other times it is too fast. These perceived speed differences are unrelated to the actual current. They are the result of unsteady emotions. Such emotions accompany real change. The change is the steady current. I admit that I'm in the midst of real change. I'm moving down a new river. Things that once interested me no longer do. The flames that once lit certain goals now only exist in my memories. What I once craved as success was only the idea of success. A woman last night at a church function spoke about the increased use of our new building this Easter and beyond and chirped, "Pastor John, your dream is coming true." I too quickly and too firmly retorted, "This is not my dream!" She didn't understand. I hastily buried my rude clarity under pillows of fuzz and niceness. But the truth remains: despite good ministry and a fine new building, there is nothing associated with the work God has called me to as a pastor that presently falls under the category of "dream." This is new for me and challenging, but more challenging is any attempt I've made to explain it to my wife, myself, and even God. Is this how a called person, with many of life's direction questions cancelled by vows, experiences mid-life crisis or "half-time?" As always, I find Scripture verses anchor my wavering mind. Ecclesiastes 3:1 is one of a handful of verses that talks about a season. "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven." There's also a verse I'm preaching this weekend. 2nd Timothy 4:2 commands me to "preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction." No two seasons are the same. One season does little to prepare us for the next. Slowly the current of time pulls us out of one and into another. There's nothing anyone can do to stop this.

Yet I look forward to spring. Maybe I have a dream about spring. Thank God for spring.

Up

I'll write some other time about marathons and how wanting to quit, call it perseverance or idiocy, is the opposite of quitting. It applies to the whole of my life. More interesting to me now is the movie "Up." Our whole family loves it. We have to skip over the parts that make it a PG; Kelsie insists and we comply. They're scary to us too, but we find the core of the movie's message so perfect for us now. "It's the boring parts of life I like the best." says Russell to Carl, or something like that. Amen. Maybe that's the whole point of adventure: to get us in the right frame of mind to appreciate boring evenings together as a family. They are the best. They are life. These days I dream of reading more, running more, and, yes, disappearing into the beautiful, wasteful smallness of serving God wherever and however He calls, but most of all, boring times together with people I love who actually want me to love them. (The definition of love is not that someone loves me, but that someone lets me love them.) This is what Jesus did when he went away to "lonely places" all the time. He left the shallow, lifeless excitement of miraculous Messianic ministry for "boring" times alone with Dad. Jesus is so wise.

Up, indeed.

Humility

John Stott is right. Pride is my worst enemy and humility is my best friend. C.J. Mahaney's little book on humility has been helping me get to know my best friend. It's clear to me that pride is my worst enemy. I know this. I recently described myself in a sermon as having a "massive ego." It's true. So I recommend this book not as someone who should be seen as humble or humbler because he's a pastor who's recommending a book on humility. I struggle horribly with pride. I have an unabridged audio version of Mahaney's book too. So I'm reading and listening to it ... over and over. Pound it in Lord and deliver me to Your cross. One huge point that I've gleaned from this book so far: not even three years of one on one time with Jesus helped the disciples become humble. They competed for position in Mark 10:35-45, proving that not even the best preaching and teaching in the universe (Christ's) ever helps people get humble! Jesus had to die to change these men. It's Jesus' death on the cross that runs off my worst enemy and helps me run to my best friend. His death is my only hope. There is no problem in my life that doesn't melt into proper perspective in the life-giving light and warmth of the humility it generates. The cross proves once again to be home to my every need. Lord, I need You to change me on the inside. Lord, I need You to show me Your cross afresh today. Oppose all that is prideful within me and give grace to the humility You alone, by means of Your death on the cross alone, grant by grace alone.

Does this sound too pious? That's probably because, in my pride, I can't even speak cleanly about humility. I'm constantly looking for what sounds good and what makes me look good. I think I need to get back to reading my book on humility now. :)

Dances With Calendars

It's just a number, just a date, just a change of names, but, regardless, it is a new year. Sometimes it seems pointless to make a fuss about the new year, but this year I feel pulled in a new direction. Why not? What's the harm of resetting and examining my life and its impact? There's none at all, as far as I can tell. This year there's also the challenge of looking at the next ten years, as we begin a new decade. What do I think God wants from me and for me for the next ten years? Is this it? I've been wondering about my whole life recently. Again, this is a good thing. Here's some guidelines for "kicking the tires" on one's life:

1) Pray brief, intense, and frequent prayers (per Martin Luther) without lingering too long on typical prayer fare surrounding personal reflection.

2) Do all the old school goal setting stuff, no matter how cliche it may seem. For example, imagine what's possible if you had no limits. If you could do anything, what would you do? It may feel clunky at first, but dreaming like this is a faith essential. God has little interest in incremental improvements or maintaining status quo. Living by faith isn't for the faint of heart or slackers who love mediocrity. Grandiose dreaming is one of the most effective ways I know of to jump start a lackluster faith or life. Reality, with the Holy Spirit's help, will edit anything that smacks of ego or pride.

3) Forget the past. (Yes, it's that simple, though not that easy. Ask God to help.)

4) Survey your present. Where are you exactly? You can't make any progress until you know. My GPS doesn't work until it tells me where I am. It's the same with our lives.

5) Read, watch, and/or study the biographies of people you admire, people who've done what you feel called by God to do. What did they do that is different from what you are doing? What did they believe that is different from what you are believing?

6) Let someone know your goals or what's changed inside of you that may now change your life's direction. It can be me if you want, just comment here or e-mail me at jtorres@goodwillchurch.org.

7) Always remember those you love and what you want in your life with and for them. This is the hardest one for me because my vocation, as I'm presently navigating through it, tends to leave my family behind. For me, this can't continue. What are the things in your life that can't continue?

May God richly bless you and your family in 2010!