If...

This is a poem from Rudyard Kipling, entitled "If..."

If you can keep your head when all about you   

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

    But make allowance for their doubting too;   

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Longing for the pony express

Certain days find me longing for the return of the pony express. As a man in mid-forties, I of course cannot remember the pony express which ran for just 19 months during the 1860s. But I do remember a time when correspondence was slower. Letters were delivered by postal carriers across the country and around the world. I've always lived with telephones, but they didn't always fit in my pocket and were typically attached to the wall.

The rapid acceleration of information technology has also hurried our communications. What once took days or weeks to convey can now be done instantaneously. I can receive a year's worth of correspondence in a day on a computer little bigger than a deck of playing cards.

To be sure, there are clear advantages to faster communication. I can carry on a conversation throughout the day with my wife who is currently 50 miles from me if and when I need to. Not only can I can send words, but also pictures and videos if I wish. I can sign legal documents and fax them directly from my phone to an office on the other side of the country. I can hear someone's bad news in a moment, and send my condolences and prayers straightaway.

Yet, like all things, the rapidity of communication has problems as well. Who of us has not regrettably sent a text or email that has not been carefully pondered? Who of us wishes that we weren't omniaccessible?

With social media and rapid communication, on a relational level, we end up trading depth for quantity. I have 686 "friends" on Facebook, some of whom I have never met personally and many fewer to whom I would send an actual Christmas card. The type of Trinitarian relating that Jesus prayed about in John 17 is essentially lost in cyberspace.

Further, belonging to an instant-access global community retards our ability to engage in active problem solving for ourselves. One hundred years ago, when someone faced a problem, they did not have the option to text their six nearest friends to seek advice; they had to sit with their problem alone or actually seek out a neighbor or family member for assistance. I believe this is especially true in the world of soul care. The opportunity to sit over a cup of coffee with a real person whom you know and who knows you carries with it a palpability not available on the web. Presence matters.

Finally, our always connected world limits our opportunity to be alone with ourselves and with God. Shutting out electronic distractions is physically uncomfortable for many of us, so we live always in their presence. Whistles and bells and notifications constantly beckon us away from ourselves and from God.

In sum, I am increasingly aware of the potential harm of constant availability. I don't want you to be able to get ahold of me in a moment's notice (and expect my response) unless there is truly an emergency. Its not good for you and its not good for me. So when I don't immediately respond to your text, email, Facebook message, or voicemail, do not fret. Enjoy the time alone.

Becoming Present

A week or so ago, I wrote this poem based upon Daniel Siegel's "Wheel of Awareness" exercise. In his work with Interpersonal Neurobiology, Dr Siegel encourages this daily practice which enhances awareness of self and relationship.  One starts with the basic senses, progresses to the body's interior, mental activities, and finishes with interconnectedness. As you walk through this poem, I hope you will be able to appreciate the movements taken from my observations on a mid-January's day.

First movement

Breathe

Subtle breeze

Quiet sigh

                        Repeat

Awakening awareness

Becoming present

                       

Listen…

Muffled voices tumble

Through the ambient mask

Of white noise

Designed to deafen

Look…

Tan walls

Visual muzak

Overrun

            By muted watercolor

            And too many diplomas

Smell…

Inhale deeply

            And hold…

Hints of chili

            And coffee

            Beloved beans

Taste…

Tongue discovering

            Consulting the nose

Coffee

            Treasured companion

            Yet bitter when she leaves

Touch…

Fingers lightly

            On the keyboard

Body heavy

            Upon the chair

These five

Reveal the world

Creation’s prime explorers

Yet they’re not alone

Second Movement

Breathe

Subtle breeze

Quiet sigh

                        Repeat

Awakening awareness

Becoming present

Come inside

Hidden interior

Body’s magnificence

            Knit together

            Indwelt

Crooked teeth

            Barely touching

Once broad shoulders

            stooped

            Incurvatus en se

Vertebrae

            Some barely holding hands

            Others squeezing too tight

Arms and legs

            Like a Victorian parlor chair  

Overstuffed and underused

Internal organs

            Harmonizing ad infinitum  

            Until life’s end

The sixth sense

Reveals the world

Inside

Yet it is not alone

Third Movement

Breathe

Subtle breeze

Quiet sigh

                        Repeat

Awakening awareness

Becoming present

Blue hues of sadness

Splashes of yellow

Blooms of red

A canvas of swirling emotion

Thoughts dancing

            Never settling

            Upon one thing

Twirling around the mind’s dancefloor

Hopes and longings

            But for what?

            Peace on Earth?

            That’s quaint

How about peace in me?

Memories and dreams

Images and intentions

            All in the mind’s eye

            Effervescent mental activity

It’s time to mind your mind

The mind too

Reveals the world

Inside

Yet it is not alone

Fourth Movement

Breathe

Subtle breeze

Quiet sigh

                        Repeat

Awakening awareness

Becoming present

Turning outward again

Not to what

But to whom

            Interpersonal interconnection

People surround me

            Yet disconnected

            Living compartmentalized

I hear their voices

            Giving clues to location

            But not to their hearts

Four souls at home

            My bride

            And my littles

I imagine their lunch break

            Four sandwiches

            Four bananas

            Four screens

Same space, different worlds

One planet

Seven billion souls

            And counting

            Yet loneliness abounds

            On anti-social media

Our relationships

Reveal the world

between

that we are not alone

            …or at least should not be

Reprise

Becoming present

Awakening awareness

                        Repeat

Quiet sigh

Subtle breeze

            Breathe

Book Review: Shalom in the Psalms

According to the front cover, Shalom in the Psalms (Baker, 2017) is described as "a devotional from the Jewish heart of the Christian faith." When quickly scanning the text, one quickly sees that the devotional first presents a psalm in its entirety in the Tree of Life Version, followed by a brief reflection or meditation by one or more of the three authors: Jeffrey Seif, Glenn Blank, and Paul Wilbur.

Reading through the book, I had a few observations. First, I was grateful that this book was approached communally by a D.Min., worship leader, and literary editor. Each presents a different perspective on the Psalms and their varying voices were welcome in the book. Although most of us who have come to love the Bible have benefited from our individual meditations, there is real strength in communal study. I particularly liked that some of the meditations were co-authored because one then hears different voices.

Second, I have not been familiar with the Tree of Life Version of the Bible, a translation initially developed by the Jewish Publication Society in 1917. I always find it interesting to read translations with which I am unfamiliar. The TLV version is no different. One of the things most Christian readers will find with this version is that various Hebrew words are retained. This forces one to slow down and not simply gloss over the reading. Poets know that word choice can intentionally slow a person down and that is certainly true here. There were a few times when I found it distracting, however.

Finally, I appreciated the commentators' willingness to ask questions of the text. In his reflection on Psalm 51, one of my favorite Psalms, Paul Wilbur wrote, "I don't really understand verse 6, because the sin was not only against the Lord and His righteousness; David also sinned grievously against Uriah his friend and Bathsheba, Uriah's wife" (p. 124). Too often, when reading the Bible, we assert our understanding, rather than seeking to listen.  Wilbur reminds us that it is good to do that.

On the whole, I would recommend this book. I suspect it will be a resource for me as I continue to explore the Psalms.

I received a copy of this book for review from Baker Books. The views presented here are my own.

T.H.A.G.S. and the Beauty of Sacred Clutter

"For as long as they could remember, Nia had taught the children what she called T.H.A.G.S.* Janner studied writing and poetry. Tink spent his time painting and drawing. Leeli learned to sing and to play the whistleharp. Tink had asked his mother once what was so traditional about learning the T.H.A.G.S. when not one other child in Glipwood was forced to spend hours upon hours drawing the same tree over and over from different angles. 

"'You're an Igiby,' she said as if that answered the question. 

No other boy in Glipwood had to read as many old books or write as many pages as Janner and no other girl in town knew how to play an instrument. All three of the children had some proficiency in each of the T.H.A.G.S. but spent the vast majority of their time perfecting only one. 

*Three Honored and Great Subjects: Word, Form, and Song. Some silly people believe that there's a fourth Honored and Great Subject, but those mathematicians are woefully mistaken. 

-Andrew Peterson, On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, page 78

If you've spent any time in our home, you might describe it as a beautiful mess, or just a mess. You might think we own too much stuff. Perhaps we do. The vertical spaces are covered with guitars and artwork and shelves and fingerprints. Books and animals and tablets and pencils occupy the horizontal. Sacred clutter.






As I look around our home, I am reminded that beauty matters here. Sometimes, there is an overgrowth of unwashed dishes, unfolded clothes, and unpaid bills, but almost always, creative blooms continue to break through.











I am thankful to Andrew Peterson who gave us the term T.H.A.G.S.--Three Honored and Great Subjects. Before I ever read the Wingfeather Saga or knew of the acronym, our home was a sanctuary where the T.H.A.G.S. were valued.


 If you ever stop by on one of our "family create nights," I'll show off my wife's paintings because she's too humble to show them herself. If you're lucky, Grace and Tessa will show you their artwork as well. Ian will gladly play you a song on his ukelele and sing just a bit off tune.

My writings are coming along nicely, though my paintings are further behind. But, with time, I'm learning the process matters more than the product.

Let me encourage you as well.
Get a little bit messy.
Make some mistakes.
Create your own sacred clutter.
Trust me, its beautiful.

fifty books

On the way to church today, I was talking with my kids today about simplification. I made the whimsical claim that someday, I intended to live in a small cabin with no television, a stockpile of art supplies, and 50 books. My daughter Grace quickly replied, "you could never survive with only 50 books." Recognizing my folly, I said, "alright, 5000."

Upon sharing this story, my good friend Mark, a missionary who knows the realities of trimming the excess, challenged me to write a blog post sharing my list of 50 books. I thought it was a wonderful idea and I accepted his challenge. Before sharing my list, I want to share a few relevant details about my reading life as well as a few guiding principles that I used when constructing my list.

First, the relevant details. I am an avid reader. My current library has somewhere between 4000 and 5000 books and occupies one level of our home. I typically read 100 or more books each year. Last year was light at 93, whereas 2015 was more productive at 144. So even on the light end, with only 50 books, most would be read twice.

Second, to the guiding principles. As I was walking through my library, I tried to keep a few things in mind. I wanted books that had staying power, in other words, that I would want to read them repeatedly, year after year. The intention in coming up with only 50 is that these would be THE 50 and that I couldn't exchange them out. I would be stuck with them. Also, as long as they were available in a single volume, that would count for me as a book. Some of you may think that is cheating, but I don't care: my list, my rules. I also wanted sufficient variety to keep myself interested. If I chose 50 books that all dealt with systematic theology, I would probably get bored quickly. In other words, I wanted a 50 book library that contained a variety I would want to read again and again.

So, without further ado, here are my 50.

Christmas Eve Evanescence

I didn’t see you come in, but there you were all the same. Right side, fourth row, standing in front of me. Were you there as we sang, “God rest ye merry gentlemen?” If you were, I didn’t notice you. Forgive me. While singing “tidings of comfort and joy,” I failed to offer them to you.

When the band ceased, I stood to offer a Christmas welcome. I tried to look upon the gathered crowd, but the spotlights blinded me. I encouraged everyone to really listen to the lyrics of these familiar carols. Familiarity breeds contempt, but it can also breed forgetfulness.  These songs tell the most amazing story if only we would properly tune our attention. Were you able to hear?

I first noticed you when we stood to sing “Silent Night,” our candlelight anthem. Along the aisles, the ushers lit the candles. One by one, flames leapt to life. You were on the inside of your row, sitting alone, a chair between you and Izzy. Forgive me again; I initially thought you were a child. You were barely taller than Izzy and thin. You held your unlit candle, standing stone still, a charcoal shadow in a pool of lights. With whispered encouragement from her mother, Izzy brought her light to you. Trembling, trembling you tilted your wick to meet her flame. And we sang,

            Silent night, Holy night,

Son of God, Love's pure light,

Radiant beams from Thy holy face,

With the dawn of redeeming grace,

Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth.

Did you sing? I couldn’t tell. You were a statue in front of me, the only movement the anxious flame in your folded hands. Perhaps you were heeding my request--listening, listening.

With candles extinguished, the music continued telling us that old gospel story: 

            “Disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death’s dark shadows put to flight.”  

As I fumbled with the harmony, I continued to watch you. You drew your dark peacoat around your slumped shoulders and you gripped your purse tightly. Your private thoughts were nearly audible: “Am I safe to leave? If I go now, perhaps no one will notice me.” You nervously shifted from foot to foot. You briefly surveyed the congregation calculating your escape, questioning, questioning. With surprising swiftness, you disappeared.

I longed to stop you, to put a hand upon your shoulder and invite you to stay. Like normal, my logic prevailed. What woman, especially one so afraid, wants a strange man three times her size to bar her escape? Like the smoke from your candle, you were gone in an instant. Christmas Eve evanescence.

I returned my attention to pondering Immanuel, God with us.  Forgive me, forgive me, thrice forgive me. In pondering Immanuel, I forgot to show you Immanuel. I forgot that in His church, Jesus is more than lyric; He is life. 

A plea for greater discernment

Tune your ears to the world of Wisdom;
set your heart on a life of Understanding.
-Proverbs 2 (MSG)

Many Americans felt that 2016 was a particularly terrible year. A political changing of the guard, oft-publicized episodes of violence, and the loss of many familiar celebrities dominated our thinking and emotion.

In our social media world, one of the things that often seemed evident was our national lack of discernment. Too many of us have abandoned scalpel-sharp insight for bludgeoning hammers of information, even when that information may be false. We convince ourselves of the truthfulness of what we read when it conforms to our narrative without bothering to discern what is true. Whether on the political right or left, we allow truth to be determined by our preferred media outlets while at the same time castigating those who oppose us. And it is to our shame.

Unfortunately, for many of us this lack of discernment shows up in our every day lives as well. We have a narrative for life and we actively seek sources that support our narrative. Psychologists call this a confirmation bias. We favor information that bolsters our preconceptions while either ignoring or flat out denying incongruous information.

Sadly, this can have profound effects upon relationships as well. In some cases, people are more willing to abandon relationships, even long-standing ones, than to try to apply wisdom, insight, or discernment into determining what is true. Rather than seeking after wisdom and truth, they seek counsel from those who will parrot their preconceptions.

Considering this, here are a few things to think about:
1) Seek humility. We should develop the habit of asking the question, "is it possible that I'm wrong?"
2) Actively listen to those with whom you disagree. Even if you ultimately continue to disagree, a willingness to listen serves you well.
3) Pursue long-term relationships. Acquaintances often cannot provide informed counsel because they know neither you, nor the situations you are facing. If the people you are listening to never disagree with you or challenge you, they are not a friend, they are an echo chamber. Seek deep relationships with people who are willing to pursue both truth and love with you.