Broken Streaks

Last week, streaks were broken. Wordle befuddled me. Broken streak. It was too dang cold to take a walk outside. Broken streak. I said no to workouts and yes to extra rest. Broken streak.

This week, our insurance company offered an app that adds to my list of potential streaks. If you opt in (I sure did) you can earn a discount on auto insurance. Cool. There are four drivers in my family. Someone says auto insurance discount and I say woohoo! Through my phone, the app tracks distracted driving. My streak is building. And…so is my pride.

Streaks do two things. Like a path, they keep us in line. A streak guides our time and choices, which can be a good thing. I want to drive without distraction and the streak number will encourage me. However, streaks can also encourage idolatry. Like all good things, streaks can be taken past the point of goodness. We become obsessed with them. As though a broken streak makes us a failure, we might rely on our streak to define our self-worth.

This week, I did a bit of starting over. Lent is a fitting season for starting over. You may know the word repentance, a word that gets more attention during Lent. Often, the word is used as instruction, as in, “Repent and stop the not-great thing you’re doing!” Lent begins with a long confession in which we promise to repent. And then we spend 40 days trying not to break the streak.

Despite our best work, streaks break. Life tumbles along and any impressive streak is breakable. Fixing the break means admitting the pride that grew along with the streak.

There is good news in the word repentance. Its literal meaning is “turn around”. To repent is to turn around. But there is more. I will be the first to admit my Biblical Greek is rusty, but I remember the word repentance is most often used in Scripture in a passive form. You do not turn around on your own. Instead, you are turned around. Who does the turning? Who else?

Throughout these 40 days, pride will swell, streaks will be broken, and Jesus will show up there. His streak of mercy is unending.

Photo by Solen Feyissa on Unsplash

Giving Up Christian Radio for Lent

This morning on the drive to school, my daughter and I turned the radio to a Christian station. We like some of the music and it is one of the few non-country stations in my corner of the world. In the 90’s, country music was awesome! Perhaps I’m getting old.

A moment after we started listening to the Christian station, I switched it off. As soon as the person giving the mini-sermon described “godless people” who are trying to raise kids without values, I turned to my daughter and explained that isn’t true. It is not true that parents who believe in God have better values than parents who do not. I did not add that there are plenty of Christian parents whose values I would question. Our commute is too short. And who am I to distinguish parents or anyone by their values?

It is a dangerous Christian faith that sets itself apart by speaking words of judgement. In an age when abuse in the church is finally being uncovered, the judgements related to values are also misplaced.

I am giving up Christian radio for Lent because I do not want to judge my neighbor by their values, but by their need. Where there is need, there is my neighbor whom I am called to love. Where there is any kind of human, “godless” or not, whatever that means, there is brokenness. Where there is mercy, there is Christ.

Where there is music, may you be moved to love your neighbor with the mercy of Christ.

Photo by Mohammad Metri on Unsplash

The Length of Lent

If you were to Google the family tree for the word “Lent”, you would discover that a distant relative of “Lent” is “long”. Lent is the 40-day long stretch between Ash Wednesday and Maundy Thursday, excluding Sundays because each Sunday is a mini-Easter Sunday.

The days can be long during Lent for anyone fasting from something you love. The days can be long yet the weeks can still go fast. You have heard that saying elsewhere; I first heard it as a Bible Camp counselor. The days were long because they were so full. And the weeks went fast.

Your day might be long for any number of reasons. It might be a long day because it is so full or so empty. The day could be long because you are waiting for someone to contact you or waiting for your body to heal.

Long days are not to be wished away. A day is a unique gift – a limited resource. There are only so many and no two are the same. Lent instructs you to lengthen the day to truly see it. Lent is the caution sign on the side of the road to slow you down so that you pay attention.

Try one of these Lenten practices to make your day long enough for you to pay attention.

  • When you talk to someone, notice the color of the person’s eyes. Remember that person, like you, has seen the world through a particular lens shaped by their own experiences. That person, like you, is a beloved child of God.
  • During a meal, notice the individual flavors in whatever you are eating. Can you taste a specific herb? Can you describe to yourself the texture? How many people did it take from start to finish for this food to be on your plate?
  • Take three slow, deep breaths.
  • If you are reading a book, slow down. Savor the words on the page. What a miracle it is to have the ability to read.
  • Set a timer for one minute and sit still. Let your muscles relax, your face included. Notice Jesus sitting beside you.

We are at the start of the 40-day long stretch of Lent. The days are long and yet the weeks go fast. Let Lent teach you something new, that has been there all along.

Photo by Matthew Alexander on Unsplash

It’s Too Cold for Ash Wednesday

In much of the upper Midwest, we may as well crawl into our deep freezers. This is ridiculous. It is so cold, ashes tossed into the crisp, fresh air will turn into icicles. It is too cold for Ash Wednesday.

There are other things to do than go to a church building to be smeared with ashes. It is too busy a time for Ash Wednesday.

It is an unpopular idea to remember our mortality, to name the false promises of our lives, and to admit we need help. It is too hard to face Ash Wednesday.

Yes, it is too cold, too busy, and too hard to face Ash Wednesday. However, there is something on your face that already has. The invisible reminder on your forehead is made visible in the smearing of ashes. Only on this day each year when you do the work of cleaning off the ashes can you see that Christ has already broken into our cold hearts, our busy schedules, and our hard and complicated lives.

Christ has left his mark of mercy on you.

Photo by Adrien Olichon on Unsplash

What Can and Cannot Be Replaced

At the turn of the century, Marcus and I chose dishes for our wedding registry. Fact Check: I chose dishes for our wedding registry! I had spent roughly 9 months working in the home department at Herberger’s in Moorhead a couple of years before when I was a junior at Moorhead State University. The same year I began learning Greek, I learned Pfaltzgraff patterns. Both were magical in their own way.

Pfaltzgraff patterns are mesmerizing – maybe even hypnotic! You focus on the pattern and begin to picture your life with these dishes. You imagine who will sit at a table with you and these dishes. You picture the beautiful food you will eat and imagine the rich stories you might share. In your hypnotic state, you dream of how much love be passed around the table among the perfect family you have just made up in your head.

The Rio pattern caught my attention back in 1998. It is pottery dinnerware, which seemed casual and also grown-up. Two shades of blue and cream color these heavier dishes. I didn’t realize they are heavier dishes.

The truth is Rio was not the best choice. The dinner dishes have not fit well in some of our dishwashers and a heavy plate is not ideal for little kids. They have been sturdy, however, which is ideal for little kids. Even so, Rio is being replaced.

With a gift St. John gave me for my 15-year anniversary, I bought new dishes. Again, I chose the dishes! Marcus will place delicious food on them. Our roles have become clearer in 21 years! But the hypnosis wore off long ago. The Rio dishes were not set before a perfect family. I can only guess that never once have we enjoyed a perfect meal without any spilling of milk or careless words. The family I dreamed up has never once shown up for dinner!

Instead, the table is where we gather as human beings who have often had a long day, a tough conversation or two, friendships that were strained, and problems that were hard.

As the Rio pattern is replaced, I now have a better, non-hypnotic picture of the family that will use the new dishes. It is not the same family I had imagined! The same is true for you. The people who show up in our lives are not the ones we imagined. We can pick (and replace) the dinnerware pattern but not the people. We can set the table but not the cast of characters.

Which means you, unlike your dishes, are simply not replaceable.

Photo by Brooke Lark on Unsplash

The Week Before the Ashes

‘Tis the week before Ash Wednesday, and all through the churches, pastors and deacons are scurrying about!

They locate the burnt, pulverized palm branches and remind each other not to mix ashes with water. On Ash Wednesday, we smear ashes where they can be seen and say out loud what is meant to be left unsaid: “From dust you have come, and to dust you shall return.”

In one week, the word will be out. You cannot buy your way out of death, or schmooze your way, or overpower your way. No matter what you have or who you are, no matter the power you have accumulated or the reputation you have earned, your composition matches everyone else’s. You are dust.

This is bad news for those who have multiple homes and multiple savings accounts. Bad news for those who have worked their way to the top. Bad news for those who can buy a younger face or a great, big boat. Bad news for those whose dreams are made of plastic or steel or engineered wood siding. Dust dirties our dreams.

And yet, this is good news for everyone else. For those who have no home, who have no work, who have a leathery face and no boat. For those who have wrecked their reputation, lost their way, and tasted the dust of despair. These beloved know quite well that life is dust and therefore we are dust.

From the dusty and despairing, the rest of us might learn to let go. You are dust, and therefore your life is not your own. You are dust, beloved dust, with a dusty future that entails none of what you own, none of what you did, none of what you wrecked. Dust is a pile of forgiveness smeared on your forehead.

‘Tis the week before Ash Wednesday. Already you are dust. Good news abounds.

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Your Child’s Plate

Your child’s plate can be a conversation starter. With a plate of food in front of a hungry toddler, he might actually sit long enough for you to begin a conversation with the bigger people in your family.

Or a plate might begin a conversation to decide what should be on it, usually more vegetables. The purpose of the food on the plate is to help a kid grow stronger.

The older kids get, daily weeknight meals become impossible, yet you can still find a kid with a plate in front of her. Pounce on that moment like Tigger, all ears, ready to hear anything the beloved teenager is willingly to say! Listening over a plate of food helps a kid grow stronger.

When kids become too busy, we might say, “Your plate is full.” This is a different conversation starter that has nothing to do with food and everything to do with getting stronger.

As the person who often dished up their food over the years, you are mostly responsible for what is on your child’s plate. You scoop up responsibility in the measure appropriate to that particular individual. Like estimating calories, there is no universal way of knowing how many spoonfuls of responsibility a kid needs to get stronger. This is the worst news for every parent. What worked for that kid will certainly not work for this kid. You will reinvent a million wheels in your vocation of parenting, and only you will notice.

Instead of negotiating vegetables, like in the early years, you will find yourself negotiating responsibility. Can you handle both your schoolwork and joining that team? How many nights of this sport is just right? Are you keeping up with chores at home or do you need to take something off your plate?

You watch to discourage them from overcrowding their plates, although in the end, you are no more than a coach on the sidelines. You are the director of the play who can only sit back and watch it unfold on opening night. You are the school cook who dishes up but does not monitor the eating.

Once in a while, you help your child carry her plate. It has become overcrowded, heavy, too full. And you assure her there are times when we all need help carrying our plate because it has become too full. This is life with Jesus. We dish up what matters in hopes of growing stronger, but some matters are heavier than others. And then the strongest act becomes the act of saying, “Hey you, parent on the other side of this plate, a little help over here.” Which is all practice for the daily act of prayer: “Hey you, Jesus, a little help over here.”

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What Do You Long to Know?

“See how my heart is open, Lord;
how I long to know the wisdom of Your ways;
the mysteries of Your mercy.”

Psalm 25, “Sheltering Mercy: Prayers Inspired By the Psalms”

What do you long to know? The psalmist longs to know the mysteries of God’s mercy. With everything going on in your own life today, what is it you long to know?

I have noticed recently, or been reminded maybe, of the mysteries of the future for youth and young adults in that particular season of life. I remember longing to know what the future held for me. Where did I belong and with whom? What work would I do and where?

As youth and young adults round the last corner of an academic year, the mysteries of the future can be a heavy burden. Longing to know the future of companionship, vocation and the next permanent address can be lonely work.

In this stage of life, what I long to know is different. I long to know the future for my own kids and what my work will look like in the decades around the corner. I long to know what will happen to Inspector Gamache and if I will ever write that second book.

Today, what do you long to know? The psalmist’s heart is open in Psalm 25. As you long to know whatever it might be you long to know, let the mystery of God’s mercy guide your longing. And keep your heart open.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

The Warm Embrace of 2 Words

On Sunday evening I began to open thank you cards. Each day, a few at time until my eyes become too teary to read the blurred words. Today I managed a bigger stack, although I have no desire to rush through them. Like my savoring of Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache series, there is far more reason to slow down than hurry up!

In January, I picked up a weekly habit I’d set aside for a year, writing 4-5 thank you notes on Tuesday mornings. Calling/texting or emailing each member of St. John on their birthdays replaced this practice in 2022. This year, it’s back to the routine I learned from Chick Lane. Tuesday thank you’s recognize how members of St. John live out our mission of Living in Service to Christ. The child who smiles at someone new at worship, the person who shares an offering of music or advocates for justice in a public way set the mission in motion. Deacons and pastors often witness faith-filled moments and I find it so fun to point them out.

Thank you are words that offer a warm embrace, a friendly bear hug. Perhaps the Spirit draws us closer together when we recognize human generosity. Amid the busy landscape of people’s lives, these two words given or received slow us down enough to notice how much we all need each other.

I’m not sure how other industries recognize 15 years of service. But these cards are by far the greatest gift of all! Thank you.

Photo by Helena Lopes: https://www.pexels.com/photo/four-person-standing-on-cliff-in-front-of-sun-697243/

Logs, Specks and Blame Validation

We all know them: Christians who bubble over with judgement, who hold people to impossible standards, whose words of criticism set a bushel basket over the gleam of Christ’s mercy. Not only do we know them, we are them.

“You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor’s eye.”

Matthew 7:5

Ugh! It might be the disturbing image of a log lodged in a person’s eye that makes this verse unforgettable. How careless must a person be to end up with log in the eye? The logistics baffle me.

Sure, Jesus is being hyperbolic. Stretching the illustration to ridiculous proportions, he wants you to realize that at the very moment you are judging someone, you are ignoring the many reasons you could be judged.

I know, I don’t like it either!

Today I learned a new term: “blame validation”. It means that first we find someone to blame and then we create reasons to justify it. We live out our toddler years again and again when we point blame and judgement far away from our own selves.

  • The country’s deficit dilemma? It’s those politicians on the other side.
  • The murder of Tyre Nichols? It was ___ fault. Not my problem.
  • My own home state is facing extreme legislation related to gun laws and abortion. Blame validation fills the space between each line of the bills.
  • The toaster waffles are gone? It’s my brother’s fault.

While it may appear to make our lives easier to point blame and judgement, it actually makes our lives more complicated. Judgement is corrosive to our hearts. Where compassion is needed, we paste over the corrosion with self-righteousness. Practicing blame validation, we continue to come up with reasons to justify the blame. This is particularly dangerous if we hang around people who agree with us.

This is always a good question for self-reflection. Who do I visit who does not agree with me politically? Visiting with people who are willingly to challenge you in a respectful way will always make you wiser. They will help you see the log you somehow got stuck in your eye. If you are courageous enough to keep the conversation going, you will then help them see the speck in their own eye. The following week, the roles will be reversed: you with the speck and your conversation companion with the log.

In Matthew, chapter seven, it helps to keep reading. Jesus follows up the log and speck illustration with instructions for prayer.

“Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock; and the door will be opened for you.”

Matthew 7:7

And a few verses later, the “golden rule”.

“In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.”

Matthew 7:12

Jesus moved from warning against judgement, to instructions to pray persistently, to the ancient law to love your neighbor as yourself. We may want to rephrase that verse to say, “judge your neighbor as yourself,” but that would put us out of bounds. As much as we feel drawn to the judge’s seat, we do not belong there. Ever.

Notice yourself today when you slip into blame validation. Then check your eye for a log.

Photo by Atlas Kadrów on Unsplash