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Messy Love

ChvNc1e56jjiFBwqXb7O52zXmKsXvjGCcwIajjjTkrwFor forty years he pursued me. Starting when I was just barely fifteen. He fell in love after a couple dates. I had my doubts. He didn’t even know me. I feared intimacy. But Tim never gave up.

Now I realize we fought in different ways. But with the same purpose. We fought for the relationship. Together we pushed through the tension. We failed, we succeeded, then we failed some more. But we made it to the finish line.

Every great story has a struggle. A fight to overcome the odds. And the best ones are when small overcomes great. Or weak finds the fight to defeat the strong.

How many times have we watched the timid warrior pick up his sword? We see the tension as he grits his teeth. Our hearts race as he runs into battle. We inch forward to the edge of our seats.

And when he slays the dragon, we can’t help ourselves. We collectively rise to our feet, pump our fists in the air, and cheer.

Why?

Because God placed a little bit of eternity in our hearts. And it’s the opposite of the fallen world we live in. This world that longs to be righted. Where the end is already written, but yet to be lived out.

So, what if our biggest enemies aren’t demons and dragons? What if it’s our incessant need to be comfortable? To at all cost, withdraw from the tension. To remove ourselves from the fight. To avoid relationships that can potentially cause us pain.

Comfort is the breeding ground of mediocrity. The place where we give up the fight. Where we settle for less than our fullest potential. Where we never push ourselves to see what comes out.

Brene Brown says, “We want love to be unicorns and rainbows. Then Jesus comes in and dies.”

And God calls it…LOVE.

Messy, painful, overcoming…LOVE.

 

What Have You Been Doing the Last 40 Years?

IMG_3339Last weekend, I sat beside my sister Sheila, looking around the room at sixty fellow students of our 1974 high school class. I don’t understand these reunions. Over the years, I’ve been part of groups that once dissolved, left a more pronounced hole in my life. But we Americans love high school reunions. And for some reason I felt compelled to go.

Though older than me by eighteen months, Sheila and I spent our twelve years of schooling in the same grade. Born premature, and very small for her age, my parents held her back so she wouldn’t be alone. Always quiet and reserved, Sheila was the antithesis of me.

So, it didn’t surprise me when one of our classmates walked across that ballroom and said to Sheila, “When I saw your name on the list, I just knew I had to come.”

I remembered Jerry, and I remembered how close he and Sheila were. What I didn’t know was how every morning, Sheila swung by his house so they could walk to school together.

Now I know I’m a little rough around the edges. And I’ve become accustomed to people noting how much I’ve changed. And Jerry was no exception.

“You scared me in High School,” he said with a laugh. “One day I was at your house and you gave me a look that scared me to death.”IMG_3338

Thankfully he finished his outburst by saying, “But you’re really different now.” Reassuring words to this battered old soul.

Regardless of who we were yesterday, we’ve all got the tools to grow. Every experience we go through, we can choose how to respond. And even when we blow it, we can still follow Christ’s lead. We can always apply humility by seeking forgiveness.

Dallas Willard once said, “What matters is not the accomplishments you achieve; what matters is the person you become.”

Easy words to say, but so hard to live out.

My first response is to blame others for my misfortune. Or to shake my fist at God for the fate He’s bestowed upon me. To justify my bitterness and rage.

But the older I get, the more I value my ability to back pedal.

Because I don’t ever want to stop fighting the good fight. I want to stay in the ebb and flow of striking out, asking for forgiveness, and applying grace when I’m wronged.

I don’t ever want to stop picking up the pieces of my broken life. I want to keep lifting them up and asking Him, “What in the world am I supposed to do with this?”

You see, just because I tend to get off the path. Or I seem to often lose my way. It doesn’t mean I don’t know where I’m going. Because I do. And I’m determined to keep pressing on. To stay in the fight. To never, ever give up.

All I ask is that you not lose hope in me until I finally make it home.

I’m Selfish – How About You?

AJM & UE

For my entire adult life, she’s never been more than a phone call away. And call her I did. She was the first to learn Daniel was arrested. The first one told Tim had cancer. Over the phone we celebrated all my life’s accomplishments. And we cried over all my challenges.

For the past 50 some years, I’ve spent hours pouring my heart out to her, knowing she’d not only understand, but also give me a perspective to help me to grow.

So it’s hard to watch Aunt Jeanne Marie struggle with dementia. It’s hard to adjust when she forgets who she’s talking to. It’s painful when she knows it. And when she gets upset, my heart aches.

Aging is hard. And to think my whole life it’s gone on around me. But in the selfishness of my youth, I’ve looked the other way. I wasn’t around as my grandparent’s aged. And both my parent’s died relatively young. So much of this journey is new to me.

But I’ve been calloused toward the aging. I’ve not noticed their struggle, or been mindful that I could possibly help.

I guess it’s human nature, or maybe it’s our youth obsessed culture. We enter this world with guns a blazing. We wail like mad at the first hint of our need. We’re like the two-year-old on the toilet when an earthquake rumbles who asks his mother, “What did I do?” We would never say it out loud, but we do think the world revolves around us.

But God has a way of pulling us back in. Of reminding us there’s a reason the weak shall inherit the earth. That deep down satisfaction comes when we give ourselves away. That self-centeredness is the fastest route to self-destruction. Aging has a way of bringing it all back around. Of teaching us how helpless we really are.

AJM & Her Girls 2I cherish my Aunt Jeanne Marie. And to me, she will always be that 30 something beauty that stepped into my life after my father died. And I don’t care if today she thinks I’m her sister Josephine, or that Uncle Eugene is Uncle Lewis. I’ll just roll with it for as long as she’s willing to talk.

For my hope lies in the truth that God is in the business of making all things new. And for those of us who put our trust in Christ, we will all get new bodies. And one day, there will be a new heaven and a new earth. But in the mean time, God is preparing a place for my Aunt Jeanne Marie. A place with no more tears, no more death, and no more dying.

And to that I say, come Lord Jesus, come.

The Tivoli

For over twenty-five years the Tivoli Theater in downtown Washington DC sat vacant and boarded up as the city decided what to do with the old historical structure. Built in 1924 it was once consider the city’s most elegant movie house. It’s Italian Renaissance structure with red tile roof, ornate cornices and numerous graceful arches occupied almost an entire block of 14thstreet. Unlike many of the buildings in the Columbia Heights neighborhood, the Tivoli didn’t get it’s damages from the 1968 riots, but from simple neglect. By the time it’s doors closed in 1976 much of the structure was in ruins.

Many times, city officials considered tearing it down. But in the mid 80’s the Tivoli was designated a local and national landmark thereby blocking any attempts to demolish the building. In 1998 rights were granted to a developer to restore the entire block, and the restoration process began.
  
When I left DC in 2005, much of the neighborhood was still boarded up and scaffolding covered the the theaters exterior. Plans were underway to build a large grocery store in the back and office buildings across the street.
Master craftsmen trained in the original construction methods were hired. Painstakingly, they removed what was old, polished it to perfection, and then put it back like it was when it was new. Once the restoration was complete there would always be evidence of the theaters history adding charm and grace to everyone who entered.    
A couple years ago, while back in DC, I couldn’t resist driving up town to see the results of the Tivoli restoration. Having driven by the building many times while it was an eyesore, I was dying to see it restored. So on a brisk Sunday October afternoon I was surprised to see so many people walking what used to be vacant streets. 
The theater was magnificent; you could hardly tell it had ever been desolate. As far as three blocks away, many of the row houses were now in the process of their own restoration. And many shops along 14thstreet were in various stages of their own restoration.
I parked my car across the street and walked to the large grocery store that had been added to the back of the theatre. The store was modern, elegant and packed with shoppers. Clearly the theatre’s restoration had brought new energy and life to a once depressed and vacated part of the city. 

Restoration has an amazing effect on people. When I gave my life to Christ, He began a restoration on me. Just like a master builder, He took the recesses of my soul and began to restore them to reflect His glory. No longer a desolate damaged structure, I became a heavenly landmark.

Even now, when I choose to litter my soul with sin, Christ is quick to come and remove the damaged tiles, polish them and put them back. At no time does He feel I have destroyed His landmark beyond what he can repair.
Restoration, whether it applies to a building or a soul, lifts up everyone. When my soul is restored it not only blesses me, but those around me as well.

Leaving Margins

Several months ago, on the day I was to settle on the short sale of my house, I took a new road on my way to work. As I came around a bend, in front of a worn out house, a young girl in a maids uniform stood in a driveway holding up a pair of jumper cables. Behind her was a beat up car with its hood up. 

When I drove by, she stared at me and held the cables up even higher. I didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to determine her need.
 
Of course the story of the Good Samaritan came to mind. Not wanting to stop, I gritted my teeth hoping someone else would. Glancing in my rear view mirror, I saw the girl now standing in the middle of the road shoving the jumper cables towards the cars now driving into the other lane to avoid hitting her.

Reluctantly, I turned around and drove back. No sooner had I pulled off the road and popped my hood, the girl had the cables hooked up. 


“You know what you’re doing?”

“Yes, yes,” she said as a young man walked up. With a thick accent he said, over and over, “Thank you ma’am, thank you.”

As I stood there waiting for her battery to charge, I couldn’t stop thinking of how much more I had than them. My car was better, and even though I was losing my home, I was moving into a house better than theirs. 

Then in my spirit I heard God whisper that dreaded word – “share.” For in my wallet was the $450 dollars I had made the weekend before selling off the remains of my household goods. The exact amount I needed to replace my broken laptop.

I gritted my teeth again, opened the car door and reached for my wallet. Sticking up was a crisp $50 bill. Again I heard, “share.” Exasperated, I pulled out the bill and shoved it in the guys hand. “Here, get yourself a new battery.” Then stupidly I added, “And don’t forget Jesus loves you.” I felt like an idiot.

Back on the road I scolded God, reminding him of how much I needed that money.

That evening, tearfully I sat in my realtors office and signed away at a huge loss, my beautiful home . At the end, my realtor slid an envelope across the table and said, “A little birdie, (my daughter no doubt) told me you need a new laptop. I hope this helps.”

Inside the envelope – $200 in gift cards.

 
Now, in no way do I believe I forced Gods hand in delivering me the $200. There was nothing magical in this interaction. If I hadn’t given the couple the $50 I still would have received the $200. But God’s hand was all over this and here’s why:

  • I’m too selfishly focused on my own wants and needs. I need to learn to give more, even in my own perceived poverty.
    • I need to remember, in the eyes of 90% of the world, my perceived poverty is wealth.
    • I need to learn to never spend everything I have. To always leave a margin to give.
    • Even when I think I don’t have enough to share, if God tells me to, I need to give anyway.
    • God is my provider. In all my best efforts, I’m not self-sufficient. I need Him.
    • But most of all, I need what I get from giving to others. It makes me more at peace with myself and my God.