When Words Don't Work Right

I accidently started a fight on Facebook today.  You can only imagine what it was about (unless you are my friend on Facebook, then you can stalk me and find out what it was all about).  I can truly see that I meant no harm, and I am sure that the person that I was talking to meant no harm.  We were, however, on the verge of escalating into a fight.

And we are friends

And we are Christians

And for all I know we even agree on more than we disagree (I didn't even take the time to find out!)

Perhaps you will relate, but I find myself trying to say things that are uplifting and helpful only to find them tear down and hurt.  I have good intentions, the intentions of a minister of the gospel--the good news!  I intend to bring healing and hope and help but so often I speak in such a way that I either leave out the truth or the love.  I just haven't figured out how to do that like Peter or Paul and no where near like Jesus.

So what am I to do?

Perhaps the best answer is to shut up?  I think that I try to use words too often when action is necessary.  Love and truth are more genuine incarnated; they are more real with roots and leaves and fruit.

And perhaps Facebook just isn't formatted for incarnational truth and love.  Perhaps I should get offline and live it around my neighbors.

Valleys and Rivers

I will sing of your mercy, that leads me through valleys of sorrow, to rivers of joy.

I was aware of my sin before I was aware of grace.  I realized my sin, and my condemnation before love or mercy.  The weight of all that was wrong, that wasn't good in me.  The weight of the joy of my sinfulness; that I liked doing what was contrary to my Maker.

I will sing of your mercy, that leads me through valleys of sorrow, to rivers of joy.

Walking as fast as I could to get outside, running from the walls that felt like prison.  I remember looking up at the cloudless, star-filled sky.  In the vastness, I saw Him, the one who created me, showing me the chains that held me so tightly.  The sins of lust and flesh, the chains of guilt and addiction.  This time, however, I saw more.

I saw hope.  The Maker would make me new again.  The chains could be broken, the sins forgiven and defeated.  I saw grace that night in the southern hills.

I will sing of your mercy, that leads me through valleys of sorrow, to rivers of joy.

The last month has moved slowly.  I mean slow.  Kylie and I make room for a newborn to enter our lives.  Nights are filled with more restlessness than rest.

And again I find myself in the valley of sorrow; my sin bare before me.  My thoughts fill with selfishness, anger, and doubts.

I see in how I treat my dear Kylie that I am not loving; I am not like the graceful Maker on the hillside, filling me with hope as vast as the stars.  I am short-tempered, slothful, arrogant...

Another layer of the sinful man exposed.

I will sing of your mercy, that leads me through valleys of sorrow, to rivers of joy.

I sit with a head in my lap and a computer by my side, and this song comes playing through the buds in my ears.  God's mercy leads us through valleys to rivers; from sorrows to joys.  I have seen errors, and grace did not come later, it was only seen later.

Grace came first, revealing sins, tearing down self-righteousness, then filling with hope in the Maker.

This child will surely be God's mirror more than once for me, revealing those things that I have yet to give into his perfect, loving, artistic hands.

And as those days come, I pray that I can sing of the mercy that leads me through valleys of sorrow to rivers of joy.

Humbled by Faces

They slowed it down.

I can't believe they slowed it down.

There was such a good crowd, such a great crowd to worship. These people can't possibly enjoy this rendition of this song. I mean, it isn't right! It's the wrong speed! I love this song and they are not doing it right!

I just don't know why we can't do this song right, I mean, it is a simple song. It is a beautiful song, but it can't be sung this slow and soft, it needs to be passionate!

I am just so fed up with this.

_________

The classes are typically separate. I bring my class into the larger room where the other class meets. I am apprehensive because this is a new idea, a new step in unity. Even so, my fear remains:

Youth make adults nervous. Adults make youth nervous.

And yet we sat, Sunday School hour looked different as we served pancakes and ate a meal together. We laughed at movies, milk chugging, and Big John's Texas drawl. The youth and adults joined together, slightly awkward but together nonetheless.

Together

_______

Presence is important. My wife and I look for a seat in the church auditorium. We are always some of the last to sit around, and so we seek a spot. We note a young man who has been coming alone. He is not like us, any of us really. We are a church of primarily white people, he is Spanish. He is one of the dozen or so "other" in our church, yet we are more the same than at first glance. He is just like our other youth--shy at first, but full of life. He came to youth group one night and our sponsor "grandparents" started picking him up every time they were on their way to the church.

He sat alone this day, still not very comfortable with the big worship setting. And so we joined him.

He is one of us, and we are one of him. We are one.

Together

_______

The song set me off. So quick to anger. I turned my focus from the screen and looked around. Singing was rising from the people--from my people. The people I committed to living with, worshiping with, serving with...together.

Together.

I see the kid who hugged me and helped me as I cried, sharing the secret of my families miscarriage. I looked at the new family who started coming just a few weeks ago and has joined in greatly. I looked at the family who is always late, who has a son who can't stay awake and yet they are all here, Sunday after Sunday striving to worship; raising their kids to know God and the church--not just one or the other. I look at the Senior Minister, worshiping with this community for more than twenty years. Together.

We were all singing together. Lifting up praise to the one who holds us together, praising the God who binds all, who created all, who loves all.

_______

The music is beautiful.

The words majestic, my song, the rest of the songs. Slow, fast, modern and old school. Southern Gospel and modern praise tune. We praised. My heart changed, not the music, as humility overtook my critical eye. I saw something that washed the critic away...

...Togetherness.


Note: Lowell Church of Christ--I love you! You are a people that is much like me--seeking honestly after God. I thank you for letting me worship and minister with you, as one of you, even in the moments of bad attitude, mistakes, and immaturity. You all are a true blessing.

When Winning Isn't

My wife is my lifesaver. If you know me at all, you know that I do not say this lightly. She looked at me at my most disgusting and loved me. She showed me grace when she didn't need to. But that is a story for another day.

I begin this way so that you know that what I am about to say is in no way an indictment against my wife. She is a jewel. There is just one thing that bothers me:

The silent treatment. When she is upset she simply "doesn't have anything to say." I hate the silent treatment. I feel trapped because I am so often an ignorant jerk that I don't have a clue what I've done wrong to begin with. Nine times out of ten I have screwed up, but sometimes I just don't know how. The silent treatment doesn't help, at least that is what I thought.

So a little more than a year ago, Ky and I were having one of these fights, one of these I said something stupid but I don't know what fights. We find ourselves sitting on the couch, staring at the wall not saying anything.

And the tension is enough that it is driving me crazy. I decide the silent treatment has to end, so I raise my voice and start getting mad because she won't tell me what is going on.

"I just don't have anything to say to you right now." She responds and my blood boils.

"Fine! Just forget it." I exhale and I leave the couch and walk upstairs. I turn on my PlayStation and I play Madden until I calm down. I thought I would wait her out, that she would see my side of this, that I would convert her to my view of dealing with this conflict.

Then I heard the sound of victory.

It was that gasping for air that comes as you try to calm yourself down while crying.

Ky was crying, and in my prideful anger I had her right in the cross-hairs. I descended the stairs trying to hide my sense of victory, I would show her that she needed to honor me!

I held her as she cried, all the while waiting to unleash the words: This is why you shouldn't use the silent treatment.

But then I made my fatal flaw. I asked her what was wrong, and her words cut.

"you left me."

She was mad, but she still was there, and my moment of pride and anger showed her the one thing I never, ever wanted her to see in my life: faithlessness. A lack of Stand By Me attitude. I could win the battle at the cost of losing my teammate. She was damaged because I wasn't there.

Sometimes winning isn't.

Sometimes its best to sit side by side and lose together, because at least your together.