ericfaisonstory

We had our 2nd of 3 SEARCH open forums last night. Had about 10-12 new people that weren’t there last week.  Had about 38 guys there.

Tonight went really well. I’m still so blown away about how people have responded and how our host team has prayerfully taken a risk and invited people God had put on their heart.

Here’s some of the things that were brought up by the group:

If people really knew me, they would know I’m not the success that they think I am. I’m actually pretty much a failure.

Why is it so hard to talk to my kids and my wife about things that matter or anything to do with God?

What does it even mean to be a success or to be good enough and who even sets the standard of what is good and what is success? I too often measure myself by the people around me and how they feel I’m doing.

We’ve gotta stop blaming the iPhone and social media for everything because it’s not gonna go away and we have to learn how to live with it.

Somebody asked the question to the group :  “How many of y’all had fathers that talked to you about anything that mattered?” (Most people said that their father’s never talked to them about God or engaged them with big life topics.)

The question was asked How many people do you have in your life that know the real person that you are and still accept you?” (Most people said if they didn’t have anybody -it might be one person at best.)

 ….but the question of the night was when a guy asked:

• “Does God really forgive? I mean will he REALLY forgive? Is that true?”

Next Tuesday will be the third and final open forum. But it’s not over… the open forum is only a tool to set people up to go deeper and have conversations with the people they invited…that’s where the good stuff happens. It’s a process…a life on a life…taking the journey with one another. 

We completely trust God for the results. He is in charge of changing lives. Pray with us for guys to think deeply about life…and to be willing to take that next step towards God. 

GIVE / Support Eric and SEARCH Auburn

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NOVEMBER5

Songwriters: Naomi Stirrat / Gus Stirrat

Jesus said to his group of companions,

“Let’s go over to the other side.”

Mark 4

This is Rembrandt’s “Storm on the Sea of Galilee.” Be still for a second and take a good look.

Maybe read Mark 4:35-41 a couple of times. Now go back to the painting. Let it sit. Linger there. Wrestle with it for a moment. (You can Google Image the painting and zoom in).

Look beyond the surface. Smell the air. Run your hand along the wooden bow of the boat. Feel the thunder of the waves shake the boat almost knocking you off balance. Do you feel the wind whipping across your face?

Look around. Watch the others in the boat with you. See their faces. Notice the terror in their eyes. Watch them panic as they cling to whatever they can get their hands on.

What is Jesus doing? Why?

Now, get some paper and something write with. See how many things you can write down. Any observation you see or perceive. Do you think you can write down at least 50 observations? What about 100?

The first things you see will be easy. They are obvious. With each word you write, the next one becomes harder to find and will require you to go deeper…look harder…imagine more.  Give it a go!

A gathering of religious leaders grumbled, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.” (Luke 15.1-2) To clarify his mission and his intentions, Jesus told them a story about a woman who ripped her house apart looking for a lost coin.  And this, my friends, is the essence of the incarnation. Jesus even said it himself, “I have come to seek and save that which is lost!”

The incarnation, that moment that the God of the Universe put on skin and bone and as Peterson paraphrased it, “God moved into the neighborhood.” He walks into the mess of broken, messy, and ripped apart humanity, begins to sift through it and among it until he finds what he is looking for: broken people desperately needing to be found, rescued, and made new.

In the face of utterly broken people, how do you respond? When in the presence of sin, what do you do? Do you shy away or enter in? Do you feel great compassion or an opportunity for condemnation? Do you judge their actions or remind them of the limitless, unearned grace of God? Do you advise them to get their life together or do you come along side of them and walk with them through the darkest moments of their life?  One thing I have realized is if you are going to seek and save people who are lost, you are going to have to be ok being around the fruits produced by sin. I promise you sinners will always do the things that sinners do. You do. I do. If you are offended by sin, then you are going to have a hard time incarnationally entering into the world of broken, lost, and hurting humanity.

Years ago, I remember bumping into a mom who, with good intentions, approached me. “Hi, Eric, I wanted to share some concerns with you. You know I love Young Life. I was even involved when I was in high school. The reason my son hasn’t been coming is because of the decision me and my husband made. We are not sure it’s the best environment for my son. I’m not sure you are aware, but some of the kids who are coming drink alcohol regularly. My son tells me some of the things that go on and what these kids are doing during the weekends with all the partying. I know Young Life is a Christian ministry, I just wanted to make sure you knew these are the kind of kids that come to Young Life. I just don’t want Young Life to get a bad reputation.”

I listened politely. I wasn’t sure how to best respond, so I didn’t say much. “I appreciate your advice. Thanks for letting me know.” And that was it. As I walked away, I smiled and felt great joy and thankfulness. I prayed and thanked God that he was allowing us to reach lost kids. I remember thinking, “It’s working. We are doing what we are called to do. We are doing what Jesus came to do: to seek and to save those who are lost.”

Encourage one another…

“When do I feel most encouraged?

What’s happening to me and around me that creates that sense of being encouraged?”

I feel most encouraged when someone takes a moment and reaches out. They enter into my world, and they say with words or actions. “I care about you.” “I am with you.” “How are you doing?” Sounds a little incarnational, right?

If you’re like me I spend most of my time being self-absorbed in my own day, my own agenda, and what I’m doing. But I’ve found when I take five or ten minutes, and pick up the phone and call another person and simply say, “I was thinking about you…wanted you to know how thankful I am that we are friends.” When someone reaches out and they have no agenda, no reason, no purpose other than to speak words of life. There is no follow up business question. Just calling to call.

Or writing a note. I enjoy writing short notes to people and mailing them. I try to write two a day. Not email, not text, not DM. An actual piece of paper and a pen. When I’m writing a letter, I think about that person and there is a connection for a few minutes. And when I’m writing that letter, I often find myself praying for that person as I write. It’s special.

Rarely do people write notes anymore in our age of technology. We too often look for quicker, more efficient, more in less time, more productive. Could it be possible that the best things we do aren’t necessarily quicker, efficient, or “productive?”  The most encouraging things in life aren’t really that complicated. A phone call or a pen and a piece of paper, and maybe a stamp. (I had to show a college kid one time where a stamp goes on an envelope, because he had never mailed anything before! Ha-ha).

A phone call…a note of encouragement. It communicates those things we most need and want to hear: I care about you. You are not alone. You matter.

Encourage one another…

I enjoy asking questions. I enjoy listening to what others say in response to those questions.

I’ve never met any person who didn’t want to talk about themselves or express their opinion when given the chance. Asking questions and listening to people gives me a little window into their soul and about who they are. Generally, I find that people will lean in and engage with you a little more deeply when you ask them about their life, interests, or thoughts.

I find myself so often shoving, pushing, maneuvering to a place where I can talk about me. I have this deep yearning and need for someone to hear what I might have to say; and then give a damn about it. We really do like to be heard. Right? Do you? I dang sure do. I love to talk about me, talk about I, talk about number one.

The world around us seems to always be talking. And recently talking louder and louder. Both literally as well as digitally; screaming to be seen, noticed, or liked by what I put out there in my latest post. I post it and then sit back and see how all the world would respond. I mean, the whole world had been on edge waiting to see what I might post next, right?

We are a people fighting to be heard. We are always on the lookout for people who want to just listen to what we might have to say.

I was in a place last week with about 100 people. It started out with everyone being invited to go to this big room to enjoy ice cream and hang out.

The group inside started out with about 4-6 people and we were having some good, rich conversations. Then more people came in and started having conversations. Then there were 15 groups of people having conversations. With every group that came in, I noticed we started talking louder to be heard. In turn, they talked louder to be heard.

It got to the point where someone would say something and I would respond, “Sorry, what? I couldn’t hear what you said.” Then they repeated what they said even louder, and my next reply felt to me like I was having to basically yell back to be heard. And I declared, “Ok. This is ridiculous. I’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

I had become so frazzled and anxious by everything about the situation that I just walked out and left. I would compare it to being in a small store with terrible acoustics and a thousand crying babies. My heart was racing. I walked out the back door which led onto a big wooden deck with several rocking chairs and sat down. The deck overlooked the North Georgia mountains. The sky was full of stars and clear. There was a cool breeze. I took a breath.  I could breathe again. My heart rate slowed. My anxiety faded. Silence. Stillness. And it was good. It was very good.

You, Jesus, are the Good Shepherd.

You lead me into a spacious place.

You make me lie down in green pastures.

You lead me beside quiet waters…the gentle waters of rest.

You refresh my soul.

“When I felt secure, I said, ‘I will never be shaken.'” (1)

When everything goes smoothly or is going well, I have noticed a decrease in the intensity and frequency to which I seek the presence of Jesus. The easier and more comfortable my life becomes, the less I pray, the less I read Scripture. And the longer everything goes “well” the longer I go living on my own, the further I wander off.

There is something about the trials, difficulties, challenges, and uncomfortable events that bring us back to seeking Jesus. Maybe that’s what James meant when he wrote “When all kinds of trials crowd into your lives, my brothers, don’t resent them as intruders, but welcome them as friends.” (2) Perhaps in a way, they really are serving our best interests because they nudge us or send us running back home, back to the place we left when things became smooth, easy, and comfortable. Seems like the best thing for me, is that something “hard” needs to remain in my life to keep me centered, like a fence that keeps me in the yard and keeps me from wandering off.

We are desperate for the deliverance, provision, and protection of the Lord. Only our stupid arrogance would be the reason we operate, live our lives, make our plans and go about our day without sitting with Jesus and having a listening conversation about all of these things.

O LORD my God, I called to you for help and you healed me. (3)

Send forth your light and your truth, let them guide me. (4)

(1) Psalm 30.6

(2) James 1:2 (JB Phillips)

(3) Psalm 30.2

(4) Psalm 43.3

Don’t let the world around you squeeze you into its own mold, but let God remold your minds from within and change the way you think. Romans 12.2 (Phillips)

Do your utmost to enter through the narrow gate. The wide gate is easy that leads to disaster and most people are going that way. The narrow gate and the more difficult road leads out into life and only a few are finding it. Matthew 7:13-14 (Phillips)

Is it possible to not always be in a hurry, to feel scattered and rushed, and yet get everything done?

It seems a very contradictory idea to the path that has been and is being cut by everyone around us. Have you ever just stopped, sat down on a bench and just watched people? Do you like what you see? Do they look rested, peaceful, joyful? Or do they look anxious, fragmented, distracted, and in a hurry?

Does that seem like an attractive way of living life? What you are doing and how you are doing it…the way you are living…this, my friend, is your life. What you are doing this day, this hour, this minute. What you are doing is your life.

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.” (Annie Dillard)

To ask again: Is it possible to live a deep, unhurried, attentive life and yet still get everything done?

I watch people. I’ve watched myself. I’ve caught myself being swept up into the life that is shoving and pulling us through the wide gate that leads to everything that is not life. We try to cram as much into every minute as we can.And the stuff we are doing, we try to do it as fast as we can, so we can get on to the next thing.

Our days are often stacked with back to back “stuff to do”— “stuff that needs to get done.” Some of it we have to own because we create it for ourselves. Other times, we are pressured by the expectations and demands that other people have placed on us. I mean, we can’t let them down, can we?

And we are spit out of this machine and left exhausted…more often mentally and emotionally than physically.

Could it be possible that we have subtly and maybe not even intentionally been squeezed and reshaped into the mold of this world?

Are we “playing the wrong game?” Have we been swindled and tricked into believing that it all needs to get done? I mean, does it? What would happen if that thing didn’t get done? Most things…probably nothing. The sun would come up the next day just as it did this morning. You are still the same child of God. God still thinks the same way he thought about you as he did yesterday: His beloved.

I want to convince you that somehow, if you’ll go with me and trust me, that there is another way to live. A different way. It’s life found when we enter through the narrow gate.

I want to convince you that…

• Slower is better than hurried.

• Peace is better than anxiety.

• Trust is better than worry.

• Rhythm is better than fragmented.

• Deeper is better than shallow. 

• Available is better than unavailable. 

• Seeing is better than not seeing.

• Hearing is better than not hearing. 

• Noticing is better than missing it.

• A few close friends are better than 1000 social media friends.

• Doing a few things well is better than doing many things adequately.

As Ron Swanson wisely put it, “Whole-ass one thing rather than half-ass two things.”

 

A friend of mine would call it “working rested.” I’d say it’s also living to more of a rhythm and a song rather than a fragmented distraction. It’s being led more than it is being driven.

I know you would agree you would love to slow down a little bit, take a few things off your plate, and do fewer things, but do those fewer things well.

The answer is not in getting more organized or a new app to help you with your lists and appointments. The answer is being convinced you don’t want to live the way you or we are living and make a declaration that you want to do it differently. This is what it means to repent. It means to first, STOP. Secondly, REALIZE that this way is not what you want, then to TURN AROUND and WALK in the opposite / 180 degree direction.

But don’t miss my main hope for you: It is to live a deep, intimate life with Jesus and with others. To live life well.To enjoy God and enjoy the life in which he has given you as a gift.

To create a space…a rhythm…a holy focus that allows you to use and live out of those unique gifts that God has instilled inside of you that are to be given away to a world that needs them.

Here are some practical thoughts that I either desire or am trying to figure out how to put into practice in my life:

Do less. This is pretty simple. Look at everything you do or try to do. Is it necessary? Is it your decision to be doing it or did you feel pressured when you committed to doing it? Does it align with who you want to be, what you want to be about, and are you using your God-given unique gifts in what you are doing?

Have fewer meetings. Most meetings are unnecessary. Could it be a simple phone call? (Yes, phone call…not a text).

Practice disconnecting. Not going to try to wage war on this thing we hold in our hand and look at 5-7 hours a day. But, seriously, pick a few times during the day when you turn it off, tuck it in a drawer and go wander…go play…go do nothing. Go be with someone you love and since you don’t have “it” with you, you can give them your full, undivided attention. When was the last time you were talking or sitting with someone and you had their full, undivided attention? They were focused on you, what you were saying…being fully present to you?

Give yourself time to get there. Margin. Just don’t stack or plan things right up against each other. Throw an hour in between anything you are planning. Just give yourself some time to get there, get ready for what is next.

Insert pauses into your day where you literally do nothing.Henri Nouwen wrote that the most terrifying, uncomfortable place for a person to be is in a chair with nothing to do, nothing to read, nothing to watch, no one to talk to…just being there with nothing but ourselves. We will usually do anything to avoid that scenario.

Become convinced that if it doesn’t get done, that’s OK. It really is OK. There is always tomorrow to get it done. I know for some of you, super-efficient, get shit done people this is a challenging and frustrating possibility. It’s not laziness or procrastination…it’s just unrushed, unhurried, non-frantic. If you take some time to pray and think through what God wants you to be about, attempt to accomplish…then I’m convinced what needs to be done that day will get done.

Eliminate the unnecessary or non meaningful. I know people who are involved in 3 or 4 different Bible study small groups, who meet with different people every week. Just pick one group, be involved and give yourself away through that one ministry. Go to that one church. Enjoy that one hobby. You get the point.

Practice being attentive; listening, watching. Take time each day and each week for a little bit of a longer time to reflect. Where have you seen Jesus at work? Who have you seen Jesus in? Is there anything he is putting on your heart? Is he nudging you to change something or change something in yourself? Can you get still and quiet enough to hear his whisper? Reflect on your life, what all is going on…and not just the “christian, Jesus” stuff, but the nonsense, the childish fun, the tears, the laughter, the friends, the experiences. Write it down. What are you thankful and grateful for?

Eliminate good commitments / Keep the best. The enemy of the best…that one thing…those few things are a lot of really good, sometimes even “Christian” things. A bunch of really good things are usually what keep us from really doing that one or those few things well. Often the enemy is not going to tempt you with selling crack, or robbing that gas station, or becoming a hooker. It’s going to be the inability to say “no” to being involved in that second or third bible study, or saying “yes” to that invitation to help with this or that, or join this or that…

Take more naps.

I hope some of any of this might be encouraging to you…pushing you to a deeper life with Jesus and others…and yourself.

 

 

 

Written by a Friar in a Nebraska Monastery

If I had my life to live over again, I’d try to make more mistakes next time.

I would relax, I would limber up, I would be sillier than I have been this trip.

I know of very few things I would take seriously.

I would take more trips. I would be crazier.

I would climb more mountains, swim more rivers, and watch more sunsets.

I would do more walking and looking.

I would eat more ice cream and less beans.

I would have more actual troubles, and fewer imaginary ones.”

Mal McSwain and I were sitting in rocking chairs at Windy Gap. We were watching children play.   

“Eric, if you want to know what joy looks like. Go watch children play.”

So, I did. I paid attention to children playing. I paid more attention to watching my own kids play. And when I looked, I saw joy.

Go ask a child…

What are you stressed out about? They would respond, “What is stress?”

What are your long-term goals? “What is a goal?”

Show me your calendar? “What’s a calendar?”

What are you doing tomorrow? “Playing with my friends.”

What are you doing in an hour? “Playing.” (almost like, “what else is there?!”)

The point is, they are enjoying it. It…meaning life, the day, the opportunity…the moment. They are simply playing.

Mal told me, “Eric, have fun. Play more. Play with Jesus. Play with people. Enjoy it. Everything in ministry and the Christian life is not deadly serious all the time.”

Sometimes, I wonder…the older we get, the more responsible, mature, adult-like we become—the more complicated everything gets, it begs the question: “Have I forgotten how to simply play…to joyfully play…to enjoy Jesus, the calling, the people…?”

And I know, I know…I can hear some of your responses. I admit that every metaphor breaks down at some point. We all know that little children can be the best sin illustrations.

Once, I did see a little child push another little boy off the slide and yank the Thomas the Train Engine toy out of his hands, while the little boy laid in the sand sobbing uncontrollably.

But…go with me here…If the Thomas the Train Engine toy represented “JOY,” and you recognize it has been taken from you…and you want it back…then, and only then are you permitted to knock them off the slide, flat on their back, stand over them…reach down and take your JOY back.

Jesus told them, “If you want to enter the kingdom of heaven, you must become like this little child.”

So, my family collects animals. An outsider would think we are a black market, underground animal rescue mission that has set up a front posing as a white, middle class, suburban family. It goes like this:

            “Can we get this kitten at the humane society?”

            “No. No way. Hell no. No.”

Two days later, I go up to my daughter’s room and open the door. And there it is…the dang kitten. For one, why do they even ask? Doesn’t matter what I say. Secondly, why do I even answer? It doesn’t make a difference. I have no power. No one listens to me. Am I allergic to cats? Yep. Doesn’t matter.

It is fitting that yesterday morning when the kitten broke its shackles and tore apart its chains, and slipped through the cracked back door and climbed about 12 feet up into the first tree it saw. You know where this is going, right? Of course, it doesn’t know how to get down, so it digs in and clings for life.

Several options here. I could call the fire department. I’m sure they’d love that. They were trained to walk into fire and risk their lives to save others. I’m sure saving cats out of trees is what they woke up this morning hoping to do.

I could leave it up there in the tree. It’ll eventually figure out how to get down. I could wait for it to jump or fall. Maybe a hawk will get it. Maybe lightning will strike it. But no. My wife gets the ladder out and tells me to go get my long handled fly-fishing net. It’s 7:15 in the morning, I have no shirt or shoes on, standing on top of a ladder having a conversation with a kitten who refuses to come down or make any attempt to bridge the one-foot gap between it and my hand. Stupid, stupid cat. Stubborn. Refusing to accept the help being offered…even if offered by a somewhat unwilling savior.

I don’t talk “cat.” No way to make it understand that I’m trying to help. It seemed it would almost choose to remain in that dangerous, uncomfortable place rather than come to me and allow itself to be rescued.

There are times when my soul is dying of thirst…when my heart is starving. Yet I am reluctant to go to the One who offers me living water…the bread of life. The more stressed, overwhelmed, or worried I become about a situation, the more I find myself walking the sands of the desert. All the while, Jesus invites me to come and drink.

I can’t, there’s no time.

I must figure this out.

I must work harder until I discover the answer…until I fix the problem.

The more I feel the pressure, the busier I get, the more tired and weary I become.

All the while, Jesus patiently waits. And when I get to my whit’s end, when I run out of ideas, when I have nothing else to pull out of my bag of tricks, when I don’t have a single ounce of energy left…

Jesus says, “Are you done? Are you finished or do you want to keep trying? I’ll let you keep on trying to save yourself as long as you want to. When you’re done trying to figure it out on your own, I’ll be right here.”

Until I finally realize my own thirst, I will never desire living water. People who aren’t thirsty don’t desperately search for water to drink. Only the thirsty do that. Once thirst is realized, the mind becomes focused on finding water.  The more desperate the thirst, the more desperate the search.

Water is a simple message.  Only the thirsty listen.

Water, is taught by thirst.( Emily Dickenson)

And we know that only the thirsty listen…(Rich Mullins)

Everyone who is thirsty, come to the waters. Come. Drink. Buy water without money and without cost. Simply accept it as a gift of God. Why do you spend money for that which is not water…for that which does not satisfy? (Is. 55)

“And Jesus stood up and called out, ‘If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink!’ ‘Anyone who drinks the water that I am offering will never be thirsty again.’” (Jn. 7/Jn. 4)

When a friend calls to me from the road

And slows his horse to a meaning walk,

I don’t stand still and look around

On all the hills I haven’t hoed,

And shout from where I am, What is it?

No, not as there is a time to talk.

I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,

Blade-end up and five feet tall,

And plod: I go up to the stone wall

For a friendly visit.

A Time to Talk, Robert Frost

I have decided that I want to be available to Jesus and available to others.  To be present to Jesus and present to people.  This is harder than it seems.  I find my days are filled with details, meetings, endless google forms, overfilled email inboxes. If Jesus or anyone else desired to spend some time with me or need to talk, I’d probably have to get my calendar out and reschedule them for another day. 

I have resolved more and more to put Jesus above my agenda, to put people over my schedule, or whatever task I am doing.  To have “time to talk” is what I want.  More than that, I want to be in a place where I can notice opportunities for divine moments with others. To be watchful; to be available.  Woody Allen said, “Showing up is 90% of the battle.”  There’s more than a shred of truth in that sentence. 

Jesus showed up and lived among us.
I want to be able to show up in the lives of others and live among them.

I had been on staff with Young Life for about six months, when I picked up the phone. The shaky teenage voice on the other end was “Paul”. Paul was in 11^th grade, and as best he could, he told me they just found his mom and she had taken her own life.

My heart raced. Grabbing my keys, I was on my way to his house. I remember panicking. I don’t know what to do, I wasn’t trained for this. Running through my mind were a thousand reasons not to get involved. But I went.

Too often, when we find ourselves unexpectedly in the presence of deeply hurting people, we panic. We feel unqualified, unequipped. We are terrified to enter in. When we find ourselves in this place we revert to the basic questions,

“So, how are you doing?” “Do you need anything?” “Want me to bring a meal over?”

To which the person replies, “No, you don’t have to do that. Please don’t go to all the trouble of doing that. We’re doing fine.”

And we say, “Well, OK, let me know if you need anything. I’m praying for you.”

Most of us, including myself, aren’t very good at asking for help, or learning to lean on others when we are in distress.

When I arrived at Paul’s house, police were walking around with clipboards doing whatever they do. I went and pushed the front door open, walked into the house, and slowly walked in to see if anyone was around. A broken hurting husband met me in the hallway without words. His eyes were swollen, his posture was shaky, and he appeared to be as fragile as a human being could be. He turned towards the kitchen, which I perceived as an invitation to follow him.

Entering the kitchen, he pointed to Paul and continued through the room until he disappeared into the back rooms of the house. Paul looked up from the kitchen table, his long, dark hair pulled back under a black baseball cap worn backwards. Our eyes met for what seemed like a full minute. There were no words.

Paul didn’t speak. He walked into the living room and slumped down on the couch and stared at the wall in front of him.

I sat down beside him and told him, “Hey man, I love you. I know you are hurting bad right now. I’m just going to sit here with you if that’s ok.

He replied, “Yeah, man that’s cool. Thank you.”

I probably sat on that couch with him for about three hours.  Paul didn’t say much; just smoked one cigarette after another until the pack was empty and he crumpled it up into his fist and hurled it against the wall.  Off and on there were tears, as reality sank in, and he moved to the realization that this was no dream. It really happened.

I think as humans our default response in these situations is to be active–to do something—to say the right thing—to fix it. Our ceaseless activity and desire to quickly repair what is broken have no power in these places. What I’ve found to be the most helpful is simply to have the courage to enter in—to show up. This is a ministry of presence.

Stay here and watch with me. —Jesus in Gethsemane hours before his betrayal. (Matt.26)

As Jesus set his course to Golgotha, he experienced a time of great distress and mental anguish. And in those hours, asked a few of his closest companions to come simply be with him…to walk with him through the fire.

Jesus turned to a few of his closest companions. “Come with me.” They went to Gethsemane. “Stay here and watch with me.” Then Jesus walked a few more steps and trembled to the ground in prayer.

If I had been in Gethsemane with Jesus, I would have questions:

“What’s the plan?”

“What are we watching for?”

“What are we doing out here?”

“How can we fix this situation?”

“What can I say to relieve his distress?”

“What can I do to make him feel better?”

I might have tried to talk him out of the whole thing; to call the whole thing off. “Let’s think of another way. There must be other options. You can’t let this happen.” I would vow to fight to the death before I would let him be taken only to find myself fleeing into the night, deserting him all together.

I deeply believe Jesus simply desired the strength and comfort found in the presence of the Father together with his close friends during a time of great anxiety and distress.

He needed their presence. Their presence was an act of love given by doing nothing but being there. Jesus didn’t need them to do anything or to become busy serving him. And he didn’t necessarily need them to say anything. Just watch. Pray. Be here with me. That was enough.

Thoreau wrote about how he would need to go stand by a fire every night “to burn off the dross of the world that had collected that day.” 

Whitman speaks of trying to get away from “the clank of the world.” 

The Apostle Paul wrote to the church in Rome warning it of how the world will attempt to “squeeze us into its own mold.”

The world does “collect” on us, you know.  It does.  So subtly that you don’t even know it.  You just wake up one day and it’s there.  You don’t recall how long exactly it has been there; or even what it looked like before.  But now it has become the lens in which you see all of life; yourself and others as well.

It’s not that different.  It is just gray…and gray lacks color.  It has become dulled.  That is what gray is: colorless…without color. Dull. Boring. Routine.  

Dull-(adj): uninteresting; not alive; having very little color; lacking depth.

Boring-(adj): dull and uninteresting

Routine-(n): commonplace, unimaginative, a constantly repeated action; predictable

It’s not our fault, is it? I am not sure, if given the choice, we would never choose to live a colorless life. It just happens. It just does. Maybe because we aren’t intentional about life, and we just follow the crowd. We follow the crowd for years and years, yet no one will ask who the leader is or where the hell we are going; or why.

Gray becomes normal; it becomes so normal; that we mistake it for color. Only because we have forgotten what color even looks like. When this happens; Gray is where we sometimes find ourselves if we don’t keep our eyes fixed on Jesus. In Jesus there is LIFE. Jesus came to give life abundantly. Full. Life in Jesus is the only way to be fully alive; to be about the things we were created for.

Anything…life outside of Jesus is not life at all. It’s fake life. It’s GRAY.

“An intriguing entomological experiment shows that a male butterfly will ignore a living female butterfly of his own species in favor of a painted cardboard one, if the cardboard is big.  If the cardboard one is bigger than he is, bigger than any female butterfly ever could be he jumps the piece of cardboard.  Over and over again, he jumps the piece of cardboard.  Nearby, the real, living female butterfly opens and closes her winds in vain.”  Annie Dillard The Writing Life, p.18

You let the world, which doesn’t know the first thing about living, tell you how to live.  (Eph)

You can throw the whole weight of your anxieties upon him, for you are his personal concern.

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

Anxiety and worry are the result of fear rooted in pride. Worry gets heavy when you try to carry your own burdens rather than letting Jesus carry them. (The word cast literally means to throw off with force.)

Pride will keep you from asking for help. You probably don’t honestly believe that you are better equipped to handle your problems than Jesus, but it’s the idea that you simply don’t go to him when you need him. Jesus wants you to come to him. Jesus wants to take away your worries and fears. He will place them upon himself and walk with you through them.

Instead of holding your anxiety inside, trying to hide it from others, or attempting to carry it yourself, ask Jesus to take it. Rather than trying to fix or make the situation better with your own wisdom or strength, why not simply have a conversation with Jesus and tell him you can’t do it and ask him to lead you through your situation. Secondly, go to a close friend, and share with them your anxiety and worry. Ask them to pray with and for you over the next few days.

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4.6-7

Where our presence loves better than words…

A few years ago, I sat in rocking chairs on an old wooden deck with a group of high school guys. Then Tyler began to talk about his mom and her battle with cancer. And how, like Sherman’s campaign through Georgia, it had marched through his family’s life; scorched the earth, broke it to pieces, and left the remains on the ground. They’ve been picking those pieces up ever since.

One of Tyler’s close friends, Justin, leaned forward, “Are you serious? Man, I had no idea. Why haven’t you said anything? I’m really sorry.”

Tyler replied, “I don’t know. I didn’t want to bother anyone with all this stuff. Everyone has enough shit going on in their life without having to worry about my problems. And it’s hard to talk about.”

Then Tyler collapsed into his hands sobbing uncontrollably. We surrounded him in his pain and wrapped him tightly into our presence. No one said anything for nearly forty-five minutes. We just stood there. And I could tell that we were, in our own silence, praying for Tyler; praying that God would comfort him and make him clearly aware of His presence and embrace.

In these types of moments there is nothing to be said—and nothing should be said.  It is here where presence speaks louder than words; where presence declares that a person is loved.

And I’m glad nobody said anything.

Usually in these instances we feel the pressure to say something; to fix it—to make it better—to give some advice.

Yet, I am wondering more and more if any words that could possibly be spoken could ever be more powerful than the presence of someone who is willing to simply sit in silence with another person—to simply be there.  To be with another person in the pain or struggle could possibly be the greatest gesture of love that one could possibly give.

 It was then that I concluded that a silent presence and being with those we minister to is often louder than anything we can ever say.  Christianity can be so wordy these days. There is too much talk. Most everything in Christianity revolves around someone talking.  There is too much talking in Christianity and not enough listening, not enough simple acts of presence.

“Now Job’s three friends heard of all this trouble that had come upon him, they came each from his own place.  They met together to go and show him sympathy and comfort him.  When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads.  Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights.  No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.” (Job 2:11-13)

I want to write a little about knowing and being known. This is part one. These posts will be short since most of us have the attention span of a goldfish…22 seconds. (According to Ted Lasso)

Jesus answered, “Don’t you know me Philip, even after I have been with you such a long time?”

I have learned that we can spend our entire lives with others and still not know them; for our time is mostly lived in the shallows. How can it be that we can go through our days alongside of others–at work, at home, at play, and yet not be familiar with the deepest corners?

I think that one of our greatest longings is to know and be known. Many of us, honestly, are probably a little afraid of being known. We become a little nervous of what others might find…or even what we might find… once the sheet is yanked off; once the masquerade ball is over and everyone must remove their masks and costumes to expose the person beneath.

Often, I hide my true self behind the imposter I’ve created…a stand in. Someone who can pull off the stunts I’m too scared to try and make me look good doing it. Other times I craft this fake-ass Instagram personality that I want the world to see and know. But really, that’s only a small fraction of my true self, if anything.

I admit that there is a part of me that wants people to see my life and envy it to some degree. At its core, isn’t that why anyone posts anything on social media…so that others will envy us and be impressed? They usually aren’t…and honestly the world probably does not care. Sorry.

My intention these days is to take a risk and be my true self. I want to let people see who I really am…the good, bad, ugly; the messy, the beautiful, etc. It is so hard.

I’m throwing my bet down with the hunch that in doing so, the people that truly love me will stick around. The others…they will find some other circus to go see. But the ones that are my true friends, will stay. These are the ones that can be trusted…they aren’t going anywhere. These are the people worth taking the journey with.

Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings?

Not one stone will be left here upon another

all will be thrown down.”

Jesus is most likely giving them a heads-up about what is going to take place around 70 A.D when Rome attacks and completely levels Jerusalem. But my thoughts take me to a different place…the here and now.

The words Jesus says makes me consider the temporary and the eternal. The things that matter and the things that don’t.

When I consider all the time and energy I put into the temporary things and pursuits of this earth, I must keep in mind that Jesus said that these things will not last.

Things of earth give us a degree of value and enjoyment for sure…but all in all they are a flash in the pan; here for the moment, gone for the next.

The things that matter; the eternal things…won’t go away…ever. They are indeed worthwhile to give my time and energy towards.

Yet, more and more, I find myself pulled into temporary things that the world shoves in my face. The world tells me:

Do this, do that.

You need this.

You must have that.

You must achieve this.

If you don’t have this, then you are nothing.

Yet these are the untruths of the world.

When I set my sights on these worldly things, I become a wanderer. I spend time in lost places…places where there is no life…at least not the life I am created to have.

And when I come to my senses and realize that I have become deeply amazed and impressed by these great buildings—these temporary things, Jesus whispers in my ear, “Don’t get too impressed with these things…the stuff of earth. It’s going to be thrown down in a heap of rubble and forgotten.”

“Don’t work for the food that spoils,

but instead work for the food that lasts into eternity.”–Jesus

While thinking a little more deeply about my life…peeling back the layers, I wonder how much I have missed, taken for granted, or not even noticed at all.

Routines and habits set in and become stiff and cemented…ways of perceiving life get skewed and fragmented. I need to get my work done, to get through the day, get to the end of it so I can relax. The mentality is survival…which leads to hurrying through everything. The result is you miss most of it. I think to myself, “When this is over, I can…”

Delay shows itself this way: I CAN’T WAIT UNTIL…

I am in high school,

I turn 16 and can drive,

I get to college and have freedom,

I turn 21 and can drink cold beer,

I get this degree finished so I can be a real adult,

I get a job and make money,

I get a better job so I can…

I get married so I can experience “true love”,

I have kids, so I can have help with chores around the house—ha-ha,

I have this house because home is where the heart is,

My kids are out of diapers and not so dependent so I can sleep through the night,

My kids are out of the house so I can relax,

I retire when I’ll finally have time to chase that dream or refine and use that God-given gift, I have delayed using for the last 40 years.

There will always be a next thing. I hurry through what I am doing now because for some reason I’m bought into the idea that whatever is next is somehow better.

Yet when I get there, I realize it is not the product I saw in the commercial. That juicy, delicious cheeseburger on TV never looks like that when you go and buy one. The person making it looks like they just woke up from sleeping under a bridge, the meat is smaller—not as juicy. The cheese isn’t melted. They forgot to put ketchup on it.

So, I begin thinking about getting on to the next thing. There is and will always be a next thing. The result of this way of thinking is that the present moment is wasted, looked over, or not even noticed at all.

Live in the here and now.