2024-10-01T16:01:05+00:00

More Than 1 Thing

October 1, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

Pete Rose died yesterday. The fear that was looming large over the new documentary was, will Baseball indict him into the Hall Of Fame before he dies? That answer, we now know, is no. I think that’s pretty sad. He certainly deserves to be there, based solely on his contribution to the game on the field. Of course, his personal character wouldn’t get him into anywhere nice and fancy, but it’s not the Integrity Hall Of Fame, it’s the baseball Hall Of Fame. Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens (and many others) should be in, too. It’s impossible to tell the story of baseball without them.

There’s a new documentary on Vince McMahon called “Mr. McMahon,” the visionary head of big time pro wrestling. I loved wrestling, and watching the doc was overwhelmingly nostalgic. My heart ached for the simple beauty of my experience of the time. (That’s the thing about nostalgia – it might not necessarily be an accurate depiction of the time, but it is mine, in my head.) Vince McMahon created this wonderful thing – he didn’t invent professional wrestling, but he might as well have – that was so meaningful to me, but he was, my almost all accounts, an awfully bad person. The law has been chasing him and his behavior for years and may have now caught him. We’ll see.

Another new doc is on Lyle & Eric Menendez, 2 brothers who murdered their parents. They were severely physically & sexually abused (I never know when it’s proper to use the word “allegedly”), had enough, and killed them. This story is full of conflicting truth and emotion. The parents were monsters (allegedly?), but did that mean they deserved to be murdered? Of course not. The boys were victims of horrible evil (allegedly?) and killers. They are all, at least, 2 things, probably a million more.

Lyle is apparently a husband, too. He’s been married twice while in prison. Incidentally, this is something that is totally unfathomable. Is this commentary on the sad state of men, where a woman would have to look in the prison population (locked up for homicide, no less) than at the local fitness club or on Match.com, OR is it an illustration of the mental health epidemic? Either way, it’s aggressive.

The best documentaries are interesting, in exactly this way. Lou Pearlman was a great Svengali for boy bands, pouring money & energy into these groups betting on their success. He was also a thief, building his own pyramid scheme as an altar to himself and his own greed. A prison administrator, Vicki White, was awesome, a competent worker, loving to everyone, a great friend and co-worker. She was also a woman who fell in love with a prisoner (also locked up for homicide!!!) and busted him out, and when they were finally caught at the end of their escape, committed suicide.

People are complex, with lots of facets. Some of those facets are the most glorious & pure you have ever seen. And sometimes they’re cracked and discolored. And, most of the time, we find all of them on the same person. You wouldn’t want Pete Rose as your friend, but he belonged in the Hall Of Fame, and will probably get in now. I would thank Vince McMahon if I’d ever meet him, but I kind of hope I don’t ever meet him. Barry Bonds gained 25 pounds of muscle and 2 hat sizes in 2 months, lied about how he did that, and was the best I’ve ever seen. We’re all more than just 1 thing, and empathy (or what I like to call, “becoming a human being”) is about learning to hold all of them with 2 hands.

Which One Is It?

September 27, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/2 Comments

What’s the trait I value most about myself? That is an interesting question the site is posting today… There are 2 kinds of people in the world, ones who see everything good about themselves and those who see nothing good about themselves. Of course, we all have some of both, which reminds me of an exchange in Kill Bill, vol 2 between Bud and Elle:

Budd: So, which “R” you filled with? Elle Driver: What? Budd: They say the number one killer of old people is retirement. People got a job to do, they tend to live a little bit longer so they can do it. I’ve always figured that warriors and their enemies share the same relationship. So, now that you’re not gonna have to face your enemy no more on the battlefield, which “R” you filled with? Relief … or regret? Elle Driver: A little bit of both. Budd: I’m sure you do feel a little bit of both. But I know that you feel one more than you feel the other. And the question was, which one is it?

Elle feels regret, but that’s not important. If you haven’t seen the film, you really should, it’s amazing. But I often think about these “2 kinds of people,” Beatles or Stones scenarios. Today it’s All good v. Nothing good? The site prompt wants to know which one I am. I happen to be considering something just like this – it’s actually the reason I opened this iPad this morning.

The working definition of insanity is doing the same thing expecting different results, right? And it drives me crazy when others follow the same roads that are hurting them. It’s like re-watching a horror movie where we keep yelling at the screen, “don’t go in there!!!” But they always do. They don’t do anything different, keep swinging the same wrecking ball at their lives and reaping the consequences.

I have this theory (I have many theories) that most of us don’t want advice, we simply want you to say yes, we’re right. We don’t want to change, the pain of moving from this spot has to exceed the pain of staying, and no matter how much that pain is, it’s often less than the fear of new pain. So, I walk with them (I like that about me), kindly, hoping they choose another path before they catch on fire again and I am there to help put them out. I reason that, eventually, they will open their eyes and choose a new path. That’s why you want me walking next to you. I like that about me. I’m not judgy and I’ll let you crash, if that’s what you want, then I’ll get down next to you while we pick up the pieces. (It’s also why you don’t want me walking next to you, if you happen to be the ultra-rare kind of person who wants me to grab the wheel before impact.) This is frustrating to watch the people we love self-destruct.

There is a problem with my explanation…and my frustration. I have a poor physical self-image (getting better) and poor eating habits (not yet getting too much better). These 2 things are friends and feed each other. I eat the food that makes me feel like garbage and makes my body less than aesthetically pleasing (at least to me) and, because of this, sabotage myself by eating more of that trash. This has to stop, if I want to live the sort of life I deserve.

In most areas of my life, I’m very disciplined. I like that about me a lot. But in this area, I am completely insane. My explanation has a fatal flaw, and it’s that I use the word “they,” because it’s not they at all. It’s me, it’s us. I don’t like this mirror, because I don’t like this part of me.

Now, I’m going to get to work today digging into my soul and psyche, trying to use my imagination to shift my perspective. But first, which one am I? I don’t like some things about me, that is absolutely true. But I like many more, and that number keeps growing for the same reason I keep walking paths with others long after everybody else peels off: hope. I am a genuinely hopeful man, I believe in you and I now believe in me. Of course, this is rooted in my belief in Jesus, which requires me to love us enough to hope. That’s my favorite thing about me, the trait I value the most, but I guess the truth is that it’s Jesus that is that part of me. So, He’s my favorite part of me. And He’s my favorite part of you, too. That’s why we can keep messing up, living loops, I can keep eating like a manic 6 year old, and it doesn’t define us, we are still beautiful, we are still worthy, we are still lovable, and we are still loved. And these same still’s are also why I, why we, can be free to change.

Changes

September 25, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

I have an interesting job – I’m a pastor of a faith community. This is not something I would’ve ever picked for myself. In fact, quite the opposite. Pastor is not a viable career path when you don’t believe in God, and I didn’t until the last month or 2 of my college experience. Then, everything changed, and along the way I ended up here.

We began this community in my living room when our church closed down, and now we rent a church building. I tell you this because, when we started, I made the decision that we would go verse-by-verse through the Bible in our teaching. This would ensure 1) that I always had something to talk about, 2) that I wouldn’t be a prisoner of current events or my own opinions and/or pet causes, and 3) so I couldn’t avoid particularly scary, controversial passages that I didn’t necessarily want to talk about.

That strategy has served us very, very well. No matter where we are in this ancient book, it always happens to dovetail nicely with today’s cultural landscape. And we’ve had to discuss war, empire, politics, homosexuality, the MCU, Morrissey – all the big divisive pitfalls. Of course, we’ve had people leave because of an interpretation (that I hold, or held at the time) of the passages, but mostly we face the same direction and dive in together, trying hard to be unoffendable.

We’re in a space now that commands the “wives” to “submit to your husbands.” If you knew how many brides-to-be ask me not to talk about this very verse in their ceremony, you would, well, you wouldn’t be shocked at all. People have been cut up and ruined by these verses, it is absolutely understandable that they would not want to face them on a Sunday morning with me.

I begin the talk with “we go verse-by-verse, so I can’t avoid these topics. This isn’t one I’d choose to drag out into the open.” It gets a little uncomfortable laugh, and hopefully disarms some of us. The thing is, it’s not true. It certainly was true, it’s just not anymore. I wasn’t anxious at all, if anything, I was excited to “drag it out into the open.” And as I was feeling that, I said that, too.

We walk, learn, grow and change. (Hopefully, we change. That’s the plan. Imagine if we were the same people we were in 5th grade, when we were 21, last week!) We don’t care so much about the things we used to care about, we care much more about others.

My Sunday fear of controversy has old, deep roots. I used to be afraid someone wouldn’t like my perspective, and that they’d leave. Let me tell you, that does hurt a heart like mine, but it would be totally my fault. They didn’t like ME, I wasn’t enough. And as a pleaser since forever, that is terrifying. I spent so long twisting myself into what you, or she, or he, or they, wanted me to be. I was an actor on a stage, performing for who was currently in the audience.

So, as we grow, it’s mostly in small baby steps. Almost unnoticeably. Like when we gain or lose some weight, we don’t gain/lose 30 pounds in a night and look in the mirror at a face that isn’t our own. We don’t even notice that we’re up or down 0.2lb, and then another 0.4lb, then our pants don’t quite fit. I’m not a Democrat or Republican for my whole life then stop on my way to the polls and say, “wait a minute, no I’m not!” We just find ourselves pulling different levers because we’re no longer who we were. When did this happen? Who knows? There isn’t usually a discernible point where we were one thing and now we’re another.

And then we stand up there in front of our friends and say the things we’ve always said and realize, this isn’t true anymore. That is a wonderful feeling. And what about those who disagree? I don’t want them to go, of course, but if they are there only because I say the things they already believe, or they need me to agree with them (and some do), then that’s how it’ll be. I can no longer pretend. There’s simply no time for that. We have too much work to do to waste time on intellectual/emotional/spiritual contortionism.

Change isn’t ever comfortable, growth comes with pain, but this is me, here & now, with all of the spaces that I’m really awesome AND the spaces where I’m just the worst. I give all of them freely to everyone, in love and grace, and in that offering, I ask for the same (sometimes – more than you’d ever guess – I get it). I’m grateful for the soul-rest of knowing/liking myself. I’m grateful to be a work in progress. I’m grateful for the changes.

What Would The Algorithm Think?

September 19, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

I think I told you I re-signed up for a Netflix subscription when I picked up the NFL Network for Sunday RedZone. I love football, and perhaps even more so, I love the ritual of Sunday afternoons with my family, all of the games, and the host Scott Hansen.

(Now, this makes me think about the Greeks having lots of words for love. I love my sons, my wife…and football? Surely, I don’t love them the same. It shouldn’t be the same word, right? But we only have one, and under those rules, I do love the Dallas Cowboys. And now that I think about it, my love for a faceless organization is pretty unconditional. I can’t think of another product that I would continue to patronize if the product was inferior. I would stop using Dawn dish detergent if it didn’t clean the dishes. Why don’t I move away from the Dallas Cowboys after nearly 30 years of heartbreak? Heartbreak? It’s not heartbreak, it’s just sports. Maybe we need to rethink the words we use.)

So, this Netflix subscription has unlocked many new documentaries. I know more now about Jessica Wongso, Laci Peterson, a couple that was so badly mistreated over a home invasion/kidnapping/sexual assault that nobody believed, and several others. Most of them have, as their subject, murder or, at the very least, violence. I don’t mind violence in movies, but I mind it a lot in real life. (I mind sexual assault the most, I stay away from that at all costs. I did not know about it’s inclusion in the home invasion doc, and I was sorry immediately.) And I always recoil over any discussion on murder. So why do I gravitate to these sorts of films?

I prefer quirky, like Chicken People or Super Size Me, where no one dies. Even the Chimpanzee one on Max was pretty strange & terrific. There aren’t that many of those, though. Especially in relation to the tsunami of serial killers and psychopaths. A series on bad roommates and exes is good enough, tickling weirdos and toy collectors is better yet. (Not that all ticklers are weirdos because they enjoy tickle competitions, but some of them are. There are weirdos in any avenue. I would surmise there are more per 100 in competitive tickling, though.)

I wonder why there are so many murder-docs? Why are they so popular? This seems to say much more about us than it does about the filmmakers or even the subjects. So, what does it say about me? I wish a little that we could see our own AI algorithms, made up of our aggregate thumbs ups and downs, and how we actually choose to spend our time. What would my algorithm think about me?

But I probably don’t really want to know that. Sometimes, it’s best not to ask questions and enjoy the games, instead.

Judgment

September 6, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

This post, I imagine, will touch on lots and lots of different topics. So, we’ll dive in and see where this takes (and leaves) us.

I recently resuscitated my Netflix subscription, and immediately dug into the documentary wing, devouring one on Laci Peterson and another on Ashley Madison. Laci Peterson (and her unborn child) was (were) murdered by her husband, Scott. Ashley Madison is a website where married people can find other married people with whom to share their infidelity. Both of these situations are significant to me, I am married to the Angel, and I also wrote a book on marriage (called Be Very Careful Who You Marry, that you can get on this very website;).

Scott, who appears to be without any form of actual human emotion, is in prison serving a life sentence, largely due to the testimony of his extramarital girlfriend, Amber. Ashley Madison was the victim of a hack that revealed its customers and a nearly endless well of fraud. (I know, it’s shocking that a company that exists to facilitate deception and betrayal would deceive and betray it’s users. Shocking.)

Many of the participants in both docs repeated the mantra, like the chorus in a pop song, “I don’t judge,” or some version of that particular command of Jesus. It’s always interesting when we choose to refer to the Scriptures. But Scott’s family doesn’t think we should judge Scott, Ashley Madison doesn’t think we should judge it/them or their clients. Is it judgment to think dishonesty is a bad thing? Is it judgment to abhor the act of killing your family? Is it judgment to notice the emotional destruction that comes from infidelity?

I wrote about Oppenheimer a few weeks ago – is it judgment to think that, even if we can blow up the whole world, maybe that’s not something we should do? And if we do, maybe that sort of thing is wrong? And while we’re there, is it judgment to believe in the notions of right and wrong?

I watched an episode of Ashley Madison with my son and we discussed it afterwards. Is it judgment to watch this wreckage and learn a lesson, so he doesn’t have to suffer in similar footsteps? Is it judgment to tell him not to cheat on or murder his wife?

All of these questions are somewhat facetious – I’m not honestly asking. The purpose is to expose the ridiculous nature of a culture that has misidentified ‘judgment’ and has turned it into some kind of catch-all rationalization for bad decisions. To call a bad decision a bad decision isn’t judgment, it never was and never will be. To learn from other’s mistakes requires that we categorize them as mistakes, and not simply different equal paths.

I understand judgment just fine, and that’s for a few reasons. I was born with empathy coming out of my ears, so it makes me uniquely qualified to see your perspective (or anyone else’s). However, if you get to live long enough, you see too much of the fallout of this kind of relational dynamite. And you can easily begin to get a little hardened by crying so much, so often. So, like quadriceps, you’ll have to train those muscles, so they don’t completely atrophy. These documentaries are the gym for me. I watch and my heart still breaks everytime. And I can see (sometimes from a great distance) why they may have made these particular decisions.

Inside the Ashley Madison story, there’s a couple who became internet famous as Christian marriage YouTubers. “This is how you have a healthy marriage…This is how you love God & each other…” Except he was not what he pretended to be. So.

To live an honest life of faith, or a human life, fully present and engaged with the world and those around us, it’s integral that we get comfortable with the dichotomy. He was a pretender, who was completely disrespectful to God, his wife, family, the women he cheated with, and himself. This is true. But he isn’t only that. He’s also a child of God, created in His image. And his story isn’t over. The thing about judgment is that it assumes it is over, etched in stone. He doesn’t have to continue to be disrespectful, he is not exiled, confined to that locked box forever. There is forgiveness. He can change.

Now maybe I don’t necessarily think he should get the privilege of returning to his beautiful wife, but that’s not judgment, that’s consequence. I don’t think someone needs to continue to be a punching bag in the service of a mis-defined non-judgmentalism. But my opinion doesn’t matter too much to these people I’ve never met. She thinks he should, and we can all pray he can/will change.

On this, Scott Peterson is in jail for the rest of his life for his actions, but maybe he isn’t that same person anymore. I don’t need him to be. In fact, I really really hope he’s not. I can hold both things. He did this and there are consequences, but while this is legal judgment, it’s certainly not mine to carry for eternity. Right & wrong are real (murdering your wife is wrong) AND have nothing at all to do with our status as human beings (Scott Peterson is a child of God, dearly loved, he’s a son, brother, friend).

I can see why people join cults or sign up and give their credit card information to sleazy websites or listen to Coldplay or CrossFit or go vegan or vote for either party. It doesn’t mean I will. It just means I can see why you might. (Ok, maybe I can’t see why you’d listen to Coldplay, but they’re the exception.) And when we choose to start there, and keep training those muscles, we can consciously choose our values and avoid the pitfalls that come with sleepwalking through closed-minded lives. And love somebody, love everybody, instead.

2 Aching Muscles

September 3, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

On Friday, I pulled a muscle in my back. This, I suppose, isn’t the most surprising thing in the world. It happens. What’s embarrassing about it is that I did it while throwing frisbee. Or rather, disc golf. That sounds much cooler than “frisbee.” We’ve been playing quite a bit lately, and it was a pretty good time, until I felt like I got stabbed in my back and now it hurts to breathe too deeply or dead lift or get up or move quickly or walk around like a normal person. Sigh. So there’s that. I don’t know when I got this old. I used to be able to throw frisbees with no consequence. Sheesh, its just a frisbee.

If I take some ibuprofen, it’s not too bad. I bet nobody knew on Sunday morning or yesterday visiting family. Maybe they did, you know I can be very dramatic in my self-pity.

Today it’s better – I haven’t taken anything for pain yet today – but maybe that’s because there is another thing that is affecting an entirely different muscle in my aging body.

My youngest son just left for the first day of his senior year of high school. This has been only the first leg of the “lasts.” The last high school summer league in basketball. The last summer vacation of high school. The last first day.

There’s a meme (the wisdom literature of our time, our proverbs) that says something like “one day you’ll carry your child to bed and it’ll be the last time, and you won’t know it at the time.” And it can be anything. These 2 boys used to sleep on my chest. We walked them to school, drove them to practices, watched band concerts. I used to put them on my shoulders, or better yet, in a backpack for walks, like Yoda. If I sat them on my shoulders now, there would be many more than one muscle pulled. (My older boy is bigger than me in every way, maybe I should get on his shoulders to see now.)

As we all get older, we get the gift of knowing it’s the last. I knew the last time I’d coach each of them. I knew when I handed the championship trophy to this now-high school-senior and hugged him, that it would be the last time I would ever do that. That’s why I cried in front of everyone. We know today is his last first day of high school. We know the next first day of school, he won’t be living in this house. I cry a lot in front of everyone. (Today, though, with this pulled muscle in my back, it hurts A LOT to cry, more than usual.)

I talk a lot about a 2 hands theology. We are asked to hold the sadness – in this case, the sadness of the loss of my little boy – AND the celebration and joy – in this case, he’s a cooler, better person than I could have ever dreamed he’d be. Both of these boys are, and that is more wonderful than I can tell you. Except they’re not boys anymore, they’re men, and that hurts worse than I can tell you. My tears are a holy mixture of pain and joy.

That mixture has a name and is, simply, gratitude. More than anything that I can’t tell you is how thankful I am. My sister & I were talking, awestruck at these lives with which we have been blessed. This is certainly not to say they have been easy or without struggle or without times we doubted and there were times we might not have felt so grateful. But the thing about a 2 hands theology is that we have always been honest about those times, and the truth is, that’s probably why we’re so thankful today. We have been there for all of it.

I remember tearing their artwork from the walls of our old house as it went underwater, but I couldn’t get it all. And I prize what I took and mourn the loss of what I left behind. My aim has always been to live a fully present life, showing up to the pleasure, the wins, and the suffering, the losses. There have been so many of both, and I wouldn’t trade any of them.

So yes, I am celebrating with an ecstatic heart at this life I’ve been given and what I get to see and experience…and there is no amount of ibuprofen that can ease the hurt of what I get to see and experience. But the best thing is that there is no world where I’d want to.

THE TV Show

August 26, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The site prompt is, “What TV shows did you watch as a kid?” This is very easy, because the answer is as true for when I was a kid as it is now. I watch(ed) Three’s Company.

Now, you’ll snicker and joke that it’s a dumb show about misunderstandings and outdated humor. Maybe those 2 things are true, but it is certainly not dumb. I’ll never agree with you on that. The foundations of me – and no doubt the reasons you love me so much – were forged in the late 70’s & early 80’s with Jack, Janet, Chrissy, Cindy, Terri, Larry, the Ropers, and Furley.

Does that sound ridiculous? Probably. Whatever.

But listen, the outfits and silly plot lines (some used and re-used over and over) were simply the structure for the real purpose: the relationships. The love they had for each other was the show. They argued and made up. They threatened to move out, and they fought for, cried with, and protected each other – like a beautiful cocoon of love in a world where love is forever in too-short supply.

There was never enough money, the rent was always late, eviction was always right around the corner, bosses harassed, they were hired and lost jobs, made dumb purchases, dated the wrong people – just like us. We have bills and conflict and money that runs out too soon. But what we might not have, and desperately need, is a tightly knit group surrounding us to face those monsters together.

Of course, I learned that I am heterosexual and have a type – maybe I was genetically predisposed to be wildly attracted to all Janet Woods, or maybe I am because of Janet Wood/Joyce Dewitt. It doesn’t matter, I suppose. Chicken & egg, right?

But much more than sexuality, I learned that we aren’t made to live alone. We are made for each other. Probably I am impatient with separation because the anxiety I felt when the roommates fought was over in 30 minutes. 30 minutes that felt impossibly long. Nothing was ever more important than the connection, than the ties that held them together, and I still believe that.

I cry with them when Janet marries Philip and when they turn the lights out for the last time. Everybody does. But I also cry when Jack buys Janet’s pendant back from the pawn shop for her birthday, when that scumbag dance instructor tears Janet up and Jack is there (of course, he’s there) to dance with her, and when Jack chooses Bernice for dinner. And I cry for different reasons altogether over a hammock or roller skates.

It’s the best show ever, and it’s not close. And I’ll fight you over that fact, as long as we make up in a half an hour.

Small Towns

August 22, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

Jenny From The Block filed for divorce from Batman yesterday. We probably all knew this was coming, as they were having multiple weddings (some very, very public), telling anyone who would listen, and making movies of their unstoppable love. Most likely, this news was met with an eye roll and the assignment of blame. Each of us know who’s fault we think it is, right?

I am an animal of the popular culture, and I have always been interested in things like this. I like details, and am embarrassed to say, gossip. Today, though, I feel different.

I grew up in a small town, went to college in a small town, and then stayed in that same small town. Pretty much everyone knows each other (and their business.) Maybe we don’t know their names, but we kind of know our neighbors stories, hear them fight, see the sirens of their recent DUI’s, and guess at how many times they’ve been divorced. (J.Lo will have been divorced 4 times after this one.) Batman and his soon to be ex-wife live in this kind of small town, too, except it’s comprised of the whole world.

We still don’t know what exactly happened or why, but we kind of do, we read online quotes from “sources,” and we are all armchair psychologists, reading into each facial expression, and injecting each holiday spent apart with inferred meaning. I think, while he might not hate fame or wild paychecks, he hates celebrity, and she absolutely does not, and that creates a certain tension that is difficult to navigate. He seems like you’d love to be his buddy, but that you might not love to be his partner. Like me. She seems like she would need a lot of attention. Like me. I guess I’d guess it’s his fault (because my default position is ‘it’s his fault’). But who knows???? I only know, for sure, someone who doesn’t know, and that’s me.

Small towns can be really great. I love mine, but I bet I wouldn’t quite as much if I knew what everyone thought of every decision I made without ever having as much as a conversation with me. But this is the curse of a small town. I do wish them peace, broken relationships are very hard, no matter how much money is in the bank. Maybe this sort of thing would be a little easier if our ‘small towns’ of voices and opinions were only made up of those we actually know.

The Oppenheimer Situation

August 16, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

I hadn’t watched Oppenheimer until yesterday. I would’ve told you that I just hadn’t gotten around to it, but now I know it was probably on purpose. This is the same reason I don’t re-watch Inside Out and will never see Inside Out 2; they’re excellent, but simply too heavy for me.

Oppenheimer is the account of the creation of the atomic bomb, and might be the best film I’ve ever seen. This is not to say I liked it, I don’t think I did. It’s perfectly written, directed and acted, there is no imaginable way upon which it could be improved.

Every now and again, with truly great art, immediately after closing the book or the credits roll or the final notes fade into silence, I cry and cry. In most cases (like, say, “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out,” by the Smiths, or My Grandmother Told Me To Tell You She’s Sorry, by Fredrik Backman), it’s just the overwhelming beauty that does it. A newborn baby or a sunset are much the same sensation – a gift perfectly created, like a hand that reaches through your chest and pries open your heart just a little to pour some new flavor of love, forcing it to expand and grow 2 sizes in an instant. You wonder if you’ll survive, if you can physically take this, but you can. In fact, you’re made for this, you just forgot for a minute. The impact leaves you different, in every good way, like a return to who you are.

…Obviously, words aren’t enough.

Oppenheimer is that sort of thing, but it’s also something else. It’s the account of man’s inhumanity to man. Progress, in this instance, is the ability to kill more and more in less and less time, most efficiently. In the last line of the film, Oppenheimer reminds Albert Einstein of a conversation on if the explosion would set off a chain reaction that would destroy the world, then says, “I believe we did.”

This movie is like the inverse of the climax of The Dark Knight. In that film, the Joker outfits 2 cruise ships (1 full of Gotham citizens, the other full of Gotham prisoners) with explosives and the detonator for the other. Then, he gives them 1 hour to act, to destroy the other before they could do the same to you. This is the principle motivation for Oppenheimer: kill them all before they can kill you.

Where the Dark Knight was Nolan’s hope for our good, for our redemption, Oppenheimer is much more cynical. One side actually pushes the detonator. The most disturbing thing is that the Dark Knight is a work of fiction, while Oppenheimer is horrifyingly real.

Dancing Lessons

August 15, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The Angel & I are taking dancing lessons. We’ve learned the foxtrot, rumba, and swing – and when I say we’ve learned them, I mean we’re learning the most basic steps. Level zero. Our instructor shows us the positions, the steps, the beats, the building blocks, explains why, and hints at all of the possibilities with the higher levels (higher than zero;). It’s super fun, we like each other, laugh a lot, and I always love the way the Angel moves.

I am the leader – I recognize this is quite old-fashioned and so-not-2024, to have a man lead, but that’s how it goes. I decide where we’re going and what we’re doing, if she’ll turn or not, and if she does, under which arm she’ll go. And she’s supposed to follow.

You can see that this might present a problem. If you have ever had the pleasure of spending any time with the Angel, you know she is a born leader, an alpha, and she is the leader in nearly all of the spaces of her life. She does not like to be led, often for very good reason. (It took many years of our marriage until she was comfortable enough to trust me in any significant capacity…also for very good reason.)

So we’re dancing and our instructor, Artur, is encouraging my leadership and her following where I lead. It’s the only way it works, there can’t be 2 leaders, and even if I don’t exactly know the steps, I will, and it’s impossible for either of us to learn the dance without the basic structure intact. This week, he said to her, “You are not following, you are anticipating. You are going where you want to go, or where you think you should go. And when you do that, he cannot lead you.”

I became a much worse rumba leader, because that lesson was teaching much more than dancing, and my mind started to wander. I thought of my relationship with Jesus, and how He is the leader, only I fight Him because I think I know where we should go, what we’re supposed to do, I know what the steps are, not Him, and I’m actually trying to force Him to follow me. Right?!!!??

[Maybe Jesus isn’t who you’re dancing with. I hear people call their dancing partners the Universe, an Energy Source, their Higher Power, whatever name you choose, you are dancing and you do have a partner. Like Bob Dylan said, “You may be an ambassador to England or France. You may like to gamble, you might like to dance. You may be the heavyweight champion of the world. You might be a socialite with a long string of pearls…But you’re gonna have to serve somebody.” I dance with Jesus.]

We’re dancing this life He’s given me, and instead of smooth graceful sweeping purposeful movements, it’s a power struggle. Well, it’s probably honestly not much of a struggle, if I need to drive this car into a ditch, He’ll probably let me. (Like that parable of the unforgiving debtor, the King forgives, but when the forgiven won’t, He says, ok, if that’s really what you want, I guess we’ll do it by your rules.) So our dance doesn’t look beautiful, it’s wooden, clumsy, and dis-jointed. It’s visual noise, and looks like neither of us know what’s going on and neither of us can hear the music.

These dancing lessons are great, we’re having a terrific time, and I’m wondering how my life would look and feel if I just stop fighting the flow and let Him finally lead.

Love With A Capital L

A journey towards living an inspired life of love in the modern world

Author: The Bridge Faith Community