2025-10-13T16:34:46+00:00

The Tension of Real Life

October 13, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

There is such an interesting space between reputation or past behavior and the hope that today is not yesterday. I don’t ever believe in the despair of “well, that’s just how he is,” or ”that’s how I am,” or “what I always do” or, “what can I do, that’s just the way it is.” What about attacking that mindset with an indignant, “it doesn’t have to be, anymore?”

The past is our primary excuse for throwing our hands up in hopeless surrender. If I, he, she, it has been one way, then it only goes to figure that it will always be that way. Right? No. If I have never done the dishes, I can do the dishes today. If I have never gone to the gym, I can start anytime. If we don’t hold hands, I can take your hand in mine this very moment. Maybe I am a person who works a job I hate because, well, just because – why am I that person? And why can’t I change everything about that sentence? Maybe I’m not actually that person. Maybe I don’t have to work that job. Or maybe I don’t have to hate it. Maybe the present & future allows far more agency than we acknowledge.

The resurrection of Jesus Christ transformed every rule we thought was forged in stone, redefined what was possible (in that if death was no longer sure, then everything was now on the table). Our marriage doesn’t have to stay dead, our career doesn’t have to be miserable and soul-crushing, our perspective doesn’t have to be so cynical. Not for one more day. Why not?

And if that’s true, then why would we choose to lock ourselves and others up inside of the boxes we’ve constructed, throwing away the key? We have to be the sorts of people who allow for the possibility of transformation, who hold on to the hope that resurrection & redemption could be true in our own lives, in everything. If there is a fresh new story to be told (and there is), then we have to be the ones reflecting it, right???

But aren’t there people who are toxic to you? Who do not mean for your good, who will hurt you, again and again and again, if given the chance…what about them? Do I have to allow for their transformation? And what does that even look like? Doesn’t leaving the door open, sometimes, make me a fool? Isn’t my abuser “just who he/she is?” Or isn’t he/she that, at least to me? Can I lock that door, or do I have to keep letting them come back? Doesn’t Jesus also say “be as wise as serpents and as innocent as doves?” What is wisdom and what does it look like, for me, in this?

This is that “interesting space” from the first sentence, and the sad truth is that there is no solid, unchanging answer. The answer is Yes or No, Both/And, Neither/Nor, but mostly it’s Maybe. Wisdom isn’t static. Forgiveness AND Boundaries can certainly live together in peace and harmony, but so can Forgiveness AND Reconciliation. Now what? Which is it?

We want to know. We want black and white, yes-no, we want understanding & control, we want to say how it’s supposed to be, or what should be, but we don’t get that. We get messy, blurred lines. You and I might have boundaries that she and I don’t. This is the overwhelming, uncomfortable tension of real life, and the most courageous steps we can ever take is to keep leaning into the uncertainty of relationships. There’s only one reason to take them, and it’s a good one: because we’re worth it.

Season Passes

October 6, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

This summer, my youngest son and I used our season passes to go to the local amusement park (Hersheypark) once or twice a week, every week, throughout the summer. We love roller coasters, this is certainly true, but the motivation, at least for me, was to spend these few hours with him. He didn’t always take his phone and hardly ever looked at it. We just walked and talked, compiled lists (about everything), watched people, laughed, lost our breath, got and stayed dizzy, and walked some more. As far as great ideas we’ve had, this is up there towards the top.

Then, in August, he set sail for college and, as next year’s passes went on sale, I asked if he’d like to do it again. Probably not, was his answer. He’d hopefully have an internship. Of course, he would. Maybe he won’t even come home next summer.

Some things you don’t hear with your ears, you feel with your heart.

I pretended that it didn’t hurt, oh yeah, sure, no problem. And I started to think about Jesus.

There’s a story in the Bible, (I’m not sure if this is what the passage actually means…you know, I’m not even sure if “actually means” is important. If the Scriptures reach you in a beautiful, significant way, than maybe that’s the only “actually” that matters. Anyway.), after the resurrection, Mary cries out to Jesus, Who says, “Don’t hold on to me.” That’s an interesting thing to say. Why not? He was dead and now is alive, why can’t I hold on to you? Why can’t I hold you so tightly I never lose you again?? But maybe He’s saying holding on, trying to keep things as they are, static, unchanging, isn’t how this whole thing works. Maybe this whole creation is about movement, growing, about transformation. And none of that happens while we’re sitting down, arms folded, pouting, wishing time to stop, holding on to how it is.

[…I had a political thought here, but decided to excise it. We have a tendency to get stuck in our political quicksand, and miss everything else, so unless your thought, or in this case, post, IS about politics, it’s just an obstacle, isn’t it?]

So, I wanted to hold on to (another translation says “cling to”) my boy, Hersheypark, this summer. I also want him to go, meet people, take classes, do all of the things he wants to do. I want him to have the best internship anyone has ever had. But I wish his new life included Hersheypark with me. All of this is simultaneously true, and it’s sometimes hard to hold together, with peace and grace.

I guess we all have a choice, in every moment.

I’m writing this now, but I’ll post it while the Angel and I are on vacation. I might not want to sit down and write from the beach or while I could be holding and smooching her. This vacation will be (is) awesome, and maybe I won’t want to come home. Maybe I’ll want to cling. Then what?

Our choice is to hold on with white knuckles, full of rage and fear, trying to steer this ship where it will not go. OR. We can be here now, enjoy it, and soak in every last drop of the blessing, let it change us, and move forward as new me’s and you’s.

“Don’t hold on to me.” Don’t hold on to the way it is, the way it was, just who we are, the comfortable known, even if it’s some of the best hours we’ve ever spent. We are called into a beautiful, dynamic adventure. We take shots, risk, leap. This is not, and never was, about keeping this terrific person here in this house in my pocket, it’s about sending him out, just like it is for us. The story of Abraham begins with a word, “Go.” The story of the early Church begins with the same word. Why do we think ours would be any different?

We loved every second of each other, and the time we spent this summer. Not because it would never end, but because we were totally present and engaged. We were really, truly living these blessings. Yes, I was there, it was fantastic, and I am now a different man. And maybe that is as good of a definition of overwhelming gratitude as we’ll ever find.

#1 Priority Tomorrow

September 29, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

What is my #1 priority tomorrow? The hosting site wants to know. I’ll tell you this, tomorrow will not be as great as today. It’ll be awesome, but it won’t be today.

The Angel arranged a sort-of card “shower,” where people sent birthday cards to her to give to me all at once. So, for the last few days, I’ve read a few each day, and today, opened and read the rest. There is a concept called the 5 Love Languages (we give/receive love in different ways, it’s important we communicate our love in ways we understand), my primary is physical touch, but my second is words of affirmation. This kind of thing is misnamed, it’s an overwhelming tidal wave of love, instead of a shower, for a words man.

So, tomorrow, I’ll get back into ordinary time. That’s a liturgical (religious) term that refers to the days & months outside of the big spiritual seasons, like Advent, Christmas, Lent, Easter, etc. I only use it ironically, and I use it ironically here, too.

There is no such thing as “ordinary time.” Ordinary means common, everyday, and listen to what else I read about being ordinary: “If you describe someone or something as ordinary, you mean they are not interesting in any way and may be rather dull. I’m just a very ordinary, boring normal guy.” What?!!!?? Is anything ordinary? Not interesting in any way? Common?

So, tomorrow, I’m talking to my sister on the phone like I do every Tuesday at 9am. It is our usual time to talk, and it is NOT ordinary. Then, I’m taking a meal to a woman who is recovering from heart surgery, and I’ll probably stay for a little while. What could possibly be considered ordinary about that? Then, in the afternoon… well, a woman reached out to me, in a very vulnerable way, about purpose, direction, restlessness, and a thousand other swirling emotions. First, that kind of reaching out is not, in any way, ordinary, and 2nd, that I get the privilege of sharing that space with her – not ordinary. In the evening, our community has our weekly prayer space. This hour is a lot of things, but ordinary is not one of them.

I guess our lives can be ordinary, but that only happens when we forget how valuable they are, how valuable we are. When we stop living with the immense gratitude all of this beautiful grace requires. When we take the sacred energy all around us, between us, for granted.

You know what else I did today? I kissed the Angel. (That sounds like a metaphor, and maybe it would be a good one, but in this case, it’s just what happened.) We’ve been together for 27 years, and have kissed each other countless times (did I mention I am a physical touch??). I can’t (and don’t want to) imagine a day where those kisses are simply ordinary, “not interesting in any way… and rather dull.” They are remarkable, every single time.

So, now, what is my #1 priority? I’ll tell you. My priority, tomorrow and every day, is to destroy this nonsense that our lives are ordinary, and to join you as we reclaim the divine in every person, every moment. We’ll knock down every wall that has been built with the lies that sold us that anything could ever be just ordinary.

50

September 27, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

There’s a new Dave Hause album out today, called …And The Mermaid, (or Dave Hause And The Mermaid, if you prefer) and it’s outstanding. You probably knew this already, for 2 reasons. 1. It was the first thing you listened to, when you woke up this morning. 2. Dave Hause is consistently outstanding. He releases lots and lots of music, and the vast majority is awesome. We can trust him. This is a rare thing and he must be celebrated as one of our finest living artists.(If you haven’t listened to the record, now is a good time to do it. This post will be here when you get back.)

Next, the site is prompting me to list 3 jobs I’d “consider pursuing if money didn’t matter.” I am currently employed in the only field I’d like to work. My profession and my personal passion and interest happen to be the same, and it’s a good thing that I can draw any kind of salary from it. I have very few discernible skills suited for any other career. It isn’t a path to the conventional idea of great material wealth, unless you’re a tv or megachurch pastor (or a thief, sometimes all 3), but it has certainly been a path to enormous spiritual/emotional/relational wealth. And we lack for nothing at all, so I’d say it depends on what you consider material wealth to decide if I have it. Using my own definition, I do, wildly so, and I suppose that’s the only definition that matters.

I’m a little introspective today. The next time I write (and post), I’ll be 50 years old. That is a number that can bring about quite a lot of reflection. Who am I? What am I doing? Can I really be this old, and is 50 as old as I thought it was when I was 10 or 18 or 30? Incidentally, it’s not.

Added to this, I’ve been ill lately. Not the “ill” for which the Beastie Boys were licensed – in that, I am, and will always remain, very ill – but I have some sort of…something. I’ve never had what I have now and won’t bother you with symptoms. (I am ok, I’ve been to the dr for a yearly physical and blood work, so no need for even one moment of worry. It’ll pass, or it is the new normal for my next 50 years. Who knows?) But, it has effectively sidelined me, giving me extra time to think about my life and the decisions I have made, make today, and will make in the future.

BUT MOSTLY, what I have come up with, when I look at these 50ish years, is how grateful I am. I would not have ever imagined I would marry a woman in the class of The Angel (it’s even harder since she’s the only one of that particular class.) …And these 2 boys. …And this family. (You understand that family is much broader that simply blood relation, right? I refer to my church community, my friends, and you (though we may have never met.) …This day …This kiss, hug, puzzle, pizza, text message, sunset …All of it.

There is nothing extraordinary about me. I am not the smartest, most handsome, or funniest. I can not run very fast or throw a baseball 100mph. I don’t make a living from YouTube payments from the streams of our Sunday services, and the stats page on this site say that I won’t make any money here anytime soon, either. I dance pretty well, but I can’t sing at all. I should lose 25 pounds – and if I do, I’d still be 20 lbs over my idea weight. My skin isn’t that great, and my teeth aren’t as white as they could be.

None of this is disappointing to me anymore, if it ever was. What it tells me, now, is, well, it tells me that when I wrote “there is nothing extraordinary about me,” I was wrong. And that “extraordinary” is the people with whom I’ve been blessed to share this wonderful life. I’ve been given these gifts, and for the most part, I have been able to simply enjoy them/you. I have been present, shown up, and I am wholly grateful.

There is a saying that goes, “but for the grace of God go I,” and maybe there’s no one where it has ever been more true. My bad decisions, failures, mistakes, wrong turns, have generally not jaded me, or turned me into a cynical curmudgeon. I did nothing to gain any of this – the very definition of grace. I know I am loved, even as I am.

Right now, “Strain Your Memory,” by the Menzinger’s is on, and there’s a familiar lament in it: to go back to when life was more simple. And maybe that’s one of the biggest gifts of grace that has allowed me to experience all of the others. I am a simple man. I rarely wish for more, or someone else’s anything, or anything different from what I have. When I pass from this life into the next, I will not wish for the times when things were simple – they are now – and I will not wish I spent more time in relationships (though I will wish I had more time to care for all of the relationships I would like to care for). If there is a key to this life, it is unbelievably simple: to love. All of the rest is noise and distracting from what is actually important; the God that created all of this beauty, and you.

Happy Birthday to me.

[now, seriously, if you haven’t listened to the Dave Hause record, go ahead and do that, as a birthday present to me]

Super, Man

September 22, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

Last post, we talked about Sarah, now we’ll talk about Superman. I don’t know what ties them together – maybe there’s some thread (no mater how thin) that could philosophically link the two – but, for today, for the purpose of this post, the only thing they have in common is me.

The newest Superman movie was released this year, the first in the James Gunn DCU reboot. I recognize it’s entirely possible that you have no idea what the words in the 2nd half of that sentence mean, but that’s not too important. It’s superheroes and comic book movies. Sometimes, they’re terrific, using the extraordinary circumstances to discuss very real, very human, situations and relationships. And sometimes, they’re not terrific, just capes and CGI. Superman is mostly terrific.

In 1998, Gus Van Sant directed Psycho, starring Vince Vaughn. It’s probably best to call it a cover version of the original. Of course, cover versions are usually used for music, but this was a shot-for-shot remake, like a new band playing the same chords, singing the same lyrics, ostensibly trying to bring something new to the material. This Psycho didn’t, though. It was dumb and absolutely pointless, and since then, the question, “why?” has been in my head when a new/old character is introduced. In this case, is it really necessary to create another universe with another Superman? And, oh baby, it really is.

There’s a scene where Lois is criticizing Superman, saying, “My point is I question everything and everyone. You trust everyone and think everyone you ever met is, like…beautiful.” That’s why it’s necessary, vital, here & now.

We are a world, generations deep, of Loises. We question, doubt, distrust. We’re cynical and jaded, probably for very good reason. But our new humanity (in-humanity) is not conducive in any way to connection or relationship. So, we’re isolated in our room, on our screens, creating stories in our heads about “them,” stripping them of any similarities to ourselves, making the incivility and violence, not only possible, but inevitable. When schools, or anywhere, are shot up (over 300 mass shootings in the US so far this year), they don’t even make the news and we hardly blink. Charlie Kirk is murdered because of what? A difference in perspective? Maybe you don’t like his point of view, maybe I don’t, maybe you and I do, but to elevate a disagreement into an excuse for a wife to lose her husband and his children to lose their daddy is…very…predictable. We were sad, horrified (no matter your politics, because a human being lost his life), but we were not surprised.

This culture of division and hatred is not one any of us truly want to live in, so we don’t just want Superman. We need Superman.

I don’t know if we find the art or fictional stories because we’re a certain way, or if we’re a certain way because of the art and stories we consume, but when Lois pseudo-insulted Superman in the way she did, she was talking to me, too. (Maybe I seek out the world I want, or the world was shown to me, and I accepted it as my own – at this point, who cares?) I trust everybody, love everybody and think you are beautiful and awesome. It was no insult.

Of course, as you can imagine, this ideal that I hold doesn’t always end happily. Sometimes, it ends in tears and heartbreak. And that is ok with me, it’s the cost of living this way, fully present and all the way in.

What I know is that I’m far more depressed at the way we’ve fallen into disrepair, chosen loneliness, increasingly willing to sacrifice the others to the god of self, the god of meeeee. This hurts me more than a friend’s lies, betrayal, ugliness. It’s much easier to change your mind than transform the groupthink of a mob, especially when we’ve bought the arrogant delusion that this is all the intellectual progress of a people.

Superman is embarrassingly naive and hopeful. Can there be anything more refreshing than that?? Than hope? Than a belief in the good of each other? Than forgiveness? Than respect? Than love?

At the end of the movie, he saves Metropolis and that world. Maybe he can save ours, too.

Sarah

September 19, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The new Sarah McLachlan album, Better Broken, came out today. A very great friend gave her review first thing this morning, as “Nothing beats Fumbling Towards Ecstasy.” That’s about as brief and whip-smart as a review of this album can be, she’s absolutely right. Nothing does beat Fumbling Towards Ecstasy.

This album is fine, some parts are awesome, but she is a victim of her own brilliance. Maybe that’s fair. Without Fumbling, this album is solid, pleasant and comfortable. But we don’t live in a “without Fumbling” world. Would you have a loving, respectful, fulfilling relationship (that ends), if it meant that new partners can’t fill those shoes? Would you have a transcendent album that changed everybody’s perception of what an album could be, that completely transformed the landscape for female artists forever, if it meant that everything after paled in comparison? (This is the Counting Crows situation, too, speaking of “everything after.”)

I know it would feel disappointing, to you, to everyone, but I think I hope you say yes. Fumbling Towards Ecstasy has ruined me for Better Broken, but we all had our worlds shaken. We all deserve a respectful, fulfilling, loving relationship, at least once, to show us what’s truly possible. I think that would destroy the nonsensical settling that is so pervasive. Because here’s the thing, my questions were kind of disingenuous. New partners can fill those shoes, everything after doesn’t always pale in comparison. These “unicorns” prove to us that unicorns exists, and give us the courage and hope to not stop listening to albums, to not sadly lower the criteria to accept anything less.

Fumbling Towards Ecstasy happened, and it happened to us.

Sheen

September 17, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The special new Netflix documentary is about Charlie Sheen. Now, I have always regarded Charlie Sheen as some sort of sideshow oddity, like an embarrassing example of the worst of celebrity culture. His is a life built only upon the religion of excess. Like the writer of Ecclesiastes, he devoted his life to tasting every single thing there was to taste, as much as a human could manage, then much, much more. I didn’t think he was a particularly talented actor, thought he built a name and career on his family name. (Yes, of course, I loved Platoon and Wall Street, everybody did/does, but figured they had little to do with him, and much more to do with the scripts and director. I’ll be open to the possibility that I am wrong.) We all saw the tiger blood and “winning” debacles, the wild drug abuse, and insatiable sexual appetite. Was there really any more to him than a tabloid caricature??

The best documentary films say, in all cases, yes, there is more. (This is one of those.)

And it made me think about our current cultural obsession with the opposite – that there is no more to anyone than one small sliver of the whole. We are all fighting all the time because we are no more than our political affiliation (or any other ideology), divided sharply along party lines. That man/woman, who is this, who has done that, is, has been, will always be, this.

There was a running back for the Baltimore Ravens several years ago (actually, it’s 11 years ago!!!) who was arrested for abusing his then fiancé (whom he would later marry). Maybe this is a poor example, as the brand from domestic violence might be one that should never fade. Should it? Never? But Charlie Sheen was also arrested for domestic violence. And it might be the perfect example because it is one of the most heinous offenses, one of the most difficult for me to forgive.

What does it matter if I can forgive, neither Ray Rice or Charlie Sheen asked me, and I’m quite certain they don’t care if I do or not. But it does matter, because Ray Rice isn’t the only abuser in the world. There’s probably at least one on every street all over the globe, in our schools, grocery stores, churches. Now what?

Are they monsters?

Over the last few days/weeks/years, I’ve heard many different types of people referred to as something less than human: serial killers, school shooters, politicians & presidents, CEOs, pedophiles with their own private trafficking islands, and on and on. Are they sub-human?

Charlie Sheen was a maniac with a massive illness hellbent on self-destruction. Is that an excuse, or a reason? It doesn’t change what he did, but it does expand the tiny slice of the identity pie. And maybe that’s the important thing. Maybe the Menendez brothers (Menendi) should face consequences for the rest of their lives, but what they endured as children sure does shift the perception of what they did. Maybe each time we learn more and more, each time our incomplete outline gains a new dimension, each time we ask questions like “should it?” or “never?” about a professional athlete, that produces a shift that – well, it doesn’t really change them, or what they did, but it does change us.

Then, when we sit across from a Trump republican or a Harris democrat and argue about immigration or government departments, we can quickly understand that how they see this issue is not even close to the entirety of who they actually are. Then, when we want to shut them down as unfeeling, ignorant, uninformed rage-monsters, we remember Charlie Sheen and, instead, maybe we could ask why, maybe we could discover who they are and, consequently, why they feel the way they do. Then, maybe we could stop fighting narrow-mindedness with narrow-mindedness and have a conversation, one with patience, kindness, and respect. Maybe this Charlie Sheen doc can give us the key to unlocking, and setting free, a shared humanity.

Or maybe it’s just a celebrity train wreck. I guess it’s whatever we want it to be.

A Dallas Cowboys Win

September 16, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The Dallas Cowboys are the official NFL team of the Bridge Faith Community, I’ve decided, and yesterday they barely eked out an overtime win over the hated rival New York Giants. To be honest with you, it was pretty disappointing, and as I am examining why that is, I am finding that it speaks to a reality that is far mare important than some dumb game in Texas.

Every year, I think the Cowboys will win the Super Bowl, and every year since 1995, I am wrong. This no longer ruins my year, season, month or even day, like it did when I was a teenager. They are just my favorite team. I am not a player, I have no stake in the team whatsoever. Yet, I would say I love them. [Obviously, not in the way I love my wife or any other person I actually know. I’m not an insane teenager anymore.] This is, I recognize, a ridiculous reality, but it is a reality nonetheless.

Now, let me tell you about a family beach vacation, about 10-15 years ago. One evening, we were on the boardwalk and my sister and I began to argue – I don’t remember what it was about, more than that I wanted her to say and/or do something, and she wasn’t saying or doing that thing, that way. She wanted the same from me. We had pictures in our heads of how the evening should go, and when they didn’t, we were frustrated and angry.

(If you have a sibling, you know the kind of ‘frustrated and angry’ I’m talking about. There is a certain safety in screaming out of frustrating and anger at someone you’ve lived with since you were born.)

Why were we arguing on a beautiful night on a boardwalk in Ocean City? For the same reason I was (am) disappointed in a nice win. It’s also the same reason the Angel and I usually have conflict, in our relationship. When I’m shockingly mean to me, in my head, it’s for this reason, too. And it’s also why I don’t buy, or listen to, the new Counting Crows albums. While we’re on the subject, it’s probably why we all hate each other on social media.

My sister and I fought because we had an expectation for the evening, we expected something from the other. I expect the Dallas Cowboys to win every game, comfortably. When I listen to new Counting Crows records, I still have August & Everything After in my head, and this new one is never that! I walk into these conversations with my wife with expectations that she will see it my way, or respond to me in a particular way.

Expectations are about what they should do, what they are supposed to say, how this should go, who should win, how you are supposed to see the world, and on and on. And when they don’t, when it doesn’t, I am disappointed and petty. I lash out, or pout (in other words, I say mean things or nothing at all.)

That night on the boardwalk opened my eyes to a new question, instead of why she didn’t participate in my mental construct for a perfect evening. Who in the world was I to decide how she should be, what she should say???? What gave me the right to be the all-knowing arbiter of what is supposed to be?

And when I finally asked that question, and searched my super ugly parts for the truth, it’s easy to see that I gave me that right. It’s simple arrogance, the same idolatry that is so commonplace all over the Bible and still is, today, in every corner of all creation. I didn’t like that answer, but what I like or don’t like doesn’t really matter when we’re talking about the truth.

What if I could have allowed my sister to be and do only what she wants to be and do? What if I didn’t have to control every aspect of all people and circumstances? I’ll tell you what happens – I am free to enjoy the time. I am surprised by the kindness, care and thoughtfulness of people, and the stunning beauty of my life, when it can unfold naturally, without my need to write everyone’s story by the blinding light of my own altar. Most importantly, without expectation, I am free to be grateful.

I can’t always do it (like yesterday’s NFL game, for example), maybe I never will be perfect, but I’ll sure keep trying. It’s totally worth it. Those Counting Crows albums probably aren’t so bad, after all.

Catfishing Again

September 8, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

There’s a documentary on Netflix called Unknown Number: The High School Catfish, about a 15 year-old girl who starts getting absolutely horrible, menacing texts from numbers she doesn’t recognize. No one else recognizes them, either, because they’re from a text app that seems to be designed for exactly this type of thing. Why do they exist? Why would I want a randomly generated phone number for text messages? I cannot think of even 1 time I thought, “I wish I had a different number to text ____.”

I guess it’s pretty much like the Ashley Madison website. These sites & apps are for what they’re for, with no pretense or apologies. Ashley Madison’s business model is infidelity, period. Text apps are for catfishing. I don’t need burner accounts or phones, and I don’t need a super secret special number because I don’t mind if you see that it is from me, Chad. Maybe you do. But if you do, maybe you can also not use it to send abusive texts to your children? (I recognize I just gave away the reveal in the film, but it was bound to happen. My mom spoiled it for me, too.)

Anyway. The doc wasn’t great. At least, that is to say, I didn’t really care for it. It was so provocative you couldn’t look away, like the junkyard fire I saw 2 days ago. But the best documentaries paint pictures and tell stories to ask questions we don’t necessarily want to ask. People are almost never monsters. We hear their stories and end up understanding, even if we don’t like them. We see the tiny, incremental steps it took to cross the lines they crossed. They become more than the caricatures we see in headlines and click bait, they’re complicated & nuanced. We see ourselves in them.

After enough exposure, the judgment begins to be siphoned out of our hearts. Slowly. But if they are human beings, like us, then what? If we can forgive them, give grace to others, allow them to fall and be redeemed, then maybe we can be forgiven, redeemed, too. Maybe we shouldn’t be defined by the worst things we’ve done. Maybe we shouldn’t define others by the worst things they’ve done.

That’s what I love about documentaries.

This one had a villain. She did the thing, barely took responsibility, continued to lie, pretend, cried, thought she had been punished too harshly, and at the end, we didn’t understand. They didn’t ask the questions that would’ve invited her into the introspection that might have given depth. We didn’t, couldn’t, see ourselves.

[I do not blame the filmmaker, Skye Borgman, who has made many films that are brilliant. She deserves all of the awards she’s won. This makes me wonder if she simply couldn’t impel this woman to walk through the door out of villainous caricature. Maybe she did ask all of the right questions, but the answers gave so little, all that was left was the shocking story itself.]

Scooby Doo and other cartoons (and cartoon’y movies) have good guys and bad guys, but it’s hardly ever that defined in real life. When it is, it’s jarring and uncomfortable. They are usually great characteristics for documentaries – jarring and uncomfortable – but for different reasons altogether. I was happy when it ended.

Then, next time I turned on the tv, I could get back to rewatching Fisk.

Home at College

September 1, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

I’m not watching much tv, outside of Fisk, repeating the 3 seasons. And when I get through them for the second time, I’ll start on the 3rd. I’m listening to Kitty Flanagan’s book 488 Rules For Life, and probably, when it’s over, I’ll just restart that, too. (Maybe not, there is another book to dig into. But as good as this one about the Rules is, maybe I won’t.)

My youngest son is now entering his 2nd week in college. My college experience was really, really awful. It’s no exaggeration to say I hated almost every day, with 2 big exceptions.

The first is that I played baseball, and I loved playing baseball, at a every level. Incidentally, I had a dream that lasted 22 years to play professionally, and I worked and worked, went to all of the all-star games, attended several open tryouts. But alas, I was not good enough. There is no shame in this, and I feel no shame at all telling you. I gave all I had to my dream (at the time, it was the only thing I could have said that about), and have zero regrets. I heard someone say, no matter what level you stop playing, you only stop playing because you’re not good enough for the next level, and that is almost never not true (no matter what the dads in the stands at high school football games say.) I was a college baseball player, and loved it 3,000.

The other exception was, obviously, the Angel. I met her in my junior year (which was not my 3rd year – I was on the extended plan;), and began dating her in my last semester. (It was a very good thing I was on that extended plan, I would have been long gone by that last semester if I was more focused and motivated.) She’s better than baseball, and I love her way more than 3,000.

Anyway, my boy sent me a video of a classmate playing his guitar and singing along with a girl who may or may not be a romantic interest. The song was “Home,” by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros – you know it, here’s the first verse and chorus:

Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my ma and pa, not the way that I do love you… Well, holy moly, me oh my, you’re the apple of my eye, Girl, I never loved one like you… Man oh man, you’re my best friend, I scream it to the nothingness, there ain’t nothing that I need… Well, hot and heavy pumpkin pie, cotton candy, Jesus Christ, there ain’t nothing please me more than you … Oh, home, let me come home, home is wherever I’m with you. Oh, home, let me come home, home is wherever I’m with you.

You know it, right? You love it, too. I know you do, because everybody does. The only people that don’t are those who are trying to have a too cool, imagined elitist, take – those people you don’t want to hang out with anyway. They are not your friends.

This college guitarist was surprisingly good, and the 2 of them sang together, and that was also surprisingly good. I watched the video several times, and since I’m a sucker for this type of beauty, I do hope she’s a romantic interest for my boy. But here’s the thing that’s more important, that I texted him his morning: this is what I want college to be, for him. A space with the free exchange of stories, ideas,

(I’ll continue in a second, but it seems important to tell you that, right now, outside my front door, the Angel has returned from her walk and is singing out loud while she stretches. I have the best life and it is rare that I forget that simple fact. I’m going to kiss her in a second.)

…free exchange of stories, ideas, talents, and hearts. This is also what I think the Church is, lots and lots of people being exactly who they are, and that who they are is accepted, appreciated, embraced, and loved by the others who are also being exactly who they are. These are places where we are invited to share ourselves, with vulnerability and complete authenticity.

He responded, “I really love it here.” Of course, you do, buddy. We all do, it’s home.

Love With A Capital L

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

Author: The Bridge Faith Community