2024-12-03T00:40:00+00:00

Under The Covers

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

I’m listening to “Good Luck, Babe!” two times in a row, once by Postmodern Jukebox and the other by Chappell Roan. Later, I’ll listen to “Too Sweet” two times, the original by Hozier and the cover version by the Macarons Project. Earlier, Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May” by Susanna Hoffs, and The National’s version of “Never Tear Us Apart.” There is a playlist on my music app called Prime Covers. (I use the word “prime” in each of my playlists, thinking it’s equal parts clever and commentary on the ubiquitous nature of the Amazon brand. It’s probably neither, it’s probably just dumb. Same goes for the title of this blog, which could be clever but is probably just dumb.)

I love cover songs, have always loved cover songs.

I do not, however, like too faithful note-for-note replays. Why? I didn’t like Van Sant’s Psycho shot-for-shot remake, either. The current exception is “Right Down The Line” – original by Gerry Rafferty, cover by Local Natives. Maybe that’s because the song/lyrics remind me so much of the Angel (“It was you, woman, right down the line.”) I could hear either one and be very happy. But usually, I can’t enjoy it because I’m waiting for something new and interesting that never comes.

I want completely different imaginings of these songs. My example of a perfect cover would be Danzig covering Pat Benatar’s “Love Is A Battlefield.” Danzig is not Pat Benatar, but “Love Is A Battlefield” sounds like a sentiment he could get behind. Everything would be perfect. Postmodern Jukebox’s “Good Luck, Babe!” sounds like an early ‘60’s b-side, and is better in every way than Chappell Roan’s. “Too Sweet” is different enough, but Hozier’s version is the alpha. This is usually the case, original’s are mostly indispensable, with the cover being a quirky distraction.

I suppose “All Along The Watchtower” is the best example of the new absolutely replacing the old. After Jimi Hendrix played his, no one would ever purposefully listen to Bob Dylan’s again. This is a very very rare phenomena.

One Sunday morning, in our church service, I played “Be My Baby,” by the Ronettes and then again by Bayside. Nobody actually thinks the Bayside version is better, but there are people who would, at certain times and places, rather hear a catchy pop punk tune than a classic piece of Heaven, with a transcendent Ronnie Spector performance (is there another kind???).

The point was, we have a Gospel that is the most amazing, awesome Truth, and there’s a Great Commission that asks us to take this Gospel everywhere. Not everyone likes Chappell Roan, or Danzig, or Bob Dylan, but these songs need to be heard, the audience needs to grow for beautiful things. And not everyone likes my face or voice or shoes, but everyone desperately needs this Gospel of grace, peace, and love. Maybe they need your version, instead.

Episode 8

November 4, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/1 Comment

The site asks me what my life will be like in 3 years? Well, I imagine we’ll be slaves to our machine overlords. Or maybe it’ll look exactly the same, because we’re already slaves to the machines? Or maybe I’ll still be loving you, trying to change the whole world one at a time?

Anyway, a few days ago I watched episode 8 of the Star Wars saga, called The Last Jedi. Many of those who hold Star Wars like a religion rather than a rad film series hated this installment. Probably because our hero was a woman (!!!), the bad guy was derisively called “emo” (as if that was somehow a negative?), there was an awesome character named Rose that received death threats because she had the nerve to be in a movie, but the most egregious sin was that Luke Skywalker was jaded and sour. We like what we like, and don’t always (i.e. never) embrace change.

Rey, Ren, and Rose are perfect, and I thought it was pretty reasonable that Luke might be sort of broken after what he saw and endured, his spirit buckling under his guilt and shame. I spent years depressed and isolated for far less than plunging the universe into bondage under a new empire.

(I’m about to talk about how great this film is, and I’m going to need you to forget, as I will, that scene of Leia floating through space. Deal? Deal.)

Beginning with the moment where Rey shows up in Snoke’s throne room, the next hour+ is my absolute favorite. There’s nothing else in all of the movies I’ve seen that can touch it. Not Captain America getting Thor’s hammer in Endgame. Not the reveal in Fight Club. Not Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men or The Shining or Five Easy Pieces. Not the heart-crushing Aimee Mann song at the end of Magnolia. Or the super-strange frog rain in Magnolia. Not Helm’s Deep or the battle for New York. Not “In Your Eyes” on John Cusack’s boom box or every word of the script of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Not the conversation between The Bride and Bill or “Say what again!!”from Pulp Fiction. Maybe the reveal in Fight Club… no, not the reveal in Fight Club.

Ren & Rey killing Snoke and fighting the royal guard, Laura Dern turning the cruiser around and hyperspacing into the imperial fleet, the mono-skis on the salt planet, and LUKE SKYWALKER showing up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s THE BEST!!!

The weirdos who say the movie was terrible could not possibly be more wrong. In fact, I wonder if it’s all some sort of organized troll, like a work in big time wrestling, where everybody knows the truth. Like if you know somebody who says “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and the Beatles are overrated. They can barely say it with a straight face. Maybe this is the same. It has to be, right?

But the Star Wars studio heads didn’t think so. They listened to this nonsense and retconned (a new term that I can’t say I totally like) the story, rolling it back to somehow cobble together episode 9. Sigh. So I’ll keep watching episode 8 over and over, at least until those same studio heads destroy the print, and pretend it was never made. But we’ll remember, won’t we?

Tolerance…

October 17, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

We’re having an event (where I’ll speak and a fantastically talented singer-songwriter will perform) at our church. You’re invited, of course, but that’s not exactly what I want to talk about right now. A very great friend sent out an all-staff email with the flyer to invite those at the company where she works. Maybe this was a horrific breach of the separation of church & state, sacred & secular, religion & profession. Or maybe this was an irresponsible use of corporate communication channels. Or maybe this was simply a woman sharing her interests with her co-workers. (It was probably all of those.) Either way, she was quickly reprimanded, because…someone was offended and complained.

Is it an issue of ‘personal use’ or religious content? Who knows, the administration is appropriately vague. I wonder if all personal communications (like “Sally had her baby!!!” “Sally has extra tickets to the Phillies game,” “Sally’s husband is in surgery right now,” or even, “Sally is raising money for hurricane relief in North Carolina”) are banned. Or just religious messages (the only religious vocabulary or imagery on our flyer was the word “faith” in the address)? And who says what’s religious? The national religions are sports and/or commerce, so does anything having to do with those topics get flagged? Can I remind people to vote? Can I send a birthday card around? Or are we automatons strictly confined to professional conversation? Is it just email? Can I still ask you about your car accident or pet’s death, or is any acknowledgment that you have an outside life offensive?

Obviously, I’m overreacting, using absurdity to illustrate the absurd. But there is something here, isn’t there? This is not “persecution” or Christian “censorship.” We sometimes lob these kinds of words like grenades that do nothing but de-value and desensitize us to actual persecution, which does exist (just not here).

If you sent out an email I don’t like – or if, in this case, if I would NEVER go to your event – I would delete it. That’s all. Then I would go on with my day. Maybe someone else would go to your event, and in that case, I hope you all have fun. In fact, I want lots and lots to go, because we are human beings and people should enjoy themselves. Even if I wouldn’t enjoy myself at their shindig. But I still want to know about Sally’s life, Joe’s passion for pickle ball, or Jim’s grass cutting business.

As the notion of tolerance grows, I wonder why we’re all so much more offendable? Shouldn’t our pretend tolerance make us all very open to your thing, whatever your thing is? This is why tolerance is a ridiculous joke – because no one actually believes it, in the slightest. I would’ve put it in the above list of American religions, but we build our lives around Sunday afternoons and Black Friday, but almost no one cares what tolerance actually is, and less than ‘almost no one’ follows it’s basic tenets.

The only time tolerance matters is when I ask you to tolerate MY idea, belief, or opinion. Tolerance is a one way street, not a revolving door. It’s a farce that’s time has come and gone. How about we let it die and Rest In Peace.

Tolerance is such a low bar, anyway. How about we love each other? How about we celebrate each other’s differences, instead of merely tolerating them, like I tolerate the ulcer in my mouth or the bunions on my feet? We’re people, not social nuisances. Sometimes people have interests that you might not, and that is wonderful. It gives us and our world texture and color. Maybe you’d like my event, even if you don’t like singer-songwriters or brownies or my face, and maybe you wouldn’t. But that’s not the point at all. The point is that pretending to worship tolerance has gotten our feelings in such a twist, we are offended at mostly everything, enjoy nothing, and our world continues to divide and shrink. Love can open us up to new people, new experiences, new stories, new hands to hold and songs to hear, and in this season of divided, small perspectives, can’t we all use a bit of that sort of new?

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.

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.

A University Tour

July 30, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

My youngest son is deciding on where he will spend the 4-ish years after this one. (First, that clumsy sentence refers to him being a HS senior, we know where he’ll be this year. And second, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN??? Yesterday, he was coming home from the hospital as a newborn and today we are visiting colleges. Sigh.) Anyway, we visited a small liberal arts university in northern New Jersey. To be honest, none of us had very high hopes, but our expectations were quickly demolished and this cool little campus in the woods became the front runner.

These “welcome” days are a bit like a timeshare presentation. For a few hours, a team of admissions counselors try to sell you on their wildly over-priced institution and give you some swag and lunch if you manage to make it through. The day begins in a room with a perfectly produced video and ends with a campus tour.

[Lunch was sort of horrible. We ate in a cafeteria filled with a million soccer-campers, sweaty, dirty & screaming, running amok like in a comedy movie about an overwhelmed substitute teacher who, by the end, discovers how to reach these hellions, teaching them about themselves, self-worth, cooperation, and learning about himself in the process, before running to the love interest he has overlooked for too long in the climax. We never got to the redeeming part, we only suffered through Act I.]

They split us up and assigned us to a leader. Our tour guide introduced herself. She was a lovely young woman, who was seemingly active in every club and activity they offered. And as we started, I realized how mistaken I was about the nature of this tour. She ran ahead, pointing and gesturing, possibly about the information she was maybe giving. It’s impossible to know for sure, no one could hear her. We could barely keep up. We flew into a couple of buildings and out the other side. I wasn’t aware of a time limit or a competition between the guides to finish first, but one clearly existed. Maybe she told us about it. Who knows? I stopped to use the bathroom at the end and came out to find my group gone. I retraced my steps and walked outside, hoping for a glimpse of someone/something I recognized. My son called to me from the porch of a building I had never seen (I still don’t know what the building was).

I’m thinking about it today and laughing. Especially as the school advisors hit such home runs as to make the silly, pointless tour race unimportant.

A few observations.

She would sometimes turn around and say, “Any questions?” And it was hilarious, reminding me of how the Angel will sometimes say, after compiling a list of some kind, out of the clear blue sky, “Anything else?” I have no idea what is on the list, making it impossible to know if there’s anything else. As for the tour, questions about what? How about, “what is this building?” “Where are we? What is this place?”

And that reminds me about life. If there is a guide, they seem to have a different objective. Where am I? What am I doing here? My son and I wandered off the path a few times to explore, I waited for a woman who stopped to fill her water bottle, we all connected over our shared circumstance. It’s confusing, but the people make it all worthwhile. Maybe the stated plot isn’t what we’re doing at all, and the side trails and parentheticals are where the learning takes place. Are we the kind of people who run through our responsibilities, chopping wood, getting the tour done at any cost, or are we open and available for others? What is this place? And why?

We were in one room, and as the Angel took her camera out to snap a photo of our son, the guide (maybe unaware of her intentions?) turned the light off and left. I wonder if our guide sits down to eat?

What are our expectations for things, people, activities? Are we able to see past them, to see the beauty in what is actually there, instead of the static notions/beliefs we have in our heads? (Those questions make me think of political debates and the new Deadpool movie.)

What are we doing here? Everywhere we go, every situation, is asking, isn’t it? But maybe, yesterday, my boy heard and will, ironically, end up finding out his answer there, in the very place where a lovely young woman posed the question to all of us during her ridiculous running tour.

What Bothers Me

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

The site is asking, “what bothers me and why?”

There’s a song by the criminally underrated Kate Nash (if you don’t believe me, listen to “Foundations,” or “Later On,” and that’ll settle it) called “I Hate Seagulls.”

Here are the lyrics, “I hate seagulls and I hate being sick. I hate burning my finger on the toaster and I hate nits. I hate falling over, I hate grazing my knee. I hate picking off the scab a little bit too early. I hate getting toothache, I hate when it’s a piss-take. I hate all the mistakes I make. I hate rude, ignorant bastards and I hate snobbery. I hate anyone who, if I was serving chips, wouldn’t talk to me.”

That’s a pretty good list. I don’t like rude, ignorant bastards or those who don’t talk to those who they see as less than. I don’t like being sick, and don’t even bring up toothaches. I wouldn’t say I hate seagulls, but I see why she might. I am bothered by unkindness, injustice, and kids who hog gym equipment with no regard for the rest of us.

But I am not thrilled with the question. I now hear this song as a response to this site, who asked her the same question. And as we begin the list, it becomes clear to both of us that we aren’t really interested in answering it anymore. There’s a new list.

[Once, in college, a terrific professor gave us an assignment for an essay, and I wrote on a completely different topic. At the end, I wrote something like, “it’s true that this was not what you asked, but this is what I care a great deal about, and I think you’d rather read that than something I don’t.” I resigned myself to the F I probably deserved, and when he handed my paper back and stopped and called my name to the class, I knew he was right. My insubordination was perfect for him to make an example of. But he didn’t. He told everyone to remember my name, because I was an artist. My paper was an A+ and it’s impossible to understate the significance of a fresh word to a boy searching for himself and his place in the world. His actions meant more than I could ever have expressed. His name was John Synodinas, and he was the greatest.]

Anyway, we decide we don’t want to think about the things we don’t like, so we answer a new “site prompt.”

Ms Nash continues, “But…I have a friend With whom I like to spend Any time I can find with. I like sleeping in your bed. I like knowing what is going on inside your head. I like taking time and I like your mind. And I like when your hand is in mine. I like getting drunk on the dunes by the beach. I like picking strawberries. I like cream teas. And I like reading ghost stories. And my heart skips a beat every time that we meet. It’s been a while and now your smile is almost like a memory. But then you’re back and I am fine. ‘Cause you’re with me and I’m in love with you. And I can’t find the words to make it sound unique. But honestly you make me strong. I can’t believe I’ve found someone This kind, I hope we carry on ‘Cause you’re so nice and I’m in love with you.”

Right? That’s a muuuuch better list. I don’t like ghost stories, and I really really really hate drunk, but that doesn’t matter. This is her list and not mine, and one of the best thing about other people is that they are different than us. They’re weird and quirky and care about all sorts of things we don’t, and that is awesome. A monochromatic world is so dumb and boring. I love that she likes reading ghost stories. We all love when your hand is in mine.

The once (and probably future) President was shot yesterday, and there are a million things I could say about that (and at the end, you’d still not know who I vote for or what party is on my registration card). But what I’ll say is that the person who decided to go to that event and pull that trigger probably spent the last several weeks and months compiling lists of all the things he hates, unable to see the absolutely necessary second half. He had people who loved him, he loved macaroni & cheese (because everybody does), he’d love Kate Nash. And when you have a great 2nd half, the first gets very small very fast. Of course, there is always a first half, we all have things that get to us, but sheesh, it’s that wonderfully beautiful second half that makes everything worthwhile.

People who have great 2nd halves usually don’t shoot at somebody. Like John Synodinas, they’re too busy loving us and speaking life into our dark places to have any time or energy for tearing anything down.

Dinner

July 12, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The site post is asking who I’d invite to a dinner party, and it’s too easy. I’d invite the same people with whom I spent the last week; the Angel and my 2 sons. We were on a family vacation. This year, we chose not to go to the beach (well, not exactly…the Angel and I went on a beach trip a few weeks ago, just the 2 of us) and to, instead, spend the week in the woods of Pennsylvania.

Last Sunday was the 12th anniversary of the faith community we started in our house, the Monday we set out for adventure (sort of). We stayed at an Airbnb, went to a waterpark, which was much better than I expected, and to a small tourist town, which was worse that I expected. We did other things, but mostly just were with each other. It’s such a blessing to actually like your family, 5 stars, highly recommended.

So, I’d like. To have dinner with them. I’d like to share bites of our meals, steal fries, laugh out loud, and discover brand new facets of the people we are becoming in every conversation and every precious moment.

The youngest will leave for college after this year, the oldest is now working at a terrific job he loves. Thankfully, they are both here now, but they will not always be. The youngest also has a fantastic girlfriend, so we seem to be 5, often. We have to love them, but as you are well aware, we don’t have to like them. They’re smart, hilarious, quick-witted and not as deep as they will be. They hide some things they don’t yet realize they don’t have to carry alone. They’re a little unsure of themselves in some situations, confident and purposeful in others. A nice metaphor for identity and comfort in who we are, is the struggle to find a place to put your hands. These 2 boys are amazing to watch find where they are going to put theirs.

And my feelings for the Angel have been well documented. In one of the shops in that little overrated town, I saw a crafted sign that said, “I’d rather fight with you than kiss anyone else.” That’s true, when the person you’re fighting with is the woman of your dreams. But that’s enough about her, you already know.

And now we’re home from vacation, and just finished one of these perfect dinner parties. And I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

My Favorite Thing

June 17, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The site is asking a fun question, “What is my favorite thing about myself?” Now, this is a space we don’t often like to explore, either because we can’t see the great in us, or because we can, but don’t want to seem arrogant or boastful.

Humility isn’t thinking less of ourselves, like one of those negative voices in our heads that lie like rugs and tell us we’re not enough, that we’re worthless. Humility is an accurate picture of ourselves, that’s all. It’s seeing, acknowledging the beauty in us, as well as the not so beautiful parts. It is knowing who we are, honestly, with all that entails.

I have believed those voices for many of my years, only relatively recently have I allowed some new programming in to recalibrate my self-image. And, baby, that’s a nice, new development.

I love how much I love music, how art touches me in the deepest reaches of my soul. I love that my heart responds in the way it does to Morrissey. Not everyone’s does; those people are wrong, and I’m sad for them. I love the color of my eyes, and the shape of my head (to make my shaved bald dome not look so odd.) I can catch and throw baseballs easily.

I wonder if tomorrow’s site prompt will be the things we like least about ourselves? I could/would answer that, too.

But my favorite thing about me is… Well, there are 2. First, you know that friend who is enthusiastic about everything? This ride, this movie, this song, this moment is his/her favorite EVER. That’s me. I’m like a golden retriever. I’m pretty present. I leave my phone in the car so that you are the only one on earth for me right now. I get excited for new releases, lose sleep over your wedding, because these are the moments of my life (our lives) and they are real and awesome. Built into this is immense, overwhelming gratitude.

And the second is how sensitive & empathetic I am. I feel everything (for me and for you) soooo deeply.

Of course, as it usually works, the best thing is also the worst thing. I do have to be careful of being what’s called a ‘prisoner of the moment.’ I am an “always” and “never” person, because this is happening now, which means it’s the only thing happening.

AND, my soft mushy heart makes my life significantly harder and infinitely more painful. It’s wonderful, and it’s horrible.

But these things are me, how I was created, the gifts I’ve been given, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

23

May 29, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

Last time, we talked about “having it all” or living a “best life.” This week was my 23rd wedding anniversary, so maybe I should have mentioned that.

I’m a simple man, and that’s a very good thing, because my life and ministry is primarily to climb into complicated, chaotic situations. Work, for me, is connection/relationships and doing the best I can to bring peace and hope into anxious, hopeless, sometimes wildly unstable spaces. This is work, but the thing about having identical personal & vocational missions is there’s no division between on and off. I don’t really have days off. But I don’t want them, either. To me, this is purpose, and it’s heavy and keeps me up lots of nights, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

However, the truth is, I couldn’t do it at all if my home & marriage wasn’t a place of physical, emotional, spiritual rest. It’s very difficult to step into the drama of others when your life is dramatic. There’s simply not enough left to fully engage with the storms others are facing when we’re exhausted with our own raging storms. If I’m being punched in the face, it’s harder to notice your fight, much less come to your aid.

This brings me to the Angel. She’s calm and easy. It’s 23 years but sometimes feels like 100, but, at other times, feels like I met her yesterday. I don’t know what 23 years feels like, or should feel like, but what I know is that I am completely, totally open with her (as the Bible says, “naked and unashamed”), but I also get butterflies when I kiss her, just like the first time.

I told her last night, that I very often focus (at least out loud) on the ‘lover’ aspect of our relationship. I very often tell her how foxy she is, and how 23 years of marriage has done nothing to dull my attraction to her. So, on a public pie chart, that’s the biggest piece. But on the pie chart of my heart, it’s probably a smaller piece than the rest. She’s my best friend, my partner, an inspiration and model for living a life of faith. She gives strength by simply being who she is in a world that isn’t always kind to the beautiful ones. Kind, merciful, the best mother to her sons and mentor to the rest of the people lucky enough to be in her orbit. She’s creative and confident, capable, talented, driven, brilliant, gifted hand over fist by her Creator. Did I mention knock-down gorgeous? How staggering is it that when thinking/speaking about the best looking woman in the world, her looks aren’t anywhere close to the best thing about her? We’ve built a calm life from the ground up, so that we can walk anywhere, enter into any circumstance, because this soft, loving home is waiting to refill all we’ve lost outside.

We make choices, right? The best choices feel easy & obvious in retrospect, but upon further inspection, require days and years of building. The path to our particular marriage and home is marked with uncomfortability and perseverance (only Heaven knows how many arguments and sleepless nights this path has contained, so far), where it might have been easier to check out (in whatever form “checking out” takes) than to keep building. “Having it all” certainly isn’t easy, and it has lots and lots of exit ramps, but those obstacles don’t make it less of a blessing. Maybe they make it more. More significant, more valuable, more our own.

I have no idea why she’d marry someone like me, but that’s her problem, not mine. My responsibility in all of this is to remain grateful, with wide open eyes to this amazing life I’ve been given.

Love With A Capital L

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

Tag: beauty