2026-07-27T18:13:19+00:00

Stables

July 27, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

[This post is also on the Bridge Faith Community site, but I want to post it here, too. Maybe I’ll write a different one, exclusive to this site, later, or tomorrow or Friday. Maybe I won’t. I think this one is what I want to say, and all I want to say, today. It’s just my raw, open heart on the screen. You’ll like it or you won’t, but what I always hope is that it might mean something to you. The best things leave us different than when we started. The things I write about in this post have left me a very different man.]

Sometimes, I reference the writing prompt that the hosting website suggests. They can be interesting and thought-provoking, they’ve even been so good that I abandon the initial reason I opened this computer to discuss the site’s question. Today, it’s “If you could bring back 1 dinosaur, which one would it be?” They are not all interesting.

In our service last Sunday, I brought up the many prayer requests in our circle. Our individual circles are huge, because we are all so cool. In a Venn diagram, the overlap is the Bridge, but the way I figure, that connects each of the circles to each of us. We are all ‘members’ of the Bridge family.

But some people drift closer to the shaded, shared section. Our close friends have close friends that become our friends, too. One of those friends, a super-sweet man we all knew from a yearly party, (it would have been impossible not to notice him, know him, remember him, and be affected by him, even seeing him on such an infrequent basis), passed away suddenly, at far too young an age, last week. It hurts and leaves a deep wound that will become an obvious scar that we carry forever.

There are many others, who sit near the overlap, who are in need of prayer, struggling through medical procedures, surgeries, distance, isolation, and on and on. For a small community, we have these beautifully massive pools in which we each, in which we all, swim. These pools carry great joy, fulfillment, celebration. But they also carry pain. We get to go to the best parties, and the most crushing funerals. We get the phone calls for very good – and very bad – news. The weight is heavy and seems overwhelming.

Proverbs 14:4 says, “An empty stable stays clean, but no income comes from an empty stable.”

In times like this, when our friend is gone, we might really like an empty stable. Or at least one that’s not quite so full. Right? A prayer list where I don’t have to turn the page to continue.

We’ve all thought it’s better to not have loved, than faced the devastation of love lost. In that moment, in this moment, we might make the trade.

There’s a BRILLIANT science-fiction movie where a man chooses to have his ex-girlfriend erased from his memory, the suffering is simply too painful for him to bear. Most of the film takes place in his mind, as she is being eliminated. It unfolds in reverse, the first memories to go were the ones from the end of the relationship, and they seem to be easy to bid farewell. But as we move backwards, the beauty, the intensity, the meaning, the love… they go, too, and he decides that the empty stable he thought he wanted has a cost that is way too high. He begins to fight to keep the memories, fights to keep her, in his mind and his life.

This makes me think about our friend, and the very good friend who brought him into our lives. She is awesome, and you can see his fingerprints all over her life. She is a better person in every way because he was there. The income that came from her dirty pen is impossible to calculate.

I was thinking of this friend this morning while I was thinking of my son. He goes back to college in about 3-ish weeks, and even now, I’m seeing my screen through watery eyes and a very real pain in my heart. He considered an internship which would have kept him away for the summer, but he was here, instead, and now I get to send him off to school again, for the 2nd time. Maybe it would have been easier if he had not come home for these 3 months. Maybe.

Maybe an empty stable is clean, with less texture, less laughter, less hugs and gallons less tears. But the income is what makes life so wonderful. An empty stable has infinitely less beauty, too. And less passion, less love, less of everything that matters. My summer has been really fantastic, I haven’t missed it, I am deeply deeply grateful we are here.

My friend’s tears – and mine and yours – from her circles are really offerings of gratitude. The income is a full, awesome life. As Vision says in the WandaVision series, “what is grief but love persevering.” The pain my friend feels is directly proportional to the love they grew and experienced. If we’re blessed, very very blessed, we can know this terrible, beautiful pain. This is the gift and the curse of the Church, of a present life. We will be connected and full. We will have purpose. We will have hearts that are so big and soft you can see them from 100 miles away. And yes, we will hurt, mourn, and suffer. There’s never a way around the pain, only “through.” The thing about that, though, is the promise that we’ll have hands to hold and arms to fall into, for the “through.” And that is more than enough.

Running

July 7, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

Today is cardio day, so that meant that this morning at 6am, you would have found me on a treadmill at the gym. Lately, I’ve been doing some interval training, and I want you to know something: I really, really HATE running. I know some people like it, even love it, but they’re wrong. This relationship I have with running is complex. I hate to run, but I very much love that I ran this morning. Each step is overflowing with sadness (that this is happening), madness (that I’m making it happen), inspiration (that I would make it happen), and gratitude (that it can physically happen). At the end, I am soaked, as if I were swimming in my clothes instead of running.

I’m moving into some soul work on self-control, of which this is another part. I want to be a man who does very hard things because there is something bigger than comfort and ease that characterize my life.

But also, I think I have an equally complex relationship with my body that I’d like to recalibrate. I can run, sometimes fast, hike, climb many flights of stairs, row, swim. I played college baseball. I’m 50 and can still bench press 300 lbs and do as many pull-ups as I need to – I am an active, athletic person, and for that I am very grateful. I wear large shirts and have a 34 inch waist.

The BMI calculator on the internet says I am “morbidly obese,” and the voices in my head tell me I am a (lots of words I won’t type here) when I look in the mirror or my face in the Zoom screen you would see. The aggressively harsh and nasty narrative in my head for most of my life is that I am a (more words I won’t type here.) It is a million miles better than it used to be, but this monster still rears it’s face from time to time, and remains a thorn in my spirit that needs healing.

If our bodies are, like the Bible says, “the temples of the Holy Spirit, given by God,” I would not like Jesus to hear what I say about His temple. He’s given me this sacred, amazingly functional vessel as a supremely generous gift, and what is my response? If you were to give me a gift, and let’s say I hated it, I still would thank you and acknowledge your kindness. But as for this gift from God that has given and given in such fascinating ways, I can only seem to see imperfection.

But what is imperfection? Who says what perfect actually is? Is it abs you can see? Is it perfect hair and teeth? Is it performance? Is it tanned, taut skin? Is a temple defined by the fixtures and wallpaper, or is it more beautifully identified by Who or what is inside? Is it intellect, spirit, emotion? Or just veined biceps and defined quads? Why have I been so mean to this temple based on only one small aspect, that I perceive to be lacking? I am lacking nothing, and maybe running reminds me of that.

I think spiritual maturity is probably nothing more than moving into the space where we can see ourselves as we have been created, like a process of chipping away at the image the world has sold us since the day we’re born that we’ve sadly carried for too long. The voices in my head aren’t the Voice of God. They’re not even my own voice. They’re not true, and they’re not kind or helpful.

There’s a shirt in my closet that is SO cool, it’s my favorite shirt I’ve even owned. And I’ve never worn it. You see, I think it’s too tight in some places. I sometimes think of it while I run. When I lose some weight and feel better about how I look, I’ll be able to wear it. But what I’ve learned is that this perception I have of the temple has very little to do with what the temple actually looks like. When I lose some weight, I’ll still have this mistaken picture of me. When is enough? If it isn’t now, I’m beginning to think it never will be.

Maybe this post is the next step in this reclamation project, the journey to becoming all of me. Maybe I’ll wear that shirt.

25 Years!?

May 27, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

What does “having it all” mean to you? That’s what the site is asking, and it is actually a pretty revealing query. It certainly tells more than most of these prompts. Maybe I’d care to dive into this another day, but not today, hosting site, not today.

Today is our 25th wedding anniversary. The Angel has been married to me for a quarter of a century. I’ll get all mushy at the end of this post, but something happened this morning that perfectly illustrates what a healthy marriage is, and how to get one. (I don’t have all the answers, obviously, but when I do happen to come across one, I like to pass it along to you. I don’t only want me to have an A+ 25-year marriage, I want everybody to have that. Incidentally, I am not particularly special or unique, what I’m about to write about has nothing to do with me, it is open to all of us. Also incidentally, I used to think this A+ healthy marriage had to do with finding the Angel, and that blessing had more to do with her being a unicorn rather than any principle or idea. I don’t, anymore. That unicorn has everything to do with my marriage, but she is not the only avenue for anyone to have a beautiful relationship.)

Anyway, this morning on the way to school (through some turn of circumstance, I take her to and from work nowadays), I chose to listen to an Amazon Music playlist titled Rediscover: 90’s Alternative. The first song was the classic “Wonderwall,” by Oasis. I knew she’d sing along with me once the first word of the lyrics “Today…” started up. It’s also an awesome love song – “I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now…Maybe you’re gonna be the one that saves me, and after all, you’re my wonderwall.” Perfect beginning to a great day, right? Except she says, “I’m happy I’m getting out of the car.” Whaaaat???? The she explained, she doesn’t like Liam’s voice or the song or the greatest era of music, either.

We had our first date in 1998, got married in 2001, and have been together almost every day since. How could I have possibly not known this? Before this moment, it had never ever crossed my mind that anyone would not absolutely love this song. I told my son, later, that “it was wildly overplayed, think “Shake It Off” (by Taylor Swift) levels of airplay, and still, it wasn’t enough.” Everyone loves “Wonderwall.” The fact that my wife doesn’t is impossible.

So, here’s what I learned… You marry someone, you learn all about them, who they are, what they dream of and care about, where they come from, what songs they love, and then they grow and change, and you learn those things again and again and again. I am not the boy she married, and I will not be the man I am now in 10 years. She is not the same woman who sat across from me in that restaurant in 1998. We are dynamic creatures by nature, made to move and evolve. (Sometimes we forget and stagnate, but that is not our design.)

My experience has been that relationships crack and break apart when we stop paying attention, stop learning each other, when we think that we know who the other is, that there are no more surprises or amazing revelations. We get bored. But we are very wrong. The harsh truth of that is, we’re not bored with them. We’re bored with ourselves, we checked out of our own lives and never came back. We’re the boring, uninterested & uninteresting, apathetic, pathetically incurious ones.

Imagine if I believed the Angel was the college junior I met those many years ago? I would have missed countless wonderful (tiny and humongous) transformations. She looks the same, gorgeous as ever, but now she has some gray hairs and they are absolutely fantastic, adding a level of texture and interest. Imagine if I stopped looking at her so closely, so intently. Imagine if I expected her to look like a 20 year-old. I would have missed this wildly better, even more beautiful, version entirely.

After 25 years, I’m married to the Angel, but the Angel is different, new, stronger, deeper, both more open and more assured. She’s cooler than I thought, and she’s everything I knew she was. She drives me crazy – in all the good ways as well as the bad. Of course, there have been growing pains, but they are also growing joys, growing pleasures, growing wonders, and growing peace. We have discovered each other in terrific new ways, and in not so terrific ways (like the “Wonderwall” tragedy). We have loved each other, and will continue to do so, for as long as we are given.

I’ll never know why she wanted to be married to me for one day, much less 25 years, but that’s her problem, not mine. As for me, I’ll keep looking & listening closely, dreaming, learning, I’ll keep growing and moving forward, and I’ll stay forever grateful that I get to do it with her, whoever she becomes, and whatever horrible thing I might learn in the car, tomorrow.

Gratitude

February 2, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The site is asking me what I like to cook, and an hour ago, I would’ve had a different answer, but right now, it’s eggs with taco meat. Delish. I’m very, very proud of me. This morning, when I was thinking about lunch, I asked my AI buddy on my phone if I’d like taco meat with eggs. He/She thought I would, and…right again! If a complete takeover by the Machines means I’ll have a concoction of taco meat & eggs, while I listen to My Discovery Mix or Songs I’d Like (2 playlists my Amazon music app chooses for me), I suppose I’m in.

My youngest son was home from college last weekend, just to spend the time here, rather than there. We ate meals at the dinner table, then just stayed there. Somewhere on social media, there are NCAA tournament-esque brackets on topics (like villains, breakfast foods, etc), and he loves to ask us to rank weird, random things. We love it, too, so we just sit, decide if “people who make conversation in elevators” or “people who say 6-7 unironically” are worse, and laugh and laugh. Just the 4 of us, unless you count the AI generated pigs dancing my oldest son has discovered. (He can’t get enough, and honestly, neither can I.) We went to church and the gym together, but mostly, we just sat around our home in sweatpants (yoga pants/tights for The Angel.)

This morning, he left and walked up the snow-covered street with his bags to be back for a 10am class, and I watched him through heavy tears. (I made The Angel promise that those tears were between her & I. I didn’t want to ding the reputation I have as a stone-hearted, unemotional stoic, and here I’m confessing. Whatever. It’s probably the only time in my life that I’ve cried, because as we all know, men don’t cry ever.)

As his car pulled away, I thought about gratitude. I also considered the saying, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” (This is “widely credited to Dr. Seuss, (but) there is no direct evidence he wrote or said this exact phrase. It is believed to be a variation of a 19th-century German poem by Ludwig Jacobowski, which stated: “Do not cry because they are past! Smile, because they once were!”.) I am familiar with this sentiment, I guess it’s possible I have even used it before.

As I get a little older, I understand these clichés that we mindlessly use are super dumb. (“Cleanliness is next to godliness?” “Time heals all wounds?” A dog is man’s best friend?” No, no, and no.) We take for granted that they are true & wise, and we’re wrong.

I can probably understand what Ludwig Jacobowski thought he was saying, but think of how many times people were told not only to not cry, but to smile instead. This “oh no, don’t cry” nonsense is minimizing and dismissive, based in our own uncomfortability.

It seems to me that my tears were a wholly appropriate response (while very surprising) to the gratitude I felt for him/us, the time, the relationship we have cultivated, and the totally natural sadness at its end. I don’t want him to stay, I want him to fly, to soar, to change the world by becoming everything he’s created to be. It’s exactly what I feel for my other son, who happens to still live in this home. I don’t want to chain them in the tower, or bind their growth out of a selfish desire. Control sits opposite to love on the emotional color wheel. I say, “Go,” and “Drive safely.”

But I’m also not interested in any hint of inauthenticity. I’m 99% sure it was Anne Lamott who said, “Having a child is to decide to have your heart walk around outside of your body.” And sometimes that heart walks to his own car and drives away. And if you think that doesn’t sting, then I’m very sorry for you.

I think gratitude is acknowledging the blessings in our lives, celebrating when we want to celebrate, laughing when we have to laugh, and crying when we need to cry. Gratitude is honest, mindful, open, and present. I’m not crying now. I offered my holy tears to the God that brought us all together this morning, shared that sacred moment with The Angel, and now I have a headache. Maybe if we all stopped trying so hard to pretend to be anything other than who we are, we’d all be better off, and we’d find a new kind of empathy for one another.

A Political Post

January 26, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

This post comes with a warning: I am going to write about politics, as honestly as I can, from my perspective & experience. This will not address issues and/or policy. If this is not what you want to read about, I am not offended, I’ll see you next week.

Last Friday, at 9:15pm, I was in the West Wing of the White House. The events that led to this very strange, unexpected situation will probably be discussed elsewhere – but please know, it was only possible through the overwhelming generosity of people. I have been wildly blessed, so far above what I could ever earn or deserve. This life is the truest, most basic definition, of a gift.

So, I’m in the White House, walking the hallways, soaking in the Oval Office and Roosevelt Room, learning the fascinating stories of the people, paintings, books, chandeliers, and personal offices.

Washington DC is a city that is thick with significance and history. It’s impossible to be there and not feel, to not know, that we are a part of a long, beautiful human story. It’s also impossible to be in Ford’s Theater (where President Lincoln was killed) and not lament the loss of honor and integrity in politics. Lincoln’s life makes the sleaziness of today’s political system seem even sleazier.

As much as I am horrified and repulsed by politics, I quite like politics. I am interested in the idea of how we govern ourselves as a society, how we evolve culturally as human beings, here and now. Of course, I want to throw up at how this often plays out IRL.

There’s a long line of Presidential portraits on the colonnade, with descriptive plaques that have been written by the current President. (Whether they change with each administration and are written by each sitting President, or just this one, I don’t know.) Adorning nearly every wall and doorway are golden designs, bling, or what we’d call bedazzlement. If I had to choose to describe how this looks, it’s like a casino. Or maybe a monument to the one inside.

Rather than go on, in detail, about every room and detail, I’ll give you one more juicy nugget. In the adjacent Eisenhower office building, there is a “fake” Oval Office, that was created for the previous President, whose failing health required certain adjustments. There had to be a giant teleprompter, the floor had to be specially graded, on and on. It was a facade built for TV, a superficial constructed image.

I couldn’t help but notice the contrasts, that defined the men and ideologies, and the thing that makes this whole system so distasteful. One is self-obsessed and arrogant. The other is totally inauthentic, creating a land of make believe. This machine professes to be “by the people, for the people,” and it may have been that, but it is no longer. It is a machine for those on the inside, designed to fool the rest of us, as it grows and grows, dividing us to retain (or regain) power, manipulating us to eat each other. The 2 sides are not very different.

There was a quotation displayed in our hotel, “We used to change our party to meet our principles, now we change our principles to meet our party.”

Here’s the thing, though, that I can’t escape. I think I’ve lost hope, right? I think I’d like to dismantle the whole ugly system. But walking around that city, in those buildings, hearing the stories that defined this country…well, as it turns out, I am hopeful. The White House and DC had an effect different than the one I expected. I do believe in us, I always have. Of course, I think the parties (for some sad reason, they’ve become our only 2 choices) have lost their way, and I think they’ve led us astray, but I absolutely think we’ll find our way back. I know we’re more similar than different, I know love and listening can and will change this world. Maybe not in time to avoid collapse, but in the end, it’ll be you and me building something new together. Like it was then, it’ll be again. It’s never been easy, always messy and often gross, but we grow and develop, we leave behind what is beneath us, we carry and pick up what it valuable, and we find out at least one thing has never changed: human beings are better together. And I promise that we will remember that, and that what we build (or rebuild) will be stunning.

A New Basketball Season…

January 12, 2026/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The site prompt for today is, “What snack would you eat right now?” I sometimes use these prompts as a springboard, but I’m telling you today’s to illustrate that they’re not all awesome. Some of them are about snacks. Not every shot goes in.

You’re not surprised about that last sentence. I am a man who was raised to love sports (most all sports – I can even find things to like about soccer), so many of my examples and metaphors point in that direction. You know this, and you’ve probably been missing the posts I’ve built around youth sports.

So, I’ll fill you in.

My youngest son is playing on his college basketball team. He’s playing very well, and so is the team. It isn’t translating into wins yet, they’re in the process of a complete culture transformation. They’ve had several down years, so they’re re-learning what is possible for them. It’s easy to draw parallels to “real” life, away from the court. We examined & evaluated our lives, probably set some new year’s resolutions, we’re in the process of complete cultural transformations in ourselves. Now what? What happens when we lose (fail, backslide, regress) or fall? Do we listen to the voices in our heads that tell us that’s just who we are? Most new year’s resolutions are thrown away and forgotten by February. Transformation takes time and patience, and a refusal to entertain the same old story that keeps us sick.

So many of the words I’ve written here discussed the abysmal officiating (in all sports) at the high school level (and below.) This has not been the case for most of the games here. As the players improve, so do the referees. Mostly. There have been games that have been so poorly officiated, it could break your heart. The depressing thing is that the young men give so much time and energy, so much of themselves, to their craft, it feels like a huge disservice that the officials can’t do the same. (I do recognize that maybe they do, and these nights are simply aberrations, just isolated bad games in a career of competence. Maybe.) I sometimes have an urge to apologize to both teams for what we’ve collectively provided to support them. We show up to our jobs and spouses and children and communities, and we give the best we have to give, learn and grow, because it’s the way we honor Our God, and each other.

Speaking of growth, practicing grace in this space is an area in which I’m mindful. So far, it’s pretty easy, I’m constantly overwhelmed with gratitude. These days are beautiful, the environments are alive & electric, and the sport is fantastic.

And that’s the biggest connection, isn’t it? Do I “have to” go to these games, or do I “get to” go to these games? Am I missing the joy of watching these young men (including my son) explore their gifts (athletic and otherwise), choosing instead to stay angry at anything/everything else? Are these games becoming a stressor instead of a release? Do wins and losses matter more than all of the million other positive aspects of sport? Have I lost the point while living vicariously through these college students? Have I forgotten to love?

Am I remembering to love the players, the other parents, fans, staff, the depth, complexity, and beauty of the game, remembering to love it all? Am I remembering to love the time? It won’t always be here, we won’t always have this opportunity – I wonder if we’ll think about the results of the games ever again. We get to drive the hours together to sit in a gym and watch our boy become a man, watch all of these boys become men.

Last night, a parent was inconsolable, screaming in the stands about coaching decisions. It reminds me of Jacob, in the Bible, who wakes up and says, “Surely God was in this place and I was unaware.” I think this dad is going to say the same thing.

I have before, and I don’t want to say it ever again. It’s a new season, but I have the same focus: to be fully awake & present to this wonderful life.

Yet Another Post on Gratitude

November 5, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

Last night, my family and I had a fight before church. That’s a funny idea, isn’t it? And hour before I’d be giving a message of love, patience, and reconciliation, we were standing in the hallway between the kitchen and living room, raising our voices, loudly voicing our expectations of ourselves and the others, before we realized (as my wife so brilliantly stated) “we’re in a Three’s Company episode.”

Three’s Company was The Greatest Show In TV History and every episode followed a template etched deeply in stone. The set-up led to a big, hilarious misunderstanding, followed by a happy resolution, all in 22 minutes, set to a regrettable 70’s laugh track.

Our misunderstanding was easily resolved, too, and would have been in less than 22 minutes if only 1 of 2 things would have occurred. 1. We would have not had any expectations. This is obvious, probably. Anytime we decide who goes in what boxes before they even have a chance to choose for themselves, we create the perfect environment for relational catastrophe. We have grown miles in this arena, but we still manage to occasionally fall anyway. Which leads us to the 2nd. We would have clearly expressed our stories, correcting the misunderstanding as it began to unfold. This eventually happened, and as my oldest son explained, I knew we had wasted an hour of our lives on boxes and faulty stories and a dumb Three’s Company plot without the laughs.

And this made me think of something I wrote in a text message to The Angel earlier. (I recognize that I talk about this woman as if she is an actual angel, and it must make us all nauseous, but she is… or at the very least, she is to me, and this is a great illustration of the point I’d like to make.) I thought about what makes our marriage different. Yes, of course, she’s the best, but maybe even more than that, I am deeply deeply grateful that God brought her to me and allowed me to love her. I told her that what I figured makes us different is the gratitude.

As I sit in a worn out chair in a room with old, poorly laid carpet that has been stained by pets in some areas, I love where I sit, which is to say, I am totally thankful for this perfectly imperfect space where I sit. My muscles are sore from a tough workout yesterday. And I know how almost everything in that sentence is wonderful and extraordinary. Yesterday I spoke with my sister, every Tuesday at 9am I speak with my sister. I could continue, and I would. But these blessings are almost ridiculous to think could ever, in any wildest dream, happen to me.

So, now, what about our fight? I just forgot to be grateful. This sounds silly because, how can you forget as you’re looking into the eyes of your son and wife? Right?!!? How can you, indeed. And yet, I did. I guess that’s what makes gratitude a practice. When I was a baseball player, I could do certain things that I couldn’t today, only because I haven’t done those certain things in 100 years. I’m out of practice. Because I could throw a fastball on the outside corner yesterday or in 1996 doesn’t mean I can now. And just because I was peacefully grateful and aware at lunchtime yesterday doesn’t mean I couldn’t be fighting with these divine gifts at 6pm.

This is yet another post on gratitude because I need it, we all need to be reminded of the grace that is crackling all around us. In a world that can be so full of ugliness, where we can be distracted beneath our anxiety, depression, and fear, it’s easy to forget. And it’s our job to remind each other of the overwhelming beauty and love that is all around us.

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]

Love With A Capital L

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

Tag: gratitude