2025-05-27T19:08:13+00:00

Anniversary

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

[The Angel & I have 2 sons, and the youngest one graduates from high school Friday. I’ll write about that next week, when it has passed and I have some sort of handle on my overflowing emotions. I also can’t seem to shake the notion that the 2nd season of Andor will help me with that handle. Who knows?]

I just told you that the Angel & I have 2 sons – you might be interested to know that, today, we will have been married for 24 years. This is the year that she will have been married to me for more years of her life than she has not. (I’m not there quite yet.) That feels like a monumental milestone. I guess it’s not, but it sure does feel like it.

So, I’ll tell you what we did to celebrate this anniversary. We went out to lunch/dinner yesterday and then went shopping for a Graduation Dress. When we go clothes shopping for her, she allows me to choose up to 5 items that she will try on along with the ones she chooses. There’s almost zero chance she’ll want any of my 5, but that’s not the point at all. If you’ve ever seen her, you know she’s an absolutely fox. She has a perfect figure, like a little guitar, and I love to see her in interesting styles and fabrics. Yesterday, she graciously waived the 5 maximum rule, and I filled our cart.

As I was standing outside the fitting room, I started thinking about being married to her for so long. She is way out of my league, far better than I could have ever dreamed of, yet here we are. I don’t know how this happened, and like to say, “but that’s her problem,” as if it’s hilarious, which it is. But it’s also true.

When I was young, we’d go to Hersheypark and I loved it like crazy. But I’d, almost immediately, start thinking how I didn’t want to leave, didn’t want the day to be over.. Or Christmas morning, the melancholy of the end being over would set in while we were still opening presents. Sometimes, it’s hard to be present for the most wonderful moments, because we’re waiting for the end. The first time I saw Morrissey in concert, as I sang along, I cried because I wanted it to last forever. How many of the best moments of my life, how many of the greatest gifts, did I miss simply because I was elsewhere in my mind?

Probably very early in our relationship, I expected her to wake up and move on, but I said a cool thing to her that changed both of our lives. (I don’t know if she knows how much it changed mine.) Usually, you think of the perfect thing to say as you walk away, right? Once in my life, it came at exactly the right time. She was very hesitant to step into our relationship with both feet – for lots of reasons – and I said, “what makes you think I’ll wait,” (honestly, it doesn’t sound that awesome now, it kind of sounds arrogant and posturing, maybe you had to be there, maybe you had to be us) and then something like, we can spend our lives waiting for something that is right here, right now, and end up thinking about how we missed it. I was not telling the truth, I would have waited for a million years, but she wasn’t the only one tip-toeing into us. I believed she would leave, eventually, so, like Christmas morning, I waited for the end.

When I said that supercool line, I was talking about waiting for her, but I was waiting for me, too.

Jacob wakes up in the wilderness and realizes God has always been there, he just wasn’t aware. That is one of the biggest tragedies I can think of, that we are in the midst of the divine, of the amazing, of our lives, of this love, and we just walk on by, as if it’s common, or ordinary. My wife is not ordinary, not even close, and neither is our marriage. Our lives aren’t ordinary, and neither are yours. These are all gifts from Our Creator, if we only have eyes to see and hearts to hold them.

We made this decision, so it doesn’t matter at all if she’s in my league. What matters is that we’re here, we’re 24 years in, and my vows 24 years ago are still true, maybe more than ever – that I couldn’t promise her easy or lots of money or that I wouldn’t be ridiculously high maintenance, but I could promise that I’d love her. What I left out, that I was thinking about outside of that changing room, is what I should have also promised; that I would be there, I would show up, I would not wish for her to get done trying clothes on already, I would not miss these moments shopping, I would never call us ordinary, I would not miss her and this. I will keep loving her. I will not miss us.

I think it’s possible that God wants us to be fully present to our lives, reminds us over and over, in parables and poems and songs and stories, is because He knows what He has made, how awesome it is, what He has for us, how awesome that is, and knows the importance of gratitude and worship in keeping us awake to the wonder of each other and our lives, and Him. I am more grateful than I could ever tell you, for not just today, not just her, but for all of the days and moments and people who have made everything so beautiful and full. And to/for the One Who made, is making, them all.

People

May 12, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

I finished a book last week, called Mastering Fear, by Dr Robert Maurer. It’s probably the 10th time I’ve read it, and it never fails to change me in some pretty significant ways. One of the main ideas is to emphasize that, in stressful, anxious, difficult situation, we are created, hard-wired to find others. The best example is when a child is scared, (in healthy environments) they climb into their parents bed for comfort. As we grow, that positive impulse is conditioned out of us. We believe we are on our own, we hold up independence as THE primary characteristic to success, not to mention the myth of the self-made anything.

Friday, my boys and I all knocked off of work/school and went to the theater to watch the Thunderbolts*. It’s the latest offering from the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and the asterisk is a totally intentional plot point that I won’t spoil for you.

The MCU has followed the law of diminishing returns since Endgame, this multiverse business is boring and hollow, an excuse for cheap gimmicks, and has effectively eliminated consequence. Whatever. It’s fine. Disappointing, but fine. I see the movies when I do, but they are no longer vital to me, like The Winter Soldier or Infinity War was. (I have heard a “reboot” is coming to rescue us all from this nonsense, and it is desperately needed. Fingers crossed.)

Thunderbolts* is an exception, it’s fantastic, really great. At their best, superhero films are about big, real life issues, just in a science fiction context. When critics bemoan the explosions and unrealistic elements, as if those bells & whistles are the only reason for their existence, they have missed everything authentic and important and meaningful.

Yes, I recognize that I just called these movies ‘important,’ and they can be. I am not sorry. This is one of those times. Thunderbolts* is the modern human experience laid out before us. It’s super soldiers, enhanced superhumans, and genetic freaks. It’s also about mental illness, isolation, loneliness & crushing depression. Mostly about those.

And, like Maurer’s book, the solution is a team of super-people. Those who show up to hold our hands and help us lift giant pieces of falling skyscraper, to listen, and to save cities. (Of course, that is somewhat simplistic – a buddy isn’t a cure for mental illness, but a buddy always helps. Always. Someone who cares, someone to turn to, to climb into bed alongside of when we’re scared, and sometimes someone who will remind us that pharmaceuticals aren’t a flashing neon sign of weakness or faithlessness or anything else other than a crutch for an injury that may or may not be temporary. Depression and mental illness are complicated. They are also nothing to go through alone.)

These people in our lives are complicated, too. They can be full of contradictions and drive us crazy. The more we allow them in, the more power we give to wound us deeply. They can annoy. They can just be the worst. And they are also the ones who make this life so wonderful.

We don’t save worlds from “the Void” alone, and we don’t build beautiful lives alone, either.

How Did I Get Here?

March 4, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The site is asking me, if I were writing my autobiography, what my opening sentence would be. Hm. Probably, “How did I get here?” Or maybe, “Where am I?”

I’ll turn 50 this year, in a few months, and with more years behind me than ahead, and can look back at the twists and turns and false starts and the forks in all of the roads. I’m not sure any of them make sense, by themselves, but looking around, there does seem to be a certain wisdom – NOT in my choices or planning (my participation looks more like a confused fumbling in the dark) but by a gentle hand that led with a looong leash that allowed me more freedom than I deserved, the freedom to hurt people (myself more than any others), the freedom to do the worst of all possibilities.

I made tons of terrific decisions for the wrong reasons. How? Or Why? Who knows? Not me, I don’t know, but I believe there’s One who does know, and it was His gentle hand in mine, His arms that held me in my broken-ness, His whisper in my ear, that brought me to this site prompt, today.

So, where am I? Here. And I think I got here by following what small flicker of Light I could see or feel. In my youth, I tried and tried to block that Light, to cover It up, to run away from It. But It could not be extinguished. It lit the way for 20+ years, through school, college, then to The Angel, and thankfully, I was smart (or lucky) enough to hold on tightly to her, then these 2 boys, then a faith community so deep and loving, then then then.

I guess how I got here is grace. That’s simple enough. And absolutely True. Just grace. Undeserved favor. (Which we all have, by the way. We all are loved beyond reason or limit. There is not now, and has never been, anything special about me, in that department.)

So, yes, “How did I get here?’ This is pretty fun, because I know that the Here I am today isn’t the Here I will stay. The story will change and morph, I’m nowhere close to a finished product. I guess, now that I’m thinking about it, the biography isn’t really mine at all.

2 Kinds Of People

February 28, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

A senior in high school, my youngest son is navigating the college process. He is a very sharp young man, an extraordinary basketball player with a terrific GPA and a truckload of talents and gifts, so he has a wide variety of options. That, however, does not mean that his decision is without stress or anxiety, so we were very happy when he was able to choose an institution and release that weight.

Drew University in northern New Jersey was the early front runner, by a country mile. Everything about them was subpar, to my superficial eyes – the unprepared, hurried tour was a waste, the facilities were in disrepair (compared to all of the others), etc – but they offered a program to study in New York City that comfortably set it apart. We ordered t-shirts and informed family that he’d be a Drew bear, or ranger, or whatever.

Drew slowly fell back to the pack, through their inattentiveness. They were mostly uncommunicative, and when they did connect, seemingly put out and bothered to have to answer any questions. But they did have a stellar business program and that NYC opportunity, so they remained ahead, though the margin was not quite as wide.

We visited many other schools, some of them were great, some not so much. Lycoming College (I have no idea what the difference is between a college and university – I imagine it’s easy to find, but I really couldn’t care less. What is true is that there are universities and colleges and there is little noticeable difference between the 2) nosed it’s way into the no. 2 spot, but still, the space between Drew and Lycoming was huge. We scheduled visits on consecutive days in October, after which, he would make his decision.

Honestly, we figured the first (Lycoming) was a formality. He was going to be a Drew bear. We arrived at 8:30ish to find the basketball coach standing outside, waiting for him. This coach would be our guide, spending the whole day with us. We met with professors, prospective teammates, and admissions (where he was awarded a gigantic scholarship), finally ending with basketball practice and formal meeting in the coach’s office. Everywhere we went, on campus, the administration knew and correctly pronounced his name (something the doctor’s office where he’s been a patient since birth can’t yet figure out). The players on the team went out of their way to welcome him. The entire day could best be described as a celebration of my son. He was cared for and clearly valued. The coach asked us to text when we got home, like he was our dad, and when you’re entrusting one of your most prized blessings to another, you want a man who asks you to text when you get home.

As Drew fell back, Lycoming made a deeply compelling argument. As much as we loved Lycoming, the next day was Drew, and it was still theirs to lose.

Again arriving at 8:30ish, this time to an empty silence, we were on our own to find admissions for our appointment. Also again, he was awarded a gigantic scholarship, but this time it was with little significance. Just a folder slid across a desk. They asked for questions, woodenly answered, and sent us on our way to tour the campus by ourselves and, later, find our way to practice. My boy asked for a detailed breakdown of classes in his major, which they quickly, carelessly sent to his email… but of course, the attached document was for the wrong major.

Drew is a little over 2 hours away, so we drove 2+ hours there, sat for 30 min, and immediately returned to the car for the 2+ hours home, and on that drove home, we informed the coach that we were Lycoming Warriors.

There are 2 different kinds of people in the world, Drew’s and Lycoming’s. Lycoming affirms your humanity, treats you with dignity and respect, waits for you outside, makes time to share a meal, and values who you are. Drew condescends, is busy, impressed with itself, is sooooo very important, and might make time. Drew is better than you.

And, as is always the case, the Drew’s are arrogant and self-obsessed…and convinced of their inadequacy, in every way. Their fragile ego is afraid of your greatness, so they hide behind pretense and a curated image. Lycoming’s are humble in their excellence, secure enough to make you the focus. Lycoming believes you are awesome, and wants everyone, everywhere to know it, too. Drew cares only about Drew, Lycoming’s interest is in others, in building a beautiful community and world that is based on shared experience. Lycoming asks what they can do for you, Drew wants to know what you can do for them. Lycoming listens, Drew waits to talk. Lycoming loves, no matter what, Drew might like, as long as you’re useful.

The world needs more Lycomings in campuses and grocery stores, on the road, and in office buildings & churches. We already have plenty of Drews.

Apple Cider Vinegar

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

Earlier this week, at the end of year basketball banquet, a mom of one of the boys asked me if I had seen the Netflix series Apple Cider Vinegar. I told her I hadn’t, but the picture and title sounded like something I’d like. As a matter of fact, she was right, an Australian woman who created a social media empire based on a complete lie (that she fought with brain cancer and won) is exactly something I’d like.

I am the target market for quirky documentaries and “based on” true stories, the odder the better. A perfect example was one called Chicken People, about farmers/groomers/owners who raise chickens to compete with each other. If you’ve seen Best In Show, the Christopher Guest mockumentary about dog shows, then you have an idea of Chicken People. It was so awesome, and I hoped the algorithm would respond with an endless flow of films about all different types of lifestyles that are a little (or a lot) out of the norm.

This is not that kind of show. Yes, it is quirky. Yes, the main character is an attention-seeking media whore, who will do and say anything for you to know who she is. It’s funny, in parts, and features surprisingly great writing & acting.

The 6 episodes unfold patiently, gently revealing a big beating heart. It gives you a perspective, jarring as it twists into another, then punches you right in the belly with another. Great documentaries don’t take sides, but instead present the people as they are, multi-faceted and complex, leaving us to decide. That way, our judgment exposes us more than the subjects. They’re mirrors. We watch them, but we learn who we are. Can we hold the truth that we are all of these things?

Very rarely are we 100% of anything, and this Belle Gibson isn’t, either. Of course, she’s a monster. Liar. Manipulator. Thief. But she’s also still the 12 year old who ran away from home, broken, insecure, lonely, depressed.

I’d suggest that she is only the framework from which to tell a different story. This is a story about couples, families, deep relationships, and the sharp, wiry tentacles of cancer that hold them (and us) together. It’s a story about hanging onto hope when all strength is gone, amid terrible loss. About death. And life. And especially, enduring, perseverant, love. The kind that isn’t in movies. Not the gauzy romance of meet-cutes, it’s the long, hard, hospitals, funerals and weddings, graduations, Tuesday dinners love that loves even when it’s hard and nobody feels like another step together. It’s about real love, where the roots go all the way down, through the earth into the soul of the divine. It’s about devotion and faith. The joy and gratitude that only comes from the sort of pain that makes you feel like you might die yourself. Where we show up, and keep showing up, forever and ever, amen.

I loved it more than I can tell you. I want you to all see it. I want to write a letter to the creators, or buy them a nice sweater. I cried so hard, so loudly, and so much, it hurt a lot. I’m exhausted and have a pretty vicious headache now.

Then I sent a text to the Angel, and I prayed. I prayed thank you for these gifts, and the tears that come with great, full lives. I prayed thank you for the pain of a broken, totally connected and soft heart. And I prayed that you know true beauty, that you know these kinds of tears, this heartbreak, this gratitude, and this love, too.

The Honesty of Authentic Presence

February 11, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

10ish years ago, my sister and I had a fight on the Ocean City boardwalk. I don’t have any idea what we were arguing about now, but it made everyone uncomfortable and the rest of the family all wished they were somewhere else. Or probably that we were somewhere else.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned, but last night, my youngest son had his last high school basketball game. I’m not going to go into details about that game, (or any other game, for that matter), or my feelings for/about him. But this is the sort of event that can make a man like me very sensitive, mushy even, for quite a while.

Studies show that human beings generally recognize 3 emotions: happy, sad, and mad. Of course, this isn’t anywhere close to enough, and it’s not that we don’t feel different emotions, we just lack the vocabulary to accurately communicate those emotions. Last night was bittersweet. I was proud, disappointed, joyful, overwhelmed. I was happy, sad, and mad, at different times. Sometimes at the same time. It would have taken 1,000 hands to hold everything I was feeling.

Several times during Sunday morning’s sermon, I realized & acknowledged (in my head) my tone and my turbulent spirit. As I taught about the second chapter of Titus, I realized how much of these moments were colored by this game, this program, church dynamics, politics, relationships, how I slept, what I ate, even what shoes I was wearing. Everything comes to the party, and it should, because everything matters.

Our services begin with a silent prayer, where we come as we are, bringing what we carry, to the feet of Jesus. It is embarrassingly misguided to pretend that we can come any other way, as if we are blank slates unaffected by the world around us. The prodigal son’s words to His Father land differently after you have children. The story of Israel is different from opposite sides of empire.

And I think that’s an absolutely intentional requirement of a life of faith. One of the most important observations I learned in seminary that totally changed my life is the honesty in every word of the Scriptures. Whether it’s in Lamentations, Habakkuk, Psalms, Titus, or any other book, God doesn’t want our sacrifices if they aren’t real. He has no use for fake plastic hypocrisy. He doesn’t want our pretense and our loud, grandiose assemblies if He doesn’t have our hearts.

He has mine. And so do you. Sunday morning, you get my awe, my reverence for the God Who rescued me, my study, prayer, interpretation, faith, AND my broken, confused, euphoric, sometimes wildly contradictory spirit. My careful conclusions and my dumb jokes. My cold, broken hallelujah.

Last night, I was disgusted at the basketball program while I wept for the people in it. I never want the season to end, and I’m so happy it’s over. I think there are lots of things that Jesus needs to transform in me, and I know He loves me in a way none of us can fathom, as I am. I get so many things wrong, and I am forgiven. I don’t want to stay this me, but I really like this me. Last summer, I told the baseball players I coached that I was finished, and I was relieved & thrilled to be done, and so sorry I thought I might crumble.

Being fully present, authentically ourselves, in true relationship with Our Creator and each other means all of this.

I chose a picture for this post. It’s last week’s senior night. I’m happy and sad, proud, hopeful, and he might be holding me up because I love him so much I might die. What it is, really, is a picture of gratitude. God gave us each other. And to stand next to for all of it, this God gave me the Angel.

I told you about Ocean City because, while everybody else wished to be somewhere else, I didn’t (and I bet my sister didn’t, either.) To be as close as we are requires us to bring everything we are to this amazing party. I’d love to go back to that night, when my boys were 5 and 7, and it was summer and the ground wasn’t covered with ice, but I don’t need to, I was there, then, fighting with my sister, loving every moment of this beautiful life I have been given. And if I could/would go back, I wouldn’t have been there last night, and I wouldn’t have missed that for the world.

Gurus

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

It’s an icy day here, the schools are closed for something called a Flexible Instruction Day (which means there is virtual busy work to do so that the day counts towards the total), and I’m not going anywhere, so I figured I’d fill you in on some things.

There’s a new Max documentary called Cult of Fear, about the Indian guru Asaram Bapu. I don’t have to tell you how much I love cult docs, do I? This checks all of the boxes for a disturbing cult story – violence, murder, sexual assault, unchecked power, greed, money, and the blind faith of followers. The guru and his son are in prison “until their last breath” because of the courage and tenacity of some young women (victims and police) and principled men who would not accept what their ashram had become. My favorite line came at the very end, when a man summed up the victory as a fight “where every warrior performed their duty with complete conviction.” Awesome.

Of course, the cult still has 40 million members, so not everyone performed their duty with conviction, but enough to be encouraging to warriors who are wrestling with the status quo and the temptation to give up because, after all, “what can I do?” Well, the truth is, apparently, quite a lot.

Then, last night was senior night at the high school basketball game. My youngest son (who I brought home from the hospital at 6lbs only yesterday!!!) is an excellent basketball player, and now has 1 more game in his high school career. 2 things abut this:

The season began as a celebration of his passionate hard work to prepare and the fruit of that work. He was better every game and was willing his team to victory almost every night. Until an injury took 3 full games and affected the rest, after his return. He is, maybe, 50% and they’ll miss the playoffs, which were a foregone conclusion without the injury. He has handled the disappointment with class and grace. At home, I see & feel his wounded heart, but he continues to show up in every way for his teammates. He has placed his personal points goal secondary to getting his teammate his personal achievements.

That was the first thing, and the second was… Well, let’s just say the adult leadership he has had has not been awesome… I’ll bite my tongue until it bleeds and say no more about that.

Guru means “mentor, guide, expert or master” in Sanskrit. (Maybe we can omit the regrettable “master,” and just use it to mean mentor or guide? I will if you will, too. We all need Sanskrit terms in our lives.) So, who is guiding us through our lives? Have we chosen carefully? If we’re sliding down the face of a cliff and we reach out for something to grab onto, do our hands find that with deep, deep roots? Or will it easily pull out, providing the worst kind of aid?

It matters who and/or what we choose to follow. The people who were under the teaching of Asaram Bapu & his son were led astray. They weren’t necessarily wrong or evil or anything, they just happened to choose 2 someones who were. My boy was placed into a situation where the leadership was, um, less than ideal, and at the same time, he is becoming exactly the kind of man who you would be lucky to have as your guide. I guess the point is that we weren’t made to do any of this alone, and it is of the utmost importance who we choose to do to be our gurus & partners. I’m more grateful than I can tell you for mine.

1,000 Points

January 14, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

Maybe the least surprising thing to you is that I’m writing today, about this. Last night, my youngest son, named after the prophet Elisha, scored his 1,000th point as a basketball player. It was on a great move, where he was fouled, and the bucket counted, on what’s called an “and-1.” The game stopped, while we all stood and cheered this significant achievement. The Angel, my oldest son, and I were able to go on the court to hug him and take pictures. I told you I’d be the one with the watery eyes, and I was. I think we all were.

Then, less than 5 minutes later, he blocked a shot and, as he came down, rolled his ankle and missed the rest of the game and probably the rest of the week (at least). I may have mentioned (a time or 2 million) that an authentic, fully present life is held with 2 hands, in this case, great celebration and pain, minutes apart.

We all looooved last night, and we went to bed, aching with disappointment. 2 hands.

This young man, my son, and I prayed in the training room. I asked him what hurt more, his heart or his ankle, to which he replied, “same.” His concern was over their hopes at playoffs. Then, later, after the game (a loss), he composed himself and graciously received the accolades and congratulations from those who showed up to love him, thanking every one. In those moments, I could so clearly see my boy becoming the man he will be. Sunday night, I told him that we would be talking so much about his athletic performance, which is considerable, but our love for him has absolutely nothing to do with points or wins. And when I told him last night how proud of him I am, that also had nothing to do with a ball or a hoop.

But as far as a ball and hoop go, these points and this celebration, he earned them. Almost no one sees the hours and hours, the buckets of sweat, the study, the focus he invests. 1,000 points don’t just happen, they are the product of much, much more than 4 – 8 minute quarters. He’s gifted, of course, but he has worked to explore the depth of those gifts, to see what might be possible. An evening in January looks/feels far off on empty courts in June, but they do come.

I wrote a post yesterday about the intense hypocrisy of the adults from Friday’s game (who may have been from Lancaster Mennonite;). Before the game last night, the head coach of our opponents last night found me in the hallway and congratulated me, and asked many questions about my boy. His job was to beat our team, but he was one of those who cared for the boys on both teams. It’s no surprise his son (who I had the privilege/pleasure to know and coach) is so classy and kind. The juxtaposition between the 2 people could not have been more stark, and made Friday’s coach and program look that much worse. I relayed our conversation to my son, and he said how that coach (whose name may have been Chris George, and whose team may have been Northern Lebanon) also spoke with him, and expressed his genuine sadness with the injury. It was a wonderful illustration of the best part of sports.

Now. The real reason I opened my computer to write today was not on the court. The stands were packed full of people who love this beautiful young man. Friends drove hours to be there, made plans, gave up their own valuable time to sit in a gym on a frigid Monday night. You know, we fall in love with Jesus, we intentionally create these lives together, trying to step into our call every day, each moment, choosing our values, deciding who we’ll be and what we believe, and time passes, and we rarely get the opportunity to stand back and see the divine blessings that God has bestowed. Then, you happen to look up from your seat in the stands, and see the people of these lives filing in to love your son, and it is then that you can truly see the love and grace of God.

My post yesterday was, a little, about the dangers of tying Jesus to the actions of His followers. My post today is about the upside of that relationship. As we posed for pictures on the court, teary eyed and full, I looked up into the stands and I saw the faces of our lives, the answers to our prayers, our hope manifest. God may not always give a paved road, full of gobs of money, comfort and ease, but He gives us each other, and that is so much more than enough, so much better.

I am overwhelmed. I am grateful. He has a thousand and three points and I have a ba-zillion thank you’s that I’ll try to give to Him, and to you, with my life.

Youth Sports, pt. 1,000,000

January 10, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

There is a chance my son reaches a pretty significant milestone at his high school basketball game tonight. Whether he does tonight or not, or whether he does at all, is not really the point. I am old enough to have seen many things that were certain fall, and many impossible things happen. I am also wise enough to know the goal isn’t nearly as important as the process.

He’s a very good basketball player. I coached him for one year, when he was 9 or 10. He wasn’t supposed to be on my team, but I was short players and was able to bring him up to play against 11 and 12 year olds. (Maybe I have all of these ages mixed up. They were all very small, and he was 2 years beneath most of the kids in the league.) The team we were playing had a terrific player who did all of the scoring, and my strategy was to match him up with this little boy. I said, only half joking, “you’ll pick him up at half court and lock him up.” We lost, but their player was in a battle, and he knew it.

Lately, all of those stories are going through my head and heart. I watched every practice and game until hight school, when parents were no longer allowed to attend practice, and then I just came to every game. I saw all of these points. As designated rebounder, I saw so many of the offseason shots that go into an accomplishment like this. I have seen all of the repetitions in the weight room, injuries, missed shots, heartbreaks, and SO many fouls uncalled.

One of the Bible passages that are etched deeply into my soul is in Genesis 28. Jacob wakes from a dream and says, “Surely the Lord was in this place, and I was unaware.” To me, this means I can never wake up unaware. Jacob missed God, missed the divine, missed the beauty, the love, the wonder of this beautiful life that he had been given. We have the same opportunity, to open our eyes or not, to like lives awake or asleep. I missed much of my dad, and I don’t want to do it again.

This son is graduating this year and will be going away to college. This is unbelievable. And it is killing me at the same time. An awesome, authentic life requires our presence, and that requires (at least) 2 hands. As the great philosopher Rob Base said, “Joy and pain, sunshine and rain.” All change, even the best one, is also loss, and must be mourned. I am celebrating and mourning.

This is what my grateful heart looks like. Cold, broken, big, soft, everything, all the time. My heart is in perfect working condition.

This is a big deal that may happen tonight, and he deserves it. And I’m proud of him, more than I can tell you. Everybody gets gifts, possibility, a call and an invitation, from Our Creator, but what we do with them is largely left to us. The Spirit prompts, leads, moves our hearts, but allows us to say “no” and stay on the couch. There are a million paths, which one will we choose?

If it happens tonight, and if they stop the game, and if we get to take a picture with him in the moment, I’ll be the one with the red, watery eyes. I’ll be thinking of bringing his small new self home from the hospital, him sleeping on my chest, his surgery, the moments of his life, making him breakfast and holding his hand. I’ll be thinking about Jacob, and if I have been unaware. And I’ll know that I have, in spaces, at times (I’m not even close to a perfect person, after all.) But I have been there, and I’ll be there for as long as I am able.

He has been a gift to me, as has his brother, and the Angel, of course the Angel, who I will stand next to – tonight and every night – on the court and off. It’s a good thing they’re gifts, because there’s NO WAY I could ever dream of paying any of this abundance back.

I hesitate to write about this moment, but as we all walk through this beautiful life, we are learning to lean in together. This isn’t about points, has never been about points, it’s about presence. It’s about showing up to our lives, in honesty and in love. Even at high school basketball games.

Pop Songs

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

There is a song called “Cinderella Snapped,” by someone named Jax. I don’t know much about Jax, because we live in a mostly post-artist world. We choose songs instead of albums and are loyal to no one. Maybe Jax will have another good song (and, in fact, she does, called “Victoria’s Secret.” Maybe there’s more, but nobody really cares. If she does, the algorithm on my Amazon music app will make sure I hear it. My favorite song on Nevermind is “Drain You,” but album tracks are a relic of ancient times, so we’d never hear it today), but that’s besides the point. This one is perfect. It’s about Disney princesses opening their eyes and moving on from the common narrative. (I’m not sure, maybe I’m “woke.” I’ll think about it later.)

The 2nd verse is one of the most perfect examples of what popular music can be, what a beautifully transcendent medium it is. “When the smoke cleared, every girl in the whole land. Woke the f- up and started making demands. Rapunzel shaved their head, so there was nothin’ to climb on. Jasmine made out with Mulan. Sleeping Beauty sued the dude who kissed her while she was asleep. And Ariel was confident without any feet. Tiana went and got a Biomedical Degree. And Beauty realized that she was the Beast.” So good.

Jax is a former contestant on American Idol. Does this say something good or bad? Who knows? There was a time I would have said it’s the worst thing, but now? Whatever.

There’s another song called “Beautiful Things,” by Benson Boone. “Crazy In Love,” by Beyoncé, “Never Tear Us Apart,” by INXS, “Rebel Yell,” by Billy Idol are perfect radio songs. “Beautiful Things” is also perfect. I might say “Too Sweet,” by Hozier is, too, but maybe not. Probably. Anyway. I’m not perfect, by any measure, but I think if I were a pop song, this is the one I’d be.

It’s sweet and romantic, he’s found a girl his parents love, and when she comes and spends the night, he thinks he might have it all. He thanks God every day for the girl He sent his way. Swoon. Me too. I’ve been married to the Angel for almost 25 years and I told her again last night that I can’t believe I’m the only one that gets to kiss her like this. I am truly grateful and thank God every day for the woman He sent my way.

There are some questionable ideas: Does God “take away” blessings? Do I really need her? But this is a pop song, after all, and it’s pretty fun for there to be anything interesting to discuss in a 3 minute song about love. I do hope I don’t lose her, though, need or not.

But then the song builds quickly and gets loose. He wails to “please stay,” and asks that God would not “take these beautiful things that he’s got.” (Does “got” imply ownership? I bet Jax would have thoughts.) The verses appeal to everyone with ears and a heart, but the chorus is risky, with sharp edges. (Just an fyi, the Angel hates this hook. She’s wrong.) I am leaving behind my overwhelming need for people pleasing, and instead embracing my sharp edges in the service of authenticity in my own divine creation.

Then it slows and finishes. The only negative to this gem is the same as “Never Tear Us Apart” – it’s too short. It’s in and out, changes you, nothing is ever the same again, and you are left wishing you had more time with it. I would like it if you said any of those things about me.

The truth is, these 2 songs are exactly what they are, without apology. They’re exactly what they’ve been created to be. And maybe that’s the coolest thing about them. “Cinderella Snapped” doesn’t want to be Bob Dylan or Taylor Swift, it isn’t afraid to be as deep as the sea while sounding like the sky. “Beautiful Things” knows it’s the Beast and is willing to scream out loud about it. Maybe we can see ourselves in them, and maybe I see the me that I’m finally stepping into. We’re not “Beautiful Things” or anything else. I’m just me, you’re just you, and that is enough. In fact, it’s much, much more than enough.

Love With A Capital L

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

Tag: gratitude