We’d already been over our story and the years in between — “I think you answered your own question there — you don’t know how to be in community anymore, Adam.” — But the wise question that only someone who has been doing this for decades and decades could ask — a question Samuel himself has lived out for his own children as he went from Nigeria, to South Africa, to Chicagoland, to a maple farm in Quebec, and now to pastoring at a church in Toronto. To asking me this question at a cafe at Niagara-by-the-Lake. That’s the question I’ve been thinking about every day since.

Ephesians 4:25-5:2

New Century Version

So you must stop telling lies. Tell each other the truth, because we all belong to each other in the same body. When you are angry, do not sin, and be sure to stop being angry before the end of the day. Do not give the devil a way to defeat you. Those who are stealing must stop stealing and start working. They should earn an honest living for themselves. Then they will have something to share with those who are poor.

When you talk, do not say harmful things, but say what people need—words that will help others become stronger. Then what you say will do good to those who listen to you. And do not make the Holy Spirit sad. The Spirit is God’s proof that you belong to him. God gave you the Spirit to show that God will make you free when the final day comes. Do not be bitter or angry or mad. Never shout angrily or say things to hurt others. Never do anything evil. Be kind and loving to each other, and forgive each other just as God forgave you in Christ.

You are God’s children whom he loves, so try to be like him. Live a life of love just as Christ loved us and gave himself for us as a sweet-smelling offering and sacrifice to God.

What great lengths God goes to get our attention. And at the Toronto airport, waiting to fly home, listening to a song I’d heard sung in a church once about God being a good, good father — my-surely-this-is-seasonal-allergies sprang up again and just as clearly as I’ve ever heard God’s voice “I never needed the money, Adam — I was just after your heart.” And the old lady sitting across from me, open to helping, but kindly buying my the-pollen-count-in-the-airport-is-higher-than-usual-this-time-of-year throat clearing.

I started a new job with my org this summer. Still one-on-one relational development work, but I get to travel a bit more now and between work and life I’ve been in Tucson, Toronto, Philadelphia, NYC, Atlanta, Seattle, Portland, and Eugene so far this summer. Here are a few photos:

Oh, and the half plate of potato salad. Apologies, I forgot. We’ve been back at an Assemblies of God church for the past couple of weeks. Today there was a potluck after the service. The answer to Samuel’s question this week was could I sit down and eat a half-plate of potato salad and some chicken. I did. The kids played and squealed and read their age-appropriate bibles that their grandparents sent them today. Kelly re-connected with a life-long friend who has four kids of her own now. The people and pastors were very kind and welcoming. I noticed a framed copy of Rembrandt’s The Return of the Prodigal Son hanging on the wall of the church lobby. I told God He didn’t have to be so on the nose with me all of the time.

Have you ever had a mentor who sees something in you that you don’t see yet? And, artfully, they help you get back on the right track? I’ve talked to you about Curtis before, but he asked me a question a couple of years ago that stuck with me: “Adam, I wonder how this pastoring thing is going to pop back up in your life?” I, like Jonah, have thought that one can say a polite “No thank you.” to God when He puts a call on your life. I’ve found out that you can’t, really. The booming “Where were you when I created the foundations of the earth? Tell me if you know so much? Who determined its dimensions and stretched out the surveying line? What supports its foundations, and who laid its cornerstone as the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?” cuts through and/or our own trip in the belly of the whale dissolves the hubris at some point. We can only take the next step in blind and humble obedience.

I thought the story I told about “leaving ministry” was both convincing and true. “I knew it was time for me to get out of pastoral ministry when..” in 2017, I sat down to eat breakfast one morning and realized the next book on my reading list was The Art of War by Sun Tzu — and I had a moment of realizing how spiritually impoverished pastoral ministry in a church was leaving me. What are you DOING, Adam. If I had any chance of a healthy family, a healthy marriage, a healthy relationship towards God and my neighbors… I had to get out. I was losing my faith faster than my ability to fake it with with a quick smile and the right Bible verse. I could still just barely see and believe that there was a way that leads to life and a way that leads to..

It sounds like I’d found the moral high ground on God, right? Save your soul, Adam! It is for your family! It was exactly right and exactly wrong at the same time. The exit was disorienting. I left the role behind, for the best in my case, but the work keeps running into me at the grocery store.

I stumbled my way further along up the road, coming to find out that this whole “raising money” thing and “take some pictures and make a website” deal fit into the broader fields of Development & Marketing. I’ve found ordinary ways to answer “So what do you do for work?” that didn’t involved a bunch of “uhh…”. I initially found creative ways to work that would allow me to wall myself off, but eventually was led on a journey of forgiveness and healing.

That led to a phone call with a fellow fundraiser at my org last summer who listened to my story and said, “Adam, you do know that the donors I serve call me their pastor don’t you?”. I was stunned. This again? The work I couldn’t get away from? Over and over again, this was confirmed. Here, I thought I’d rejected the pastoral work, and yet God continued to make the path straight in front of me. The work was the calling; not the title or the role. “I wonder how this pastoring thing is going to pop back up in your life…” In shepherding, advising, mentoring. In tying the clouds together. In servant leadership.

Romans 12:9-16

Be sincere in your love for others. Hate everything that is evil and hold tight to everything that is good. Love each other as brothers and sisters and honor others more than you do yourself. Never give up. Eagerly follow the Holy Spirit and serve the Lord. Let your hope make you glad. Be patient in time of trouble and never stop praying. Take care of God's needy people and welcome strangers into your home. Ask God to bless everyone who mistreats you. Ask Him to bless them and not to curse them. When others are happy, be happy with them, and when they are sad, be sad. Be friendly with everyone. Don't be proud and feel that you know more than others. Make friends with ordinary people.

Have you ever watched The Lion King? Kelly and I watched it together on Broadway a few years ago, but I still think there is nothing better than the 1994 animated movie. It was the first film I ever saw in a theatre.

Rafiki is a little crazy, but a helpful guide to the hero of the story. A true pastor or spiritual leader type — faster to ask questions than provide answers. Off-beat. Quirky. Differentiated. He doesn’t need it. He’s already home. This scene shows him doing some of his best work:

So go, get back at it. Live out Romans 12. Be generous. Be amazed at what you find and how God uses you as you love and serve. Be brave enough to make a new friend or to face your past. You can either run from it, or learn from it. So what are you going to do?

I’ll leave you with a litany from Len Sweet — my favorite one I’ve experienced:

So I did it. Kind of.

I got Facebook, Twitter (X, whatever), and Instagram out of my life (Tik Tok was already out). The power three. I took it to our “big tech” overlords and hung it up after using their services for all of my adult life. I don’t think they’ve noticed.

Then you start looking around and realizing that “social media” is sort of what the internet mostly is. And, upon further review, I realized that I wouldn’t want to get rid of:

• Substack (because, I mean, ::gestures at the digital space we are in::)

• Flickr (where else will I find full-resolution photos of my kids 10 years from now without this online archive?!)

• Reddit (I do want the opinions of the masses)

• YouTube (Let’s not get crazy here… even Joel hasn’t given up YouTube!)

• LinkedIn (where else would we go to platform our synergies?!)

And on the list goes. I could never quite get on my Gary V social-media-influencer grind. Maybe saying goodbye to the “power three” social platforms is giving up on that aspect of it. I don’t know. I miss Facebook marketplace.

23 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

² He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

³ He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

⁴ Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

⁵ Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

⁶ Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

To the new subscribers: I have no idea how you’ve gotten here, but welcome, welcome, welcome. Thanks for being here. Don’t hesitate to send me an e-mail.

Our family continues to settle into life in Eugene, Oregon! July will mark a full year here. I want to share a few photos of Declan doing flag football recently. I did not know watching our kids grow up would be this sweet.

Be well everyone and enjoy the rest of your spring. Summer will be here soon!

Like a roving gang, they fight for turf and we sometimes get caught in the cross-gobble.

I was reminded this holiday season of why Ben Franklin lobbied for the turkey to be our national bird: these birds embody “Yippee-Ki-Yay, mother#%^*er” in a way that would have ended Die Hard a half hour sooner. Just send this crew in and they will take care of it:

Yes, that is a turkey on the roof of our house. I made the mistake of trying to run that gang of turkeys off with a basic “now git ya hear!” — and the only place that particular turkey got to was the roof of our house for an impressive display of dominance. It strutted up there for 10 minutes until it made its point and took off.

We watched a A Charlie Brown Christmas with the kids that evening.  We watch it every year, but I heard an exchange between Linus and Lucy I’d never noticed before:

Lucy Van Pelt:
You think you're so smart with that blanket. What are you going to do with it when you grow up?

Linus Van Pelt:
Maybe I'll make it into a sport coat.

My first white collar role was as a pastoral intern at an upper-class church in the Baltimore suburbs. I had to wear one of those comforting sport coats as a part of the dress code, but quickly learned that people treat you differently when you wear a jacket or a suit. The barista who took an extra minute to make my Starbucks order instantly apologized, “I’m so sorry, sir, may we offer you a complimentary scone?” You can get free stuff from looking like you don’t need free stuff? I was in. Even these days, if I’m feeling down, or feel the need to feel secure or safe or educated and fancy, I’ll wear a jacket to make myself feel better. It is more of a crutch than a strength these days.

We ventured over to Costco on New Years Eve.  It was packed with stuff and people. Free samples were plated up. The rotisserie chickens were still miraculously $5. And the employee walkie-talkies were squawking. Lots of people in the warehouse today! Squawk. Remember to set the tone! And like a well-coached collegiate football team, the employees with red vests rallied around the store; smiles on their faces, energy levels up, squawking radios alive, encouraging each other that today, no regular Sunday, they needed to set the tone.

This new year, may the name of the Lord be upon each of us and may we all be blessed. May we be set free from our need to strut around, wearing our finest security blankets, in this new year. — After all, this is no ordinary year. It is an election year (groan) — And this year, remember, that it is up to you and me to set the tone.

Happy New Year, everyone.

I did visit, however, over the Thanksgiving holiday —  the whole crew did. Where has been rolling on 8 wheels and tough to nail down for an extended season, but my parents finally sold their RV and settled down in Tucson, Arizona this year. My parents always have the same approach when they buy a new home, or RV, or the rentals we grew up in. A particular zip code isn’t home — but a set of handwritten recipes and an aesthetic is. Where we live, multi-million dollar wineries are built upon the tastebuds of a single wine maker. Home is built upon the tastes of the home maker. Framed over the Sherwin-Williams color palette are photos of times together. The nostalgia left behind is magic. Which reminds me: we haven’t hung any family photos on the walls of our new house. The one we haven’t told you about.

We closed and moved into our home on July 3rd, after two-weeks of living in hotels on the east coast. We tried to frame that part of the year up as a work trip + a vacation, but what it ended up being was entirely too long to live out of suitcases with two small children. So we moved into our new house and started sleeping on floor mattresses for months because we started the remodel right away and convinced ourselves to wait on furnishing the house so all of the projects could get done without moving furniture yet again. I’m not sure we were right.

But we do have a bed now. And for a while there, we all had the big bed — because of our kiddo’s sleep regression from living in a new place. They are warming up to their own beds again, for most of the night anyway.

And between the new house, and the remodel, and the new jobs for Kelly and I, and the new schools for Declan and Maeve, and the trips to Costco and swimming lessons, we are starting to settle in to — what we strongly hope — is a place we live for the next couple of decades. Just the other day as I drove Declan to Kindergarten he said to me, with complete relief, “Dad, Eugene is starting to feel like Newberg.”

Merry Christmas, everyone. May this season be one of rest and peace for you and your family like it is for ours. With 2024 on the horizon! What good trouble and good joy will we find ourselves in this coming year?

Now to Him who is able to establish you according to my gospel and the preaching of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery kept secret since the world began but now made manifest, and by the prophetic Scriptures made known to all nations, according to the commandment of the everlasting God, for obedience to the faith— to God, alone wise, be glory through Jesus Christ forever. Amen. Romans 16:25-27

Anytime my father is looking for a parking spot up close to the store he’s going to, he eyes the handicapped spaces and says some combination of “I’m not scared” and “I’ll drag a leg”

(I think this is technically OK under PC rules, as he actually does, now, qualify for one of those little blue stickers, but won’t sign up for it — but I don’t know. I don’t make the rules.)

Anytime my mother gets a good parking spot at Trader Joe’s, she lets everyone in the car know one thing is for sure: she is Jesus’ favorite.

“Ah! Look at that. Choice parking. I’m Jesus’ favorite.”

It’s something we’ve gotten a good laugh out of for a long time. I hope you’ll think of it the next time you find yourself looking at a wide open parking space with a short commute to the store doors.

God, the King of the World

For the director of music. A psalm of the sons of Korah.

Clap your hands, all you people.
    Shout to God with joy.

The Lord Most High is wonderful.
    He is the great King over all the earth!

He defeated nations for us
    and put them under our control.

He chose the land we would inherit.
    We are the children of Jacob, whom he loved. Selah

God has risen with a shout of joy;
    the Lord has risen as the trumpets sounded.

Sing praises to God. Sing praises.
    Sing praises to our King. Sing praises.

God is King of all the earth,
    so sing a song of praise to him.

God is King over the nations.
    God sits on his holy throne.

The leaders of the nations meet
    with the people of the God of Abraham,
because the leaders of the earth belong to God.
    He is supreme.

Recently, a whole string of things fell into place for our upcoming move to Eugene. It looked like the person written about in the above Psalm was making moves on our behalf. And, completely in line with everything we could hope or dream. More than we would ever dare ask — because that would just be too much. Too good.

Growing up I thought God had a really rigid set of checklists He wanted me to achieve. A bunch of do’s and don’ts. And while, yes, there are do’s and don’t —- virtues, vices, passions, etc — that ought to be understood and lived in light of — I think God starts and stops as a loving father. Excited about our artwork from daycare that day. Quite aware of how small and powerless we are. Excited to give us good gifts. Knowing we are so engrossed in our busy, little lives. Happy to spend a few minutes with us before we go toddling off again.

Today I was driving in another parking lot, nearing the front doors, and finding an up-close parking space. I pull into it and believed — even if just for a second — that I, too, was Jesus’ favorite. I’m starting to think we might all be.

I come from a family that grew up in the Bible Belt. The thing about the Bible Belt — and no one tells you this growing up — is that it really holds things together. Communities, Calendars, Rhythms of Life — they were all bound together by a participation in the Christian faith that went beyond spending every Sunday and every Wednesday night in the services of a local church. Singing together. Eating together. Listening to the same local Christian radio station.

Our lives, even as Christians, have grown increasingly secular. This frustrates me.

Philosopher Charles Taylor, in his book A Secular Age, argues that secularism isn’t the absence of religion, but something more complicated than that. And it’s been increasing for a long time. Perhaps hundreds of years. In the age of accelerations we live in, I’m wondering if its affects are being felt more these days.

Another philosopher, James K.A. Smith, wrote a book treating this rise in secularism called bluntly How to Not Be Secular. He argues that secularism is a formal worldview, not just a neutral way of understanding things. It’s actually got its own set of beliefs and practices that shape and practice how one thinks and acts in the world. That, by default, makes secularism sort of… religious. His question behind the whole thing is this: are human beings simply biological organisms? And if so, then what are we supposed to do with the longings and desires we all have? Can we use simple evolutionary terms to explain those away?

Christianity is a particular set of beliefs and practices that are a response to a personal encounter, at some point in one’s life, with God. C.S. Lewis has a nice quote on that:

“I believe in Christianity, as I believe that the sun has risen; not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”  C.S. Lewis, Is Theology Poetry?

It is a worldview. If you’d like to hear Lewis’ additional context for that commonly used quote, I think it is worth reading:

I was taught at school, when I had done a sum, to “prove my answer”. The proof or verification of my Christian answer to the cosmic sum is this. When I accept Theology I may find difficulties, at this point or that, in harmonizing it with some particular truths which are imbedded in the mythical cosmology derived from science. But I can get in, or allow for, science as a whole. Granted that Reason is prior to matter and that the light of the primal Reason illuminates finite minds, I can understand how men should come by observation and inference, to know a lot about the universe they live in. If, on the other hand, I swallow the scientific cosmology as a whole, then not only can I not fit in Christianity, but I cannot even fit in science. If minds are wholly dependent on brains, and brains on bio-chemistry, and bio-chemistry (in the long run) on the meaningless flux of the atoms, I cannot understand how the thought of those minds should have any more significance than the sound of the wind in the trees. And this is to me the final test. This is how I distinguish dreaming and waking.

When I am awake I can, in some degree, account for and study my dream. The dragon that pursued me last night can be fitted into my waking world. I know that there are such things as dreams: I know that I had eaten an indigestible dinner: I know that a man of my reading might be expected to dream of dragons. But while in the nightmare I could not have fitted in my waking experience. The waking world is judged more real because it can thus contain the dreaming world: the dreaming world is judged less real because it cannot contain the waking one. For the same reason I am certain that in passing from the scientific point of view to the theological, I have passed from dream to waking. Christian theology can fit in science, art, morality, and the sub-Christian religions. The scientific point of view cannot fit in any of these things, not even science itself. I believe in Christianity as I believe that the Sun has risen not only because I see it but because by it I see everything else.

I had a conversation with a colleague last week about what the outcome of spiritual formation/discipleship is supposed to be: Christlikeness. As Christians, we are aiming, however imperfectly, towards the target of treating God, ourselves, and others the way Jesus might in a similar situation. My seminary notes say Christlikeness is a lived demonstration of the character of Jesus in our relationships. That reconciliation is a life-long journey — and I don’t know that any of us ever really get there. But we aim, hands shaking, and do our best.

The Lord God gave me the ability to teach
    so that I know what to say to make the weak strong.
Every morning he wakes me.
    He teaches me to listen like a student.

The Lord God helps me learn,
    and I have not turned against him
    nor stopped following him.

I offered my back to those who beat me.
    I offered my cheeks to those who pulled my beard.
I won’t hide my face from them
    when they make fun of me and spit at me.

The Lord God helps me,
    so I will not be ashamed.
I will be determined,
    and I know I will not be disgraced.

He shows that I am innocent, and he is close to me.
    So who can accuse me?
    If there is someone, let us go to court together.
If someone wants to prove I have done wrong,
    he should come and tell me.

Look! It is the Lord God who helps me.
    So who can prove me guilty?
Look! All those who try will become useless like old clothes;
    moths will eat them.

This prophesy from Isaiah about Christ, the suffering servant, teaches us something about what Christlikeness looks like in the face of accusation and judgement. A suffering servant — killed for teaching a way of being that threatened the reigning global military superpower — later coopted by the same global military superpower (hey, if you can’t beat ‘em, you might as well join ‘em…)… and yet still resonating in our hearts thousands of years later. The image of the two walking with, but unaware of, Christ on the road to Emmaus comes to mind — “Weren’t our hearts leaping within us the entire time He was with us?!” — imperfectly, sometimes blindly, still journeying.

I realized this week that the fundamentalist evangelical Christian camp I grew up with and the progressive camp that I don’t jive with either these days have some overlap in their worldview. Both start with the belief that you can’t trust the inputs from your five senses to understand nature or yourself for either worldview to hold up at all.

To the Christian fundamentalist, you might ask “how are the stars that we see so far away if the world is so young?” and to the progressive, you might just ask “What is a woman?”. The amount of mental gymnastics one has to go through for the answer to either in a way that makes sense is exhausting. My wife noticed that in one camp the worldview starts with “You are sinful and fundamentally evil and broken.” and the other, for those who deeply and personally identify with a particular left-of-center orientation, with some sort of trauma that leaves you with a lot of questions around exactly who or what you are. And so we retreat further into worldviews that distance us from our created bodies and senses. I think Christianity offers a worldview that starts in Genesis 1: “and God created… and it was good.” That includes you. In every physical, spiritual, and metaphysical way. Fundamentally and existentially. Right now. Today. Down to your fingers and toes. As deep as your soul. As complex as your mind. And then further reinforced with this idea that “God loves you and me.” Before that happened and continuously. Even right now. Where we are on our journey today. Completely loved and accepted.

Jesus then asks us to love the folks in the red MAGA hats, and the LGBTQ+ folks, and the nosey neighbors… everyone. And, wow, is that difficult. And, wow, don’t I prefer to sit over here with my right opinions and judge. Holding onto my own hurts instead of opening myself up to being healed. Being defined by exterior voices instead of listening to the inner voice of God’s love.

Happy Resurrection Sunday, everyone.

In other news, we are moving our family to Eugene, Oregon this summer. We are listing the home we brought our babies home to in two weeks. How is that for burying the lead? Work is already lined up for everyone — pray that the right family-sized home lines up for us as well. It’s a wonderful fit for our family. A new adventure. Everything is 15 minutes away from everything else, except the ocean and the mountains — you have to go about an hour either way to get to those. My mentor told me a long time ago that you don’t work at a life, you play at it — so we are playing at this next chapter in Eugene. This is the “kids starting school and growing up” chapter, and we can’t wait to see where it takes our little family.

Grace upon grace to each of you.

Hope you are watching the new season of Mando. Declan and I are loving it.

Finally, Murphy discovered gopher holes this week at a state park. Here she is working to find a live gopher in one.

I’ve been settling into a new job with the American Bible Society and I am loving it. Grateful to serve such a wonderful organization and happy to be remote. My writing practice has taken a back seat, but I hope to resume my writing soon. Maybe once the kids get back on their bedtime schedules from this time change…

Before those people lived in darkness,
    but now they have seen a great light.
They lived in a dark land,
    but a light has shined on them.

God, you have caused the nation to grow
    and made the people happy.
And they have shown their happiness to you,
    like the joy during harvest time,
like the joy of people
    taking what they have won in war.

Like the time you defeated Midian,
    you have taken away their heavy load
and the heavy pole from their backs
    and the rod the enemy used to punish them.

Every boot that marched in battle
    and every uniform stained with blood
    has been thrown into the fire.

A child has been born to us;
    God has given a son to us.
    He will be responsible for leading the people.
His name will be Wonderful Counselor, Powerful God,
    Father Who Lives Forever, Prince of Peace. 

Power and peace will be in his kingdom
    and will continue to grow forever.
He will rule as king on David’s throne
    and over David’s kingdom.
He will make it strong
    by ruling with justice and goodness
    from now on and forever.
The Lord All-Powerful will do this
    because of his strong love for his people.

Our little family took communion together for the first time on Christmas Eve. Beyond the challenge of Covid-era church, lies our particular challenge of getting young children to the end of anglican liturgy. Somehow, on the evening of the annual Christmas pageant, with Declan dressed up as a “stinky shepherd” and Maeve dressed up, begrudgingly, as an angel, we knelt together as a family around the altar and extended our hands for the body of Christ, the Bread of Heaven. It only took us 4 1/2 years to get to this particular moment: Maeve with her little hands extended, having placed her little Fisher Price Mary and baby Jesus on the altar. Accepting the tiny wafer that has temporarily replaced the pre-pandemic home-baked bread. Declan, slightly confused, wondering why this is the snack that mom said we were coming up here to have.

Recently, I realized that if our children were going to have any faith formation at all, Kelly and I were going to have to take the initiative. Formation came with the children’s programming at the churches we grew up in. Declan and I are working on bedtime prayers. Our boy, always full of questions, asked me right away, “What is prayer?” To which I answered “Um, you know, it’s like you sort of talk out loud right. And then God, sort of like, hears that, you know? And then, uh, stuff happens.” — so, a tough start, but we are doing better. A few nights ago, Declan, unprompted, whispered his prayers, “Thank you for my family, for mom and dad, and for my baby sister.” We are getting somewhere.

A child has been born to us and his name shall be called… Declan. Maeve. We spent a lot of time trying to name our children. No offense to the Lakynn and Brayden parents out there, but these kids are going to be grandparents someday. Grandpa Brayden just feels a little youthful. Kelly and I downloaded an app that matched us and had us swipe left or right on baby names that we liked or hated — yes we called it baby tinder — and the only name we could agree on was Declan. Full of goodness. We ditched the app for our second, and miraculously came up with Maeve. She who rules. And boy does she.

And so this Christmas, I hope that each of you are warm and healthy. With your family and not drinking too much. Loving the gift of this time of year and making sweet memories together. Remembering to celebrate all 12 days of Christmas.

2023 is a big year for our family. Kelly and I are celebrating 10 years of marriage. Declan will start kindergarten. I’m starting a new role with a non-profit in January. Maeve will still be the boss in the new year.

Until 2023 — grace and peace.

Warmly,

Adam

In the first Chapter of Luke, a teenage girl named Mary goes to her older relative Elizabeth’s house to tell her the craziest thing about an angel that just talked to her about her pregnancy and the situation around it. That would be a lot to process. I think any of us would need a friend to talk to. Elizabeth, full of faith from her own unlikely pregnancy, encourages Mary and tells her that she is blessed. To this, our Mary, who would become the Mother of God, beautifully says in her famous Magnificat:

Then Mary said,

“My soul praises the Lord;

my heart rejoices in God my Savior,

because he has shown his concern for his humble servant girl.
From now on, all people will say that I am blessed,

because the Powerful One has done great things for me.
    His name is holy.

God will show his mercy forever and ever
    to those who worship and serve him.

He has done mighty deeds by his power.
    He has scattered the people who are proud
    and think great things about themselves.

He has brought down rulers from their thrones
    and raised up the humble.

He has filled the hungry with good things
    and sent the rich away with nothing.

He has helped his servant, the people of Israel,
    remembering to show them mercy

as he promised to our ancestors,
    to Abraham and to his children forever.”

Mary’s words remind me of a woman named Dorothy Day. Born in 1897 in Brooklyn, she was a writer and an anarchist that somehow became a Catholic in her adult life. Unlikely, unapologetic, and unorthodox. Dorothy belonged with the original set of disciples. A woman born out of her time, she changed the world. While chain smoking cigarettes and practicing civil disobedience — you need to know this woman is on track to become a saint in the Catholic church — Dorothy founded the Catholic Worker movement.

The Catholic Worker movement in 140 words:

The Catholic Worker Movement began simply enough on May 1, 1933, when a journalist named Dorothy Day and a philosopher named Peter Maurin teamed up to publish and distribute a newspaper called “The Catholic Worker.” This radical paper promoted the biblical promise of justice and mercy.

Grounded in a firm belief in the God-given dignity of every human person, their movement was committed to nonviolence, voluntary poverty, and the Works of Mercy as a way of life. It wasn’t long before Dorothy and Peter were putting their beliefs into action, opening a “house of hospitality” where the homeless, the hungry, and the forsaken would always be welcome.

Over many decades the movement has protested injustice, war, and violence of all forms. Today there are some 228 Catholic Worker communities in the United States and in countries around the world.

The movement embraces the works of mercy as an antidote to the works of war. Rita Corbin illustrated it this way:

Those are the corporal works of mercy. There are also the spiritual works of mercy for us to pause and consider as well. These are gifts also worth giving this holiday season:

• To instruct the ignorant.

• To counsel the doubtful.

• To admonish the sinners.

• To bear patiently those who wrong us.

• To forgive offenses.

• To comfort the afflicted.

• To pray for the living and the dead.

My limited gift receiving capacity was tested this week. Kelly and I had a date night set up for Friday night and our childcare fell through. On Saturday, we were sharing the story in passing with some friends and they immediately offered to pick our kids up from daycare on Monday, feed them dinner, and host a playdate with their kids. Kelly and I went out and spent a wonderful time together. As we picked up our kids and thanked our friends for their generosity, I couldn’t help but say things like “oh, we will obviously do this for you guys sometime…” Not once. But at least two or three times. Each comment was met with kind smiles. They were just giving us a gift. Just receive it, Adam. I’m working on that.

Hospitality towards the margins. Active love. Remembering that as God has given us mercy, there are tangible ways for us to give mercy to the world.

May you and I remember to show mercy to each other, to our neighbors, and to the world this year.

Isaiah son of Amoz saw this message about Judah and Jerusalem: 

In the last days
the mountain on which the Lord’s Temple stands
    will become the most important of all mountains.
It will be raised above the hills,
    and people from all nations will come streaming to it.

Many nations will come and say,
    “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
    to the Temple of the God of Jacob.
Then God will teach us his ways,
    and we will obey his teachings.”
His teachings will go out from Jerusalem;
    the message of the Lord will go out from Jerusalem.

He will settle arguments among the nations
    and will make decisions for many nations.
Then they will make their swords into plows
    and their spears into hooks for trimming trees.
Nations will no longer fight other nations,
    nor will they train for war anymore.

Come, family of Jacob,
    and let us follow the way of the Lord.

When Isaiah talks about going up to the mountain of the Lord, he anticipates God teaching us his ways and then, in turn, we will obey His teachings. It’s simple: listen and obey. In a world that uses God as an argument for war and division — Isaiah paints us a picture of peace: a world where God is settling arguments among the nations and nations will no longer fight other nations or train for war anymore. This is a vision of peace. Shalom at global scale. Isaiah calls out to his brothers and sisters and says Come… let us follow the way of the Lord.

The Melbourne Parish Council commissioned painter Michael Cooke to celebrate 100 years since the Armistice:

I went to a Quaker university for seminary. Many of my friends are anti-war. I come from a family with a long, proud tradition of military service. I am not anti-war. But I don’t believe that war is good — just sometimes necessary in the face of evil. I love the image Michael captured of a soldier, exhausted by his fighting, embracing a patch of dirt. It glows beneath him. New life springs up. It looks like he’s found peace he can start to rebuild on.

In our lives, whether marked by military service or not, I think we might find ourselves caught up in all sorts of battles this holiday season. The fight for your life. A failing marriage. An office politic.

My question to you as we get into this season is this: are you willing let go of your weapons — a sharp tongue, your power, your ability to outmaneuver — and follow the way of peace? Peace starts at home. It starts within you and me. If we can find inner peace this season, perhaps we can find peace in the relationships closest to us. And if we can create families of peace, what might happen then?

This holiday season, may you and I lay down our arms and embrace a patch of dirt that we cultivate and love to life. Hang those Christmas lights this year. Bake your neighbors some cinnamon rolls. Add your estranged uncle to your holiday card mailing list. Accept your coworker’s apology.

By its light the dark nights of this holiday season will be merry and bright.

My son and my dog head-butted this week. Cheek-butted if you ask him. Hard. No blood, but a rush of tears. No swelling or drool, but he’s got a shiner that made the nurse at urgent care suspiciously ask Tell me again — what happened here buddy? while his sister went back to get examined for her injury.

Complicating that trip to urgent care was the fact that he was the one who stepped on his sister and caused her to bite her tongue. I doubt he chose to do it with the intent to hurt her — he was just trying to get to a particular toy before his friends could — but he stepped on her in the process and she bit her tongue. It’s healing quickly, but that was a heavy day.

My wife and I had to figure out how to parent through the middle of getting our daughter the medical care she needed. I was surprised by how complicated our emotions felt. In an afternoon we felt everything from joy, to sadness, to fear, to anger, and disgust. While caring for one child, we tried to create space to discipline the other without being reactive. It all swirled up into a haze that you sort of just blink through to focus on helping one child receive the physical care that they need, while explaining to stranger that No, this kid over here really did collide with the dog, but that isn’t important right now.

God is our protection and our strength.
    He always helps in times of trouble.

So we will not be afraid even if the earth shakes,
    or the mountains fall into the sea,

even if the oceans roar and foam,
    or the mountains shake at the raging sea.

Our kids are fighters in the best sense of it. They stick up for each other, for their friends, and for themselves. I picked up the phrase, “If you need to fight somebody, you can fight me,” from Yellowstone, thinking it sounded like a good-and-manly thing to tell my son, but I’ve had to start telling it to my daughter as well — because she comes in, tiny fists balled up - swinging - too. A boy her age at school made the mistake of hitting her on the arm the other day, and before the teacher could set him in time-out, Maeve solved her own problem — she went over and punched him in the face. These kids, guys.

The relationship between a brother and sister is a tough thing to navigate over the course of your life. After pulling away from my sister for the better part of 15 years, we’ve been working on our relationship lately. Well, less working on it, and more me allowing her to be my older sister again. She was the only constant growing up that didn’t need anything from me and when she did the very ordinary thing for an 18/19 year old to do — go off to college — I felt completely betrayed and exposed. I’d been relying on her for support that wasn’t her responsibility to give me. Did I work on it? Of course not. I went to my go-to-move of my young adult years — cut and run. Life moves at such a quick pace; the river of time rushes the rest of the relationship away. A lack of maintenance. A lack of intentionality. The years go by and you aren’t even angry any longer — you just toss it in your baggage wagon and don’t think about it.

My sister asked me recently what she did wrong, and I had to sit down and try to remember.  I apologized. Since then, I’ve been being an intentional friend with her. We have a family trip coming up to celebrate our mom’s 60th birthday. Progress. I text her and ask her parenting questions. Progress. I send her a meme that made me laugh. Progress.

Somewhere between the fists flying, blood, tears, relationships being restored, and black eyes this week we find ourselves transitioning seasons. Perhaps you are too. And in the middle of it, we remember that God is our protection and strength. He always helps in times of trouble. Though the mountains shake, and the seas rage. Grace and peace.

Jesus also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt:

"Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.

The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.

I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.'

But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner!'

I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

I’m leading the standings in my fantasy football league. 5-1. My buddy Adam and I are running #1 and #2 in this league and smell blood in the water. I don’t think I’ve ever put this much effort into trying to win $200.

No one wants to trade with me because I’m winning, but the bottom half of the league doesn’t seem very interested in changing their losing strategies either. That’s on them. I’m strapped for running backs, but I have Josh Allen as QB1. Every week, all of my hopes for victory rest on the thin line of the waiver wire.

Even while winning, I compare myself to the 9 other guys in my league. Who is the most efficient manager each week? Who can score the most points? Who can win off of the waiver wire? None of us want to come across as uninformed, or worse, incompetent week-to-week.

(I like to think watching Moneyball a dozen times uniquely prepared me for my current reign.)

And yet, no decision I make has any real impact on the players or teams I’m “managing.” It is all fake. I am not a real NFL GM. No man in the arena will be affected by my decisions. At best, I am playing a fun strategy game. At worst, I am becoming a harsh critic of the actions of my friends in this game and the performance of the players on the field. The ones who have dedicated their entire being to a sport, a performance, a way of life.

It is not the critic who counts; nor the one who points out how the strong person stumbled, or where the doer of a deed could have done better.

The credit belongs to the person who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; who does actually strive to do deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotion, spends oneself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at worst, if he or she fails, at least fails while daring greatly.

Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those timid spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat. - Teddy Roosevelt

I love our Gospel passage today, because if you haven’t been this self-righteous Pharisee like I have, then you certainly know someone who is this person. And they are the worst. Have they done anything with their wild and wonderful life? Have they lived their entire life in Teddy’s grey twilight?

When I see someone going in a direction I don’t agree with, or that I think is flat out wrong, I’m learning that I can choose to be gracious and believe they are doing the best that they can. At least they have the fortitude to be in the arena — striving, failing, making the attempt. The judgment is up to God — and Jesus, who has the shoulders to carry the burden of saving the world, and the Spirit of God who is always in and among us working in ways we can’t fully put into words. And for us harsh critics on the sidelines — well, maybe it would be better for us to stop talking so much, and climb into the arena of life.

During the night Jacob rose and crossed the Jabbok River at the crossing, taking with him his two wives, his two slave girls, and his eleven sons. He sent his family and everything he had across the river. So Jacob was alone, and a man came and wrestled with him until the sun came up. When the man saw he could not defeat Jacob, he struck Jacob’s hip and put it out of joint. Then he said to Jacob, “Let me go. The sun is coming up.”

But Jacob said, “I will let you go if you will bless me.”

The man said to him, “What is your name?”

And he answered, “Jacob.”

Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob. Your name will now be Israel, because you have wrestled with God and with people, and you have won.”

Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.”

But the man said, “Why do you ask my name?” Then he blessed Jacob there.

So Jacob named that place Peniel, saying, “I have seen God face to face, but my life was saved.” Then the sun rose as he was leaving that place, and Jacob was limping because of his leg.

Your thirties are exhausting. Madeleine L’Engle calls it the tired thirties — and I agree, it isn’t for the faint of heart. The stakes are higher professionally, the expectations greater, and your kids are changing and growing every time you blink. Our kids are each over 30 pounds now, which wears on your elbows if you carry them too much — and I have definitely carried them too much, as my case of tennis toddler elbow confirms. If you get on your knees and play with the kids for a while and then get up — watch out. You will just have to limp along until you can feel your legs again.

The limp Jacob experienced after a night of wrestling with God, we can relate to from our lifetime of wrestling. We grab ahold and decide to not let go until something changes. Our hearts, our situation, our setting. Whether we grapple with God himself or the image of God in others — we never get out without a mark, a story, a limp.

Jesus tells us a similar story in the Gospel of Luke — of a woman who simply will not let her cry for justice go unanswered:

Then Jesus used this story to teach his followers that they should always pray and never lose hope. “In a certain town there was a judge who did not respect God or care about people. In that same town there was a widow who kept coming to this judge, saying, ‘Give me my rights against my enemy.’ For a while the judge refused to help her. But afterwards, he thought to himself, ‘Even though I don’t respect God or care about people, I will see that she gets her rights. Otherwise she will continue to bother me until I am worn out.’”

The Lord said, “Listen to what the unfair judge said. God will always give what is right to his people who cry to him night and day, and he will not be slow to answer them. I tell you, God will help his people quickly. But when the Son of Man comes again, will he find those on earth who believe in him?”

I’ve always thought about prayer as rooted in God’s love for us — some sort of fatherly desire for us to have good things. It seems like Jesus — Jacob’s story, too— is teaching another aspect of prayer. That maybe our persistence can somehow wear God down. At least get Him to reconsider. Or maybe the wrestling is the point. So that we will be changed in the process. Wrongs will be made right, but there will be a constant reminder in our bodies. An impact from the experience. Jacob ended up walking with a limp from justice delivered to him. I wonder what limp the woman earned from her answer to prayer? I wonder what ours will be.

When I turned 29, I finished a chapter of one of these wrestling and getting a limp from it seasons. Pastoral ministry marked most of the decade of my 20s with a lot of helping people, a lot of ego, and a lot of pouring myself out for the sake of a particular congregation. When I left at 29, I was exhausted — and I didn’t realize that the real ride of my life was about to begin. Leaving vocational ministry and letting my ministerial credentials go felt like an enormous decision. It felt like the end of an identity. I didn’t realize at the time that the title, the paper proof, the setting — those were just markers for a vocational thread that is woven through my life. I didn’t realize that piece of paper was only a receipt for a way that I had been walking for a long time. A limp that would never go away.

This week, Kelly and I took our kids to a park after one of their days at daycare. In between leaving the park and going to grab dinner at the local pizza place, we ran into the chief of police for our little town. He was out on patrol, but saw Declan was excited about his car, and kindly let him climb inside and power the lights on and off. While Declan was doing that, I said thank you to this officer for his service — for making our town a safer place for our kids and us to live. And I don’t know what it is, because this happens to me often, he began talking to me about all of the challenges he was going through in his role. From George Floyd, to the shortcomings of other police departments, to ways his department is working hard to constantly be of better service. The conversation went deep and quickly passed. A passing moment of grace in between the park and pizza. An affirmation and a handshake.

Whatever your limp is, I think it creates space for others to notice and connect. You don’t have to pretend it isn’t there — you can embrace it as a gift to the world. After all, it was given to you by your Creator.

The apostles said to Jesus, “Give us more faith!”

Jesus replied, “If your faith were the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Dig yourself up and plant yourself in the sea,’ and it would obey you.

Kelly and I got engaged 10 years ago this week. I sold my electric guitar gear and bought the three things I needed to to pop the question: an engagement ring, a plane ticket to Kansas City, and a bouquet of flowers. Seven hours in the air later, I hopped off the airplane, got down on one knee in the airport, and asked her to spend the rest of her life with me.

There was one, uh, small detail that we hadn’t addressed yet as a couple:

Kelly had never told me that she loved me.

But, that September evening in the airport, she said yes, and also, that she loved me. Which, was good to hear, but not really needed to make the decision. The deep sense of knowing between us was enough.

We, somehow, knew we’d found our person to pledge, “Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried.” and bind ourselves together in a sacred bond. What God has joined together, let no man…

So she hadn’t said it, but we somehow knew. And there’s something about knowing that extends well beyond this particular story and into every aspect of our lives.

Why is a sense that we build every aspect of our lives on so difficult to articulate?

If we had to talk about the moment we first sensed that knowing, what words would we use?

Surely we can do better than just saying “well, when you know you know.”

A reverie. A wind blew. Time felt suspended. The Spirit moved. Our hearts burned inside our chests. Something resonated. We connected. A sense that this has been true my entire life and I just became aware of it.

Would we say God spoke to us? I think so, but my experience of that is still the same as above, and saying it that way seems so — certain?

The reverie is something to experience. To get lost in for a moment. The word is rooted in the Old French resverie, which meant joy or delight — and also, a delusion; a hallucination. A sensing of what does not currently exist, but the fleeting thought of it brings you a deep sense of joy. Of what could be. Of what has been present in you all along.

These moments spark just a tiny bit of faith. Faith the size of a mustard seed. But not an empty hope. A faith that leads to a commitment and then a long obedience in the same direction. With commitment, and the letting go of a contingency plan, that faith takes root in you and a togetherness begins to grow and turn into something lasting. In this particular case with Kelly and I: a beautiful life together.

There is an old Apache proverb that says Wisdom sits in places. Its worth pointing out that the sense of knowing doesn’t typically happen just anywhere, but somewhere particular. And that particularity matters. For Kelly and I choosing each other, it was on a roadtrip through the American Southwest and up the West Coast. And we were, of course, unaware of what wisdom sits here or there.

Perhaps our elders know and can advise us on these things.

Perhaps our elders do know and quietly nudge us towards these things.

I had the chance to stand under a 450-year-old oak tree this week on a friend’s farm. In that moment, I knew that Kelly and I, someday, will own land that has old oak trees on it. Not for any reason, other than a deep sense of knowing. Not wanting. Not entitlement. Maybe because the future is something we at least have some hand in shaping. Or requesting from God and receiving.

Eight months before Kelly and I went on the roadtrip together and decided to get married, we happened to go to Seattle with a large group from our church. We accidentally stood next to each other for a group photo. Click. Kelly’s mom later saw that picture when Kelly was home for the holidays. She asked what my name was and when Kelly said “Oh, that’s just Adam McGuffie.” she responded “MCGUFFIE! What a GREAT NAME!”

What she didn’t tell her daughter, until years later, is that she began praying for me, because she knew, in an instant, that she was looking at a picture of her future son-in-law.

And this too, friends, I do not understand.

“If you want to understand the entrepreneur, study the juvenile delinquent. The delinquent is saying with his actions, "This sucks. I'm going to do my own thing.”

- Yvon Chouinard, Let My People Go Surfing

Last night, during our kid’s bathtime, I saw a news story come across my phone: Yvon Chouinard gave away his $3B company. I immediately started laughing and said “Ah, the crazy old bastard really did do it!” And then I remembered that was a word the kids aren’t supposed to know yet. Sigh.

I stumbled upon the Patagonia brand when I was in high school. Their catalogs, well designed and full of photos, captured my imagination. They began producing short films grounding the brand in adventure-filled stories. I had no understanding that it was a type of marketing attracting me — I just knew that someday I wanted to do that kind of creative stuff. I credit the Patagonia brand as an early guiding light towards my future work.

Yvon has always inspired me as a business leader. I wrote about his management style in seminary — both confused and inspired by his witty “Management By Absence” (MBA) style of leadership. He always assumed the people he hired were better at doing their work than he could ever micromanage — and he’d rather be fishing, or climbing, or surfing instead of having meetings about meetings. Somehow, embodying the ethos of the company in an authentic way and pursuing his vision for excellence accidentally built him a multi-billion dollar company. And I say him, because Yvon owned the whole thing — personally. Until this week.

“A master in the art of living draws no sharp distinction between his work and his play; his labor and his leisure; his mind and his body; his education and his recreation. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence through whatever he is doing, and leaves others to determine whether he is working or playing. To himself, he always appears to be doing both.” - Yvon Chouinard, Let My People Go Surfing

Bob Moore, founder of Bob’s Red Mill, gave his company away to his employees on his 81st birthday. Bob went to seminary here in Oregon for a year before he fell in love with making flours. I had the honor of meeting him and hearing his story at his mill nearly a decade ago. The wisdom he shared was to keep money in your hand, but not in your heart. At the heart of both Bob and Yvon’s management style is a deep care for their people: treating them like human beings with lives to honor rather than pawns to leverage.

Putting people over profit.

The prophet Amos, writing in the 8th Century BCE, warns of taking advantage of people:

Listen to me, you who walk on helpless people,
    you who are trying to destroy the poor people of this country, saying,

“When will the New Moon festival be over
    so we can sell grain?
When will the Sabbath be over
    so we can bring out wheat to sell?
We can charge them more
    and give them less,
    and we can change the scales to cheat the people.

We will buy poor people for silver,
    and needy people for the price of a pair of sandals.
    We will even sell the wheat that was swept up from the floor.”

The Lord has sworn by his name, the Pride of Jacob, “I will never forget everything that these people did.

There is a story in the Gospel of Matthew about Jesus being tempted by the devil himself in the desert. Henri Nouwen summarizes Christ’s three temptations as something any Christian leader faces these days: the temptation to be relevant, the temptation to be spectacular, and the temptation to be powerful. For the last one, the devil takes Jesus to the top of a high mountain and shows Him all of the kingdoms of the world and delivers the line, “All of this can be yours, but first...”  Jesus, hungry and tired, rejects the offer and ultimately gives his life away. Before then, he asked the question of his followers, “What will it profit a man if he gains the entire world, but loses his own soul?”

That’s the remarkable difference between folks like Yvon and Bob and the rest of us - It’s easy for money to creep into our hearts and crowd out the good, the true, and the beautiful. The corners become easier and easier to cut. Yet, when someone does it right — and they make it through the temptation to the other side and give it all away at incredible cost to themselves personally — you can’t help but smile, shake your head, and say to yourself Ah, the crazy old bastard really did do it.

Every legislative session begins with a visit from the Queen, and it's a very regal tradition. She wears her crown and robe and processes down a hallway lined with the Queen’s Guards who literally strike the stone walls with their swords to make sparks fly as she walks by. The hallway ends at the House of Lords, where the Queen enters to take her seat on the throne and essentially commissions the legislators to enact the will of the people. Several years ago, they were forced to break tradition a bit to accommodate the Queen in her older age. There is a grand staircase leading to the hallway, and it became too much for her to climb. So they decided to start using the elevator to get her up. Well, the first year they did this a mistake was made. The lift operator accidentally pushed the button for the wrong floor. Rather than the entrance to parliament, he presses the button for the maintenance floor. The lift goes up, the doors open, and Alice from the cleaning crew with her head down pushes her cleaning cart into the elevator as she has done countless times. Only this time, she has pinned the Queen of England against the wall of the small lift. The doors close behind her, Alice is stuck in the lift with the Queen and her Guard, and she lets out an expletive not fitting the presence of royalty. Then an awkward silence, no one knowing what to do. The silence was broken by the Queen's uncontrollable laughter, and then the most remarkable invitation. Rather than opening the doors to let Alice off, the Queen asks the lift operator to take them down to the proper floor. The doors open and to everyone's shock out walks Her Majesty the Queen and Alice the maintenance worker. Then the Queen in her regalia along with Alice in her maintenance uniform process side by side down the royal hallway. But it gets even better. Once a year for the rest of Alice's life, she was invited to Buckingham Palace for high tea with her newfound friend, Queen Elizabeth. - @tcpcrobert on Twitter

The Queen died this week. Her reign lasted for over 28% of America’s history. Her life for over 39%. As The Editors at National Review put it this week, “The impossible has been overtaken by the inevitable.” Her steady presence will be more than missed.

Kelly is back in the classroom this week. Students filled into her classroom and brought both their stories of how they spent the summer and their surprise over the newly introduced “No Cellphones” policy at her school. It’s wonderful seeing her thrive as she starts her 7th year of teaching in the classroom.

In the 1970s, a Christian community in Cameroon created art as a response to gospel readings. Here is one of their paintings from the Gospel reading in Luke this week:

The tax collectors and sinners all came to listen to Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law began to complain: “Look, this man welcomes sinners and even eats with them.”

Then Jesus told them this story: “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep but loses one of them. Then he will leave the other ninety-nine sheep in the open field and go out and look for the lost sheep until he finds it. And when he finds it, he happily puts it on his shoulders and goes home. He calls to his friends and neighbors and says, ‘Be happy with me because I found my lost sheep.’ In the same way, I tell you there is more joy in heaven over one sinner who changes his heart and life, than over ninety-nine good people who don’t need to change.

In the 1st Century, the Apostle Paul wrote part of a letter that dovetails with our Gospel passage:

I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me trustworthy, appointing me to his service. Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.

Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen.

In the decade leading up to the beginning of Queen Elizabeth’s 70-year-reign, C.S. Lewis wrote this piece of advice:

"Humility…encourages us to concentrate simply on the knowledge or the beauty, not too much concerning ourselves with their ultimate relevance to the vision of God. That relevance may not be intended for us but for our betters— for men who come after and find the spiritual significance of what we dug out in blind and humble obedience to our vocation.”

- C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

And finally, Jon Foreman re-recorded his version of Psalm 51 (the psalm for this week) back in 2020:

“That’s too many quotes and references, Adam. What’s your point?”

All I could think of as these bits and pieces came to me this week was that each person got up and went about their work. From the Queen to the maintenance worker, from the Apostle to the teacher, from the painter to the singer-songwriter.

Each a snapshot of a person digging out in blind and humble obedience to their vocation.

What gift for the world will you dig out this week?

The-most-strong-willed-4-year-old-in-America asked me to the movies this week. Hours after going to the movies for the first time, Declan was ready to go back and share the experience with me.

“Dad, do you want to go see the Super Pets movie with me? Lemonade. And the big popcorn. Maybe some fruit snacks.”

I took him to a movie theatre that I valeted cars at a decade ago (I could have never imagined what the future held). We buy our tickets, and the lemonade, and the big popcorn and fruit snacks. The look on his face, folks.

Declan is sort of in-between the size where you can comfortably sit in a movie theatre chair. After sitting on the edge for a bit, and trying out the getting-entirely-swallowed-up-by-the-chair approach, we settled on him sitting on my lap. He ate fruit snacks until his tummy hurt. He pushed through being up past his bed time and made it to the end of the movie — even if I did have to carry him to the car.

As a father of two, my inroads to understanding God right now is as a father. In the Psalms, David writes:

Where can I go to get away from your Spirit?
    Where can I run from you?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there.
    If I lie down in the grave, you are there.

If I rise with the sun in the east
    and settle in the west beyond the sea,

even there you would guide me.
    With your right hand you would hold me.

I could say, “The darkness will hide me.
    Let the light around me turn into night.”

But even the darkness is not dark to you.
    The night is as light as the day;
    darkness and light are the same to you.

You made my whole being;
    you formed me in my mother’s body.

I praise you because you made me in an amazing and wonderful way.
    What you have done is wonderful.
    I know this very well.

You saw my bones being formed
    as I took shape in my mother’s body.
When I was put together there,

you saw my body as it was formed.
All the days planned for me
    were written in your book
    before I was one day old.

God, your thoughts are precious to me.
    They are so many!

If I could count them,
    they would be more than all the grains of sand.
When I wake up,
    I am still with you.

I heard someone say this week that the message of the four Gospels can be summed up in five words: Let go and reach out.

As G.K. Chesterton famously wrote of God with an unseen hook and an invisible line… long enough to let him wander to the ends of the world, and still to bring him back with a twitch upon the thread. We are God’s children. Wholly loved. The steady hand of the Father asking us the eternal question Do you want to be healed? and continuing to love us regardless of our answer. All wounds, in time. Eternally caught when we let go and reach out.

There is an evening every year — in August or September — where I swear to you that I can feel the season of summer end and the season of autumn begin. The Anemoi were the gods of the four winds in ancient Greek thought. Each direction had a name — Boreas, Zephryos, Notos, Euros — and a function. I couldn’t tell you the name of this particular wind or why it speaks to me every year, but it always completely stops me. It’s the closest thing I’ve ever heard to God’s voice. It feels like a perennial holy moment to me. And the moment I’ve focused in on it, it’s gone. But it was there. Just right up there. I promise.

This year, it left me with a sense that life is about to change for our family. I suppose anyone looking at our family could see that — but it’s different when you are living in the middle of it. Until this year, we had babies at home. But, at the ages of four and soon-to-be two — they are really too chatty to be considered babies any longer. And, of course, Declan reminds us, directly, that he isn’t a baby when we accidentally treat him like one.  As we gear up to launch Declan into Kindergarten next year — and realize that it will be here before we know it — their increasing independence is creating space in our own lives and work. The haze of the baby days is moving behind us. They have a wonderful daycare provider. Kelly and I are going to be able to focus a little more on our careers and a little less on dirty diapers.

And with that in mind, I come back to the ideas of letting go and reaching out. Henri Nouwen wrote an entire book on the latter — attempting to summarize his entire understanding of what being a follower of Jesus was really about. Henri saw reaching out as three movements - each suspended between two polarities: to our inmost self (from loneliness to solitude), to our fellow human beings (from hostility to hospitality), and to our God (from illusion to prayer). He summarizes it this way:

“In the midst of a turbulent, often chaotic, life we are called to reach out, with courageous honesty to our innermost self, with relentless care to our fellow human beings, and with increasing prayer to our God.”

Dear God,

I am so afraid to open my clenched fists! Who will I be when I have nothing left to hold on to? Who will I be when I stand before you with empty hands? Please help me to gradually open my hands and to discover that I am not what I own, but what you want to give me. And what you want to give me is love—unconditional, everlasting love.

Amen.

And so I keep asking, what does it look like for me to let go and reach out as the season turns to autumn? What would it look like for you to do the same?