Archives for January 2018

When a camera enters a room, something changes. People’s attention shifts. For those greatly affected you see their eyes shift, the body language change, and either the dawning of a unique performance quality or the shrinking of their entire being because of fear.

This same shift can happen to a child when they come within the sphere of influence of there parents or peer group. When they notice they are being watched.

This is question we are responding to in these situations: What are these people, whose perception of me I value, going to think of me?

This question is binding. It either continues to burden us, or it is lifted. The camera magnifies it. The photo, video, or recording will end up in front of the eyes of millions (thanks to social media), there will be comments, they won’t all be kind.

We all are being watched. Understand the responsibility. Act accordingly.

We all have a camera. Understand its power. Use it well.

Sometimes giving is enough. Sometimes giving is what’s needed. Sometimes it’s all we can do.

Regardless, giving out of a spirit of abundance, a heart of generosity, a compassionate response is always better. Better than giving out of obligation, reciprocation, social or cultural pressure, or because we’re incentivized to.

Giving is enough. Giving is what’s needed. It’s all we can do.

Everyone stands on something – a foundation that provides the undergirding for whatever they stand for.

Foundations vary. It could be our work – what we do. Our accomplishments – what we’ve been recognized for. Who we belong to – our community of peers. Our lineage – who we come from. Our geography – where we come from. Or most potently, our value set – what we believe or don’t believe.

Foundations inform identity, and when we feel personally offended it is our identity that is ultimately attacked, and our foundation that we use to defend and justify ourselves.

But look at the list above. All the examples are all self reflective. I am justified because I – do, have done, know people, come from this person or this place, or have this particular set of morals.

What if someone else did the justifying?

I wonder how interactions would change if our hearts were resting in the knowledge that we were already justified. What if we knew our justifier? No need for us to provide extra proof. The work already done. Everything else a response of gratitude and love. Wouldn’t that be a real change?

Lots of people don’t like talking about death. Some people do. Some are ambivalent. Some are obsessed. Wherever we are on the spectrum, there is a truth in nature that is this: everything dies. The cycle of birth, life, death exists everywhere.

Over the course of my life I’ve experienced moments when I was very fearful of death. Other moments when my mortality was very present and yet death wasn’t a concern. Still other times when no concern for my mortality, nor the idea of death, was present for me.

Regardless, I’ve found a particular beauty in the idea of numbered days. I’ve come to desire a clear perspective of my mortality.

When mortality isn’t present I’ve lost the urgency of life. Not the stress that each day hoists on us, but the urgency of a life lived thoroughly through each moment.

A clear perspective of mortality comes with a comfort of the natural occurrence of death. This comfort eliminates the fear of death. It will happen. Our best hope is to die well, in our purpose.

So, I number my days. Moving forward with each day I’m given, my mind is put to the thoughts it is meant to have, my heart points towards that which it is designed to worship, and my hands are put to the work they were made for.

Tap dancers have a tradition at funerals. We dance.

I was 12 when I first experienced this at the service for Lon Chaney (the tap dancer, not the actor). It was beautiful. It wasn’t a performance. It was a ritual. An expression of connection, remembering, and celebration. I’d never experienced anything like it.

There’s another thing that I’ve experienced at funerals, too. People set aside petty differences and take on a different disposition to one another. I don’t know what prompts this change. Maybe it’s a recognition of life’s brevity. Or could it be an out pouring of all the love we wanted to share with the departed that we never did. Either way, the shift begs a question:

What would life be like if the loving, forgiving, and compassionate disposition we experience at services was the way we all were all the time?

What are we waiting for?

Safety is a good thing. It is the feeling of protection from all the things that would cause us harm. Shelter and clothing protect us from most elements. A gathering of people can protect us from the feeling of isolation.

Sanctification is a good thing. It is the continual process of formation, purification, and perfection. Revelations of who we are, intimate experiences of forgiveness, and dramatic change are all parts of the process. For some this process is unavoidable, for others we’ve only experienced parts of this journey.

To some degree we all desire both these things: Safety from harm and a more perfect heart, community, and world. Both are possible, but the order of their priority is important.

The pursuit of safety can keep us from the experiences of revelation, forgiveness, and change necessary for sanctification. We will find the walls around us so fortified that nothing and no one can enter in. If, in our deepest heart, there is a desire for sanctification, there will ultimately be a reordering of our priorities. Sanctification will come first. Safety will come second.

We get to do whatever we want. Do we really? The idea of freedom is idolized in today’s culture. We want freedom of speech, freedom of religion, some of us dance so that we might feel a kind of physical freedom that we don’t experience in our day-to-day lives.

The tap dancer Chuck Green said, “You can’t always do what you want to do. You have to do what’s needed to do.“ Chuck was considered a master storyteller, a rich and nuanced voice in a craft that can sometimes be limited to big smiles and flashy steps.

The writer of the letter to Corinth included in the New Testament, said this, “Everything is possible, but not everything is good.“

So what is this freedom that we are so persistent to strive toward? Is it the freedom to do what we want, whenever we want? Or is it a freedom from some burden, something that we feel is keeping us from fulfilling our true nature?

Whichever one it is, there is one thing that is true. With the revelation that we can indeed do whatever we want, an equally powerful revelation must occur. A revelation of responsibility. That is, with every choice we make, we affect the lives of others. The responsibility is high. Maybe higher than any of us would ever care to realize.

So I submit, that instead of striving for freedom, it might be better to just strive to do the work that set before us. This work is the work that we know needs to be done. It is the work that we know would lead to a better life, better relationships, resilient communities, all the things we dream of. And in setting ourselves to do this work we will experience the freedom to do what we are called to, what we were made for.

I’ve been thinking a lot about words lately, and this one came to mind: responsible. We know the weight of this word as derived from responsibilities. All the things we have to do. But what does being responsible really mean?

To be responsible is to be able to respond. In order to respond one must first have a grasp of the situation one is responding to. We must be able to discern the powers at play, the people involved, and the work that we are called to do in that given situation. Responding first takes a lot of listening, watching, and praying or meditating.

What happens when we respond without listening? We rush to judgement.

What happens when we respond without watching? We get caught in the crossfire.

What happens when we respond without praying or meditating? We only act upon impulse.

Being able to respond means that we take the time necessary to do the work involved to discern the situation. We don’t rush, get caught, nor rely on impulses. We find ourselves being thoughtful and informed. We find ourselves on the path towards wisdom.