Category: Uncategorized

Oh, Yeah, life goes on

Long after the thrill of living is gone…

A singularly depressing and unwholesome song, yet possessing a kernel of truth.

I’ve rambled on before about how theater is kind of a metaphor for life.  I think of this again as I prepare for another round of Hunchback. It happens about this point in about every show.  Call time may be 6:00 p.m., but it will be 6:10…6:20…6:25 before all of us have dragged our sorry bones into the seats.  There is often a pervasive sense of…blah.  

I’m sorry—blah is a technical term.  It means ennui, or lassitude.  In any case, it will take some doing for us to rise to the occasion.

They tell me this is common in the theater.  You go through the work of rehearsal, building a show piece by piece.  The tension and excitement increase as you get closer and closer to opening.  Finally, there is the pure adrenalin rush of opening night.  This rush takes you through the Saturday evening show and the Sunday matinee.

Then you go home.

For five days.

When the next week rolls around, and the next, and the next, you can find that, in part, the idea of performing has slipped from the category of “get to” into “have to.”

It’s not new anymore.

But the audience deserves a show—the very best you have in you.  They paid for it, after all, and you promised it.

So you pray, you dig deep, and you go through the motions of setting props, getting into costumes, checking mics.  And somewhere in the process, you rediscover the joy that brought you here in the first place.

See the multitudinous connections?

Of course you do–you’re brilliant.

Hmm…marriage.  A lot of marriages—even Christian marriages—end in divorce.  Why?  Because the fun wears off, the adrenalin rush passes, and we get…blah.    But your spouse deserves the best you have in you.  They paid for it, after all, and you promised it.  So you pray, you dig deep, and keep loving, and serving, and being together.  And somewhere in the process, you rediscover the love that brought you here in the first place.

Let’s see…what about jobs?  Kids? Friendships?  Goals?  Dreams?  The pattern fits.

What about your walk with Christ?

Sometimes the joy is there, vibrant, thrumming through me like a power chord.

Sometimes not.

Sometimes, by the time my metaphorical Friday rolls around, I’m tired, drained, and flat out not in the mood.   Jesus tells me to abide in him.  To remain in him.  But—to be truthful—sometimes I’m just not into it.  I get tired. Bored.  What kind of idiot gets bored with the God of the Universe?

My kind.

Sometimes I feel like it’s all a show, and I’m just not up for it.

But I have an audience, and He deserves the very best that is in me.

He paid for it.

I promised it.

So I pray, I dig deep, and yes, sometimes I go through the motions.  I set the props, I put on the costume, I check my mic.  And somewhere in the process, I rediscover the powerful, sustaining love that brought me here in the first place.

Places, everyone.

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives, and release from darkness for the prisoners…  (Isaiah 61:1).

Today is a holiday.

Juneteenth

Today we celebrate freedom for the captives, an end to slavery. It is good and right that we should do this.

There’s a bunch of political and social tension surrounding this holiday, but I choose to celebrate it for what it is–the joyful culmination of a long and bitter fight to end a great evil. Praise God.

Beloved, there is an irony built into this holiday that we shouldn’t ignore. On paper, the slaves had been free for well over two years prior to June 19, 1865.

They just didn’t know it–and their captors weren’t about to tell them.

Christ Jesus came to set a world full of captives free from the power of sin and death. He has paid the price, and we are free.

But some don’t know it yet–and their captor isn’t about to tell them. So they continue to live in bondage, waiting for a freedom that has already been bought.

Spread the Word, Beloved.

Happy Juneteenth

The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?  (Psalm 27:1)

We are coming up on the New Year.  When you think about it, it’s just an arbitrary date on an imaginary calendar.  I mean, it’s not like Sunday is going to look different from Saturday.  Sky will still be blue, grass green, gravity should remain fairly constant.

Still…

We look at the New Year as a time to start fresh, to begin (or re-begin) new things.  We wonder about the future and what it will hold for us.  What opportunities await us in the coming year? What challenges?  What treasures lie in our paths, and what monsters lie in wait?  It can be an exciting time—and a scary time.

As you gird your loins for January 1, ask yourself the same question David asks: With God as my light, my life, my protector, what can possibly frighten me?

Chew on that today.

Happy Thursday, Beloved

Brothers, do not slander one another.  Anyone who speaks against his brother or judges him speaks against the law and judges it  (James 4:11).

So, now that the extended family is gone…tell me.

How many snide remarks were there?

How often did you mock Weird Uncle Dave because, well, look at him with that silly comb-over and that “girlfriend” who is, what, half his age and is obviously only after him for his money and is totally playing him for a fool?

Or what about Great Aunt Susie, who insists on bringing her “Famous”  eggplant casserole that causes brave men to weep and pit bulls to lie down and die?

Or Cousin Jimmy, who’s working retail…still.

Or…

Yeah…

Christmas is over.  

Christ isn’t.

Happy Wednesday, Beloved

Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).

Thank you, Veteran.

Thank you for leaving your home behind in order to protect it.

Thank you for setting aside your freedoms to help safeguard mine.

Thank you for fighting for my right to protest, even when my protest saddens or angers or disgusts you.

Thank you for shouldering a rifle, or climbing into a chopper, or racing toward a bomb blast, knowing that today could be the day that you are called to give “the last full measure of devotion.”

You must be terrified.

You go anyway.

For me.

Thank you.

Places One-a-Day Thursday  12/17/20

Oh, Yeah, life goes on

Long after the thrill of living is gone…

A singularly depressing and unwholesome song, yet possessing a kernel of truth.

I’ve rambled on before about how theater is kind of a metaphor for life.  I think of this again as I prepare for the final weekend of Elf. It happens about this point in about every show.  Call time may be 1:00 p.m., but it will be 1:10…1:20…1:25 before all of us have dragged our sorry bones into the seats.  There is often a pervasive sense of…blah.  I’m sorry—blah is a technical term.  It means ennui, or lassitude.  In any case, it will take some doing for us to rise to the occasion.

They tell me this is common in the theater.  You go through the work of rehearsal, building a show piece by piece.  The tension and excitement increase as you get closer and closer to opening.  Finally, there is the pure adrenalin rush of opening night.  This rush takes you through the Saturday evening show and the Sunday matinee.

Then you go home.

For five days.

When the next week rolls around, and the next, and the next, you can find that, in part, the idea of performing has slipped from the category of “get to” into “have to.”

It’s not new anymore.

But the audience deserves a show—the very best you have in you.  They paid for it, after all, and you promised it.

So you pray, you dig deep, and you go through the motions of setting props, getting into costumes, checking mics.  And somewhere in the process, you rediscover the joy that brought you here in the first place.

See the multitudinous connections?

Of course you do–you’re brilliant.

Hmm…marriage.  Most marriages—even Christian marriages—end in divorce.  Why?  Because the fun wears off, the adrenalin rush passes, and we get…blah.    But your spouse deserves the best you have in you.  They paid for it, after all, and you promised it.  So you pray, you dig deep, and keep loving, and serving, and being together.  And somewhere in the process, you rediscover the love that brought you here in the first place.

Let’s see…what about jobs?  Kids? Friendships?  Goals?  Dreams?  The pattern fits.

What about your walk with Christ?

Sometimes the joy is there, vibrant, thrumming through me like a power chord.

Sometimes not.

Sometimes, by the time my metaphorical Friday rolls around, I’m tired, drained, and flat out not in the mood.   Jesus tells me to abide in him.  To remain in him.  But—to be truthful—sometimes I’m just not into it.  I get tired. Bored.  What kind of idiot gets bored with the God of the Universe?

My kind.

Sometimes I feel like it’s all a show, and I’m just not up for it.

But I have an audience, and He deserves the very best that is in me.

He paid for it.

I promised it.

So I pray, I dig deep, and yes, sometimes I go through the motions.  I set the props, I put on the costume, I check my mic.  And somewhere in the process, I rediscover the powerful, sustaining love that brought me here in the first place.

Places, everyone.

Dogs have surrounded me; a band of evil men has encircled me, they have pierced my hands and my feet. I can count all my bones; people stare and gloat over me. They divide my garments among them and cast lots for my clothing (Psalm 22:16-18).

For David, this was metaphorical.

For Jesus, not so much.

The Gospel writers point out the prophecy of these lines. As the Word of God, now Son of God, now Lamb of God took on the endless, brutal weight of sin and shame and death, the objects of his sacrifice pointed and laughed and argued over his stuff. They had no idea.

But you do, Beloved. You understand–as well as any mortal mind can–what was happening on that cross. You receive–as well as any mortal heart can–the forgiveness he offers. You walk–as well as mortal feet can–in the love and grace he has given you. You submit–as well as mortal man can–to the One who paid the price of redemption and now calls you his own.

You get it.

So…walk in it today, ya?

Happy Monday, Beloved

Oh, Yeah, life goes on

Long after the thrill of living is gone…

A singularly depressing and unwholesome song, yet possessing a kernel of truth.

I’ve rambled on before about how theater is kind of a metaphor for life.  I think of this again as I prepare for the last weekend of Seussical. It happens at some point in every show.  Call time may be 1:00 p.m., but it will be 1:10…1:20…1:25 before all of us have dragged our sorry bones into the seats.  There is often a pervasive sense of…blah. I’m sorry—blah is a technical term. It means ennui, or lassitude. In any case, it will take some doing for us to rise to the occasion.

They tell me this is common in the theater.  You go through the work of rehearsal, building a show piece by piece.  The tension and excitement increase as you get closer and closer to opening.  Finally, there is the pure adrenalin rush of opening night. This rush takes you through the Saturday evening show and the Sunday matinee.

Then you go home.

For five days.

When the next week rolls around, and the next, and the next, you can find that, in part, the idea of performing has moved from the category of “get to” into “have to.”

It’s not new anymore.

But the audience deserves a show—the very best you have in you.  They paid for it, after all, and you promised it.

So you pray, you dig deep, and you go through the motions of setting props, getting into costumes, checking mics.  And somewhere in the process, you rediscover the joy that brought you here in the first place.

See the multitudinous connections?

Hmm…marriage.  Most marriages—even Christian marriages—end in divorce.  Why? Because the fun wears off, the adrenalin rush passes, and we get…blah.    But your spouse deserves the best you have in you. They paid for it, after all, and you promised it.  So you pray, you dig deep, and keep loving, and serving, and being together. And somewhere in the process, you rediscover the love that brought you here in the first place.

Let’s see…what about jobs?  Friendships? Goals? Plans? Desires? Dreams?  The pattern fits.

What about your walk with Christ?

Sometimes the joy is there, vibrant, thrumming through me like a power chord.

Sometimes not.

Sometimes, by the time my metaphorical Friday rolls around, I’m tired, drained, and flat out not in the mood.   Jesus has told me to abide in him. To remain in him. But—to be truthful—sometimes I’m just not into it. I get bored.  What kind of idiot gets bored with the God of the Universe?

My kind.

Sometimes I feel like it’s all a show, and I’m just not up for it.

But I have an audience, and He deserves the very best that is in me.

He paid for it.

I promised it.

So I pray, I dig deep, and yes, sometimes I go through the motions.  I set the props, I put on the costume, I check my mic. And somewhere in the process, I rediscover the powerful, sustaining love that brought me here in the first place.

Places, everyone.