HAVING, NEEDING, & ASKING (but not necessarily in that order!)

I used to think that other people would somehow know when I needed encouragement. I used to expect other people to be mind-readers. Or so clued in to the subtle signals I was giving off. I used to think that God would prompt someone's heart to encourage me if I really needed it. And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:19) So, if I don't have it, I don't need it. Right? Maybe. Really truly, maybe. There are times when that is absolutely true. There are other times, however, when I have not because I ask not. (James 4:2) It is one thing to ask God. And, that is truly where we must start. He is the Giver of all good things. It is another thing to ask others. And that, traditionally, has been very hard for me.

I have been learning what it means to ask for encouragement. For the last 6 months or more, my two oldest kids and I have been going for a 5 mile run/bike-ride almost every Sabbath day. In an effort to rest and be refreshed, we head off to the local park, and I run while they ride their bikes. [This may seem counter-intuitive, but we have found that exercising on Sabbath is quite good for our well-being!] For the last 3 months or so, we have been trying to break our time record every week. In other words, we hope to run each week a little faster than the previous week. It hasn't proven to be too hard for them (as they are on bikes, remember!) but it is quite a challenge for me to shave off seconds every week!

Several weeks ago, on our way to the park, I said "Hey guys, I am not feeling very much like I can do this today, so I could use some encouragement when you think of it." Now, this was a big step for me. I asked for help. I asked for encouragement. But, disappointingly, nothing happened. We went all 5 miles, me struggling to muscle up hills, or desperately trying to catch my breath, and they offered no encouragement.  And, I was tempted to think they didn't care. I was tempted to throw a giant pity party. Poor me. I asked for encouragement and got none. I guess I'll go eat worms...

But instead, the next time I took a different approach. I didn't throw out a vague "I might get discouraged sometime perhaps maybe on this run, so if you think of it, you might just offer me some encouragement." No. This time, I asked for encouragement when I needed it. When I was struggling to run up a long hill, and I felt like I wanted to just stop and walk, I recognized my need. I called out to my son who was leisurely pedaling in front of me: "Hey! I could use some encouragement!" Boy, was that humbling. Instead of saying, "I might want to give up sometime." I was saying, "I want to give up right now." That is much more specific, and vulnerable. And, it was risky. He could have not responded or given me what I had been candid enough to say I specifically needed. That would have left me feeling even worse than if I had never asked at all.

But, something incredible happened. My son straightened up in his bike seat a little. He seemed a little taller, a little more mature. He slowed down and rode alongside me. He encouraged me specifically. He cheered me on. And, we got up that hill together. And, we beat our record. And, I know it was because of his encouragement. I know I wouldn't have been able to do it without him.

I think sometimes we don't ask for what we need, because we don't take time in the moment to recognize what we need.

I think sometimes we don't ask because we are proud. We'd rather people not know how much we are struggling, or how we are currently feeling.

I think sometimes we don't ask because we are afraid to risk. If we ask and they reject us, that will hurt even worse than not asking in the first place.

I think sometimes we don't ask because we don't want to need others.

But we do.

And I think a lot of times, we don't have, because we don't ask.

If you need encouragement, right now, will you take a step? Humble yourself, and ask someone you believe cares for you to give you some encouragement. Please. See what happens. You might be pleasantly surprised, like I was. :)

Lessons from a Daffodil

One of the things we have been looking forward to this Spring is the daffodils. We planted a bunch last year, around the mailbox and the trees in the front, and in our back yard flower beds. And they are just starting to push vibrant green shoots through the hard ground. Spring is on its way. (And with the crazy snows of this winter in ATL, it can't come too soon for me!)

But, we were pleasantly surprised this week when our kids discovered a daffodil already in bloom. It is currently brightening our dining room table. And, as it sits there, beautifully unassuming, it is preaching loudly to me. It's message reverberates in my soul today.

You see, this daffodil is one we didn't plant. (We are still waiting on those to bloom!) Beauty often graces us with it's presence and invites us to delight in our un-deserving-ness.  My kids discovered it on the part of our property that doesn't even feel like ours. It was sitting outside the backyard fence, where the neighbor's dogs (like squatters) roam as if it were their domain. It is likely that it was planted by Jennifer's grandmother, as she made a habit of sticking cuttings and bulbs in the ground any and everywhere because she delighted in flowers so much. Beauty often springs forth in unexpected places, and is sometimes even more beautiful because of the contrast of its surroundings.

Selah. I pause on this, my day off work, to consider these things. Jesus whispers to me, "consider the daffodil." I have heard him say "consider the lilies" before, so this is strangely familiar.

The daffodil, like a skillful preacher, has offered the introductory points of it's sermon quietly, drawing me in. But, the crux of it's message sneaks up on me, completely surrounding my soul before I even knew it was there. And, it is for me. A fitting word, for me. (And, maybe for you today too. Who knows?)

It strikes me that this daffodil has been in that out-of-the-way place a while. There is no way for me to know exactly how long. For the last 10 years, this house has sat empty. And, for many years before that, Jennifer's grandmother was not well enough to be out and about, certainly not braving the other side of the fence where the dogs roam. My imagination clicks through different scenes, like time-lapse photography.

I imagine February, the year after that daffodil bulb was planted. Perhaps Grandmother Nash was waiting for it's green shoots to pierce the ground, like we are waiting this year for those we planted. It is a lovely thing to have someone waiting for your arrival. Perhaps she cheered it on as the green shoots grew. It is a lovely thing to have someone rooting for your success. Perhaps she smiled or even clapped her hands together when it finally bloomed. It is a lovely thing to be celebrated.

I imagine February, the year after Grandmother Nash died. The house sat quiet and empty. The daffodil had to push even harder through the leaves that hadn't been raked the previous Fall. And there was no one to cheer it on. February came and went and no one waited. No one celebrated. No one even noticed.

In my mind's eye, I click through snapshots of 10 years. 10 years of no one noticing. 10 years of vibrant green emerging from the harsh, brown earth. 10 years of bright yellow flowers bursting on the scene while everything around is still cold and barren. 10 years of brilliant artistry. 10 years of beauty. 10 years of solitude. 10 years of perseverance. 10 years of faithfulness.

And, I hear Jesus whisper again. This time, it is not a command, but a question. He is often doing that- asking me questions. He whispers to my soul, "What do you do when no one notices?" Selah. I pause to consider that today. Among other things, I am an artist, endowed with many public gifts. Gifts that people appreciate and celebrate. I tend to shine a little brighter, bloom a little more brilliantly when there are people around. My gifts come alive even more, it seems, when there are others to enjoy them. My gifts are for other people. I know that. I live that. I am happy to serve others with the gifts I have been given.

But, first and foremost, my gifts are for God. They are for the one Person who felt every moment of effort with the daffodil as it pushed through layer after layer of rotting leaves. They are for the one Person who delighted in the artistry of the bright yellow and green against the brown canvas. They are for the one Person who cheered, the one Person who celebrated, the one Person who noticed. And that is enough.

There will be seasons when no one wants to hear the songs you write. There will be seasons when your paintings are not hanging in some gallery but lying, framed in dust, underneath your bed. There may be years when no concert hall invites you to fill its chambers with your music. There may be months that you work and work without receiving even one "thank you." What do you do when no one notices? You bloom. You sing. You dance. You paint. You write. You serve. You work. You keep on doing what you were created to do. You push through the grime and the stench anticipating the applause of nail-scarred hands. Maybe one day people will notice and you will be on display, preaching the message formed in you during the lonely times. Or maybe one day, you will simply hear "Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little..." And that will be more than enough.

BEING POOR AND UGLY

I was reading this morning in Acts chapter 3 when Peter and John encountered the lame beggar near the temple. And, I was listening to what Peter said to the man with fresh ears. “Silver and gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” The first part of that statement captured my attention today. Basically, Peter was saying, “I don’t have any money.” I don’t know if Peter just didn’t have cash on him, because he was carrying his credit card. But, I seriously doubt it. I don’t know if Peter had a stash of gold back at the upper room, but I doubt it. I think Peter probably didn’t have much expendable income. I think Peter was relatively poor. By current American standards, he may have been incredibly poor, in fact. And so many times we can look at poverty as a negative thing. But, in this instance, I stop to ask myself, “What if Peter had money on him at that moment?” That was clearly what the lame man was looking and asking for. (Pause for a moment to wonder how many times we settle for asking for something lesser - like money - when what we really need is something greater - like healing. That’s another blog entirely.) If Peter had money on him, the whole situation may have turned out differently:

    Man sees Peter and John and asks for money.
    Peter reaches into his pockets and hands him a coin or two.
    Peter says “have a nice day! God bless you!” and goes away with a good feeling.
    The lame man keeps being lame, but has some money for a meal that day.

I have found that often, when we have plenty of physical resources, we can rely on those to solve the problems that arise. I’m sick. I have insurance. I go to the doctor and get medicine. Problem solved. My daughter needs clothes. I figure out what store is having the best sale and I go buy them. Problem solved. My car is out of gas. I go to the gas station and fill it up. Problem solved.

There have been times in the last year that someone in our family has been sick, and we couldn’t afford to go to the doctor. There have been times in the last year that our kids have needed clothes and we couldn’t afford to go to the store (even the thrift store!) and buy them. There have been times in the past year when our van was out of gas, and we didn’t have money to go fill it up. And, here is what I have learned: Having fewer physical resources can make it easier to focus on our spiritual resources. I pray more often for healing when I don’t have money to send someone to the doctor. I am quicker to celebrate how the Body of Christ can share resources (like hand-me-down clothes!) when I don’t have money to buy clothes. And so on.

Clearly, being poor can be a really good thing. James 2:5 says that God has chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him.  It’s interesting that I am much more aware of the promises of God when I have less money in my bank account or gas in my tank. The promises of God are my insurance policy. The promises of God are the currency by which I can live and move. Hmmm.

Do you find it noteworthy that when God sent His son into the world, he sent him to be poor and plain-looking? We as parents want our kids to be rich and beautiful. But, God the Father (who has all resources and all authority) sent Jesus into the word to be just the opposite. 2 Corinthians 8:9 tells us that, though He was rich, Jesus became poor so that we, by His poverty, might become rich. And, Isaiah 53:2 tells us that Jesus had no beauty that we should be drawn to Him. Jesus was poor. And, if not ugly, at the very least he was plain-looking. And, I wonder what would have happened if Jesus had been rich and handsome. He certainly would have been a better presidential candidate that way. But evidently not as good of a Redeemer. More people would have been drawn to Him, but apparently, God is not as concerned with big numbers as we are. and, it’s possible the people would have been drawn for the wrong reasons. Maybe that’s more important than we realize...

It is not wrong or bad to be rich and beautiful. (But, our society communicates this message very clearly.) So, today, I want to emphasize that it’s ok to be poor and ugly. In fact, it can be really good. I truly desire to be rich in faith, for without faith, it is impossible to please God. Whether I am poor or rich, I want to trust in God’s promises more than any insurance policy or money in my pocket. And whether I am good-looking or not, I can decide what (or who) I will depend on. And you can too.

LIVING THE DREAM

It was over 50 years ago that Martin Luther King Jr delivered his speech, letting the world in on his dream, and in the same breath inspiring them, even inviting them to dream along with him. And today, as I celebrate Dr. King's life and legacy, I am confronted with the beautiful reality that in many, many ways, I am living the dream.

"I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood."
Yesterday, I was able to sit at a table, eating, dreaming, and planning for the upcoming Clarkston Festival with black and white people alike. The committee was co-chaired by the wife of the pastor of Clarkston's First Baptist Church, which was, as it says on it's website, founded in 1881 by former slaves on donated land.

"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but the content of their character." 
My four precious kids are hardly ever around people with their own skin color these days. At our School of the Arts, 18+ cultures come together on any given Saturday morning. And, my kids are right in the midst of it. Today, they spent the first few hours of their day picking up trash and cleaning up Clarkston alongside people from literally all over the world!

"I have a dream that...little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers."
Last night, during the children's sermon at a local international congregation, my kids were sitting next to kids who were both African and African-American. And, as we worshiped together, singing "God is so good" in Portuguese, French, Lingala, English, and Swahili, we reveled in the manner of love the Father has given us that we should be His children, and as a result, brothers and sisters. 

"I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together." 
 
I have dreams that are still yet to be fulfilled. For that matter, I have dreams that are still yet to be dreamed. But, for today, I am celebrating the dream that I am living, and the courage of one man to dream and inspire others with his dream.

HERE ON PURPOSE

At Christmastime, we remember (if we dare) that God came near. He left the perfection of heaven. And He showed up in the middle of the stench of animals and dirty politics and shepherds. And He did it on purpose. He knew what He was leaving. And He knew what He was getting into. And He came anyway. I am so very grateful. Even now as I type this, my chest tingles with the profoundness of Jesus' intentionality to enter into my mess.

Today I went on CrimeMapping.com. I have recently signed up to be part of neighborhood groups and one of them directed me today to have a look at the crimes committed in my neighborhood in the last week. Fascinating. Have a look:

 

Each little icon is a different kind of crime from forced entry to vehicle theft, even fraud, larceny, battery, and disturbing the peace are pictured. Some locations have multiple crimes listed. All in all, there are 17 crimes that have been reported within a mile of our house in the last week. Out of curiosity, I mapped the crimes around our previous house in Loganville, and here is what came up:

And, I am reminded of something I just read recently:

Everything in our society teaches us to move away from suffering, to move out of neighborhoods where there is high crime, to move away from people who don’t look like us.  But the the gospel calls us to something altogether different.  We are to laugh at fear, to lean into suffering, to open ourselves to the stranger.  Advent is the season when we remember how Jesus put on flesh and moved into the neighborhood.  God getting born in a barn reminds us that God shows up in the most forsaken corners of the earth.

Now, I am not comparing Loganville, Georgia to heaven. By no means. (We had multiple break-ins in our neighborhood there too! Sin is everywhere.) And, I am not saying that Clarkston is a forsaken corner of the earth. (I love it here! There is so much beauty and joy in this place.) But, I am saying this. I left Loganville on purpose. And I moved here on purpose. I am following the God made flesh that leaves the comfortable to move into the pain. I am doing my best to imitate the God who became something He wasn't so that others could become what they were not. I am not afraid. I am open. I am here on purpose.

Walk-Through of House [Sept 2012]

VIDEO: front of the Clarkston house

just a bit of video I took in front of the house a couple weeks ago...can't wait to be living here...