Life at 3 miles an Hour

What to write? Sitting here in my secondary office, fireplace to the left, commuters on the right, rushing by the window, destined to catch a bus to a brand new week, and the song of espresso in the air, I’m trying to answer that question. I’m determined to make the best use of my time. After all, that’s the driving force of the economy isn’t it? It establishes rules of engagement for everything social, political, economic, and even religious if you think honestly about it. What I mean is, time is money, time is season, time is change, time is connective and restrictive and liberating all at the same time. Time is the great equalizer. It’s very humbling if you think seriously about it. The acceptance of time and all of its influences can’t help but lead one to a state of humility that helps us realize that we are not as strong as we think we are. We are not as wise, and we’re certainly not as wealthy. This type of humility leads us all to conclusions that can be at best disconcerting a...

So yesterday Joanne and I decided to live large and go through an open house in a nearby, newly constructed, “luxury” condominium complex. Months or strolling by the continued construction process led to a curiosity about what existed inside the promised “rooms with a view”. Not wanting to destroy the illusion that we could actually hope to afford residence in such a dwelling, we chose to walk rather than arrive in our 1989 Honda. Knowing that appearance is everything, we strolled confidently into the foyer, complete with gas fireplace and realtors, and proceeded directly to the elevators, nonchalantly grabbing a listing on our way through, looking as though we’d been through this formality numerous times. We had to concentrate on not giving away expressions that would in any way signal that we were impressed or, worse yet, overwhelmed. We began our journey at the top of course. It was top floor and the top priced unit at slightly less than a million dollars. You get quite a bi...

I don’t think that I have really appreciated the depth of life change that has accompanied my career change of seventeen years ago. Seventeen…just writing that makes me wonder where the time went. Even the reality of a child getting married this Spring hasn’t effected me as much as the realization that, what I have affectionately referred to all along as my second life, my ministry life, has really consumed the majority of my adult life. For some odd reason, in my own little universe, I have been lulled into the illusion that my engineering life was primary and this pastoral thing has been a relatively new experience. In fact, it’s only recently surfaced in my consciousness that true reality is totally opposite to my perceived reality. I’m sure that others close to me and some that I’ve dragged along can distinguish the difference quite easily and never would have made that mistake. On thinking about this particularly vexing turn of events, I’m realizing more about myself and, for that...

I’m at a loss for words lately. Let me clarify that. Actually I’m just at a loss for words to write coherently into sentences on a screen. It’s been two weeks since I’ve been here and I still have nothing. At the same time, I’m rarely at a loss for spoken words. Sometimes that gets me into difficulty needlessly. Somehow I’ve become wired so that, as far as writing goes, if I don’t have something to say worth saying or an idea bursting forth from my insides, then I don’t write anything. I wonder how life would look if I had a matching philosophy for the spoken word. My sermons would most certainly be shorter. I remember, once upon a time, when I struggled to put together a 20 minute message and now I struggle to keep it less than 40. I wonder sometimes how much of it is added wisdom, how much of it is God’s voice, how much of it is mine. It’s a humbling exercise when it occurs. I’m at the point in life where, if I choose to say nothing, people will pull, prod, and even bait...

I can’t believe its over already. How many are feeling the same thing. It’s kind of like a holiday hangover. There’s all of the flurry of activity, the laughter, the good feelings of good company….maybe… and then the morning after. Tired, worn, slightly disoriented, trying desperately to dredge up memories and feelings from the night before and not let them swirl into the darkness of my mind, is the order of this morning. Even my caffeinated work zone is quieter and more subdued. It arrived, sort of like the polar express bearing down on the day. Then, in a wave of paper, boxes, ribbons and bows, it left again. Gone but not forgotten, I hope. It was said of Ebeneezer Scrooge, that if any man had the ability to keep Christmas all year long, it was him. I wonder how he accomplished it. Was it because he was so far gone that when change came, it swept over him like a wave that continued to carry him up the beach long after the rest has receded? I guess that maybe I’m not that...

Coming towards the end of a year, my first instinct is to look back. One thought rings loud as Christmas bells rattling between my ears. Here it is….my philosophy for the year. We’re not as strong as we think we are. I’ve been reminded of that repeatedly this past year. Two relief trips to New Orleans, friends dealing with cancer, a wife with serious back issues, teenage lapses in judgment, a season of flooding, and now the latest and greatest of storms will tend to do that to a person with any type of balanced reality. To be honest, its not been the event itself as much as the attitude that surrounded it this past year that has helped me appreciate our truly humbling existence. It seems almost as though I can’t pick up a paper or turn on a news broadcast without witnessing us failing miserably in our attempt to overcome our human limitations. Only half way into December and it seems as if more people have been reported lost in the snow than during the days of the Oregon trail....

I’ve been ruined. It’s been a long steady road I guess. I’m thinking that its taken nearly seven years, but I’m finally there I think. Allow me to explain. It has taken nearly seven years, but I think that I’ve finally become comfortable in an urban existence. I can no longer imagine life without mass transit. I can’t conceive of a world without coffee on every corner….and I don’t mean Flo’s 10 cent ceramic mug coffee. I mean real status coffee. The kind of coffee that I spend a ridiculous amount on, while kids go starving in other parts of the world. I don’t know about any other kind anymore. I don’t know what it would be like to not have coffee on every block. I’m looking out of the window by my seat at Tully’s directly across to Starbucks on the opposite corner. My wife and I walk everywhere. Within a 5minute walk we can eat at restaurants from all over the world, including real authentic New York style pizza. People know us in the community and to some degree we matt...