Life at 3 miles an Hour

As someone who has been given a certain mechanical aptitude along with the accompanying joy of building things, living in this neighborhood can sometimes be a virtual playground for my imagination.  In the midst of the expected annoyance of noise, dust, and traffic diversions rises a sense of wonder and amazement of watching buildings from 7 to 40 stories high rise on nearly every corner of my neighborhood ... many at the same time.  Living here and daily walking these streets I have had the privilege of watching these steel and glass giants rise from deep holes formed by concrete and rebar.  Like a time-lapse video, this process spans the course of months until, before you realize what you're really seeing, the finishing touches are being put on and those who have crawled over, under, and inside these structures pack their lunch and tool boxes and move on to another corner and another reclamation of abandoned space.  In recent days, a...

So it's Monday, and as easy as it might be to stand here as if in a hole looking up at at some insurmountable summit, I'd like to see this day instead as the beginning of a new journey.  Even as these words appear on my screen, I cannot believe that they have originated from my fingers ... Or better yet, from my mind to my fingers.  I've been programmed to curse Monday ... to see it as an interruption in the recreational pursuits of a weekend ... or the abrupt return to reality.  We act as if we ourselves were the recipients of the first walking papers that ushered Adam and Eve out of paradise and into the world of toil and unreasonable bosses.  We put our heads down and trudge up Sisyphus' hill ... knowing it's only a matter of time before the rock we are pushing flattens us.   So I ask myself, probably because no one else cares to wonder about such things, where did this all originate? Who was the first to climb out of a warm comfy bed and mutter "ugh, Monday...

We are moving again this week.  It was only a year ago that I said "not again".  It was only a year before that that I said "not again".  We haven't even moved our boxes yet and I am once again saying "not again".  And yet I know this is probably not true.  We did go 11 years in the same house a few years back before our nomadic tendencies have kicked back in.  It seems to be getting worse instead of better.  Last year we moved one block.  This year we moved one building.  Next year I anticipate taking over our next door neighbors I guess.  Walking down through my neighborhood this morning it all hit me square in between the eyes.  Passing new apartment complexes rising right before my eyes, I thought back to these past few months.  Here is the summation of our recent experiences.  We signed on to move into a bigger unit with some much desired outdoor space.  Our faith community is looking for new space in anticipati...

This past weekend I had the privilege of being present for a memorial service honoring a fine lady who passed away recently.  She lived into her 90's and I have had the joy of knowing her these past 15.  Hers wasn't a traumatic death, it wasn't unexpected, and if anyone knew what promise lay before her in the afterlife, she certainly did.  Let's just say that I wasn't attending her service expecting to experience anything particularly profound... And yet I did. For many years my wife and I shared this community of faith where she brought people together for one last occasion.  As I sat there, watching pictures of her life float by, high above the service, and heard stories of her life,  being close to so many who shared life and faith with her, I felt a voice.  Not the big booming, James Earl Jones voice of God ... Rather the still small voice of the Spirit ... I think. I'd love to say after so long in the pastoral arts that I can recognize it, but I'm sti...

If you haven't gained this from any previous posts, you should know that I live in an area of constant transition.  Literally nothing has stayed the same for more than a month at a time on any block in my neighborhood.  It's a constant state of flowing into or out of existence.  I can guarantee you that Google earth will be of little value here.  Less than a year ago we were excited about a partnership with a local non-profit that gave us our first home here as we try to set roots down for a new faith community.  We might as well be trying to settle in to quicksand.  The sign to left here gives you an indication on how long lasting that development was.  Don't get me wrong, I knew this area well enough to know that this was going to be temporary.  It's just that temporary gets so much shorter in this part of the world.  So once again, we look for a foothold to grab onto. It does seem illustrative of the nature of what we are ultimately try...

So a month ago I mused about life that was coming up and decisions on the how's and when's of navigating the path.  A month in, I find myself in the midst of it.  Most of us understand that life can be planned to a degree and then ultimately it has a way of just happening regardless of plans.  When you give over control, it can get even more interesting. My journey of pastoral artistry has taken me down some "I'll never go down that one" paths.  My illusion of where I'd be in the latter years of pastoral artistry has become just that, an illusion.  The latest "never" to become reality is the "never" of graveyard shifts.  I have always valued sleep too much to do anything other than truly admire those who watch over us and work for us in the darkness.  When my story is done it will now include a chapter of working in a family homeless shelter.  I have no idea who thought that this was a necessary side stop along the road to establishing a...

So my last post probably indicated a level of exasperation when it comes to wrestling with God through the medium of prayer.  For the weak of heart it may have seemed a bit jaded ... And I'm sure to some degree that it was, and in fact continues to be.  However, I choose to view it as real and honest, raw and certainly uncomfortable.  It mirrors my journey to a degree. You'll never mistake me for Joel Osteen, I can assure you of that.  Since the last post, not coincidentally I believe, I've engaged in another wrestling match with God that has left me grasping, wondering, grateful and frustrated, mostly all at the same time.  I've found that sharing with others the journey and the wrestling can help,that is of course  until it doesn't.  I've found that waiting on God, meditating patiently, and proceeding cautiously helps, until it doesn't.  I've seen where putting out the fleece of "just one more confirmation" can help, until it doesn't.  I ...

This post will someday make its way into a book if I ever can begin the book writing process.  For now, since I seem to have enough of a challenge just getting a post done here or there, I will settle on a few hundred words to unload something out of my soul.  I have a dilemma.  Its a fairly serious one, far more serious than the decision for or against skinny jeans.  My dilemma is that I feel compelled, from the depths of my soul, that my story is to encourage others to dive deeper into their own stories ... and in doing so to overlay God's story into theirs so much more fully than most are ever likely to do.  My story has driven me out of a secular life into something that I'd term professionally sacred.  I make my living doing this, but on top of that, my very living is doing that... so much more than average.  Allow me to be painfully honest and to remove any humility for a moment.  My journey has not been average, by professionally...

Sitting at the Starbucks in my neighborhood would be considered quite challenging for anyone who might have sensory challenges.  On a typical day it can resemble a between classes campus hangout.  The people are predominantly Amazon in origin with a random smattering of Microsoft and bio-tech thrown in for variety.  I am, by my own observation, one of the few here who hasn't merely chosen to change wifi sources and office space to continue on in the pursuit of all things beyond the leading edge.  It is an endless stream of people coming in together, ordering together, waiting together, then continuing the meeting that began somewhere else on the campus.  Needless to say, there is no meditation going on in this space ... no crazy soul filled Jazz, no espresso hiss is discernible and little, if any, banter between barista and consumer. On rare occasions that I brave the madness and get a seat, I immediately grab the ear buds and turn on the music.  It began ...

I've returned to an old friend today.  We've been apart for a good number of months now... a longer stretch than ever in our 10+ year relationship.  It is probably not a friend that many would recognize and certainly not one that many would understand.  In fact, its quite possible that some who had suspected that I had lost all sense will have all doubt removed.  The relationship that I'm referring to is this space where thoughts go from my heart, hopefully stopping long enough in my brain to wrestle with their appropriateness, and are then interpreted on this keyboard.  You may not recognize this as a legitimate friendship, but as proof I'd offer a few of the following thoughts.  First of all, the most meaningful relationships, as I'd define them consist of sharing ... shared struggle, shared experience, shared conversation.  Real friendships consist of communication and time and investment.  All of these have been part of our relatio...