Two Years

Two years ago today a big chunk of my reality changed. 

As my seven readers might know, on March 18, 2019 I was involved in some kind of skiing accident which left me in one hospital for ten days and another hospital for five weeks.  Nope, I don’t have the slightest idea what happened on the mountain. Yep, I got to ride in a helicopter. Nope, I don’t remember the helicopter ride. Yep, I’d like to go for another flight in a helicopter someday, but without the trauma. 

The effects of that trauma still remain. They’ve diminished over the past two years, but my mobility is still limited. 

I count myself ridiculously lucky to be able to walk. And I wish it was easier to walk without limping. And as much as I dislike running, I wish I could. 

I love that I can go up and down stairs. And I wish that I didn’t have to focus on every single step I take going up and down. But I still take the stairs instead of the escalator most of the time.

I feel like being able to work out in a gym setting like I used to is life-giving. And I lament having lost capacity across all exercise categories. Still, I’m gonna do what I’ve been doing in the gym for the past eight years, which is simply working on getting fitter tomorrow than I am today. 

Maybe more than all the other physical realities, I’m really stoked that I can still ride bikes. 

***

But physicality, while it’s really important, is only one small part of reality. Over the past two years, I’ve been able to explore my sense of self within the context of physicality. And I’ve also been able to do the same within the contexts of love in relationship; and family; and community; and vocation. And I’ve come to realize that I win. 

Vocation: The congregation I was serving as pastor surrounded me with so much prayer and care that I was overwhelmed (and that support was both related and unrelated to my injury). And the congregation I started serving as pastor almost one year ago has accepted me without reservation, entirely unrelated to my physical circumstance. Also (and this should be obvious), people of all different physical abilities can be pastors. 

Community: In addition to the folks who are connected to the congregations where I’ve been a pastor, there are lots of other people who stepped up and surrounded me and my family with support and encouragement and help. The fitnessing community, the music community, and the friends community were all invaluable to me for a variety of reasons … mostly just helping to keep me mentally and emotionally stable. 

Family: My parents, children, step-children, and extended family have all treated me with the right amount of care and concern that was balanced by just enough sarcasm and name-calling that I felt as normal as possible over these two years. 

Love in Relationship: I don’t know where I would be right now if I didn’t get to be part of an amazing relationship based in mutual love and respect. I’ve thought about it, and I’m entirely certain that I would be much worse off if Nicole and I weren’t together through what feels like a circus of continually
confusing chaos (much of which has almost nothing to do with any Spinal Cord Injury). Even more, it is really joyful and life-giving to be able to journey through the adventure that is life with someone who I enjoy adventuring with.

***

It’s been two years as of today since a big chunk of my reality changed. Sure, I have physical limitations as a result of the incident two years ago. And sure, sometimes those physical limitations are frustrating. But that incident is only one part of my story, and certainly not the most important part. Having broken myself while skiing two years ago doesn’t define me. I am defined to a much greater degree by embracing and being embraced by those who love me. 

Public Houses

I've had the pleasure of enjoying some extended time in Scotland and England over the past couple of weeks. While most of the trip has been fantiastic, I'm interested right this minute in public houses (pubs). Sure, I enjoy having a beer - but my interest is deeper than that.

Dictionaries don't seem to distinguish, but common parlance here in the UK seems to note a difference between the following: pub, ale house, tavern, bar. (Because this is posted on the internet, I have no doubt that if I get this wrong, someone will correct me ... in fact, I expect someone may correct me even if I get it right.) To wit, I heard the following: "He went into a pub ... no, it was more of an ale house."

The bars I've been in, most of which have been in the US, seem to exist so that people can drink. Sure, there are often other things to do in bars (pool, darts, conversation, etc.), but drinking is primary.

On the other hand, my experience of Scottish and English pubs is that they exist as gathering places. Sure, ales and lagers and whiskies are consumed, but the conversation that happens as community gathers together seems to be central.

As I write this, I'm sitting in a pub. Around me there are three groups of 2-5 people sitting and sharing conversation. I'm the only person sitting alone, and that's only because I'm writing.

At another pub, there were at least 35 people in a 12'x12' space. In addition to the musician singing from behind his guitar in one corner, there were no fewer than five conversations, at least one of which was between strangers. I know this, because the person next to me started a conversation with me even while I was writing. Then, when the musician took a smoke break, another patron stopped his own conversation in order to sing his own song.

Another time I was interrupted in the midst of writing was when I was surrounded by at least 60 people gathered almost shoulder to shoulder filling a pub that was also filled with friendly conversation and impromptu live music.

It may well be simply because I'm in a foreign place that I see with idealistic vision - or maybe the pubs I've been in have just been really great. Still, the culture seems to be that whoever shows up at a public house has a place to belong, and everyone who shows up belongs there simply because they've walked in the door.

I appreciate the idea and practice of a local establishment being a regular gathering place where everyone is welcome, where ideas can be exchanged, and where life can be lamented and celebrated.

$0.02

Abolish the IRS

is what I saw on the bumper sticker in front of me this morning. Of course, everyone is entitled to their opinion; but as I drove along behind her, I dreamed about having a conversation about that bumper sticker. Of course, given the way folks get worked up about their political opinions, I suspect that conversation would never be possible ... but still, I can dream. So, here's how I imagine that conversation going:

Me: So, you want to abolish the IRS?

Her: Absolutely, and without question.

Me: So, if we get rid of the IRS, who would collect taxes?

Her: That's part of the point - that money is mine, and the government shouldn't take it from me.

Me: But if the government doesn't collect taxes, how will the roads we drive on get built and maintained? How will the police and fire departments get paid? How will the government be funded?

Her: Neighborhoods and communities would band together to take care of their own neighborhoods, to take care of themselves. Plus, the government is too big anyway - we don't need nearly so much government infrastructure.

Me: You're advocating for smaller government?

Her: Yes.

Me: But still, even if the government is smaller, someone needs to collect taxes. Do we get rid of the one we have now (the IRS) in favor of another agency that we develop after abolishing the IRS?

Her: No. The government doesn't need to take my money from me.

Me: You're really advocating anarchy, then, right?

Her: No, not anarchy. I'm advocating neighborhoods and affinity groups banding together to take care of themselves instead of the government thinking they need to tell us what to do.

Me: OK, so neighbors band together to take care of their own roads, and their own sewer systems and their own police forces. How, then, would these things be paid for?

Her: Neighbors would make contributions to a fund to pay for them. 

Me: Well, you may be thinking on a smaller scale, but neighborhoods banding together to take care of themselves seems to me to be the definition of government. It seems to me to be a bad idea to abolish the IRS, or most other government agencies. Obviously some need reform. Obviously some don't work the way they ought to work. However, unless a person is advocating anarchy, it seems asenine to think it's a good idea to get rid of the IRS, especially when that sentiment is on a car that's driving down a road paid for with tax money.

Folks, that's the way the conversation would go in my head. And I'm not even considering the Christian values that we hold to care for one another, to be our brother's and sister's keeper.

It seems like I've set up a straw man to argue against - I have to be missing something from 'Her' side of the conversation, but can't imagine what it is. Someone, help me out in the comments section.

$0.02

I probably know her name

every so often she shows up,
eating donuts between services,
while not quite understanding
     social mores

a little awkward,
with one-too-many pastries
     on her napkin
she seems stuck
out on the edge of a community
     where only some of us know her name

I always cringe a little when I see her
     since conversation never flows easily

she stays outside at worship as well
not sitting in the 'normal' seats,
     standing when the rest of us sit
not quite sure, it seems,
     how to pay attention to how to be

yet she knows enough to come forward
     hands extended
to receive bread and cup, body and blood

before she scoots out, not needing to
talk to anyone

I know her name
          she told me early on
but I wonder if she misspoke

it's probably better for me to just
     start calling her "Jesus"

Coffee Shop Diversity

I had a surprising experience the other day.

Before you read about that, though, you should know this.

In most of the places I go, I tend to be surrounded by people like me – people who are either urban professionals or suburban-family-types (I may or may not qualify for either, but I could pass as both) – at any rate, the defining characteristic might be middle-class and middle-American (whatever that really means). By and large we speak with the same accent, we are familiar with the same cultural references, and we can come to understand the other's perspective even if we have different political views.

So when I go to a coffee shop, particularly the ubiquitous green one with the trademark goddess on the awning, I expect a certain atmosphere. I expect that people will be typing on laptop computers (much as I am as I write this). If people are talking to one another, I expect volumes and tones hushed to such a level that I could only eavesdrop on the table immediately adjacent to me, or that I could dismiss as white noise. I expect most people to not make eye contact, and for the baristas to only be friendly enough to get my drink order right.

Then, the other day when I went into a coffee shop I hadn't been to before, I was surprised by a little bit of culture shock … which was really pleasant.

To a person, the staff seemed genuinely joyful. I first noticed this when I ordered. 

But then I watched as I sat there, and they had the same attitude with each customer, and with each other when there was no one ordering.

The mix of people who came in for coffee was almost as diverse as you'll see in the Denver metro area. In the space of about 15 minutes, I heard Spanish and French and Arabic. I heard (what I believe is) Urdu and I heard heavily-accented English. I saw about eight different varieties of skin tone.  And the buzz of conversation was much more lively (and felt more fully alive) than what I'm accustomed to.

It was truly a joyful coffee experience for me.

It seems to be the case that if there's one person in a groups who's different, our tendency is to focus on that difference. And if there is a great deal of diversity in a group, we tend to look for and discover what we have in common.

I like the second option better.

I wonder how our outlook on the world would change is we more frequently and more intentionally surrounded ourselves with people who are different from us.

$0.02

Taxes and the Common Good

The other day, the first day of school for my son, he asked me why he had to take a different bus to school. He asked me why the bus didn't pick him up and drop him off where it had for the previous three years. I responded, immediately, "Taxes". Then I explained my position to him. See, people want to keep the money that's in their bank account. People want to be able to hold on to the money that they receive in their paycheck. And since taxes necessarily take money out of people's bank accounts and/or paychecks, the electorate often votes against tax increases and elects politicians who promise to lower taxes.

Now that all sounds fine ~ it's good (in a capitalist economy) for a person to have more money in their bank account. They can purchase more, and (since we tend to equate value with financial wealth in this country) people with more money are worth more.

But we tend to forget the other side of the equation. We tend to forget that when tax revenue goes down, our access to services goes down as well. We tend to forget that when we pay less in taxes, the slack has to get taken up somewhere else.

To my simple brain, it works like this: if I paid a little more in taxes, my son could still take the same bus he took last year. But I get to save some in taxes, so I have money in my bank account so that I can pay for the gas it costs for me to drive him to his new bus stop. Of course, he still walks or rides his bike to the bus stop right now, so it's not a factor. At least, it's not a factor until it gets cold. I'm more likely to make him walk two blocks in twenty degree weather than I am to make him walk ten. So this winter, when pollution is a bigger problem here in Denver, more people will be starting cold car engines to drive kids to school. So, since we don't want to pay more taxes, we find ourselves paying for more for gas, and paying more (in the future) for healthcare.

Obviously this is simplistic. Obviously there are other factors to consider. Obviously it's no big deal for my kids to go .75 miles to the bus stop instead of .25 miles. But it's also obviously true (at least to me) that we're scared of even thinking about paying more taxes in this country; and to me, that's an unreasonable fear, since if we don't pay taxes for services, we'll end up paying for those services some other way.

Some people may say it's better that individuals have control over their money. I say, though, what about the common good. When, in this country, did it become better, or more noble, to take care of self to the exclusion of the other.

And it seems like many people who advocate so strongly for lower taxes also call themselves Christian. When did Christians become so publicly selfish? When did we stop advocating for the 'least of these' so that we ourselves could stay rich?

I'm no tax expert, but it seems to me that our selfishness is sinful. I will almost always vote for tax increases, and then work to make sure the government is using our common funds for the common good.

$0.02

authentic music

It's no secret that I like music ~ I have since I was old enough to remember. I recall (in the days before online lyric searches) asking my mom to transcribe Wild Montana Skies so I could sing along with John Denver. I didn't, and probably still don't, have the best voice or pitch, but I've always loved being able to participate in creating music.

I certainly appreciate individuals and groups who have a large stage, who are well known, especially if they're playing their own instruments and writing their own music. I've also discovered, and rediscovered, that I really enjoy listening to artists who aren't big names. And hearing artists who I've met, who I've personally interacted with, play their music is something that really thrills me. It doesn't even matter whether the music is great ~ what I resonate with is that the artists put themselves in a vulnerable position, sharing themselves in a way that transcends the simple spoken word. But when the music is good, when the lyrics fit with the lyrics and with the music in compelling ways, it's a much deeper experience of music (and maybe even of the divine) than the latest pop song snaking through a white earphone up from a pocket ever could be.

Of course, I'm guilty of listening to music through those white earphones on occasion. I have to say, though, that I have three albums of music on my ipod that (a) I enjoy listening to, and (b) I enjoy listening to much more because I've met the artists.

Live in Vermont by Kent Gustavson and Micah Schonberg sounds like an ideal evening on the front porch ~ a couple guys who know each other well playing music together. This record makes me think of what music ought to be at its most fundamental level ~ that which brings people together and creates community.

Another album that continues to get under my skin is Captive Audience by the duo Fair Witness. I met these two amazing musicians at the Greenbelt Festival a couple years ago when I was there leading the musicians who played the Light Into the World liturgy (written by Kent Gustavson ... see above). I went to their CD release show at the festival. Seeing them live added so much to the lyricism of Suzanne's voice and Sandy's guitar, that I've been listening to them ever since.

The third record is Storydwelling by Heatherlyn. I met her when I preached for a group of high school students who were beginning a week of service work in Denver. As soon as Heathrlyn started singing, I was hooked. But beyond the music, what grabs me about this album is the idea behind it ~ that through music, we can share deep parts of our own story with one another, thereby healing relationships and creating community. And it's not just the idea ~ the music is good. Much of what she does walks a comfortable line of tension between 'I'm a Christian" songs and real songs about real life & real people (can you tell from my tone of blog that I dislike the former and appreciate the latter?).

These three records are reminders that one thing we're missing in our over-electronicized world is that most of us don't create music together. In fact, I think I'll turn off the computer right now and go practice the fiddle.

$0.02

children

The congregation I'm part of is experiencing children in new ways. Long ago, when the congregation was a bit younger, the children who were in worship were the children of the adults who were also in worship. Some of the adults are still around, but their children have grown up, and may have children of their own ~ though most of them don't live close.

Most of the children in worship now have parents along, though some show up with grandparents or other relatives. The difference, in part, as I understand it, is that now there is a great deal more diversity in the age and life circumstance of the adult population at the congregation I'm part of.

There has been some conversation expressing concern about disruptive behavior and noise levels that come along with younger children.

I understand these concerns. When I go somewhere, I want to be able to participate in the activity that is happening in that place ~ after all, it's why I went to that place. When I go out to eat, if someone makes it impossible for me to have dinner, I have a problem with that. The same is true if I go to the theater, or to the baseball game, or to the grocery store. I want to be able to watch the play, to cheer for the home team, to purchase food to feed my family. If someone takes away my ability to do those things, I won't be happy.

So I understand the reaction from some people when screaming children disrupt the sermon, or toddlers' toys make it tough to pass the peace. The disruptions in the liturgy don't allow others to worship. And even though I've been known to quote an old pastor I used to know by saying that my favorite sound to hear in the middle of a sermon is a screaming baby, it can cause me grief too.

I certainly understand how people agree that it would be good to keep children out of worship until they can behave appropriately. Once they learn how to keep quiet and not disturb people around them, then they can join the congregation. Once they learn how to be in worship, then they can pay attention, and get something out of the service.

***

You might guess that I come at this from a different angle. First of all, I wonder why we gather for worship? Do we get together on Sunday mornings so that we can feel good about ourselves, so we can 'get our spiritual tank filled', so the upcoming week doesn't feel like there's something missing? Who is the worship service for? If it's only for the individual person who shows up, then we're doing something wrong. A person can get their individual spiritual needs met much better at yoga, in the mountains, or even through retail therapy.

If worship is for the community, we have a better starting place. Then, even if I don't feel like showing up on Sunday morning, even if I don't need to be there for myself, I might recognize that someone else in the community needs me to be there. Further, as we join together in community, we can remind ourselves that our god is not (only) personal, but that G-d calls us together in community even as G-d is community. We are reminded that we, together, are the Body of Christ, made whole in worship and broken for the sake of a broken world that longs for healing and wholeness.

But I believe that worship is not for me ~ the point is not to meet my spiritual need. Neither is worship for the community ~ that just sets up the leadership as either performers, or as providing a service for the consumers.

Worship, rather, is for G-d. One ridiculously counter-cultural thing about worship is that the focus is away from the self, which rarely happens in our society. And if worship is for G-d, who am I to say that by screaming, a baby isn't making a joyful noise to the Lord?

But they don't understand what's going on in worship, I've heard people say. Yes, that's probably true. But I don't understand what's going on in worship all the time, either. Christ is in, with, and under the bread and wine ... ? What does that mean? People are moved to tears by singing a song? How does that happen? Plus, even if they don't look like adults do when we're paying attention, they most certainly are absorbing much more than we often give them credit for, especially with regard to ritual. There's one child who is too young to follow the children's sermon, but comes up every week. He moves around through the circle, sometimes disrupting our brief conversation. But as soon as I say the ritual line, "Let's stand and we'll pray together" (it's exactly the same every week, on purpose), he's right there, holding hands in the circle just like all the other children.

As much as they may disturb us, children belong in worship. If we say to them, '... when you're a little older ...', or '... when you can behave a little better ...', or '... you're not quite ready ...', we say through our actions that children are not as valuable as adults. And in not valuing children (people) as they are right now, we teach them that they need to be different before they're acceptable by the church (and by default, by G-d). Is that really the message we want to send?

Maybe the next time you go to worship, that one child will be there in the seat right in front of you. You know from past experience that they'll be a little louder than you're comfortable with. You know that you'll barely be able to follow along, and that you have no hope of hearing the sermon. Maybe you don't need to hear the sermon that day ... maybe G-d is calling you to pay attention to that child (of G-d) for the morning, so that the child and her family knows that they have a place in the Body of Christ.

$0.02