A Stumbler's Walk | MAGI-SEEKERS

Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem...

wise men from the east came... 

- Matthew 2:1

The Magi are among the more mysterious characters in scripture. They appear around the time of Jesus' birth, then fade away (only to reappear in second-grade Christmas pageants and nativity scenes).

There are a few traces as to who these men were and from where they came. But really, these aren't so important. What we do know, and what I think is most relevant about these shadowy figures, is this: these wise men were SEEKERS. 

Each of us seeks something. Actually, we seek many things. Some seek reputation; others, meaning. Some seek acceptance and approval; others, power. Some seek material stuff; others, peace. Some seek fame; others contentment. And this list could go on and on. Ultimately, all the things we seek serve as evidence of the MAIN THING that consumes our search. 

Here's the point: Wise men and women are seekers. The wisest are seekers of the right things. 

Wait, that's part of it, but here is the real point: The Wise Men didn't seek the star. They sought that to which the star led. Their ultimate seeking, was the person to whom the heavenly arrows pointed. And sometimes stars get in the way. (Yeah, that last part - that is the point.) 

We have every opportunity to stop short in our seeking journey. These Magi could have said, "We've seen a star no one ever has." They could have been the star-finders, and left it at that. They could have turned back anywhere along their arduous trek. They could have arrived in Jerusalem to an audience with the king and said, "Cool, that's enough." But they knew their star was not the ultimate point. Instead, it pointed toward the ultimate fulfillment of their seeking. 

I've often parroted something I heard a preacher say decades ago: The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing - TMTITKTMTTMT.  Paul put it this way:

That I may know Him... One thing I do: forgetting 

what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, 

I press on toward the goal for the prize of the 

upward call of God in Christ Jesus. 

- Philippians 3:10, 13-14

Bono (U2) sang, ...but I still haven't found what I'm looking for. The Magi-traveler in each of us relates to this longing... this heart-cry. But we must keep seeking. We must keep following the stars we see; knowing they are indicators, road-signs, but they are not the destination. The destination is a person who provides all we long for.  

Jesus said, "Seek and you will find. Knock and it will be opened." We've mistaken the heart of his statement. We seek stuff - some good stuff, some self-serving stuff, some damaging stuff; all the while claiming that our cosmic genie has promised it. What we miss, is that in the seeking and the knocking, what he opens to us is more and more of himself. And that's the point! (No, really, this time it is the point.) 

Since I couldn't incorporate a couple thoughts coherently above, I'll just leave them hanging here at the end: 

• The journey begins internally long before the travel takes to the road...
• The commitment must be solid before opportunity is revealed...
• Often, only a general direction is given. Steps of faith are required to discover the next star...
• Wise men and women are - above anything else - still seekers...

God, help me to be a seeker...

For now...

D

A Stumbler's Walk | WHAT'S IN A NAME?

"Joseph, son of David..."

-- Matthew 1:20 

"What's in a name?" asks Shakespeare's Juliet. It is a good question. What's in your name? In mine? 

It is easy when beginning a read of the New Testament to skip over, or at least skim through, the first 17 verses. These begin Matthew's account of Jesus. They are filled with names: fathers, and a few mothers, of sons. Some are recognizable. Some are odd and forgettable. 

As I read this morning though, I was struck with a thought: each of these names carries stories. Some are admirable, even heroic. Some are not. A few of the names immediately bring to mind great acts of faith, and others treachery. (Often, both coexist within the same name.)  

Matthew is moving rapidly through the generations to get to the theme of his first chapter - the birth of Jesus. I planned to do the same in the familiarity of my reading. But this morning the ghost stories attached to the names of genealogy captured my mind. Ultimately, I came to Jesus' (earthly) dad, Joseph. And then, to the way an angel addressed him... "Joseph, son of David..."

Joseph was actually the son of a man named Jacob My guess is Jacob and his wife had huge hopes and dreams for their infant son (and yes, I'm projecting) . They named him Joseph for a reason. There was another Jacob/Joseph father and son way back in the lineage. Their story is a picture of a flawed father of faith and a privileged golden-child son who learns humility and grace. (I won't prolong this post, but it is worth a read: Genesis 37-47). The dreamer Joseph from that ancient story proved to be a man of strength and perseverance. He was a man of faithfulness. 

We don't know much about Jesus' dad, Mary's husband, Joseph. But I believe he too was a man of grace and strength. Faced with an obvious betrayal by the woman he loved, he chose not to retaliate or humiliate her. GRACE. Even more incredibly, when told by an angel that Mary had not betrayed him, but in fact was carrying God's Son to be be born, he agreed to the plan. STRENGTH.

The angel knows what is in Joseph. In addressing the young bewildered man, the heaven-messenger calls him "Joseph, son of David." 

David... as in David the giant-slayer.

David the king.

David the flawed but faithful man after God's heart. 

That David. 

Joseph, you are a son of David. 

Joseph, that is your name. 

And there is a lot in a name. 

Now, Joseph, Son of David... 

Live up to your name!

Children's pageants and nativity scenes have dismissed him to the simple role of inn-door-knocker; a wide-eyed bit player marveling at stars and shepherds and strange eastern travelers. But there is more to this man. He speaks with angels. He listens and acts. He is a man of strength and perseverance. He is a man of faithfulness. He is named in the building tympani swell that preludes Immanuel. 

What's in a name. I guess it really depends on who knows your name; who calls you by name. There is One who knows your name. He knows all the ghost stories behind it - good and bad. And he calls you BY name. He was there, intimately at work in the lives listed in the initial run-on 17 verses of Matthew's account. 

He was there in the cave-stable. 

He was there with Joseph, Son of David. 

He is here with us. 

God, you know my name.

For now...

D

Lessons from Max #10 | PERSPECTIVE MATTERS

I like this PERSPECTIVE of Max

per·spec·tive

pərˈspektiv/

noun

1. 1.

   the art of drawing solid objects on a two-dimensional surface so as to give the right impression of their height, width, depth, and position in relation to each other when viewed from a particular point.
2. 2.

   a particular attitude toward or way of regarding something; a point of view.
3. 
   

Perspective is art. Perspective is attitude. Perspective matters.

Perspective is the ability to notice and understand the relationships that exist between things. By things, I mean  tangible and intangible, animate and inanimate. 

I don't think Max knew too much about art. But I think he had great perspective. I'm leaning more toward the second of the above definitions of the word. In reality though, to have #2 correct (attitude), we really need to understand the first. 

Literally, Max's perspective came from about 24 inches off the floor most of the time. He looked up at people. He looked up to people. I don't think he ever thought less of himself because of this. And there truly is a Lesson from Max here... we can lift others up - in our thoughts, attitudes, words, and actions - without demeaning ourselves. True humility, I believe, can only be birthed and grow from a healthy self perspective. Perspective does not mean we have to think little of ourselves - though maybe less about ourselves. (Yes, I still have some preacher in me.)

As a matter of fact, I believe Max had a positive and healthy view of Max. He loved and knew he was loved. He gave and received affection more than freely. Max probably never stared into a mirror contemplating the existential reality of his beingness. But more powerfully, and more deeply existential, Max was content being Max. I never heard him wish out loud he were a blonder Golden Retriever. He didn't jealously watch stories of hero German Shepherds, discounting their heroics. Nor did he ever put poodles down for their poodleness. 

I realize I'm stretching it a bit. But hopefully you are catching the point. We choose the angles with which we view people, situations, and ourselves. And healthy perspective breeds contentment, which sets us into position to be the best us we can be. Two things: We CHOOSE our perspective. Secondly, a disclaimer: never confuse contentment with complacency. One is healthy. The other is a choke-hold. 

So perspective is art. Perspective is attitude. Perspective matters. We are the artists.* The canvas of our lives is before us. What has been painted to this point is important, but it does not dictate either what we paint next or the final portrait. 

Paint away. 

For now...
D 

*Note: It is my opinion and belief that the most artistic thing we can do is cooperate with the Master Artist who paints the most beautiful life portraits in and through us. 

A Call to Warrior-Poets (pt.3) | PERHAPS...

This is an account of (King) David's mighty men... 

 Chronicles 11:11

In the previous post, THE BLEEDING HOPEFUL, I mentioned that many of our scars begin with a Hold My Beer moment. It doesn't take long on Youtube to see the worst of these. 

Usually what follows HMB is something near idiotic. Sometimes however, a metaphorical Hold My Beer leads to something good - even incredible. I am not advocating leaping from shed roofs into kiddie pools (or the equivalent) here. I am heading into a story of an audacious HMB statement of faith. 

For now, let's replace the phrase, Hold My Beer with one word: PERHAPS. I like that word... PERHAPS. It is a word that leans into what follows. It leads into the unknown and to possibilities never conceived. We take for granted the PERHAPS(es) of people in the past. From our phones to our freedoms, what we drive to jumping on a jet; everything incredible begins with someone's PERHAPS... And every proposer has known the jittery PERHAPS... as he approached his proposee. 

So what does this have to do with Warrior-Poets? WarPos (if you'll allow me) are driven by the PERHAPS... So many come to mind; and maybe I'll expand in the future. But for now, one especially intrigues me. 

Jon is a rich kid. He has title and privilege; and seemingly, the world by the tail. Jon could open any door with the statement, "Do you know who my daddy is...?" But Jon is driven by something bigger than this. He has a fire in his belly and lightning in his eyes. Jon is a Warrior-Poet. 

Jon is Jonathan, son of ancient Israel's King Saul. And his people are under siege. They are oppressed, starving and hopeless. And as crazy as it sounds, it has gotten so bad there are only two swords in the armory of his nation's army. Jonathan has one - and that is a dangerous thing in the hands of a fired-up Warrior-Poet. A sword and PERHAPS... kind of faith change situations. They ignite people. They can alter the course of a nation. 

The oppressors are camped out on a ridge. They have the advantage of high ground, numbers, and weapons. Jon has audacious faith. He uses a dangerous word - PERHAPS...

One day Jonathan said to his armor bearer, “Come on, let’s go over to where the 

Philistines have their outpost.” But Jonathan did not tell his father what he was doing... 

“PERHAPS the LORD will help us, for nothing can hinder the LORD. 

He can win a battle whether he has many warriors or only a few!”

-- 1 Samuel 14:1,6

Jonathan devises a little test. And who knows from where it comes. He tells his young squire as they begin the ascent up the craggy cliff toward the enemy, "If they tell us to wait below, we're in trouble. But if they say, 'Climb on up here and fight,' we know the Lord has given them to us." And this is what happens. Jonathan's audacious PERHAPS... turns into spectacular. His PERHAPS... sparks bravery and passion in others. 

I love a line by Benjamin Mee (Matt Damon's character in We Bought a Zoo):

You know, sometimes all you need is 20 seconds of insane courage. 

Just, literally, 20 seconds of just embarrassing bravery. 

And I promise you, something great will come of it.

I want PERHAPS... faith; PERHAPS... guts. 

PERHAPS... begins when we can no longer stand the mundane, the status-quo. PERHAPS... emerges when we remember who we are and why we are here. InThe Lion King Mufasa spoke to Simba from the stars with James Earl Jones resonance:

You have forgotten who you are...

You are more than what you have become. 

Ultimately PERHAPS... faith relies on a big intimate God with big plans for us and others.

I'll wrap up with that. Oh, by the way, there is no indication given in Bible story, that Jonathan had any prior assurance his PERHAPS... story would work out. And that is truly WARRIOR-POETic!

For now...

D

A Call to Warrior Poets (pt. 2) THE BLEEDING HOPEFUL

Strong people have scars. Some are visible. Those that take longest to heal are not.

Scars are remnants of the stories that shape us. Some of these tales begin with, "Hold my beer." Many aren't nearly as lighthearted. A good portion our scars are self-induced. The majority are inflicted from the outside.

Yesterday I watched a bit of one of my all-time favorite movies. Those who know me well, might smirk, aware that my all-time list is as long as a slow moving freight train. That said, Warrior comes in very near the top. (Not to be confused with The Warriors from the late 70's; with the famous bottle clinking... "Come out to play-yay-yaaay" line. Sorry, back on point.)

Warrior is a story of, well, warriors. Each of the major characters is scarred in his own way. And though  the context of the film is MMA fighting, the physical scarring is vastly overshadowed by the psychological and the relational. It is a story of failure and bravery; of deep-seated scars and hopeful hopelessness. It is a tale of bitterness, brokenness and desperation. And ultimately, emerging from the canvas, comes a portrait of the ultimate warrior-poet principle - love conquers all.

Warriors, and especially warrior-poets, are propelled by higher purpose. They are fueled by principle that burns in their hearts and flashes in their eyes. One of my favorite "Hold my beer..." tales comes straight from the pages of the Bible. (You might ask, "How is he going to tie in a Bible story to an MMA movie?" I don't know. Let's see where - and how - it goes.)

The warrior-poet whose portrait I hope to paint in pt. 3 is such a guy: Conflicted, angry, hopeless, hopeful - with a fire in his belly and lightning in his corneas. He is one of David's Mighty Men - as in King David, David and Goliath, David. This warrior-poet takes an incredibly audacious faith gamble. But that is what warrior-poets do. They believe. They trust. They Do. (When others only sit around and talk.)

We'll get to this warrior-poet in the next post. I'll wrap up for now with this thought: It would seem to us the best path is the easy one - a straight stroll on nicely paved roads. But few warrior-poets see, when looking in life's rear-view, nicely paved roads with clearly marked lanes and easy-to-read neon road signs. Instead, they often trek their way down dusty winding paths. Sight lines are often blurred and corners are hidden. Bridges are under repair and require some emotional four-wheeling. Many stretches are overgrown with thorned branches. These slap. They cut. They scar.

Scars are painful; even for Warrior-poets. But they move forward. They are the bleeding hopeful.

I began by writing Strong people have scars. In reality, we all have scars. I guess strong people have learned to live with them and the stories they tell. Everyone has scars. Warrior-poets - the bleeding hopeful - just don't attempt to hide them.

For now...
D

Lessons From Max #9 | DISTRACTIONS

Distractions get a bad rap...
Granted, continual distraction results in a meandering path through life. Maybe more accurately, obsessive distraction can be a symptom of a life that has not found, or has lost, purpose. (More on that in a subsequent post - if I don't get too distracted).

When we live in our purpose - when we have discovered and walk the path of our life's largest WHY - we are freed up to enjoy distractions. This may strike you as counter-intuitive, but stay with me.

Max loved walks. Walks by the lake. Walks in the neighborhood. Walks through a trail in the woods. He loved them all. I only had to get out, "Max, wanna...?" and he was at the door dancing, ready to go. (see LFM #1 | DANCE OVER THE LITTLE THINGS). As much as Max enjoyed the adventure of a car ride to the lake, and as excited as he was about the walk itself; he loved the pop-up distractions that inevitably came. In one location, which will remain unnamed until the statute of limitations times out, I would take Max off leash to chase deer. These were cocky deer. (I am convinced they may have been demonic deer.) They knew they could not be hunted or harassed. That is until Max and I came through for our evening walk. Not to worry, Max never caught one. Frankly, he wouldn't have known what to do if he did. But off he'd go like a blonde-red bullet in pursuit. I could almost hear the dear say, "Oh S...!" I always wondered if Max thought he might someday catch them, or if he just wanted to see their haughty hides goaded to run.

Distractions came in many forms. But always on the walks. Always as Max was pursuing his higher purpose, of being with and loving his family. Max's favorite distraction was people; not geese, not the attention-grabbing smells. Cats didn't garner a second look. But people - Max always tugged a little at the leash to say hello; to feel a stranger's hand on his head.

I guess that's the point of this post. We get distracted by so much. And obsessive distraction is a signal of an off-course life. But if we are ever so focused on the next step that we lose site of people, we are at least equally off course.

Jesus had a purpose. I would argue that if anyone, anywhere, ever had an overriding purpose, it was Jesus. His destiny was a cross, and his goal was to honor the Father by sacrificing himself for people (us). Interestingly though, when we read the gospel accounts we see Jesus continually being interrupted. Distractions galore. A blind guy. A sick woman. A rich kid. In each case Jesus stopped, turned, climbed a hill, walked over to a tree, stopped to write in the dirt - whatever; and addressed the person.

It seems maybe that when we are on course, some distractions actually fit our purpose after all. I think these (purposeful) distractions fall into two categories: 1) Stop and smell the roses distractions. These are self-explanatory. And 2) People distractions; which are in reality our real point of purpose in the first place.

So there... Go in peace and purpose. And be distracted!

BTW... No one remembers the dogs that stayed in the middle of the course!

For now,
D

Lessons From Max #8 | REGRETS...

I'm cheating a little on this one. What follows is a Lesson from Max for sure. But it is spurred to the forefront by something I read from Pulitzer Prize winning columnist Charles Krauthammer. (And just as Max was apolitical, nothing that follows has anything to do with one view or another.)

Krauthammer announced today that he is dying. In fact, he revealed he has been given only a few weeks to live. That itself is tragic. But it is not what captured my attention.

What grabbed me by the soul was something a dying man wrote in a farewell message:

I leave this life with no regrets. 

It was a wonderful life -- full 

and complete with the great loves 

and great endeavors that make it 

worth living. I am sad to leave, 

but I leave with the knowledge 

that I lived the life that I intended. 

-- Charles Krauthammer 

I don't know that I am weighed down by regrets. I really don't think so. Sometimes however, I find myself fearing they may appear. I want to be able to write what Krauthammer wrote. More than that, I want to live it. 

As special as Max was, I am not comparing a dog's life to a man's. I am simply drawing a parallel. When Max left us, he left with dignity; and, I believe, no regrets. I think that is possible for each of us. Possible. Achievable. Difficult. 

Regret I think, is eradicated through purpose and love. When we live on purpose and in our purpose the suction cups of regret lose their stickiness. No matter what the specifics of an individual's purpose-path may be, universally we share this: Our greatest purpose is to love and be loved. Max demonstrated it. Krauthammer beautifully wrote it. The greatest teacher-philosopher-spiritual-guru (who happened to be the Son of God) said it -- Love God, Love others, Love yourself. Boom... no regrets!

Max was a pure soul. In reality, he probably couldn't do anything else but love and be loved. You and I have choices to make. Krauthammer concluded: I lived the life that I intended. I like that. I intend to have no regrets. 

Thank you Charles. Thank you Max.

For now...

D