dear spencer,

As with almost everything, art improves all my senses. And this Lenten season is no exception.

Here on this fourteenth morning of Lent I sit with Odilon Redon, a symbolic French painter from around 1900. A friend brought this charcoal piece of to my attention yesterday that I had never seen before. And I have been so captivated. As I started to look at his pieces in chronological order, I discovered that Redon didn't paint any of Christ until 1897... and each of them are magnificent!

Maybe he had a substantial Lenten season that year and hit a God Vein much like Bob Dylan when he wrote and produced Slow Train Coming. In any event I simply wanted you to ponder with me "Christ in Silence" as He ponders the approach of His Hour.

Just before the Passover Feast, Jesus knew that the time had come to leave this world to go

to the Father. Having loved his dear companions, he continued to love them right to the

end. John 13:1

dear mike and paige,

When I was a kid my comic book hero was Thor. I always thought that the other guys were a bit of a joke. Discharging massive volts of electricity and stopping speeding bullets and throwing flames were just not real! My hero did something that was bona fide. He could fight.

Plus, he was everything I was not... long blonde hair, thin waisted (Mom always took me to the JC Penny husky department for clothing), a mind with wings, secure enough to wear a cape and, dear Zeus, look at those muscles! But clearly the long lasting impression was this: he used a hammer. No spiderwebs shooting from his wrists to entangle the bad guys, no footlong razors popping from his knuckles, no invisibility tricks. Just a hammer.

My, how things change, do they not?
My hero today is Harlan Hubbard.
                                       
I can't thank you enough for his biography you gave us... the best book I've read in years. Keenly aware that with every turn of the page I was nearing the end of the book, which felt like the end of a friendship. I watched Harlan, this slow, small and quiet (but oh, so significant!) gentleman let himself be shaped by everything and everyone around him. No resistance. No fight. No cape.

Lauren Winner paraphrases another author in the book, Still:

"Stories told with heros at the centre of them are told to laud the virtues of the heros - for if the hero failed, all would be lost. By contrast, a saint can fail in a way that the hero can't, because the failure of the saint reveals the forgiveness and the new possibilities made in God, and the saint is just a small character in a story that's always fundamentally about God."

It's the saints like Harlan, not the heros, that encourage me to say this:

When I was young I wanted to be who I wasn't,
but now I just want to be who I am.

dear chris,

When I was eleven and you were six, our dad died. There was a place that was part of my salvation called Dale Ridge... I think of it and the grandparents more than anyone knows, even still some forty-four years later. As I walked the hills and hollers alone (something no one in their right mind would allow for kids today), I was met not only by God but by the loud, non-verbal conversing with God.

I've been concerned about my prayer life of late, concerned with the sheer volume of living I do apart from God, how little I talk with Him. As I write this I discover how glad I am for this tension I carry between a loud non-verbal discourse and a deep desire to say things to Him.

Here is a long run-on sentence/poem about all that... and, of course, prayer.

When Eleven

If there was no such thing as sleep

I’d walk this farm as long as the bark

Up that poplar till my tread cut deep

Through the leaves and shale past the dark

Days of Daddy dying and leaving me

To love the silence of green and wind

No dumplin could work the ol’ factory

Enough to snap the rare focus pinned

To a newly sproutin chest and shoulders

Purposed to bump the butt of a .22

When leveled to the black eye and curves

Of the casual gray hare who

Knows not how much pain he takes of mine

From the jittery index squeeze I long

To repeat for the crack in the spine

And air that fails to let in right or wrong

As I walk this farm now in my sleepy

Days of gray curves and blackened eyes

Knowing the silence of green and wind, deeply

Singing the song of which I prize.

dear dan,

I was reminded last night of how often I feel like the man with the shriveled right hand (Luke 6:6-11). How often I feel like God is asking me to do two things:

1. "Get up and stand in front of everyone." I've been standing in front of people most of my whole life, but by my choice, not His call. It's been my way of hiding behind humor and behind courage. Though it may not appear so, in the past few years I've grown deeply in my desire to grow small. Oddly enough my Lord has simultaneously begun to call me to stand in front of others. With my shriveled-ness.
2. And then says, "Stretch out your hand." Another way of saying, "Do what you can't do, and let everyone watch." G. Campbell Morgan says, "When we turn from a contemplation of a withered hand and look into the face of Jesus, we know that the command is possible because He commands it, no matter how impossible it may appear."

All this is good sermon material. But for the man with the disability, the one on display, the one who is looked at for countless reasons... many of which he brought upon himself... it is a real and giant lump in the throat. How good it would be to pull back, retreat, or hide in humor. Or how easy to blame God. 

But no. He wants not only me, but others to see the power of God.

And He wants me to fix my eyes not on past failures, but into His face.

dear daniel,

I love the conversations we began about being all in or all out, going big or going home, and swinging for the fences. Yet as I type out these words of notion, they cause me to feel a little queasy. Steeped in athletic achievement and the drive to succeed, these premises are accepted as certainties to seek after and hope for. They are accepted as true without controversy by most everyone... from parents and pastors to therapists and teachers.

But all Godly reality must be steeped in nothing but love.

And this is where poetry, art and novels fit in, creating a new ethos of Beauty, Mystery and Wonder... characteristics of God! A true artist cares little about making a big splash, she simply wants to live out of her slow, small and quiet world. A true author cares little about being published, he simply wants to be present in the security of his own story rising up within him. A true poet cares little about hitting a home run, he simply loves having a bat in his hand.

That's a ball game I'd like to be in.
A ball game of love.

dear jessica,

It's a strange thing to sense joy when listening to someone else's pain. At first blush it seems not only twisted but wrong to be so alive. So I write to you this morning with a sort of confession... not a confession that needs forgiveness, but one that admits the place in which I am living:

I just read your blog entry from yesterday (February 21) and can I say that I've never been more proud to be your father-in-law. Thoughts are racing within my heart now... may I just write as they come:

1. You extinguished flames from hell with your own confession, stealing the Evil One's arsenal. You tucked his ammo up under your arm, turned and walked toward God... how can anyone shoot without bullets?
2. I sensed a sorrow in you that was void of pity. No one wants suffering, especially the kind that is an invitation deeper into the black. But I sensed that hope was the concrete at the bottom of your pain, not more woe.
3. Here in your young marriage I see a leaning toward God together vs. an inordinate dependence on one another that is precarious at best. It begins with a temptation within you that instinctively makes any believer want to reach for help! But Jessica, you are reaching out WITH Will not TO him... Wow!
4. You are so correct when you say: "in Light is the very Life of God." No words from another suffice, and all other light we have to offer are just candles in a hurricane.
5. We all need authentic (different than honest & vulnerable) Light-Seekers. Your words of trouble saddened me, of course. But they did not awaken the Christ within me like your beautiful words of hope, flooding my very own soul with the same Hope. I need authentic Light-Seekers, and God has given me you.
6. Lastly, may I offer a little nugget about the children. Not one other thing is needed for them as you live out your quest together before them. Love God and love one another... THAT is the way you raise up a child! (i.e. - having a good fight with your husband that they can witness may be of greatest help for their little souls. Note the emphasis on the word "good")

You are making me a better man, my dear Jessica.

How many can say that about the woman who married their son?

dear jb,

I would love to get your thoughts (or anyone else's) on a Social Experiment:

Take a rat who has lived 73 percent of his life expectancy.
He lives in an incredibly supportive and loving family dynamic.
He shows a history of enjoying good and engaging conversation with rats of all ages. Full disclosure: much of his time has been spent visiting other cages of those whose vocation is to be engaged in other hurting rat populations.

Extract him from this present environment of engagement for ten hours per day and insert him into a work that is much more physically and mentally demanding... alike to what the human world calls Blue Collar. His interaction with other rats is greatly reduced but not extracted completely. Also, no limitations have been placed on his abilities or desires.

Leave open for interpretation the following:
Elimination of his regular workout regimen.
Elevation of need for sleep.
Removal of possibility for play except for days off from work.
Reduction of his regular conversational connection (what he might call Being Current) with his wife by 80 percent.

Other considerations:
He still eats Special K with Almond Milk each morning for breakfast.
His blogging continues because of a commitment he made on February 13th.

Social Experiment time limit: Undecided and left to forces outside our control.

dear billy,

Yesterday as I created a walkway under a large white oak with field stone, I wondered about the week gone by. It was seven days ago that Ash Wednesday launched the Lenten Season. And I let myself swim in the question, "What difference has it made in me?"

Then something happened that always has happens when asking a great question... in it's quiet way, entitlement slipped in the back door.

• Even when I live in the hope for personal transformation into the likeness of Christ by the power of the Spirit who lives within me,
• Even when I pursue the call to maturity through the finishing work of perseverance (James 1),
• Even when my beautiful appetite is aroused for God,

my demands show up saying things like:

• I wonder if people will find out that I'm really a fraud when it comes to a disciplined life?
• What of my ugly interior world might soon be exposed?
• Will I ever be able to have a conversation without thinking about myself?

Three of the many subtle ways in which I am really saying... "God, don't you see how hard I'm trying? Why don't You hustle and change me, You MUST!"

Why am I writing you about all this, Billy? First of all, I miss seeing you. And second, because you love conversations about dreams, and I wanted to tell you the short one I just awoke from:

While in a large room with a huge swimming pool in the middle, a beautiful and inviting voice announces to all, "Who wants to come?" Instantaneously, I'm on the high dive, fully clothed and in my right mind, and bounding off the end of the board... up first to the high, high ceiling, then jack-knifing perfectly downward into the pure water, whispering (but loud enough for all to hear), "I can't wait!"

There is a continual invitation to come. Just come.

Without ME in mind. (What score will the Russian judge give for that beauty of a dive?)

Come without standards, comparisons, demands or benefits.

Come to the Beautiful One.

Come.

dear david,

In my letter to Tim last Thursday I told him that I was going to take two months off from the work I've been doing for the past eight and a half years... the work of being available to pastors. The financial gifts from my friends have been spent, and I have a mortgage that needs to be payed. My temptation is to solve my dilemma of "needing more money" by "raising more money" for the non-profit, so that I may continue this good work with pastors AND live in a work that gives me such life. Instead I have chosen a different and hopefully temporary route. To give the non-profit bank account some space to grow, and to foster my growing gratitude to God and those who have given, I began a completely new vocation: 

Bending Over.

Some folks call it landscaping, but for me it's just a chance to get closer to the earth. My favorite author, Wendell Berry, says it well in a poem entitled Below. One line brings me great clarity -

... I aspire

downward. Flyers embrace

the air, and I'm a man

who needs something to hug.

My body must be excited, because this morning I'm sore all over.

My heart must be young, because I awake with a return to my first love.

My mind be must free, because the land is hugging me back.

And yes, just for the record, I'm still a bit conflicted over this choice I've made. I know that God doesn't work on the barter system, but if He did, how good it would be if He would trade an ounce of quiet patience for a pound of good work to this man who can hardly get out of his chair.

dear matt, josh and brad,

You started your days as a Young Life volunteer with me in Asheville, and now each of you have several years under your belt as a Young Life Area Director in your own town. And I'd like to take this chance to tell you what I'd do different in my leadership if given the chance.

But first let me say that there is no place you'd rather be vocationally than on YL staff ! Where is a place where you can really bloom with Christ in you? Where is a job that leaves you with a sense of Family? Where is a boss that encourages you to, first and foremost, walk with God? Where else is there a community of people who upholds the vision with you of others knowing God? Fellas, you probably won't work forever with Young Life, but while you do, drink it in!

One primary thing I would do different: Change Young Life's fund-raising strategy name from TDS (Taking Donors Seriously) to TLS (Taking Lovers Seriously). Sounds funny, huh? But here's the core truth: Why would we treat anyone... especially those who are already in it with us... differently than with the same affection and care that we have for high schoolers? Every thought and idea should be taken captive when it comes to loving these adult lovers (not donors!) of YL. Each of you have settled into your respective North Carolina towns, and now you know that these folks in your community need you as much as you need them. And they need you to love them.

Here are a few practical ideas on how to TLS:

• Instead of making a prospect list, make a lover's list. Prospect lists are made to find money to fund your thing. Lover's lists are made to remind you of those who love God and care about the things of God with you.
• Make a strategy to love, not to expose your community to Young Life or expand a base of support. The best things that come along the way are from the hand of God... while in Asheville, God surprised me with a couple of lovers that moved from California without any of my doing whatsoever! Love God and love one another.
• Plainly said, consider that maybe your present "donor list" might be too large. That's why the idea of calling it a "lover list" may be so overwhelming. (Note: it is not unloving to consider this thought. Having too large of a list might be more about growth than love)
• For those who are presently your lovers, make sure their name is spelled correctly on your list. (There are four ways to spell my wife's first name). Sounds simple, but a misspelled name communicates that they are a donor or a prospect instead of someone who cares about the things of God with you.
• A friend who works with a foundation recently told me a statistic: After a non-profit receives a financial gift three straight years (i.e. - Randy Johnson gives $1000 in 2010, 2011 and 2012) then the fourth year the non-profit begins to see that gift as an entitlement. Think about them with gratitude! And here is one way:
• Scott and Brooke are on staff in Tennessee. They sent us a Valentines Card, both handmade and hand-written, sending us their love. They are grateful for us, not our money, which leads me to my last bullet point...
• Be committed to having brotherhood and sisterhood first. Although tempting, don't want someone's money if you can't have them. Consequently continue to hope for and pursue friendship in Christ with others, not pursue their wallet for a good thing called "my ministry".

"Unscrupulous people fake it a lot; honest people are sure of their steps.

Nothing clever, nothing conceived, nothing contrived, can get the better of God."

Proverbs 21:29-30

Take love seriously, our God does.

dear ryan,

As much as I love rhythm,
As much as I love relationships to be right,
As much as I love not being up at 3:12 am,
As much as I love a good glass of Cabernet,
As much as I love a sense that God has everything under control,
As much as I love the idea that I might make a difference,
As much as I love financial ease,
As much as I love having a little light-hearted fun,
As much as I love to know I'm headed in a Godly direction,
As much as I love my body to work decently,
As much as I love for time to pass slowly enough for me to drink in the moment,
As much as I love not having crazy thoughts,
As much as I love a good night's sleep,
As much as I love the security of a good marriage,
As much as I love being thought of,
As much as I love having space and time alone,
As much as I love living in Fountain City,
As much as I love not having car trouble,
As much as I love being needed,
As much as I love laughter,
As much as I love writing a coherent sentence,
I'd rather be grateful.

dear les,

Tonight I saw you at the UT basketball game... never has there been a more purely FUN game with the Vols laying down a whopin' on the Cats!  But running into you was the best part of the night, hands down.

You are the only man I know who has known how awesome my wife is, longer than I have.
You are the only man I know that throws himself into listening like you do.
You are the only man I know that leads with encouragement and ends with encouragement.

Tonight you allowed me to say some things that would ordinarily make most folks freak out. You and I have always been able to connect in a way that MUST be deep speaking to deep, Spirit speaking to Spirit. I really miss our walks on Beechwood. And I really miss what you did tonight by wrapping your arms around me and looking into my eyes and then 90 degrees down into my soul... to speak.

I want to tell your son and daughters how lucky they are to have you for their dad.
But somehow, by them living with you, I think they know.

dear will,

Next week I hope to write more about what our Monday night group has been swimming in for a few weeks... which has to with Beauty, Mystery and Wonder. While it's slowly becoming a permanent theme in my interior life, I'm also discovering that it's not simply a quaint acronym (BMW) that I can apply to my interior life.

Several months ago you said to me... "I never want to mistake easy for good", to which I responded, "And I never want to mistake hard for bad".

So much of my life I want to navigate, figure out and implement a plan to resolve the questions of...
- Why are things so hard?
- What is at the root of my fears?
- How can I avoid such interior fretting?
All good questions, yet none seem to ever get answered by my sorting and analyzing.

Maybe God has more for me than the avoidance of pain. Maybe He has Him for me in the middle of it all. Maybe He calls this the BMW of His character, the same character that He wants me to grow up into.

Last thought: Beauty, Mystery and Wonder - as much as I am drawn to this junior trinity - are polar opposite to my demand-to-understand ways. You and Jessica would love to be here for our Monday night banter. But our God has you there driving a BMW.

dear coleman,

I woke thinking of you this morning and how you love the church. I've told you this before, but wanted to give you a picture for a little more clarification of what I mean.

There's a friend I have that lives in the mountains of western North Carolina. He lives with his family in a valley called Big Sandy Mush and is a lover like you. But what he loves is clay - blue pipe clay, to be exact. You should hear him talk with passion and even an affectionate knowledge about how it takes millions of years for this clay to develop from the rub of water and the shifting of glaciers against rock particles... or something like that. Matt Jones has no idea how much he has taught me through his extraordinary craftsmanship and art. He gets his hands dirty by squeezing and caressing the clay. Then he pairs just the right glaze with the pottery before inserting the piece into a hand-built 2000+ degree kiln fired by hand-split wood. Finally there is a meticulous inspection and pricing to reflect the realization of his hopes.



With countless hours and unending care, all along the way, it's his hands that are immersed into his work. Talented and willing hands. Hands that are committed to the art. Hands that must rest.

And he's much like you...
one who loves the people instead of the institution.
one who invests himself into a vision of what might be.
one who lives out of hope for the final fruit.
one who lends his giftedness to an unpredictable medium.
one who realizes that rest is fundamental for the longevity of love.

Art is an expression of the spirit of Beauty.
So is soul care.

Thank you for seeing soul care as an expression of God's love to His clay - His people, His church.

dear laird,

Of everyone I know, you would appreciate my Valentine gift from Kathie. She just returned from retreat at Living Waters where she sketched our Lord at Saint Margaret of Scotland Catholic Church. You've spent many hours sitting beneath this extraordinary piece. And you'd want to know that she handed it to me at the beginning of last night's Ash Wednesday service... creating space within me to receive Him that hour.

dear tim,

I have this fun little questionnaire I use sometimes for small group warmups. It's called The Budman's 50 favorites.... what's your favorite restaurant, who's your favorite rock & roll voice, where is your favorite place to sit quietly, etc. Also included are the obvious questions: what is your favorite dessert? And what is your favorite food?

I came home from retreat on Tuesday to find an early Valentine's gift made by the hands and heart of my daughter, Katie. It's my favorite dessert AND favorite food! Coconut pie...

No kidding... this is why I don't give up sweets for Lent!
And the timing was perfect, because yesterday was just that. Sweet.

But it was sweet in the hard way. I gave the Lenten Lesson yesterday at the 7am and 7pm services at our church, All Souls. Ash Wednesday is not a day of yippee, nor should it be. We are reminded that we are made from dust and will return to dust. The spirit of the day is about the preparation for The Journey... His Journey, that we are honored to walk with Him.

But here's the hard part: it was also the day that I told most of my pastor friends that I will be taking two months off to allow the non-profit I work for to build a reserve. I'll stop leading retreats and small groups and put the one-on-one-chats-over-coffee on hold.

In mid-November I received a clear word from God saying, "2013 is your year of gratitude." And I can say that literally every day this year, I've been about to bust with a new thankfulness to God! Even as I step back from the men and conversations that I love, I carry no entitlements. As far as I can tell I am demanding nothing of God or others that "my work" (ha!) continue.

Jim Branch texted Deuteronomy 33:12 to me:

Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure in Him,
for He shields him all day long,
and the one the Lord loves rests between His shoulders.

He carries me.
Nope... never giving up sweets for Lent.

dear jack,

Some days my narrow shoulders buckle under the weight of listening to my friends' troubles. Other days I feel like the luckiest man alive - God thick all around me while in the midst of sorrows. But most days, I’m a little dizzy with a concoction of both.

I think about you this day, this ash wednesday morning. With your wonderful anglican bells and smells and liturgy you’ll join this Man-God who walks with and before us to Jerusalem. And like you, I’ll humbly cross the foreheads of my friends with an ashed-covered thumb. Yep… today i’m the luckiest man alive!

The season that today inaugurates seems more like a journey than all the others. Christmas, Epiphany, Pentecost; they all seem done to me. Or ignored by me. Maybe it’s simply the journey with Jesus that is so appealing. And scary.

My mentor gave me this grrrreat book for Christmas compiled by James Houston called Letters of Faith through the Seasons. One of the letters was written by a seminarian completing her doctorate, who feels both called to and trapped between her true vocation of prayer and theological scholarship. The journey she travels is quite harrowing:

I sense that I am at a road that is forking, but I cannot see it cognitively. Only in prayer do I see that I am at a juncture, an opportunity to choose. One is the path God has chosen for me. The other is the path of my own choice, to continue to do theology, to be “successful” at it, to publish, to receive acclaim.

So please pray with me for traveling mercies – that God would protect me through this time in my life. It is never a “crisis,” but it is always the undertow that threatens to pull me under. I think it is the difference between ending up as a theologian or as someone-who-prays.

We will all feel the slight undertow today.

Would you pray with me:

Traveling mercies to us all, my Lord, traveling mercies on our journey this Lenten season.