America’s Sexiest Couple on Stage in Lowell

Last week I saw America’s Sexiest Couple. And they were middle aged!

No, I’m not talking about me and my beloved. It’s the name of a wonderful play at Lowell Arts that has 3 more performances July 28, 29, and 30.

This is a laugh-out-loud romantic comedy with some serious moments to make you feel invested in the love story. The play was written by Ken Levine, who wrote for M*A*S*H, Cheers, Frasier, and The Simpsons, so if you liked those shows’ mix of situational and character-driven humor, you’ll like this play.

There are only three actors, and no intermission. It takes place in one room, and the 90-minute runtime is how long the action on stage takes — no jumps in time or place. Just an unrelenting focus on this couple (and occasionally the bell hop).

Susan and Craig are actors who were dubbed America’s Sexiest Couple when they starred in a hospital sitcom for 5 years in the 1990s because their characters were the central “will-they-or-won’t-they” couple of the series. They were the top of the TV heap. But they haven’t seen each other or spoken for 25 years after Susan’s abrupt exit from the show. Now they are both in Syracuse for the funeral of a castmate and Craig is in her hotel room the night before.

The play is full of wonderful tension, much of it embodied in Susan. Vicki Kavanaugh gives a great performance of a woman stretched by opposing forces, both within and without. She and Craig were like family for 5 years, and had great chemistry and played all manner of love scenes on screen, but never in real life. Would they finally sleep together now? She couldn’t let him know how much she hoped to, in case he didn’t, but still had to keep things moving in that direction in case he did. She wants to put the best face on her life since the show, but she can’t keep reality out. There are some topics she doesn’t want to talk about, but she also needs to talk about.

Craig is played with great charm by Dave Benson. You can easily see him as an easygoing actor that people are drawn to. But he has his depths and his insecurities, his frustrations and his own hopes that he doesn’t want to admit to, either. He has some beautifully tender moments with Susan late in the play.

Josh Youngsma brings great energy and humor to the production as the 22-year-old bell hop. The clash of generations jokes may not be new, but they are true, and delivered so winningly, so we laugh.

The play condenses a lot of “I like you – I hate you – I want you – I hate you – I need you” into one evening, but the production grounds it in the tensions that these two characters bring before the action starts. Director Richard Mulligan and Stage Manager Lilleigh Christopher have provided excellent guidance to make this play about two people, not just two joke-machines. Mulligan asked Lowell Arts to employ an intimacy consultant to ensure that the actors feel comfortable, confident, and safe with what they are asked to do and to talk about.

It’s an adult night of theatre, so don’t bring the kids unless you want to explain a lot of stuff about sex. The Playbill calls it “frank,” and it definitely is. But do come out to Lowell this weekend to see it. You will laugh, you might tear up. Ticket information here: https://www.lowellartsmi.org/upcoming-production I’m going again on Saturday, 7/29!

On telling the story and not stopping at the joke

A boy doesn't look happy to be cleaning the kitchen sink.
An image of a boy who doesn't love doing chores.

My father was born in the Netherlands in 1942, almost two years into the Nazi occupation. He was young enough to have only one real memory of wartime: sitting outside and playing, refusing to come in while the air raid siren blared and his mother and nanny tried to get him to come inside.

But he had three older brothers who remember the war.

They tell only a few stories from that time, but one of my generation’s favorites took place during the last winter of the war when the families of three Fonds sisters were all living in one house out in the country: 6 adults and 12 children (plus any people they might be sheltering in the hubbub). All the husbands worked in the resistance movement.

With that many people, everyone had a job. Even two-year-old Peter had to go into the woods to collect kindling. Tante Nell made sure the household ran.

One day, it was the job of one of the boys to do the dishes. But children are still children, even during war, and he didn’t want to, so he hid in the bathroom under the stairs.

Nell saw that the dishes were not being done, figured out where he was, went there, banged on the door and announced loudly for all to hear: “Poop on your own time! Dishes now!” He came out and did the dishes.

That’s the story they told us when we were young, and we laughed and laughed. Between the pounding on the door and the yelling about poop, it was fantastic.

I asked to hear it again when I was in my 40s. That time, they gave me the actual story.

With that many people in the house, everyone had a job. Even two-year-old Peter had to go into the woods to collect kindling. Tante Nell made sure the household ran.

One day, it was the job of one of the boys to do the dishes. But children are still children, even during war, and he didn’t want to, so he hid in the bathroom under the stairs.

Nell saw that the dishes were not being done, figured out where he was and gathered everyone in the living room. She gave a very serious speech about how hard things were, how they were all sacrificing, how they all had to pull together and play their part, that each person was needed. The boy felt so guilty that he came out of the bathroom in tears and vowed to never try to skip his chores.

Not nearly as funny, but I was glad I got to hear the real version.

This makes me think of Hannah Gadsby’s first big Netflix comedy special, Nanette, where she initially plays a lot of painful situations for laughs.

“When you laugh you release tension, and when you hold tension in your human body it’s not healthy psychologically or physically…it’s even better to laugh with other people…. When you share a laugh you will release more tension because laughter is infectious…. Tension isolates us, and laughter connects us.”

Then she explains that jokes just need a setup and a punchline; jokes are frozen at the middle, at the trauma point. Stories, on the other hand, need a beginning, a middle, and an end. In Nanette she takes us past the joke point and tells her real story about how those traumas affected her and, writ large, how they play out in society as a whole. And we discover that truth and vulnerability can connect us even deeper than laughter does.

We’ve all told the joke instead of the story, like my uncles did with their war story. When we were kids they never introduced it as, “In July of 1944 the Nazis searched our house in Velp, hoping to find proof of our father’s work in the resistance cell headed by our family doctor. The cell was dismantled; several members were arrested and either executed or sent to concentration camps, where they died. We fled to our mother’s sister’s house in Ermelo, in the country, a couple of months later. On the way we had to sleep in a barn because the farmer would only let our mother and baby brother in the house. Another sister’s family fled there, as well, and all of us rode out the Hunger Winter and avoided starvation together.”

It’s human nature to play trauma for laughs, to tame it for chit-chat purposes.

For example, I could say that the day after my marriage ended our daughter came home with lice. Lice! On top of everything else, creepy crawly little bugs!! And then talk about all the different ways I tried to get rid of them over three rounds of treatment.

But any further conversation would dig into more vulnerable territory. How it was actually the day after three police officers came onto my porch to arrest my husband of 21 years for a sex crime. How angry I was at him, how hurt, how shocked but not surprised. How I had to tell the kids and our parents about his arrest. How I’d stopped eating and drinking from the stress and wandered the aisles of Target, light-headed and overwhelmed, buying new bedding and pillows and lice removal systems, worrying about spending the money because my husband would surely lose his job and I was a stay-at-home mom who only worked freelance.

How I oddly came to appreciate the lice situation and the three rounds it took to get them truly gone from her long beautiful hair because we had to sit together for hours, me tenderly and patiently running the fine comb through her hair. Over and over and over. It would have been easy for us to retreat to our corners to nurse our wounds, but the lice forced us into close proximity. So there was good in it.

The joke versions of our stories are fine. But I hope we keep getting better at telling each other the full stories.

I’m going to give Gadsby the final word:

Stories hold our cure. Laughter is just the honey that sweetens the bitter medicine…. Your story is my story and my story is your story…. That is the focus of the story we need: connection.

When you’re in a goo time

Photo by Dan Cristian Pădureț on Unsplash

We love to talk about caterpillars turning into butterflies. It’s such an encouraging story that we totally make about ourselves:

Even though you may start out crawling on your belly in the dirt, eventually your true colors will emerge and your wings will unfurl and you will fly like you were always meant to.

That’s glamorous.

But that isn’t what happens to caterpillars. They don’t enter chrysalis and curl up in there all cozy growing wings.

They become goo.

Whatever is happening while the caterpillar transforms is not pretty. It digests itself. If it happened without the protection of the chrysalis on our deck or sidewalk, we’d probably think something had decomposed or rotted and we’d spray it away with the hose so we wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.

But the caterpillar is supposed to become goo. Turning into soup is a crucial part of the transformation. We know this, but it’s also mysterious.

Which makes me think of the events my Christian tradition remembers this weekend. Today (Good Friday) we commemorate Jesus’s death and his three days being dead before God makes him alive again (Easter). What happened 2000+ years ago for these three days is a mystery. We get hints from what Jesus said while he was on the cross.

At about three o’clock, Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” which means “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?

Matthew 27:46 (NLT)

So Jesus was alone, abandoned by the father who he always felt in complete oneness with.

But the other criminal protested, “Don’t you fear God even when you have been sentenced to die? We deserve to die for our crimes, but this man hasn’t done anything wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.”

And Jesus replied, “I assure you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Luke 23:40-43 (NLT)

At some point of time, Jesus would be in paradise.

But the specifics are a mystery.

Whatever happened to Jesus changed him so much that people who had followed him didn’t recognize him. Mary Magdalene sees him when he’s alive again and thinks he’s the gardener; she doesn’t recognize him until he says her name. The men on the road to Emmaus walked and talked with him for hours and didn’t recognize him until he broke bread in front of them.

We don’t know what Jesus was doing during those 3 days, so I like to think of him as in his goo time — in between his ministry on earth and his ministry untethered to the soil, transitioning from his time as fully-human-and-fully-divine to fully divine. What form did he take? Was it painful? Pleasant? When did he return to oneness with the Father?

Maybe I like to think of it as Jesus’s goo time because I experience goo times, too.

I’m going through one right now, when I know what was but I don’t know what will be and I feel all messy and chaotic and anxious but also hopeful.

Both Jesus and the butterfly get through their goo times in similar ways.

  • There’s no rushing the process. Jesus said it would take 3 days, so it took 3 days. Caterpillars have different chrysalis periods, depending on whether the conditions are right for the caterpillar to feed and reproduce. It might take a few weeks, or it might take a few years. I hate this. Because I have no idea how long my goo time is going to last and a number of steps are not up to me.
  • Trust that you have what you need. Jesus understood what was going to happen to him. It’s why he didn’t want to do it, and why he also submitted to it. He knew he had what he needed to get through it. A caterpillar has all the genetic material it needs to digest and then transform itself. I hate this slightly less. Because I know that I have the love and the presence of God, and the gift of the Holy Spirit, and the intercession of Jesus. And people who love me. And a whole lot of actual things that I need. I have worked through goo times before. Still, it’s not exactly fun to be soup.

How do you get through your goo times? Does it annoy you that sometimes you don’t get much of a waiting period between said goo times? Just me?

Do Christians follow their leader or his first followers?

screengrab of Derek Sivers How to Start a Movement

This short TED Talk (Derek Sivers’s, “How to Start a Movement”) tells the story of a man dancing alone at a music festival, how first one person joined him, and then another, until crowds were running to join the dance. It’s only 3 minutes long and kind of funny.

</div

I’m always struck by this observation: “New followers emulate the followers, not the leader.I can’t help but think of Jesus and his first followers, who constantly got him wrong even though they had him right there with them.

They left everything to follow him but didn’t understand who he was

They’d been with Jesus for some time, watching him heal and preach, and argue with religious leaders. One day, when they were sailing across a lake, a dangerous storm came up. The followers wake up the napping Jesus, who tells off the wind and waves, which makes them calm.

The disciples were terrified and amazed. “Who is this man?” they asked each other. “When he gives a command, even the wind and waves obey him!” (Luke 8:25)

Peter is the only one who will say it out loud

In Luke, after they feed the 5,000 with 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish, Jesus asks them point blank who they think he is, and only one gives the answer:

One day Jesus left the crowds to pray alone. Only his disciples were with him, and he asked them, “Who do people say I am?”

“Well,” they replied, “some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, and others say you are one of the other ancient prophets risen from the dead.”

Then he asked them, But who do you say I am?

Peter replied, “You are the Messiah sent from God!” (Luke 9:18-20)

I imagine all of them silent and nervous about Jesus’s question, either because they aren’t sure or they’re afraid to get it wrong, and then Peter blurts it out (as he often does).

They are obsessed with greatness

Jesus ate with the despised and rejected, healed people no matter their socio-economic status, and constantly beefed with the authorities, but his first followers were obsessed with greatness. In Matthew 18 they ask Jesus who was the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven. In Mark 9 Jesus confronts them about their “who’s the greatest” argument on the road. In Luke 9 they argue about which of them was the greatest. In Luke 22 (at the Last Supper) they argue about who would be the greatest. In each instance, Jesus gives a similar response:

“Whoever wants to be first must take last place and be the servant of everyone else.” Then he put a little child among them. Taking the child in his arms, he said to them, “Anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not only me but also my Father who sent me.” (Mark 9:35-37)

He even has to correct his first followers for preventing parents from bringing children to him to be blessed: “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children” (Matthew 19:14).

They didn’t get that his theology was so different from what they grew up with

When the followers see a man blind from birth, their question to Jesus, “Who sinned, this man or his parents?” sounds odd to our ears, but reveals their theological assumption: if you are sick or suffering, it’s a punishment for something you’ve done or something your family has done–you deserve it. But Jesus says something radical:

“It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.” (John 9:2-3)

This was a radical healing all around. By making it so a man born blind could not only see, but understand what he was seeing, Jesus put everyone around this man in a tizzy. He got dragged in front of the Pharisees, some of whom were upset because this healing took place on the Sabbath (when nobody was supposed to work) while others thought the healer must be from God. They hauled in his parents to ask them what they thought of this Jesus who healed him. Kept grilling the man, who could only repeat what his experience was until they threw him out of the synagogue.

They didn’t get that he challenged the status quo on purpose

Jesus has been arguing with the Pharisees about what makes a person “unclean” or “defiled.” The Pharisees ask him about ritual hand cleaning and Jesus ups the ante by talking about how what you say reveals the state of your heart. Jesus draws a crowd to tell them,

“It’s not what goes into your mouth that defiles you; you are defiled by the words that come out of your mouth.”

Then the disciples came to him and asked, “Do you realize you offended the Pharisees by what you just said?” (v.11-12)

He sure did! He already told the Pharisees, “you cancel the word of God for the sake of your own tradition. You hypocrites!” And goes on to call them the blind leading the blind. The followers’ “do you realize you offended the Pharisees” is kinda sweet, but reveals that they didn’t understand Jesus’s ministry.

One of them betrayed him

Judas has always sounded to me like a disillusioned true believer: Jesus wasn’t who Judas thought he was, so he set Jesus up so the authorities could arrest him. In Matthew, the last straw for Judas seems to be when Jesus allows the woman to anoint his feet with very expensive oil. But whatever it was, he goes to the people plotting to kill Jesus and offers to hand him over. Then he follows through and does it.

Even Jesus seems surprised 

At the Last Supper, when Jesus is trying to sum up his entire ministry for the disciples who will be charged with spreading his message, his followers are still confused about who Jesus is.

Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”

Jesus replied, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and yet you still don’t know who I am? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father! So why are you asking me to show him to you? Don’t you believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?  (John 14:8-11) 

They never understood what the kingdom was

Even at the very end of Jesus’ time on earth, post-resurrection, his closest followers still didn’t get what he was all about:

 So when the apostles were with Jesus, they kept asking him, “Lord, has the time come for you to free Israel and restore our kingdom?” (Acts 1:6) 

They were with him for 3 years, hearing him speak, able to ask him anything, sharing meals, travelling the country, hanging out with him after he died, and they still didn’t understand that Jesus was not about kicking out the Romans and restoring Israel’s political power.

So what about us?

We’re supposed to be following Jesus, not the first followers. But we’re only human. Like they were. It seems inevitable that we would be like those first followers: not understanding who Jesus is and what he’s about, obsessed with the wrong things, not grasping just how deeply Jesus challenges rules-based religion.

Sivers wants his listeners to embrace the crucial role that first followers play:

“First follower is an underrated form of leadership…. Have the courage to follow and show others how to follow.”

For Christians, I’d change it a little:

“Have the courage to follow the leader (Jesus) and show others how to follow the leader (not you).”

I’m glad we’ve got the example of the disciples and all the ways they get things right and wrong. It means we get to be aware of our human tendencies to get obsessed with the wrong things and to see Jesus through our own cultural lenses. But we are also aware that we are to be Christlike, not disciplelike. We are to be first followers, ourselves, enticing others to join the dance. 

What is saving my life right now

A photo of a woman in the snow looking determined and strong. Photo by Hannah Van Houten.

We are halfway between winter and spring. The West Michigan winter has been cloudier than usual: in December we saw 12% of possible sunshine; January gave us less than that. As Barbara Brown Taylor notes in Leaving Church, we know what’s killing us, but it’s harder to recognize what’s saving us. So today I’m joining with Modern Mrs. Darcy and naming what is saving me right now.

That photo of me.

My daughter took it for a portrait assignment for her photography class. Look at this woman. She looks so determined. And so strong. This woman will keep going and not give up. And this woman is me! I love that she captured the steely side of my core.

The coat I’m wearing belonged to my Oma, my Dutch grandmother, who took 5 children through World War II in the Netherlands (two of whom were born during the Occupation). They had to move suddenly when the Nazis commandeered their home. Her husband was in a Resistance Cell, so he was often gone, working to undermine the occupiers; whether he was out or at home, there was a constant sense that the Nazis could come for him at any time. Because they did. The last winter of the war, the Hunger Winter, she walked for 2 days with her husband and 5 young children, one of whom was an infant, to get to her sister’s country home where there was food — if you count ground fish heads and bones as food. The Nazis didn’t; they’d commandeered all the truly edible stuff from the family’s soup factory. But three families survived that winter on the disgusting scraps the Nazis left them.

I see that legacy in this photo. And I love it. (Also, I love that I was right to suggest my daughter take a photography class. #momwin)

Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle, by Emily Nagoski and Amelia Nagoski

When I shared my post last month to Facebook, one of my friends recommended that I read Burnout. I burned through the audiobook in a few days (see what I did there?).

It is already saving my life.

The first tenet of Burnout is that whether or not you are able to change the stressors in you life, you have to complete the stress cycle in order to deal with the stress. The purpose of completing the stress cycle is to tell your body and mind that you are safe, that you have dealt with the adrenaline caused by the stressor, and that you do not need to constantly be in a state of alarm.

There are multiple ways to complete the stress cycle: exercise is the best, conversation with a trusted love one, getting enough sleep, connecting with deeper meaning in your life, doing things with a group that highlight your togetherness, expressing your creativity.

All things I love to do, but all things that I neglect when under stress. When the kids were younger, and not rational, I endeavored to be the soul of patience and not yell — I wasn’t successful, but I tried really, really hard. And I wondered what I could do with all the anger and frustration that I’d pushed down. This book would’ve saved my life back then. Being able to divorce the stress from the stressor, being able to consciously pursue those things as a way to complete that stress cycle, would have been a big help.

It’s a big help to me now.

The second way the Nagorski sisters are saving my life: I realized that it is actively unhealthy and unhelpful for me to constantly hold in my stomach muscles. I’ve been doing it for years. Partially because I thought it was one way to ensure good posture, and partially because I’ve gained weight and I don’t like my tummy. But it also signals to my body and brain that I’m bracing for something. Constantly. Which is a way of being perpetually in an alarm state — unable to complete the stress cycle. It also put constant pressure on my internal organs, and I’d been experiencing some unpleasant urinary symptoms: not being able to hold it in the morning, and frequently feeling like I needed to pee, even when I’d just peed.

Once I let my stomach relax, those unpleasant symptoms went away. Within two days.

And my posture is just as good as it always was. My pants fit differently, but I’m getting used to it.

So there are three things that are saving my life these days.
How about you?

When change really does set you free

A neon sign reads CHANGE.

A neon sign reads CHANGE.

When God communicates with you, does he use sarcasm? Only me?

Here’s the story. I’d been employed at my church as the children’s minister for 6 years and the office administrator for 3 years. I loved the work and I loved the church. Truly. It was powerful and meaningful work, especially when the pandemic hit. My work was making an actual difference for people.

And taking up a ton of mental and emotional space.

I pretty much stopped writing because I was doing so much of it for work and because my out-of-work time was spent researching ways to keep people connected.

As COVID receded, and our staffing shifted and people did not flock back to church, I took on more responsibilities, not less, and still not full-time status, still no benefits. Even with a health care stipend, it was so expensive and so stressful to get my plans through the marketplace.

In the middle of this, my church’s new interim pastor noted my deep love of God’s Word and my gifts in communicating about God’s Word, and suggested that I consider whether I had a call to be a pastor. He’s not the first one to suggest that. Another friend has brought it up repeatedly, telling me I was more pastoral than a lot of ministers they knew.

I’d always brushed off these suggestions, but I decided to at least mention it to God this time.

The Lord responded.

Oh. Really. You’re going to ask me about this when you already aren’t doing what I have called you to?

When Jesus called Peter, John, and James, who were fishermen, he didn’t use his own carpentry lingo. He didn’t say, “Come build a framework for God’s kingdom with me.” No, he said, “Come with me and we’ll fish for people.”

So for me, God was mildly sarcastic. And it worked.

It was finally the thing that got me to seriously look for other work in hopes that a new job, full time with benefits, would give me the security and mental space I’d need to write again.

And it worked.

I got a full-time corporate gig as an office administrator with all the benefits and I really like it. My creative brain is exploding with ideas. I’m writing new blog posts. I’ve started a new novel. I’m following through on ideas and plans I’ve long put on the way-back burner.

This one simple and huge change has set me free to do what God has called me to do: write. I am so grateful.

Is there change that you need to set you free to do something you really want to do? I hope it happens.

 

 

Oh to be nourished like a tree by a riverside

The wide, even growth rings of a well nourished tree that grew by a river.

 

Oh, the joys of those who … delight in the law of the Lord,
    meditating on it day and night.
They are like trees planted along the riverbank,
    bearing fruit each season. (Psalm 1:1-2)

I love this image of people fed so consistently by the Word of God that they have a healthy spirituality — strong and flexible, able to withstand adversity, resistant to theological diseases and pests, bearing fruit that makes a difference in their relationships and their world.

Bearing fruit

In the past, I’ve focused on the “bearing fruit in each season” part, making posters with Sunday school kids of a tree by a riverbank that is bearing every kind of fruit we could think of. A poster of a well nourished tree by the riverside growing every kind of fruit, drawn by Sunday school kids.

This involved a bit of biblical sleight-of-hand. The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control. Because the singular fruit is many traits, which are all supposed to be growing in and through us, we could illustrate that idea through one tree with many fruits.

Being nourished

But then I saw this tree stump at my parents’ property.

The wide, even growth rings of a well nourished tree that grew by a river.

Now I can’t get it out of my head. Every single growth ring is the same, wide size.

The growth rings of a wee nourished tree that grew by a river are wider than my thumb.

This tree grew where a stream flowed into a river. It was constantly nourished, always receiving what it needed for good growth. So it grew steadily.

My own spiritual development has tended to be more like this tree’s, slow and inconsistent:

The uneven growth rings of a tree that grew in a crowded forest.

This tree grew in a crowded forest, near the top of a long hill. The rings are much closer together, and they vary in width, showing the effect of variations in precipitation and light.

Growth is still growth

Both trees have something in common, though: they grew.

Is it terrible to grow slowly and unevenly like the tree in the forest? No. It was well over 100 years old before it was cut down. It provided beauty and shade, sucked in carbon dioxide and pumped out oxygen, and fed countless birds and insects in its lifetime. Those are good fruits.

Is it better to grow quickly? No. One of my cousins still remembers the year he grew 6″ in a year–the aches and pains kept him up at night. And anyone who pays attention to tech news knows of plenty of companies that grew fast with loads of buzz and venture capital and then tanked just as quickly when consumers didn’t respond.

Does it just sound better to be consistently nourished like a tree that grows by the riverside? Yes. 

The frustrating part is that it’s on me that I’m not that riverside tree. I don’t meditate on the Word day and night. I don’t regularly choose to rest in God’s presence. Oh, I’ve had those seasons of wide-ring growth, and they were good. Well, the actual season was often horrible, but I remember how my spirit felt–strong and flexible, able to withstand adversity, resistant to theological diseases and pests, bearing fruit that made a difference in my relationships and my world.

I’m going to put the riverside tree photo where I can see it every day to remind myself of the difference consistent nourishment makes.

What if you had what you need?

Parents encourage a child to learn to walk like God encouraged us to follow him.

Parents encourage a child to learn to walk like God encouraged us to follow him.

This command I am giving you today is not too difficult for you, and it is not beyond your reach. It is not kept in heaven, so distant that you must ask, ‘Who will go up to heaven and bring it down so we can hear it and obey?’ It is not kept beyond the sea, so far away that you must ask, ‘Who will cross the sea to bring it to us so we can hear it and obey?’ No, the message is very close at hand; it is on your lips and in your heart so that you can obey it. (Deuteronomy 30:11-14, NLT)

Sometimes those of us who want to encourage people towards a deep, vibrant faith complicate matters. Pray all the time! (OK, that one’s on Paul.) Pray this way! Pray the Psalms! Pray this other way! Read your Bible every day! Using bullet journaling! Here’s a great devotional! You have to go through this devotional! Do this spiritual practice! And this one! And this other one! Read this book! This book will change your life! Join a small group! And another one! Talk to people about your faith! Listen to people about their faith! Be quiet with God! Be loud for God! Be a leader at home! At school! At work! At church! Tell everyone you know about Jesus! Tithe to your church! Give to this good cause! And this one! And this one! Work for justice in this area! And this one! And this other one! These Christians are in trouble! And these! Help the poor! And the downtrodden! Don’t even think bad thoughts! No swearing! Be generous! Be grateful all the time!

And that’s without the cultural pressures your brand of Christianity puts on you to look, talk, act, and be a certain way.

Complicated. Exhausting. Confusing.

Which is why I always appreciate it when the Bible itself strips all that away. What God wants

  • isn’t too hard for you.
  • is close at hand.
  • is on your lips already.
  • is in your heart already.

This makes me smile a little, because God recognizes that what God asks of us will be hard at times — but not so hard that we can’t do it.

Imagine a parent with an almost-toddler who is learning to walk: the parent’s wide-open encouraging smile, the “you can do it”s; the child’s drive to learn this new thing, to get to the enticing object, drawn towards those open arms (ready to catch them if they fall). That’s what I see here. God is smiling at us saying, “You can do it. It’s hard, but not too hard. It’s even something you already want to do. I will help you.”

What is the it? The command?

Oh nothing but “loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and committing yourself firmly to him” (Deut. 30:20).

I see the middle flowing out of the other two–loving and being committed to the Lord makes us want to obey him, puts the desire to obey him on our lips and in our hearts. Don’t forget: God’s grace covers all our failures of obedience. Many heroes of the faith committed 10 Commandment-level failures to obey, but their commitment to the Lord was firm, their love of the Lord sustained them. And God stayed in relationship (in covenant) with them.

This  passage doesn’t mention the Holy Spirit, but it’s also the Spirit’s job to tell us about the love of God, to put the desire to obey God on our lips and in our hearts. So we have an additional helper.

You have what you need to follow God.

So when you feel the complicating pressure of all those voices that tell you what you should do and how you should be, take a breath and remember:

What God wants

  • isn’t too hard for you.
  • is close at hand.
  • is on your lips already.
  • is in your heart already.

Let’s Read God’s First Book

two children lay out the nature treasures they collected
two children lay out the nature treasures they collected

It’s no secret that I love books and reading, but this post isn’t about objects with pages. It’s about reading what Barbara Brown Taylor calls, “God’s first book, the book of creation.”

I’ve long referred to creation as God’s original cathedral, as in, “Let’s skip church and worship in the original cathedral today,” when I take a walk instead of attending a service. But I like this First Book language, too.

In a talk I attended in 2020, Brown Taylor reminded us of Job 12:7-10,

“Just ask the animals, and they will teach you. Ask the birds of the sky, and they will tell you. Speak to the earth, and it will instruct you. Let the fish in the sea speak to you…. For the life of every living thing is in his hand, and the breath of every human being.”

And of Romans 1:20,

“For ever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky. Through everything God made, we can clearly see his invisible qualities.”

So we can learn about God from what God has made. She quoted Meister Eckhart, “Every creature is of God and full of God.” There are several benefits to connecting to God through what God has made. Brown Taylor called it, “re-enchanting the world for your children”:

  • It can enhance reverence for God.
  • It can help children not fear the world beyond their screens, possibly even not fear the dark as much.
  • It can help them develop love for all God’s creatures.
  • It can show them the unity of creation because so many natural systems are connected and support each other in so many ways.

We don’t need to engage in any formal study or even go outside to do this, although it’s certainly great to do so. Here are some activities:

1. Keep something growing indoors, and pay attention to what’s happening with it: blooming, growing, dying back. What can it teach us about thriving and resting and over- and under-feeding?

2. Notice the animals around you. Count whiskers or spots on a pet. Turn out the lights and use a flashlight to find your pet. Look out a window and consider the birds. Put up a bird feeder, squirrel feeder, bat house, and see what comes. What kind of insects make their way into your home? What do you read there?

3. Read a poem to a tree. The poem can be written by the children, or chosen by them. This one seems silly, but people can be surprisingly moved by it.

4. Tape a moon calendar to the fridge or bulletin board and make sure you notice what phase the moon is in. Make a practice of noticing the moon; praise the child who’s the first one to see the moon every time you go outside.

5. Sit in front of a fire together. She said, “fire is a great fascinator.” Candleflame can also work.

6. Turn over big stones and investigate what is revealed. Bring a plastic bag or a shoe box on walks or to the backyard so kids can gather things that interest them.

7. Teach children to recognize the call of one wild bird, and try to learn it in the wild, as opposed to on an app. Brown Taylor said, “Every bird has its own voice, just like we do.”

8. Keep a Nature Bin to store the treasures you find in creation. My nature bin has items I’ve kept since college, some my parents had collected when they were younger, as well as things my children and I have gathered over the last 20+ years. You don’t even need a bin! Friends of mine pile their collection on their porch steps, where it becomes a great conversation starter.

Nature table as part of Creation Season at Grace Church.
My church set up a nature offering table during Creation Season last year. It contains many items from my nature box, but also offerings that other people brought.

You don’t even have to make the spiritual connection for children. Brown Taylor says: “Trust the Spirit to speak. I trust the Spirit that erected the world to continue to create the world.”

I love that curiosity about the world can lead us to God. Shared curiosity can lead us closer to each other, too. My children are in their 20s, but they still bring me feathers they find in the wild because they know how much I love them. Re-enchant the world with each other while you read God’s first book!

What have you read in God’s first book?
How have you read it together with children?

 

** Barbara Brown Taylor’s talk was part of the Parenting Forward conference in 2020. It is available for $10 here:  https://www.parentingforwardconference.com/2020-sessions **

The ancient art of faith formation

Sanilac petroglyph

This summer I went camping in the The Thumb of Michigan, and yes, I did hold up my hand and point to the spot on my own thumb when telling people about it.

An image of the back of a left hand two arrows pointing to locations on the thumb.

The Thumb was beautiful and, unlike at west-side campgrounds, we could get a great spot only a month before we wanted to head out. I think we’re going to make it an annual thing.

But it also meant that we were only 30 minutes away from a place I’d wanted to visit since I learned about it in 2019: Sanilac Petroglyphs Historic State Park. This park is dedicated to educating visitors about and maintaining the stone carvings that were made by Native American people there between 1,500 and 300 years ago. The carvings are called Ezhibiigaadek Asin, “written on stone,” in the Anishinaabemowin language.So much history is told from such a small location. From how the petroglyphs were discovered: two fires devastated The Thumb in 1871 and 1881 and cleared the brush so people could see this rock again (the 1881 fire burned so hot and moved so fast that the technology didn’t exist that would allow people to outrun it so whole families jumped in their well to try to save themselves). To how Native American tribes used that land both to sustain their lives and to commemorate and  pass along their history and worldview.

The Anishinaabe (original people) used this Marshall sandstone outcropping by the Cass River as an important gathering place, a place to talk about who they were, where they came from, where they were going, and what their values were. An elder would gather the people, take a stick in hand, and deliver a teaching while tracing the figure being spoken of in the sacred rock. With each repetition, the figure was carved deeper into the sandstone.

The above figure is the archer, who shoots knowledge into the future for coming generations. The items around it are offerings of tobacco, copper, and feathers that contemporary Native American people have given in gratitude for these gifts their ancestors made for them.

A stone carving to aid in teaching about the Thunderbird at Sanilac Petroyglyphs State Park.If I remember correctly, this is the thunderbird with wings outstretched, creating thunder with each flap.

This figure has been subject to more erosion than others, so it’s no longer as clear. At the bottom right corner of this photo you see a round hole in the rock–vandalism. At some point, someone dug a figure out of the sandstone and removed it. Which is why there’s now a high locked fence surrounding the site.

There were stories the interpreter couldn’t tell us because we were a group of men and women, and some teachings were only for men and others only for women.

A line of indented circles in the Sanilac petroglyphs that runs perfectly north/south.

This line of circular indents was a mystery until someone used a compass and realized it was a perfect north-south line.

I felt so connected to those long-ago storytellers. For hundreds of Sunday mornings, I have knelt or sat in front of a group of children and talked about how God loves us with a never-ending, always-and-forever love; that God always wants to hear from us; that God is involved with our lives in mundane and amazing ways; that the life of faith is one of both comfort and challenge.
While I tell the stories, I move my hands over sand, manipulating wood and clay and felt figures as I tell a rotating group of 80ish stories. Over and over and over for the last 24 years. Carving them deeper into my own heart and life, while hoping to plant seeds in the children’s hearts and lives.

I can say the beginnings of many stories from memory:

The desert is a strange and wild place. During the day, it is burning hot. But at night it is freezing cold. The wind comes, and as it blows, it shapes and molds. The desert is never the same. So many important things happened in the desert that we have to have a small piece of it in our room.

Once there was a man who said such wonderful things and did such amazing things, that people began to follow him.

This is the season of Advent, the time we are all on the way to Bethlehem. But who will show us the way?

Words, images, repetition.

These have been the way people have done faith formation forever. This trip was a beautiful reminder of that.