Reflections on Forty Days of Blogging

Reflections on Forty Days of Blogging

For Lent, I committed to write a blog, everyday, for forty days, plus Sundays.  I did it!  But, now Lent is over…

What now?

I don’t plan to continue blogging daily – I think we would all get a little sick of that.  Instead, I’m thinking that I will continue to post my sermons/messages every Sunday, and write a blog about once-a-week.  Possibly more, if something really excites me. (And, you know how excited I can get!)

Thanks to everyone who has been reading and sharing my blogs.  You have been very kind and encouraging, and affirming of my writing.

Now that Lent 20217 is finally over, I thought it might be appropriate to reflect on what I’ve learned from forty-plus days of writing…

  • It hasn’t been as hard as I thought it would be.  I wondered if I would be able to think of something to write about – every day!  Surprise, surprise – the preacher never ran out of things to say!
  • Blogging made me more observant.  Needing something to write about – every day – made me more observant of life.  My eyes and ears were more open and receptive than usual, as I was always looking for inspiration.  I hope that continues.
  • Everything is theological.  Though I wrote about silly things – ranging from my motorcycle to bonsai trees to the Bible – I found that there are countless ways to reflect on who God is and what God does.  God isn’t just found in Scripture or theology books or sermons.  God is everywhere, at work in everything.
  • Blogging is cathartic.  As an introvert, and a fairly private person – in a very public profession – I have a tendency to bottle up my thoughts and feelings.  It was surprisingly easy to be surprisingly honest in this medium.  And, helpful.  And, healthy.  Sorry if you found out more about me than you really wanted to know.
  • I love to write.  Who knew?
  • I can be really, really long-winded.  Again, who knew?
  • Blogging forces me to think and reflect more deeply.  Frankly, it is pretty easy to be shallow.  But, putting your thoughts, theology, opinions, and the like, out for public consumption, requires a bit more care and attention – a bit more depth.  “Is this true?  Is this worth sharing?  Am I being clear?  Can I say this better?”
  • I have a fixation with “-“s, I can’t keep my verb tenses straight, and I’m a terrible proof-reader.  Shouldn’t I have acquired a mastery of basic English grammar by now?
  • Stats are a trap!  When you blog, you have access to stats regarding how many people have read your blog, and from what countries, and what days you have had the most hits, and which blogs have been most liked and shared, etc.  I wrote my blog for me, just hoping it my be helpful or interesting to others.  I didn’t write for the purpose of gaining a following.  But, I was seduced into looking at my stats every day!  My vanity soared on “good” days, and self-esteem plummeted on “bad” days.  How ironic – my Lenten discipline was an opportunity for my pride and vanity to raise their ugly, demonic heads!
  • “Snarky” is not a word in common parlance.  Apparently, some of you weren’t too sure what I meant when I said I was being “snarky.”  According to Miriam-Webster, “snarky” means,  “crotchity, snappish, impertinent or irreverent in tone.”   Who?  Me?
  • Restoration is a process.  As my sermons, and many of my blogs, were focused on the theme of “Restoration,” I’ve been reflecting on my own need for restoration.  More than anything else, I found myself asking, “Do I really believe this?  Do I really believe that God restores – me?”  Yes – I believe it.  But, I am painfully aware that restoration is a process – a painfully slow process.  Thankfully, God is not done with me yet.  But, I wish he would pick up the pace!

Whelp.  That’s about all I can think of, for now.  I’m currently on the road, riding my motorcycle, alone, northward-bound on A1A, along the Atlantic coast.  I’m sure I may have some things to share when I complete my journey.

(And, yes, the bike is running great!)

The Sin of Being Passive

The Sin of Being Passive

I can easily be accused of being passive.  I don’t move quickly.  I take my time making decisions.  I tend to be quiet – taking in more than I express.  I don’t get very excited very often.  I prefer peace and calm.  I don’t show much variation of facial expression.  I can watch grass grow or paint dry, and be perfectly content.

But, I wouldn’t say that I am mentally passive.  In fact, my mind is so active that I have trouble shutting my thoughts down.  But, externally, I realize that’s a different story.

During Lent, I’ve been reflecting on that line from a familiar prayer of confession, “We have left undone those things which we ought to have done…”  We not only need to confess our sins of commission, but also our sins of omission – in other words, our sins of passivity.  While I may not be guilty of this or that particular action (though I likely am), I am very likely guilty of inaction.

It recently occurred to me that Adam was standing next to Eve – passively – while the snake tempted the two of them to eat the forbidden fruit.  Then Adam blamed God for making Eve.

When the angels told Lot’s family to leave Sodom, they dragged their feet.

When Dinah was raped (Genesis 34), her father, Jacob, did nothing.

Passive.

Isaiah 1:17 says, Learn to do right; seek justice.  Defend the oppressed.  Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.”

That’s action.  That’s what it means to God’s people.

But, by verse 23, Isaiah says that, our rulers are rebels, partners with thieves; they all love bribes and chase after gifts. They do not defend the cause of the fatherless; the widow’s case does not come before them.”  Their actions were evil – bribery, corruption, theft.  But, equally evil was their inaction – including the distinctive call to God’s people to love justice and do kindness – “they do not defend the cause of the fatherless; the widow’s case does not come before them.”

Archbishop Desmond Tutu writes, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse, and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”

Oppression is not only the result of sinful action.  Oppression is also the result of passive inaction – MY passive inaction.  YOUR passive inaction?

Though I read and speak and write about justice, acting on behalf of the oppressed and the marginalized is another matter.  I cannot – we cannot – passively watch the injustice in our communities and broader world, and do nothing.  We are called to be people of action – to be a hand of mercy and a voice of prophecy.  We are called to act.  To do less, is nothing less than sin.

I confess that sometimes my passivity is selfish – I just don’t want to do anything.

I confess that sometimes my passivity is selective blindness – if I don’t see it, it must not be happening (ostrich syndrome).

I confess that sometimes my passivity is rooted in busyness – I am so busy doing church work that I don’t have time to do Kingdom work (there is a difference).

I confess that sometimes my passivity is a result of cowardice – will I be criticized for this, and am I willing to pay the price?

I confess that sometimes I am passive because I don’t know what to do – ignorance becoming a convenient crutch.

In 1963, Dr. Martin Luther king wrote the following words from a Birmingham jail cell, largely to white passive pastors, who were discouraging his actions, “We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the vitriolic words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people. We must come to see that human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability. It comes through the tireless efforts and persistent work of men willing to be co-workers with God, and without this hard work time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, and forever realize that the time is always ripe to do right.”

“The time is always ripe to do what is right.”

This week, chemical weapons were deployed in Syria, Isis killed over 50 people in Syria and Iraq, and – as is true every other week – multitudes of people are suffering and dying in countless ways, while I passively do nothing.

Forgive me, Lord, for what I have left undone, and those things which I ought to have done. 

What will we do?  What will I do?

 

30 years ago, tonight…

30 years ago, tonight…

At 9:00 pm, 30 years ago, tonight, we were lowering the gate to the entrance of Champs Sporting Goods, at the Fashion Square Mall, in Orlando, where I worked (primarily selling athletic shoes – selling shoes has always been my back-up profession, in case ministry doesn’t work out).  As I was checking off the list of my “closing” duties – before I could leave – a cute, young college student, named Kelly McFarlane, walked up to the store window, meeting me to go on our first date.

She was really cute.

We left the Fashion Square parking lot and started our date about 9:30 pm.  Nowadays, I’m thinking of heading to bed by about 9:30 pm!  We stopped at Wendy’s to get her something to eat.  I had a cup of coffee, because I’d been out until about 5:00 am the night before.  Now I wake up, some days, around 5:00 am!

We went dancing, at an Orlando nightclub called Rosie O’Grady’s, where she somehow managed to sneak both of us in (YES! – SHE sneaked us in) – we were only 19 years old!  We talked, and laughed, and danced.  She claims I even sang to her while we danced.

On the way back to her dorm room, at the University of Central Florida, we stopped at a 24-hour restaurant, called Wags, for pie and coffee (we would spend a lot more late nights at Wags “studying” over the next three years).  I finally dropped her off sometime around 3:00 am, give or take.  I could mention kissing her goodnight, but I’ll save that for another time.

The next morning, I told my dad that I was going to marry Kelly McFarlane.  He laughed.  But, three and a half years later, on August 18, 1990, Kelly McFarlane became Kelly McFarlane Rains.

Thirty years later, I’m still very thankful for that first date.  Little did we know, thirty years ago, what the future held for us….

  • College graduations, and then graduate school for me – twice!
  • A wedding
  • Numerous jobs
  • Ministry
  • Homes in eight different cities
  • Two children
  • So many holidays, so many new traditions, and so many memories
  • Friends and family – including some that are no longer with us
  • Good times and hard times, poor times and less poor times, times of health and times of sickness
  • Lots of arguments and lots of making up
  • empty nesting
  • and, so much love

So, tonight, as I write this at nearly 10:00 pm (yawn), thirty years ago seems like such a long time.  I’m not the night owl that I used to be.  I’m not a lot of things I used to be – good and bad.  In fact, it is hard to imagine now how that guy thirty years ago turned into this guy, and how she has loved both, and a few versions in between.

I guessed she’s changed too.  But, she is still the one who captured my heart thirty years ago, the one who holds it now, and the one I plan to spend the next thirty years with – making many more memories, and sharing a lot more love.

Happy First Date Anniversary, Kelly McFarlane Rains!  I love you!

 

 

I was wrong…

I was wrong…

I’ve been wrong.  I’ve been wrong a lot.

My parents, my wife, my friends, my coworkers and my children can all confirm that I’ve been wrong.

I’ve made wrong decisions and wrong choices.

I’ve been on the wrong side of arguments.

I’ve been wrong about people – sometimes trusting people I shouldn’t, and sometimes not trusting people I should,

I’ve done wrong.

I’ve allowed myself to be influenced wrongly.

I’ve gone the wrong way.

I’ve given wrong advice.

I’ve had wrong reactions.

When I was in school, my grades indicated that I was wrong – a lot!

I’ve gotten tickets for driving the wrong speed.

I’ve heard things wrong and said the wrong thing.

When I was a teen, I didn’t believe in God.  I was wrong.

I can’t even tell you how often I’ve wondered, “What’s wrong with me?”

Sometimes, I know something is wrong.  I just don’t know what it is.

Yep – I’ve been wrong, a lot.  I guess that’s why Jesus talks so much about repentance – which, basically, means admitting you are wrong and turning toward what is right.

Brian McLaren writes, “Repentance means rethink – to reconsider your direction and consider a new one, to admit that you might be wrong, to give your life a second thought, to think about your thinking.”  

What have you been wrong about?