A Year of Sabbaths (Week 44): Road Trip

(Image by Billy Frank Alexander, www.freeimages.com #1105898)

"Now I want you to know, beloved, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel."  Philippians 1:12

Sometimes the hardest thing about getting away is just getting away. Before you every roll on the Mother Road, there's laundry to pack and a car to load. House sitters that are also adept at chicken husbandry must be tracked down and maps and hotel reservations must be procured.  

Ahh! The thrills of the open road. Getting there is half the battle.

We spent my wife's birthday packing the suitcases for our annual trek to family camp. (Happy Birthday, honey!) We left the next morning after loading the van. (Okay...minivan. For the record, it was a rental. And I never thought I would say this about a minivan, but it was SWEET!) A full day of driving, a couple books on tape, a Thomas the Train video, and the romantic notion of the road trip had worn off to the point that we forgot it was also our anniversary!  (Happy Anniversary, honey!) We actually knew the date of our anniversary, but in the mad dash to get on the road, we lost track of the actual calendar day that we were actually on...if my memory serves me correctly, our anniversary dinner was spent with our three boys at Hardee's somewhere on the open road.

But it was good. With every mile, we were further from the worries of our humble home.

Getting ready for the road trip is a bit like the Christian life. It isn't always easy.  It isn't always comfortable.  For example, Paul was chained to a Roman soldier 24/7 and said not that it was comfortable, but that it "advanced" the Gospel.  It wasn't the Gospel, but it advanced it.  Sabbath isn't the sum of the Christian life, but it does serve to "advance" the Christian life. It moves us down the road.

Therefore, Sabbath doesn't need to be comfortable to be worthwhile.  Comfort is not the goal of Sabbath.  The goal of Sabbath is connectedness is...or "re-connectedness".  In Sabbath, we are reconnected to God. We are reconnected to one another. We are reconnected to us. And sometimes, just getting to the point of "reconnecting" is a lot of hard work.

But it is worth it and, by the way, we made it safely to family camp.  God moved. We were re-connected not because we were comfortable, but because we dared to get a little uncomfortable and get out on the open road.

Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.

A Year of Sabbaths (Week 43): Adventures in Eating

(Images from www.freeimages.com #106489 and #777607)

He has also set eternity in the human heart...

(Ecclesiastes 3:11) 

Maybe waffle and bacon sandwiches, in addition to being a tasty adventure in eating, can stop the exodus of faithful from the church.

You've probably heard the news: "Seventy percent of American adults identified themselves as Christian in 2014, a decline of five million adults and 8 percentage points since a similar survey in 2007." (www.nytimes.com)

It is a scary statistic for those of us that believe that the church is still the best way to be transformed by Jesus; the one true hope for life well-lived in the present and joy and peace for all nations in the future. There are many reasons that have been offered to explain the exodus: Christianity is too close to the political right. Christianity is too close to the political left. Christianity is not contemporary enough. Christianity is not traditional enough.  There's too much corruption. There's too much hypocrisy.

Nope. (If I may be so bold...)

I think that the real problem in our churches is the same problem that is facing organizations like Kiwanis and PEO; we are just too busy. Our families have children simultaneously involved in school, competitive swimming, youth group, and private violin lessons. Mom and Dad are both working, often more than one job, to support a lifestyle that allows children access to all the things that they need to do to get into the college of their choice plus the annual family trip to Disneyland and Vail...not to mention laundry and yard work.

Whew!

All of these things are good things, but with all the busyness it is hard to find time for church.  And then, if we make it into church, we discover that are churches are busy places as well. There's Sunday School for all ages.  Early worship. Late worship. Saturday worship. Vacation Bible School. Mission trips. Women's circles. Men's ministry. Choir practice. Bible study. And property committee.  All of these things are good things that keeps us, sometimes, from our one true hope.

The antidote to restless life syndrome is Sabbath.  And this is where adventures in eating come in.  I took a day off last week. Just me and the boys.  Man day.  It started with some wrestling before breakfast and then off to the library.  We spent some time reading and then had a dream lunch; frozen waffles-toasted and used as bread surrounding beautiful bacon and crisp lettuce.  Adventures in eating.  It was a delight to spend time with three wonderful boys who one day, I pray, will find time in their busy days to spend time with their children cooking up all kinds of adventures...and I hope, even with all the hypocrisy and politics, they will take them to church.

After all, there's an eternity in our hearts; a hunger to connect to one another and something bigger; something immortal...someONE. We can. It all starts with stopping.

Church stopping. Less doing. More being.

A Year of Sabbaths (Week 42): Couch Potato

(Photos from FreeImages.com. Couch #601228. Potato #827001)

Elijah was afraid and ran for his life. When he came to Beersheba in Judah, he left his servant there, while he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness. He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.”  Then he lay down under the bush and fell asleep.

All at once an angel touched him and said, “Get up and eat.” He looked around, and there by his head was some bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water. He ate and drank and then lay down again. (1 Kings 19:3-6)

It was Saturday...

Jennifer was recovering from three nights of cough-interrupted sleep.

Sam was recovering from a sleep-over where nobody slept.

Will was recovering from a stomach bug.

Isaac was happy, but missing his brothers who were in no mood to play.

I was exhausted. (See "Jennifer" and "Will" above.)

Over the last few weeks, I have been talking about the blessings of Sabbath-keeping for deepening family relationships, quickening our faith, restoring our dreams, and re-energizing our churches.  I have said that, "Stopping is just the start." But sometimes, stopping is precisely the point.

Sometimes, you have just "had enough" and what is needed most is an afternoon nap just veggin' out in front of the  TV.  No kayaking the category three run downtown. No ten-mile bike ride or even reading a good book.  No. Sometimes we feel a bit like Elijah, fleeing from Jezebel and now sitting under a broom brush, tired and hungry. It is hard to function at all. We need to be fed by an angel of the Lord, and then "lay down again."

Because sometimes life catches up with us. Sometimes life passes us by.  There is just no strength left. There's no gas in the tank.  We can't go any further.  We just need to stop and that is the point. Sometimes are highest calling is that of a reposing tuber.

I know that it sounds a bit self-serving.  However, we are no good to serve the ones that Jesus has called us to love if we are empty to start with.  After all, Jesus has asked us to die to ourselves, not kill ourselves.

So, beginning at 10:00 am Saturday morning and going to 10:00 AM to Sunday morning, nothing productive was done. Indeed, nothing much was done at all. We rested and were filled up.  It was so good.  It was just what we needed. Soon, Isaac had his brothers back. Jennifer and I felt like we had our breath back.  Sam and I napped. Isaac and Will played in the Lego Lounge. We ate simple meals and watched a movie together as a family.  I think everyone went to bed early.

God took care of us just as God took care of Elijah. All we needed to do was stop, eat, and lay down again and we were reminded that God is there, ready to catch us when we fall. Oh! It was glorious.

Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.

A Year of Sabbaths (Week 41): Descent into the Maelstrom

("Maelstrom" by Harry Clarke printed in "Tales of Mystery and Imagination" by Edgar Allen Poe)

"The barrel to which I was attached sunk very little farther than half the distance between the bottom of the gulf and the spot at which I leaped overboard, before a great change took place in the character of the whirlpool. The slope of the sides of the vast funnel became momently less and less steep. The gyrations of the whirl grew, gradually, less and less violent. By degrees, the froth and the rainbow disappeared, and the bottom of the gulf seemed slowly to uprise." (Edgar Allen Poe, Descent into the Maelstrom)

"Lord, if it is you, Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water." "Come," he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!" Immediately, Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" (Matthew 14:28-31)

Sometimes life happens. Sometimes, it happens all at once. 

It was a late night on Saturday, with an early morning Sunday and two people in our family feeling under the weather, unable to sleep.  We all woke up tired, but church was great and we went to a fun place for lunch.  The restaurant was at a small, rural airport and we watched several small planes come and go while we ate on the patio.  Later in the afternoon, we played basketball, practiced baseball, and watched a movie.  We had "Family Devo" (family devotionals) and called it a day.  

But the black clouds were brewing and deep seas were coming.

And suddenly, I felt, like Poe's character in Descent of the Maelstrom, slowly being swallowed by a sea of deadlines, dinner, sick children, baseball practice, laundry, a suddenly leaking water heater, overtime, and this stormy thing we call our life.  With the help of my wife, we can usually manage the squalls. We can usually make it to port. We can usually tweak our course here or tweak it there. We make a list. We roll up our sleeves.  We manage. Until, of course, the big storms come and just can't tweak it anymore. 

That's when we begin to sink.

There's just too much to do and not enough time to do it. We are stressed out and tossed and turned and find ourselves sinking like a stone. There are many others sailing in this stormy sea as well. Some are deeper than we are.  But there are others.  We know them as well...those that aren't sucked in. Their sails are unfurled and they seem to skip over the surface of the water. 

Which is puzzling. The same sea rages around them, too. The maelstrom yawns and whirls.  What keeps them dry?

I believe that the key is getting out of the boat and surrendering life lived by our own strength.  We need help. For Poe, it came in the observation that cylindrical objects stayed closest to the surface.  He lashed himself to a barrel and jumped off the deck of the boat.  For Peter, he realized that his only hope was to cast himself overboard and into the care of his Lord.

There are going to be moments when we feel like we are being swallowed up; when we feel that we are sinking amidst the storms of life.  In those moments, we must also remember that  there is nothing that we can do to save ourselves.  We can't keep from being swallowed up by the storm any more than we can walk on water.  And for a year of Sabbaths, we have been practicing crumpling up our lists and throwing ourselves out of the boat and into the arms of Jesus. Sabbath, by definition, is not only a cessation of our work, it is also a surrender of our lives. 

In those moments when life is overwhelming, let us be comforted - not that there are so many other people in the same boat - but that there is One person who comes walking on the water with outstretched hands telling us to get out of the boat. We will not be lost. Not today. Not ever. 

Church stopping. Less doing. More being. 

A Year of Sabbaths (Week 40): Cheese Balls and Prairie Chickens

"Come to me all who labor and are heavey laden, and I will give you rest." --Jesus

(Matthew 11:28)

It was nice, this weekend, because we had an extra day.  We didn't have to squeeze a Sabbath in.  It was handed to us on a silver platter.

It was perfect timing.

My wife and I felt like running away from the drafty and occasionally leaky house that often demands so much of our time and resources. Even the kids wanted to get out of the house after days of rain.  A road trip was beginning to take shape.

I did work Sunday night, but Monday, we were free and clear...there was basketball practice in the morning, but after that, we were free and clear. Partly sunny skies. Full tank of gas. Donuts and cheese balls and we were off on a heritage tour of our beautiful state of Kansas.

The first stop was the Prairie Chicken Capital of the World, Cassoday, Kansas. We didn't see any prairie chickens, but we did have our picture taken under the sign so we know that they are there.

Then, we boogied up Old Highway 177 through the heart of the Flint Hills, keeping our eyes out for turtles tanning on the tortuous tarmac.  Soon, we were swallowed up by deep grass and visited by images of a wide open spaces once shaken by the hooves of thousands of buffalo and elk and an occasional bear. We talked of plains Indians  and mastodons...and Kansas sharks that once swam the beautiful Kansas sea.  We even pulled over to a scenic overlook to peer at one of the last vestiges of the blue-stem prairie. The vast landscapes inspired us while the kaleidoscope of prairie flowers lured us to stop and look closely.  A group of cattle across the fence gawked curiously as we drunk deeply the quickly-moving air.

At least, my wife and I drunk deeply.

The kids weren't quite convinced.  And they were getting hungry and road weary and crowded.  We stopped at the next town, Cottonwood Falls. We stopped at a restored hotel and had a relaxing lunch.  The uprising of the minions was settled and we visited long and hard about our big plans for summer and beyond. We discovered some little houses that are available to rent to families as they explore the area.  "Another trip," my wife said, "and maybe we can stay a little longer." She was raised in the Flint Hills, and had stumbled on to some roots.

We walked up the street to the grand courthouse (But we didn't know that we could actually go higher up and deeper in! Another trip, when maybe we can stay a little longer) and then down the street to the falls. Somebody had landed a great big catfish.  Suddenly, I realized that I really needed to take these boys fishing more often. I needed to take myself fishing more often.

With full tummies and beautiful surroundings, we were off to the final stop; our destination; the Tall Grass Prairie Preserve.  It was quite awesome.  There are miles and miles of trails. Our minions made it two miles and we saw dragonflies, a rattlesnake, a lizard, and a great, white horse.  There was more to see, but it was time to go.  Little legs were failing fast and the rain was moving in.  Back down the trail and into the car, more tired than before...and more full.

As we drove back to town, the little people in back dozed off, one-by-one. It had been a great day.  When we arrived back in the city, we wrapped up the day with an organic burrito and settled in for the night, inspired by God's creation, closer to one another, reminded of our blessings, and no dishes to do! Even the old, drafty, and sometimes leaky house felt different like it sometimes does; like a castle full of treasure.

Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.

A Year of Sabbaths (Week 39): Dry

(Highway 50 in Nevada)

Answer me quickly, Lord;

my spirit fails.

Do not hide your face from me

or I will be like those who go down to the pit.

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,

for I have put my trust in you.

Show me the way I should go,

for to you I entrust my life.

(Psalm 143:7,8)

"He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there Hes is pleased even with their stumbles. Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys." (The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis)

Maybe it is starting to seem a little tiresome.  Maybe I'm just getting a little restless in my resting. I have been at it for thirty nine weeks for Pete's sake! Maybe I just thought I would be further along at this point.

Oh! I still believe that God can do great things when we stop. I still believe that the antidote to our culture's hyperactive lethargiosis is to stop and let God grow us deep.  I still believe in the value of the fourth commandment practiced over time because I believe that for all of our activity, programs, acts of service, and random acts of kindness, we Christians don't really know one another or the God we say that we love with all of heart, mind, soul, and strength.

I do believe in the value of Sabbath; personal Sabbath and church-wide Sabbath.  It has just been hard and not particularly life-giving. Not this last week.  I was in a bit of a funk.

For some reason, that came as a surprise.  I know it shouldn't have.  The mystics spoke of the "Dark Night of the Soul." The desert fathers spoke of, "Acedia."  The Psalm book is riddled with plaintive cries to the One who promised to lead us every day but sometimes seems far away. Spiritual dryness. Spiritual funkiness.

But the funkiness bends us forward and leads us upward, longing to be clothed again with the riches or God's power and love.  The dryness causes our ears strain to hear that distant drum of rain, that still small voice that reminds us of the way we should go, especially when every trace of Him seems to have vanished.

I've come this far.  So this week, I will continue pray funky prayers and fall into God's dessicated but life-giving Word.  I will go through the motions of superficial worship that used to dig deep into my soul. I will continue my half-hearted halting though I'd much rather put my pedal to the metal and get through this hellish Highway 50 in a hurry.

Where else will I go? Whom else will I serve?  Even in the desert, there is the mountain in the distance.  There is the Vast Empty that really isn't empty at all for I know, if I simply pull over occasionally and look and listen, there are lessons that God still wants me to hear.  I know that even when the beautiful things of faith have been removed from sight, God is still good and it is in Him that "I entrust my life."

Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.

A Year of Sabbaths (Week 38): Team Player

(Photo from www.freeimages.com #1087401)

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:36-40)

Jesus in this passage gives us a light in a dark place, a bright and shiny program, a new deal, a social-engineering experiment that would, if it were followed, change the world. It is sweeping in its scope. Exact in its detail.  In short, it is a game-changer, a colossal catalyst for child protection, race-relations, marital health, poverty alleviation and anything else, old or new, that the world can throw at us. 

It's love. 

More than a program or a policy, a platform or a ten-year plan, it is love, times three:

The Love of God.

The love of Neighbor.

The love of Self.

And as I look back on these  past thirty-eight weeks of Sabbath, I have grown in my love of God. I have a long way to go, but I'm learning to trust God more as I take a step back from life lived by my own strength.

I'm learning to love myself...rediscovering the self God intended me to be.  I'm far from perfect in this area, but I've taken time to go kayaking and do some writing. I have reconnected with some good friends and with our boys and it has been great.

But my nearest neighbor has been neglected. It isn't that we haven't spent time together. We have spent every day and tons of quality time together. Together, we are a formidable team. Together we are logistical contortionists. But together we are two ships passing in the night...my wife and I side by side and a high five out the door. In our Sabbaths, we have connected with the boys, connected with God, connected with friends, but we just haven't connected as husband and wife.

Love is fragile. We see it in Bethlehem's hay.

In fact, the last "date" we went on was a school fundraiser that ended up in our car hitting a telephone pole that had fallen into the street...long story.  I've dropped the ball. I used to be better. Candles. Romantic dinners. Maybe I've taken the strength of our relationship for granted.  Maybe I've let our relationship become largely functional because we are both highly functional.  But love is more than function, it's fun and it is the fun side of the island that I hope to rediscover...walks on the beach, quaint cantinas, and quiet strolls by the marina.  It will be tough. We live in Kansas, but I have a couple of days to plan.  And it will probably change the world.

Church stopping. Less doing. More being.