Lisa Colón DeLay

(Bloggers: Help the cause. Copy and paste this Story into your next post. Let me know, and I’ll drop by and field reply comments.)

(Ross is the one in the hat)

Storyless
-by Ross Gale

I have a friend whose mother tells a story of her as a child: when studying for a third grade test using flash cards, my friend strained to think about the answers. Sometimes her mother would have to say the answers out loud, but even then my friend didn’t seem to connect the dots. She’d keep thinking, the answer too far beyond her. Her mother laughs a bit and says, as a child she was a little stupid. This is the story my friend tells herself, that she is stupid.

When she was in junior high and missing school from an illness, she’d beg her mother to return her to class because she needed to get smarter. She loved school. She did not like being stupid.

She is in her twenties now and the stories her parents tell her influence her. She is an over-achiever in the sense that grades matter to her because they reflect who she is. She’s always trying to prove the story wrong, but she also seems to believe that she’ll never be able to prove it wrong. She’ll always be stupid.

The story my father tells me is about when I was three and he was sick in bed with the flu. Everyone was out of the house for the day so I stayed by my father’s side. I didn’t cry or fuss or ask for anything. I just stayed there because he needed me. My father says I have the biggest heart of anyone he knows. The story tells me something about myself. This is who I believe I am.

The stories parents tell their children about them are stories that shape their identity and purpose.

When Mary and Joseph take their son Jesus to Egypt, I imagine them telling him the stories surrounding his birth, the reason they weren’t living in Palestine, and what the angels had each pronounced to them. Before he knew who he was through Scripture, he knew who he was from his parents’ stories.

When a child is disabled like my brother KC, who had a traumatic brain injury at three, the stories my parents tell are stories about a different boy, they are stories about a boy without a disability who doesn’t have seizures, who can run and play sports, who can graduate high school, who can annunciate his words, and speak clearly. They tell stories about a boy with athletic prowess and a stubborn attitude.

An accident like KC’s, however, renders the stories meaningless. With an accident like KC’s he becomes a storyless boy. How do you shape the identity and purpose of a storyless child? This is the tragedy of tragedy; it robs the power of story.

We have a God who gives us this purpose and identity so even when our stories are harmful or meaningless or shameful or stolen, we can become a part of a new story. God’s story. A story of hope, redemption, and meaning.

Ross Gale is a writer and editor from Oregon. His work is featured in Burnside Writers Collective, Antler, Relief Journal, Archipelago, and he contributes to MagicalTeaching.com. He earned his Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from Seattle Pacific University. He blogs at rcgale.com where he’s editing the “Bereshit Bara Creativity Series” which asks 13 Creatives to wrestle with questions about what gives them the courage to create.

Until May 3 I’m literally putting my money down on my latest project. This giveaway gets the word out about the free resource Soul Care for Creators and Communicators Volume 1, and announces the rest of the upcoming Series.

Why did I write it?
If you create or communicate, you lose a little piece of yourself each time you put yourself out there. Your tank runs dry. These resources fill it back up with guidance and encouragement. We’re in this together!

Here’s a 90 second introduction video.

So, spread the good news about the new resources, will you? Have fun with this giveaway. You get a free volume, and you might even get a prize for joining in.

Yes. Prizes are nice. $50. Starbucks gift cards. Free ebooks (all 5 volumes)

Everyone wins the first volume, just by being a part of it. Thank you for playing.

Let’s Rock it!
Read more »

I’m a big fan of Brett McCracken, the author of Hipster Christianity (Baker, 2010). He is a regular blogger I read too, here.

Art, and specifically, film, have a unique way of introducing themes and truths, even those we’ve forgotten. Or it may re-intorducing ones we have forgot that we forgot. The Big Fish (Tim Burton) did this for me.

I haven’t seen the film The Tree of Life, from Terrence Malick, but my enthusiasm is now whet.

Like the narrative style of the Bible, story can bypass our protective–but growth inhibiting–cynicism, or shortcut our ineffectual preconceptions. Apparently, The Tree of Life may have this in spades.

Here’s the wooing The Tree of Life article done for RELEVANT magazine, by Brett McCracken.

And here’s a short Excerpt I really enjoyed:

Finding “Christ figures” and “redemptive themes” in the movies can be overdone and convoluted, but if ever there were films where it was appropriate and natural, it would be Malick’s films…The Tree of Life, for example, is one gigantic whistle-stop tour through existence, taking us from Genesis to Revelation, reflecting on the nature of God all along the way. As Roger Ebert says of Life: “It’s a form of a prayer.”

Trailer:

What is your most recent “favorite film,”
and why?

Maundy Thursday

Today, I’m tossing a lateral pass on writing. My friend, Doug has recreated the Last Supper in a short story form that is both potent, amusing, and contemporary, and thereby worth your read. I think you’ll like his take here:

Excerpt:
Jesus bolted from the dinner table – didn’t even say “May I be excused?” – stripped to his boxers and started washing everybody’s feet. Peter made a fuss, of course, but Jesus said, ….

“Maundy” is derived from the Latin word, “Holy” (set apart).
Do you celebrate “Maundy Thursday”…or remember the events of the the night of the Last Supper, or Christ’s action of taking the role of a slave and washing his students’ feet? Reflection on that today, for at least a few minutes.

Read today’s Scripture below:
AND if you’d like share your spiritual reflections here:

Jesus Washes the Disciples’ Feet

JOHN 13:1 Now nbefore othe Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that phis hour had come qto depart out of this world to the Father, rhaving loved shis own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.  2 During supper, when tthe devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon’s son, to betray him,  3 Jesus, knowing uthat the Father had given all things into his hands, and that vhe had come from God and wwas going back to God,  4 rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, xtied it around his waist.  5 Then he ypoured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him.  6 He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, do you wash my feet?”  7 zJesus answered him, “What I am doing ayou do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.”  8 bPeter said to him, “You shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered him, c“If I do not wash you, you have no share with me.”  9 Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!”  10 Jesus said to him, “The one who has bathed does not need to wash, dexcept for his feet,1but is completely clean. And eyou2 are clean, fbut not every one of you.”  11 gFor he knew who was to betray him; that was why he said, “Not all of you are clean.”

12 When he had washed their feet and hput on his outer garments and resumed his place, he said to them, i“Do you understand what I have done to you?  13 jYou call me kTeacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am.  14 If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, lyou also ought to wash one another’s feet.  15 For I have given you an example, mthat you also should do just as I have done to you.  16 Truly, truly, I say to you, na servant3 is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him.  17 If you know these things, oblessed are you if you do them.  18 pI am not speaking of all of you; I know qwhom I have chosen. Butrthe Scripture will be fulfilled,4 s‘He who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.’  19 tI am telling you this now, before it takes place, that when it does take place you may believe that I am he.  20 Truly, truly, I say to you, uwhoever receives the one I send receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me.”

Palm Sunday art

What of this Jesus, and his famous donkey ride?

It seems a bit strange, no?

What is called The Triumphal Entry is celebrated each year, on Palm Sunday, a week before the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ (most often called Easter, which a a variation of the name of a pagan god, but I digress.)

It’ll take you 45 seconds to read the short donkey ride story here: Matthew 21:1-9.

The crowds heading to Jerusalem for Passover feasting were caught up in the pandemonium of this celebrity sensation–a peasant healer from the boondocks, who had just raised a dead man, four days after he died (his friend Lazarus in the town of Bethany).

Hopes were high that this miracle-worker could liberate the Jews from their Roman oppressors. Some 250,000 lambs would be roasted, likely feeding more than 2 and a half million people during this festival. So, the throng was indeed enormous.

In virtual mob hysteria, hopeful Jews stripped nearby palm trees of their fronds, and threw their coats on the road to pave this unorganized and roisterous parade. A hundred years prior, war hero Simon Maccabaeus was welcomed in the same manner after his conquest over Syria. Now Jews  again shouted “Hosanna”, which means “save we pray”. They yelled out the call from Psalm 118:26–a song of deliverance, conquest, and rescue.

Several times previously, Jesus had escaped the momentum of enthralled crowds who hoped to make him their rebel king by sheer force of mob will. Desperation was in the air. They longed for rescue, but Jesus was not that kind of King. He rebuffed all attempts at typical authority, political prestige, religious posturing, or military command.  As he put it to Roman authorities, “My kingdom is not of this world.” He came mildly, to be a selected as our king of hearts, and to have victory over our sin and brokenness–reconciling us again to our Creator, a holy and good God.

Fulfilling a prophecy from Zechariah, hundreds of years earlier (Zechariah (9:9)), Jesus rode a plodding little colt of a donkey into the city. The colt was encouraged to continue by keeping its mother in the lead.

For Jews, the donkey was considered a conveyance for the noble classes, and ridden by Jewish priests or nobility. It was also a helpful metaphor to display the Prince of Peace–the true Savior. It drew a sharp contrast against the mood of the raucous Zealots.

This type of entry marked a vast difference from the Roman commanders who would ride in celebratory victory pageants atop their mighty war horses. Wagons full of pillaged gold and silver rode along with the procession through grand Roman archways. Musicians and carriers of fragrant incense would accompany the cavalcade. Captives and conquered enemy honchos were chained and paraded –all for vanity’s sake.

Many Jews hoped for the dream-Messiah of the military persuasion. That was the glory they wishes for.

Jesus was misunderstood in his entry. The mob would show its intrinsic fickleness when, just days later, in bitter disappointment, they would turn on their would-be Messiah, screaming “Crucify him! We have no king but Caesar!” to the local Roman governor, Pilate.

I have a spiritual challenge to give you this weekend. It is to respond in word and deed to this surprising action of God, in human form.

In Christian circles, this season is sometimes called, Holy Week. It has nothing to do with the week itself, but rather it refers to setting aside time to recount the stories and consider this Prince of Peace: his nature; his life and ministry to the needy, poor, and sick; his unjust execution; and the power of his Resurrection to life, witnessed by over 500 people.

Once confronted with this story that changed the world, each must ask, “Who is this Jesus?” and “How must I respond?” Are we willing to give our heart to this lowly yet almighty King, the Prince of Peace?

How will the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the Messiah change who you become? It is your saving grace.

Please share your thoughts, or Palm Sunday & Eastertide reflections.

mean dog

The following is a true story:

About five years ago, we had neighbors living on our south side. The mister of the family was a truck driver, and one day he found a strange dog at the rest stop and brought him home.

They told me, “Don’t let your children go near our dog, he bites.” The dog was red, fierce, and usually bristling or barking. They kept him in a pen in the back yard.

One day, I saw him playing in his pen. He was pouncing with his front paws on a squeaky toy about the size of a man’s shoe, and having the time of his life. He’d bite the toy, and it would squeak, then he would toss it in the air, and continue playing. I stared at him for a while.

Then, he threw the squeaky toy high in the air, it hit the ground…and ran. It ran squeaking. He pounced again, and started biting. It was a rat. A half-dead rat. Very shocking!

So, you tell, me, what would be a good moral of this story?

What is the strangest thing you’ve seen a pet play with?

toy rat

Potty mouth?

Cuss / noun
1 an annoying or stubborn person or animal : he was certainly an unsociable cuss. 2 another term for curse (sense 2).

Disclaimer: I’m not using a moral arguement against cussing, though you might expect I would, at a site with spiritual flavor like this one. While, many may say it’s a sin to cuss, I think what may be the truest thing is that the intention of using the vulgarity that is the real issue at stake. Nevertheless, I won’t go in that direction. My contentions are not nearly so deep or heartfelt. This is simple practicality and common sense at work:

Simply put: I don’t think foul language is powerful enough. I finding it lacking. Any great use of the stuff tips me off that I’m in the company of communication amateurs.

In truth, I’m not very offended by expletives. The shock wore off in high school. And high school–childhood–is about the only time a certain amount of cussing is, sort of, understandable. By nature, kids don’t know how to express themselves very well. Salty language makes rookie humans feel older and more formidable. It gives them a sense of power, as they flex their ” ‘I’m growing up’ muscles”. Yet, it’s the running myth that if something is bleeped on tv, it resides in the realm of “grown-up language”, and signifies something more heady and legit. In fact, expletives are quite banal.

I cuss quite rarely, and when I do it’s actually because I’m having trouble expressing myself. In some foolish desperation I concede to inferior “describing words”. So, really, cussing takes away from our points, rather than aids them.

Just for the sake of developing better communication, we needn’t use them. Maybe you enjoy tossing around a swear here or there. I don’t really care. But here are 7 points to remember on this topic:

7 Cussing Tip Offs

misnamed swear tin (for keeping fines)

1. Cussing quickly reveals one has a diminished vocabulary or the inability to use their vocabulary very well. (This can become a worsening habit also. Hence, it is sometimes combated with a Swear (fine) Bank.)

2. It displays a rather uncreative mind. (What could help? Simple: A thesaurus.)

3. If a cuss word can be used as an adjective, noun, and verb, it’s hackneyed, and by consequence, impotent. Let’s just say it’s, “lame” in a hobbling sense.

4. While cussing may somehow help one reveal emotions, or relieve stress, it doesn’t help one’s case. Quite the opposite. Logic is a better choice. Give it a try.

5. Foul language tells a bigger story about the person and his/her hang ups than it does about whatever the person is trying to convey. (It’s sort of sad, really.)

6. Cussing offends people for a myriad of reasons, but strangely enough, much use of it boils down to spotlighting simple bad manners and poor taste. Throughout history, “vulgar” language has some sort of reflection on social or economic status. [Ex: A mother says to her child who has been running around with the kids from "the other side of the tracks", "No, honey, we don't talk like that (or them)."] Most often people mentally associate foul language with an uncouth boorish social class, or uneducated and unrefined upbringing.

7. “Dirty words” are given meaning by a culture, not the other way around. What is the massively cussing person trying to prove, then? And why? [That's the bigger question.] Here, subtext trumps communication. so probably a #fail

What are your thoughts?

My favorite cuss quote:
“Are you cussing with me?” -Fantastic Mr. Fox

Francis Chan

We don’t just have upon us a crisis of faith, but also a crisis of faithfulness.

We’ve been reviewing Francis Chan’s book Crazy Love. I encourage everyone to read it. It’ll do you good. Also, it makes an interesting and thought-provoking small group study, or Sunday School class.

"Crazy Love" by Francis Chan

This last lesson was on Risk and Faith. Chan asked everyone to do something in their regular life that requires faith. He asked that we abandon the typical planning we do to minimize our risk. We should do something others could think of as silly, and allow ourselves to live and act in a more vulnerable way. We shouldn’t rely in our stuff to satisfy us. We should live bigger lives.

Along the same lines, Rolf Potts leads this sort of recommended simpler type of lifestyle. He calls it vagabonding. (I found out about Rolf through the Tim Ferriss site. Thank you, Tim.)For Potts, a travel writer, his style is not just a method of travel, but a way of life. It’s unlike the American way of life, because it does not trust in stuff.

I’ve wondered if it’s the case that in America we seem to act like “in god we trust” refers to the money itself, or the things we can buy with it.

We do a lot to feel safe. We buy insurance to minimize various kind of threats. We buy things we feel sure will help us, or at least soothe us. What is the lasting consequence of this approach? A false sense of control? Feathering our pillow of self-sufficiency? Other things…

Rolf Potts takes the theme of traveling light to a whole new level, as he now begins his No Baggage Challenge: Traveling to 12 countries in 6 weeks—With NO baggage (not even a man purse/satchel). [His blog details his travels, and his packing techniques are also quite useful.]

The journey of faith is the same way. When we seek out the comfortable, and we travel heavy, by preparing (mentally or physically) for every potential event, challenge, or threat–something important gets left behind. Perspective for one thing. But what else?

In the life of faith, “taking nothing for the journey” means that one must trust in God’s provision (and his way of providing), trust others, and build relationships. It’s not about what we’ve packed (prepared) for, it’s about the trip itself. It’s about being brave, and opening up to others, and the experience of not being weighted down (both literally and figuratively) by our presuppositions: What we think the trip should look like, and feel like.

You don’t like bumps, you say? Sorry, it’s bumpy. You just might have been insulating yourself. For some perspective… Think: padded cell.

The spiritual journey (journey of faith) is undertaken so optimal preparedness is removed as an option: It’s a method of living, not to be comfortable, but to survive, live, and eventually thrive, where you are, as you are. You come as you are. When the going gets tough–and it will–you stay. [The only thing you "plan on" is love and loyalty.] You work it out. You don’t let yourself have but that choice. You live has though you don’t have a chance/option to flee–like we are too often ready to do. We trust others, and God with abandon, despite the risks, or pain that may/will come.

Why? Because it is the surest way to growth, more rewarding experiences, and a sense of being in a Story bigger than yourself and your self interests. In spending ourselves, we gain our lives.

When we take a risk to help or love (without examining the our potential losses, and assessing all the personal risks) we live by and in faith, not by sight.

[Now, realize, I'm not talking about a life of folly, or veritable reckless behavior. I'm talking about being okay with discomfort, and sacrificing the known and manageable, for something greater at stake.]

What could that look like for you?
Please-Leave your ideas.

Maybe giving away the extra car to someone who needs it? Opening up your home for someone else to live in? Inviting a family to your home for supper once a week? Using a paycheck to buy someone groceries?

What kind of faith will you live by?

In this sense, a little pain goes a long way. Soon, our sights move away from ourselves in pursing selfless faithfulness.

AND-How light can you travel? (on vacation, etc.)

Comments, thoughts, and questions welcome.

The irony of the small door

I’m researching gatehouses and “doors within doors”. It’s fascinating! England was sure fortified back-in-the-day!

Do you see a metaphor when you see this visual?

What are your thoughts or perspective?

(This is no quiz; there are no right answers. Just looking for your take on this visual)

Update- p.m.

The visual/sense I got from this door image was unexpected. The metaphor was of the big door being too hefty to push open, but the small door–the less grand–the meager entry point is the truest way in. It’s the humble door, and going inside will require a blow to the pride, or be what some would considered undignified. For growth and progress, the small door is needed. We don’t have the strength for the huge one, but a way  is provided for us,–if we can get to the point of seeing it.

Life *seems* like a “show about you” b/c you are in every scene and every episode.

Deconstructing the “Show about You” -

By default our heads are filled with an odd and faulty knowledge/sense that Life is a Show about ourselves. Each person thinks he/she must be the center of the universe (think: reality lived out), until something, or someone interrupts this notion. Living outside this worldview takes practice, increased maturity, and concerted effort. Cultural norms and money makers do not encourage us to turn the channel from “The Show About Me”.

Sounds like a blanket statement, right? It sounds like I’m saying everyone is a dirty, rotten jerk, and that can’t possibly be true?

Okay, let me back it up and just start with a few questions:

Think about these 5 questions as you read them and answer truthfully (to yourself, or if you feel that sharing will help others, leave your results in the comment section).

1. When you wake up in the morning do you think about the upcoming events in your day, or focus on your feelings?

2. Do thoughts of your past, present, or future occupy your time in your day?

3. Do you endeavor to find pleasure and avoid pain?

4. Do you mentally weigh the personal benefit when making decisions and actions?

5. Do you long for people to think well of you, and you make decisions based on this factor?

Okay, maybe you skimmed those questions.

Maybe you don’t want to do a personal inventory. If you want to move on, and this is getting weird or uncomfortable, you’re headed for a rerun. I’ll get to that in a minute.

Before that happens, please, go back, for one more minute and read and consider the 5 questions. After you’re done,consider your results. If you answered “yes” or “sometimes” at all, you are fairly normal, and you are also living your life as the Main Star of your Show. You perceive reality as something that centers around, basically, _________. <—— (that’s a “say your name here” blank.)

So what? you say, doesn’t everyone? What’s the big deal?

Well, friends, it’s only a big deal if you want to feel unstuck….If watching the same re-runs of yourself meeting the same sorts of dead ends and disappoints, and having the same insatiable cravings, growing frustrations, and restricted and delayed growth wears on you, then yes, the deal is starting to head into a biggish area.

Seriously, re-runs are really what you get when the season’s over. No one is working anymore, and the networks hope more rehash won’t be too egregious and lame. After two or three times of the same stuff, we usually want something new, something better.

A whole other Reality is going on, and has been long before you, and will long after you. You may have been skimming on the surface of it, but you have to wake up and realize thoroughly that you are not the Star of the Show, and more importantly, it’s not your Show.

‘Ever seen the movie the Matrix? It’s like that, but with fewer people wearing sunglasses. …. oh never mind, The Matrix explanation is WAY too long and slippery. You’ll think you’re Neo, and we’ll be back where I started.

There’s a bit more to come:

In a few days, Part II of this reflection will get down deeper. Soon, I’ll also offer mental, spiritual, and emotional (maybe some concrete bits) ways many people have truly shifted their view to a more healthy one. We’re just getting the engine started on this vehicle to a new perspective. Let’s stick together–Meet back here soon.

Always feel free to leave your thoughts, experiences, or comments here. (Just after the tags below this post, it’ll say Leave a Comment. Not to be too obvious, and insult you, but….You click that.)

Or answer some questions:

Any guesses who the Star of the Show is?

What do you think Reality looks like with this different worldview/perspective?

And how would it be lived out? (examples, generalities, etc.)

1. You find yourself thinking up illnesses that would suffice for excuses for staying home. Sometimes you even invent names like Snufflititus or Schnozatigo: The serious redness and inflammation of the area beneath the nose from too much tissue rubbing. Rx Coffee, remote control, rest, snacks, and tissues with lotion built-in.

2. You suddenly realize how cool, smart, and savvy the early Sunday morning tv shows are, and feel like you might be getting a raw deal but missing them.

3. You feel deeply offended that your church doesn’t care too much that the coffee offered tastes something like armpit, and you start to identify this characteristic with an inherent spiritual problem of your congregation. (perhaps the misusing of the gift of hospitality) 

4. You start to pick apart the pastor’s sermon with a graph, and two columns of hatch marks on your church bulletin, adding up the times he is substituting a self-aggrandizing story instead of using a true parable to teach a point.

5. You find getting tapped for nursery duty a welcomed relief, because you won’t really have to talk to anybody, watch a worship performance you won’t enjoy, or try to not yawn an ungodly amount of times as you try to get through a sermon the pastor must have downloaded from somewhere late Saturday night.

Okay, this was a purposefully whacky list. If you can relate to any of these internal excuses, signs, or avoidance qualities, in some sort of way, then maybe the experience of attending church has grown stale.

It’s normal to have spiritual slumps. It can’t be wise to think of walking with God as a continual emotional high, and when it’s not experienced as such, something is horribly wrong. Like any journey, there will be hills and valleys. Faithfulness demonstrated as a choice done continually, (rather than a feeling-based action) can really see us through times like this. God is always with us, whether we “feel” him or not.

However, I’ll make a different point. There is also a tendency to fall into a consumer mindset, and feel like church-going is like shopping, and picking out something you like. We probably all do it, to an extent. Have you ever walked out of the service on Sunday thinking, “That wasn’t really what I was hoping for,”? Yep. Unmet expectations are common. But, it doesn’t have to wreck the whole bit of it.

Church doesn’t have to delight us every time, and soothe us. Most times it won’t feed us, not in the deep ways we crave. Those times are often found in community that can plumb to greater depths, and do the harder work, but build the stronger bonds that make genuine growth possible. (Think small groups, or spiritual directors, spiritual mentors, and discipleship situations.)

Church isn’t just some way to get recharged for your week, and be poured into. But, have you noticed how easy it is to slip into that bare minimum, and consumerist outlook of it? I have. I’ve been guilty of it way too much.

It’s not about just an experience, nor is it just meant for worshiping God with others. We worship God all the time, whether we do it poorly and unawares, or we tune in and give him our whole selves. We are his creation, our lives lived are a form of worship, like it or not.

Church-going, and the whole of the spiritual walk, are about applying the gospel to our lives in every circumstance and situation, the whole way through. God’s grace and love came down. He draws us to him. He restores. It seems we co-opt and yield to his mighty, gracious work to changing us radically, to be more like him.

Sometimes it just comes down to sucking it up. Sometimes it means you have to change, not your local church.

Have you ever been burned out on church, like I have, at one time or another? What helped you?

Leave any kinds of comments you’d like.