Disclaimer:  It's homecoming weekend at my Alma Mater, so this might be a little sappy, but written to our current students about the alum that will pour onto our campus, a community that understands the value and meaning of "coming home".

What do these rocks mean?

There’s a story in the Old Testament that takes place after the Israelites crossed the Jordan River.  Their crossing was the establishment of a nation as they took possession of a land.  It was a “marker” for them, one they didn’t want to forget. 

So being true to the storytellers they were, Joshua instructed one person from each tribe to collect a rock out of the Jordan.  They proceeded to build a monument that expressed the faithfulness of God.  He had been faithful and would be faithful.  It was a story they would tell to their children’s children, who would walk by that pile and ask, “What do these rocks mean?”  If you asked, you had to sit down. This wasn’t a short story, but a good one. 

In a sense, we do the same thing.  Over the years, there have been a lot of rocks collected and stacked together around this place called Olivet Nazarene University.  If you listen carefully, you will hear the stories.  They will literally be coming out of the walls this weekend as hundreds of alumni and friends return to this place, a marker for many. A rock, if I may.

What do these stones mean?  Well, if you ask someone that question, you will need to sit down.  The answer might not be short, but it will be good. And they will be glad to tell you.

For me, this one represents a decision, made in a chapel, that changed my life.  This one, the time we met each other and became lifelong friends.  This one, the place we lived and ate together.  This one, the times we complained about chapel, the food and the dress code. 

This is also where we received our degrees, met our spouses, made lifelong friends, won an intramural shirt, went to the Orpheus Variety Show and “Messiah,” participated in Ollies Follies. These are our rocks, the ones we have piled to make our monuments.  These are the stories that we come back to tell over and over again.   

Grandparents and parents will come to campus with their grandkids and children.  The kids will ask them who that was and why they cried when they hugged.  They’ll ask where we played varsity sports if McHie and Snowbarger Park weren’t here.  They’ll want to hear about the first swimming pool.  They’ll want to know where we practiced our instruments if Larsen wasn’t around. They won’t believe us when we say we had chapel in Chalfant.  These are our stories that make Olivet what it is. 

This place is special.  You don’t realize it while you’re here, but you see it when you look back at what this place has done for you.  So, what you do, in a sense, is building your own pile of rocks. One day, your family will come back with you and ask, “What do these stones mean?”  And the memories will start all over again. 

Ask someone a question this weekend.  Take advantage of the 110-year history of this place and the alums who come back because they love it. 

If you do ask, you might as well take a seat. Their answers won’t be short, but their answers will be good.

Joshua 4:1–9

Blank Pieces of Paper

I’m sitting in my office.  Its 8:50 am on a beautiful Friday morning and I’m staring at a blank piece of paper.  This Friday is like most.  Not much changes from week to week.  I come to the campus I work at, eat breakfast, then sit and write my weekly blog.  Some weeks are easier than others.  This week, not so easy.

You have all experienced it.  You have to write a paper and you just can’t get started.  The clock is ticking toward the deadline and you have nothing.  It’s not like you haven’t been listening.  You’ve read all the material, done the research, but as you start to write, nothing is happening.  They call it writers block.  Call it what you want, but that doesn’t help with the problem as I continue to stare at a blank piece of paper.

If you ask someone who has experienced this before, most of them say the same thing.  The best way to get through it, to fill that big, white, blank space that you are staring at, is to simply start writing.  Start writing and see what happens.  But that isn’t working.

So I took a break from writing to get a cup of coffee.  The first thing I noticed was a couple of students lounging on the grass outside of my office.  One taking a nap the other working on a laptop.  I walked down the stairs, and saw students eating breakfast with their friends in the cafeteria.  We had guests on campus visits being given tours by our admissions ambassadors. 

I walked into Common Grounds, our campus coffee shop, and as happens often I found myself in a conversation with others standing in line, and met Thomas.  He had a Hillsdale shirt on, and I asked him if that was from Hillsdale, MI.  He said yes, and from there we had a moment.  I lived in Hillsdale when I was in 1^st-4^th grades.  That was way before his time, but we discovered that we both attended Bailey Elementary and consider ourselves “Hillsdale Hornets for life”!  Thanks for wearing that shirt Thomas. 

These experiences made me wonder if that’s the danger as I continue to stare at this blank piece of paper.  What could I be missing right now?  If I hadn’t gotten that cup of coffee when I did, Thomas wouldn’t have been in Common Grounds.  We wouldn’t have talked about Hillsdale, Bailey Elementary, and my experiences from a long time ago.  Because he was and I paid attention to the writing on his t-shirt, I have a new friend who shares a love for a place called Hillsdale.  And, this experience helped to fill up a blank piece of paper.

If you had a blank piece of paper sitting in front of you, what would you write?  You do, you know?  It’s what our lives are, blank pieces of paper.  We can choose to fill ours any way we want.  Some we plan, like Friday morning breakfast and an appointment with my desktop; while others  happen as we walk through our day, drinking coffee, reading t-shirts. 

It’s about the lives we choose to live and the ways we choose to live them.  So, what story will we write with our black piece of paper today?

I wrote this one year ago this week, and wanted to share it again.  I'll post another one, but hope this one encourages, as well.  Grace and peace.

Bad is Real

I’ve had a bad week.  There, I said it.  Did I just see you squirm?  I didn’t say it to make anyone feel uncomfortable.  I didn’t say it to make anyone feel sorry for me, I’m a big boy.  I don’t need a phone call, seriously.  I’m not looking for an ‘atta boy.  I’ve just had a bad week.  But I’m not alone.

I had someone in my office this week weeping over the pain another student is experiencing; I cried with them.  One of my friends attempting to deal with things that are completely out of their control made this statement:  “God is good, I just have to believe that”.   As they shared that with me, I cried with them too.  I saw one of you sitting in the chapel yesterday, with tears in your eyes, and asked if everything was okay.  They responded saying they had better weeks.  I asked if they wanted to talk or be left alone, after saying left alone I honored their wishes, shedding a tear for my hurting friend as I walked away.  Another of my friends was moved to tears, questioning whether they conveyed the sensitivity appropriate for a situation they were in realizing what was done couldn’t be redone; yep, cried with them too.  Guess I’m not the only one, am I?

I’ve questioned my emotional response to what I consider a bad week.  I even asked my wife last night if I’m just too sensitive, or even too soft.  As she always does, she lovingly and gracefully helped me see the truth; so here it is.  I’m glad I am here, nowhere else I’d rather be than doing life with you, honest.  But there are some things I will never understand, and some worlds I can’t live in or change.  I’m making some of you nervous, being too honest, huh? 

Here’s the truth that we heard from a speaker and a song this week; bad is real and sometimes life hurts.  Bad stuff happens to good people all the time.  Life is no respecter of person.  But as we also heard from a speaker, a friend, and a song this week; God is good.  God is in the middle of all that is good and bad, no respecter of person.  And for me, that changes everything.

He could handle Kristian’s honesty, and he can handle mine.  He sees the tears of a freshman nursing major, weeping with her this week as she says good-bye to her brother.  He sees my friend sitting at her desk today, still mourning the loss of her spouse.  He knows the issues you are navigating, wondering how in the world you will tell the people you love most.  Listen to me, this is real stuff, stuff we haven’t asked for or caused or deserve, and there are times real stuff hurts.  I want to allow God and my world to be big enough to acknowledge the times I feel alone, abandoned, in pain, full of sorrow.  If I can’t express these to God, then neither can I express my praise and thanksgiving.  He is big enough for both, if we will let him be.

Check out Jesus himself, the one in whose way we seek to live.  I don’t think Jesus’ words on the cross were empty when he was seeking God in the midst of death, asking where he was, even why he had forsaken or abandoned him in that moment.  I don’t believe God abandoned him, but he felt like He had.  Bet that was a bad day too.  Ever been there, maybe this week?  We’re in good company.

So I’ve had a bad week, thanks be to God.  I’m really sorry for those that don’t get it, because I’ve realized once again that God isn’t just in the good, but is right in the middle of all that’s bad too.  And we all know, bad is real.

Little is Big

We are all challenged to think about our lives and what we are choosing to do with them.  Too often the decisions we face become overwhelming.  They can look big, loom so large that we can become paralyzed.  Thinking down the road too often means we miss today and what is right in front of us.

Kenton Lee has a working definition of practical compassion that I love, saying it isn’t doing big things, but doing small things that can have a big impact.  What he is saying is as important as doing big things is, the simple, small, every day are what make big things possible.

The story of the feeding of the five thousand didn’t start with a large smorgasbord, but rather a couple loaves of bread and a few fish.  The healing of the paralytic was made possible because four friends decided a large crowd wouldn’t stop them, and they dug a hole in a roof.  Peter walked on the water because, well, he stepped out of the boat.  It’s because Jesus was approached by a little boy, a man who couldn’t walk had good friends, and Peter knew how to walk that we have three amazing stories.  The little thing, making the big thing, possible.

It’s something I want you to think about today.  In the midst of the Harvey Weinstein’s of the world, of which there are too many:

The way men treat women, matters.

Holding the door open, matters.

Turning the lights off in your room when you leave, matters.

Having a conversation with someone who doesn’t look like you, matters.

Buying them a cup of coffee, matters.

Drinking from a Nalgene bottle instead of a plastic one, matters.

Saying thank you, matters.

Not looking at porn, matters.

Going on an MIA trip, matters.

Taking only what you will eat from the lunch line, matters.

Looking someone in the eyes saying hi when you walk by them on campus, matters.

Turning off your A/C when it’s 15 degrees outside, matters.

Hugging a Washington Nationals fan today, matters.

Offering grace to someone who doesn’t think like you, matters.

Asking good questions, matters.

Exchanging names, matters.

A good laugh with a friend, matters.

A good cry with a friend, matters.

A good laugh with a stranger, matters.

Was there anything you or I couldn’t do on this list?  Never underestimate your ability to make someone’s day; the rippling affects your decisions have on those around you; the ways you can influence others as they watch what you do - the little things:  every minute, every day, every week as we do life together.  The truth is, there is no little things.  Little is big. 

Matthew 9:1-8; Matthew 14:13-21; Matthew 14:22-33

If One Member Suffers. . .

In 1 Corinthians Paul is teaching the church what it means to live together, redefining what community will look like in this new thing called the body of Christ.  It’s in the middle of his description of what that means the drops a challenge:

“If one member suffers, all suffer together with it;

if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it.”

1 Corinthians 12:26 NRSV

We read over this too quickly.  This wasn’t their reality, far from it; read the rest of the letter.  The church in the bustling metropolis of Corinth was anything but unified, caring, but it was the life they were invited in to.  It was the life shaped by the one they were seeking to follow.  The challenge for them was that they needed to realize it wasn’t okay for anyone to be left behind.  So, if you are suffering, you won’t be alone in your suffering.  We will not forget you.  We will be with you in the good and not-so-good.

It was challenging who they were, and just as it was a challenge for them, we are given the same challenge.  Whether someone is suffering or honored, we are invited into their suffering and rejoicing.  It’s what community is, how it is defined.  It’s what it means to be our brother’s keeper.  It’s the call to love others as Christ has loved us. 

When God gets ahold of your heart, you can’t help but care.  When you begin to care, you begin to realize how similar we all are.  When you realize how similar we are, you begin to suffer with those who suffer, and rejoice with those who are honored; because when they are suffering, so are we, and when they are rejoicing, we are doing that too.  Our theme for this semester is Cultivate, but we almost named it Give a Care, thinking maybe the greatest challenge for us is whether we choose to care.

It’s not just an issue of whether you care about creation, water, hunger, or trafficking.  It’s an issue of love, and whether you care about your neighbor.  Our world is broken and will never be fully restored until God makes all things new.  But it is our ethic, our Christian ethic defined and shaped by love that compels to love in ways that cause us to care about creation, water, hunger, and trafficking.  Because when we care about these, we are caring about each other.  And that is at the heart of our creator, and why Paul wrote:  “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it.” 

Becoming Good Neighbors

There’s a story in Genesis that takes place after the fall.  Everything has changed.  What was given to man in the garden had been broken.  It would affect everything from birth, work, and creation, to our relationships with God and each other.

                                                                                                                                      

In Genesis chapter 4 we see where this downward spiral takes us.  I often say that humanity left to itself is capable of terrible things, and we see that in the story of Cain and Abel.  The issues with jealousy, envy, and shame deepen in ways that are horrifying, beginning with Adam and Eve passed on their sons.  This story is the first recorded murder in scripture.  It is followed with this odd question from Cain when confronted by God, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

It’s a question as old as humanity itself.  The hope in this is that it continues to give evidence of the ways God seeks us out.  Cain has just murdered Abel, and God initiates the conversation just like he did when his parents sinned.  He is the one initiating restoration, not us.  He doesn’t want us to live in brokenness and shame, but longs for everything to be made right. 

When Cain asks God his question, it isn’t answered directly, but instead with another set of curses.  These curses are the consequences to his sin, just like the ones his parents received for theirs, and have clung to us ever since.  It shouldn’t surprise us that the first murderer would have difficulty getting along with others.  But we can’t escape the question.  This question he is at the heart of the issue that continues to be asked of us affecting every relationship we have - Are we our brother’s keepers?  In case we aren’t certain what the answer to that is, Jesus makes it clear for us saying the greatest commandment is to “Love God and love others, all the laws and prophets hang on these two commands.” 

Love God and love others, being good neighbors.  At the heart of this is how we answer the question; will we become good or better neighbors with each other?  What does it mean for me to be your keeper?  To have your back?  What does it mean for me to be a good neighbor for you? 

Tending to the things around us, including each other, is ultimately about our willingness to be good neighbors.  Caring about the hungry and thirsty in our world is seeking to become good and better neighbors.  Caring about trafficking and the industries that support it is about becoming good and better neighbors.  Longing to help those in Houston, Florida, Mexico City, Puerto Rico, and the Caribbean is about becoming good and better neighbors.

Are we seeking ways to become better neighbors?  This question didn’t start with Mr. Rogers, but maybe he was reminding us of the age-old question when he asked and sang: “Will you be my neighbor?”  Well?  Will you?

One Foot in Front of the Other

We all learn to walk in the same way, putting one foot in front of the other, but learning to walk doesn’t begin with walking. 

I have a 9^th month old granddaughter who is in the stages of learning to walk.  It started with her innocently lying on her back, kicking her legs in the air.  Moving to her stomach she did what is commonly called the “airplane”.  She didn’t know it, but she was strengthening her back and abs for what was next.  We could still leave the room and when we returned, know she would be in the same spot, same position. 

But as her strength increased, that changed.  She started rolling over, moving from stomach to back, eventually learning that if she rolled from her back to stomach she could roll all over the house.  Not only was this a new skill, but she had been developing new muscles making the next step to walking possible.  We watched as she progressed – scooting, sitting up on her hands and knees, crawling, pulling herself up on the couch, walking around the couch, and soon she will be flying solo no longer dependent on an object to help her maintain balance.  As brilliant as all my grandkids are, I’ve yet to have one of them go from birth to walking, they’ve all learned to walk in similar ways, developing ability, muscles, and balance, eventually putting one foot in front of the other.

I think our faith life is similar.  In our learning to walk spiritually we are developing and using muscles, spiritual ones, we may never have used before.  As we develop these “muscles”, the habits and practices we take on enable us to deepen our faith and relationship with God.  We move from scooting to crawling to eventually walking.  For those of us seeking to live in the way of Jesus, we are all at different stages in our spiritual journey, but we are all on one.  Some are in the “airplane” stage of spiritual formation while others are walking.  God’s desire for us is that we all learn to walk. 

Some have grown up in the church and have the benefit of hearing a very clear message. For others the message at times sounds like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon.  Knowing that means we extend grace to each other in the same way it has been extended to us.  No one learns to walk all at once, it takes time.

So whether we’re in airplane, rolling around, or crawling stage, God doesn’t want us to stay where we are, but desires for to “grow up in the faith”.  And there’s always something more for us to move on to.  We recognize there is something wrong when a 7-year-old chooses to lie on their back kicking their legs in the air.  Too often we choose crawling when we should be walking.  This bears repeating:  God doesn’t want any of us to stay where we are. 

How do we learn to walk?  We do it by responding to what’s right in front of us.  We don’t look at what someone else might be doing or how they may or may not be responding, but by listening to the ways God is speaking to us.  By seeking counsel and wisdom from others who are further in their journey than we are.  By being obedient to what we feel God is saying to us right now.  That’s what it means to learn how to walk, by putting one foot in front of the other. 

7 Generations, 7 Grandkids

When I was a youth pastor we would go away for retreats or camps, and we had a philosophy that we left the buildings and grounds which we had “used” over the week or weekend in better shape than we found them.  We collected and emptied trash.  We cleaned up the kitchen.  We made sure the beds were in the same or better condition than when we had arrived.  We vacuumed, and scoured the places that had been entrusted to us.  If we used the fireplace, we cleaned it.  If we found trash, we picked it up.  We had paid to use the facilities, but that didn’t mean they were ours to abuse.  They had staff that was paid to clean when we left, but we wanted to make their job as easy as possible. 

We can’t help but consume.  We use things.  We hope the ways we use the resources around us create livable, sustainable environments.  But we consume in a variety of ways; some leave things around us in better shape than when we find them, others not so much. 

I’m not sure I was smart enough to know that as we cleaned up a retreat center or camp.  I honestly might have been more concerned about our reputation and what they thought of me as a youth pastor as we were scrubbing their floors, but I think we all learned a valuable lesson.

We are responsible for what we do.  We are responsible for what we use and how we use it, resources and people.  We are responsible for what we create.  We are responsible for what we leave behind, and more than our reputations are on the line.  We are responsible for the ways we consume and how we cultivate our lives.  What we leave behind not only says something about us but also how we feel about those who come after us. 

Tony Kriz talked with us this week about the idea of “7 generations”.  As I watched that video, I thought about my 7 grandkids, wondering about the life they would have when they are my age, or yours.  Is what I’m doing now creating a meaningful heritage for them?  Is the way we’re living helping to create a better world for them?  What does a “better world” mean?  Is that just a first world issue?  Is it a first world question?  I don’t think so.  What we do and how we do it matters, and not just for us.

I want the way I live to foster a desire in them to live in the way of Jesus, to tend to the things Jesus would tend to; to love people the way Jesus loved people; to have their hearts broken by the things that break the heart of God; to live alongside the forgotten, broken, marginalized, poor, weak, handicapped, bruised, beaten, and helpless; the people Jesus lived alongside.  I want them to care about their world, both the people in it and the resources entrusted to us, passed on to them. What is the story our lives are telling about us?  Is that the story we want to tell?

My prayer for us as we journey together is we listen to what our lives are saying not only about us, but about those who will live in the world we are leaving behind.