He is!

Frustrated?

Angry? 

Alone?

Consider this.

Remind Me, Lord

When I search for you 

In the breadth and depth of the ocean,

I forget You are the ocean.

When I search for you

On the mighty mountaintop,

I forget You are the mountain.

When I search for You

In the rolling clouds,

I forget You are the sky.

I forget You are

Everywhere––

around us,

through us.

I forget You are

Everywhen––

Then, now, forever.

Remind me, Lord.

When I forget,

I am blind.

When I forget,

I am deaf.

Blinded and deafened,

I deny.

Denying,

I drain.

Drained empty,

I need.

I need

Your filling. 

Fill me soul.

Fill my life.

May I not forget.

Remind me, Lord.

Religious Freedom: Feeding the Aardvark

"...love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law." – Galatians 5: 22-23

Let’s pretend you have a friend with a really weird sense of humor.

How weird?

For your birthday, he doesn’t give you a pair of gloves, tickets to see Justin Bieber, or even an NCIS sweatshirt. No, instead of something useful, he gives you an aardvark.

An aardvark! 

A living, breathing, slobbering aardvark.

Plopping a modified traveling kennel with a big red bow on top into your hands, your friend smiles and says, “Here. This is Alfie. Take care of him. You’ll love him. He already loves you. I can tell.”

Peeking inside the cage, you see a sub-Saharan burrowing animal with a snout and tongue the length of a garden hose. He's kind of cute, but not really.

You glance from the aardvark to your friend and ask, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Your friend hands you a three-page pamphlet entitled, “Fun with Aardvarks,” and says, “Whatever you want. By the way, he’s hungry.” 

He slaps you on the back, grins and leaves. He leaves you. On your own!

What do you do?

Realize however you act is a matter of religious freedom. Yours and the aardvark’s.

"Religious freedom?!? Are you nuts?" you ask.

The answer is yes, but bear with me. I just ate a salad and am feeling analogous today.

So it's you and the aardvark left in an apartment in downtown McKeesport, PA. He's kind of a cute animal, certainly not out to cause you any problems. 

You shrug and smile, thankful that your friend thought enough of you to grace you with a unique companion. Philosophically, you decide to get along with the animal, but there are obviously major hurdles to establishing a relationship. First of all, food.

On page two of the pamphlet, you find an article “Feeding the Aardvark,” where you find that the entire diet of your new roommate is ants, termites, and a form of cucumber found only in southern Africa. 

Your diet consists of Hamburger Helper, mac & cheese, and a inordinate amount of multi-frosted sugar cookies decorated by a three-year-old.

What to do?

You could feed the aardvark what you eat, but he wouldn’t like it. In fact, it would probably make him sick. You think you have problems with a healthy aardvark? Try living with one experiencing gastrointestinal disorder.

You could let yourself be so disgusted with the idea of eating ants that you silently reject your friend's gift, drive it to New Mexico, and abandon it on the highway outside Carlsbad, leaving it to its own devices.

Or you could let aardvarks be aardvarks, let him consume what he does, and learn to live with him.

Your choice. Your freedom.

Here's the moral of the story: Feeding the aardvark is a dilemma we humans face every day.

A friend (God) has left us in a world of humans of every shape, size, and habit imaginable. Like it or not, some of us are "dogs," some are "cats," and some are "aardvarks." (I'm not calling people dogs, cats, and aardvarks. It's a metaphor!)

We differ by looks, lifestyles, religions, and tastes, but we are all humans. So we have to make a choice in how to live with our fellow creatures. 

We could compel them to conform to our habits and beliefs with the distinct possibility that our efforts will prove counter-productive and harmful not just to the aardvark, but to ourselves as well.

We could refuse to have anything do with the aardvark, pretending he does not exist. We could simply ignore him and hope he goes away.

Or we could let aardvarks be aardvarks. After all we share the same planet. Rather than fighting about who's best or who's most deserving, we could accept our differences and learn to love the aardvark for who he is.

We could claim the first two alternatives as our religious right, but accepting either of these choices is to ignore the aardvark's rights.

This is not only unfair to the aardvark, but detrimental to us as well.

It is important to remember that to get along, even enjoy each other, we do not have to like ants and termites like the aardvark. The aardvark does not have to like Hamburger Helper or mac& cheese like we do. But maybe…just maybe…if the two of us can accept our differences,  we can learn to eat African cucumbers and the aardvark can learn to eat sprinkle-encrusted sugar cookies. 

This third alternative allows us to still be ourselves. It also allows the aardvark to be an aardvark. Everybody lives in harmony.

We’re happy. The aardvark is happy. Our friend is happy.

Religious freedom is a good thing when everybody is allowed to have it.

Prayer for NOW

On our recent trip to Phoenix, my wife and I encountered one of the most unique Christian ministries we have ever seen, that of Paisley Yankolovich. 

On a porch in downtown Glendale one January night, Paisley played an acoustic concert and took Christian music places we never imagined it could even exist. 

From the initial sound check, it was obvious this was not Michael W. Smith. This was not Chris Tomlin. This was...Paisley Yankolovich. A man in wig and lipstick sharing pain and anguish in words and music that redefined the word fringe.

Our initial response was nervous laughter, followed by gaping mouths and confused grimaces.

Then we listened. We listened and we heard. We heard what was really behind this man's method. We heard the message.

Wails and scrams that moments before cried "Radical," bitter words that stunned and unnerved, now spoke truth and love. 

And we knew. 

This was not some extremist hungry for attention. Yes, the clothes and the voice were still the same, but now amidst the shocking and frightening performance was the reality of the hope and beauty of the Cross. No longer a wild-eyed fanatic spewing venom, this man preached and taught the grace of God.

Meeting with Paisley after his concert, we learned the depth of his commitment to ministry. We learned that through one of the most painful times any person could endure, he remained steadfast in his faith. The show was more than show to him. He believed. And he lived what he believed.

In quiet conversation later in the week, we learned that the three of us shared the same priorities, if not the same methodologies. Paisley's dedication to sharing Christ with EVERYBODY, regardless of their past or present, their pain or position, reminded us what life's journey is truly all about: Loving others as Christ loved and commanded us to do.

Doing so may not be comfortable, it may not be easy, but it can be done.

Paisley showed us that.

This prayer resulted from our meeting:

Life is...

Change is a good thing because...

The Passionate Destination

When life feels pointless, some people believe, as the George Harrison song says, "If you don't know where you're going, any road will take you there." As we flounder through life, our destination is unfocused, the road unclear. Still, we look for clues, for hope in the nothingness. At these times, it's important to realize that the destination we seek is actually seeking us. When we grasp that, when we realize the seeker and the sought have the same goal, getting passionate about the journey is pretty easy. And pretty wonderful.

The Final Task

According to Jean-Paul Sartre, we only have one small job to take on: 

What do you think?