In N Out - that is what California is all about!

When I was walking the Camino de Santiago we would often sit around in groups at the end of the day having a glass of wine and getting to know one another, especially early on.  We would ask simple questions like where are you from, or why are you walking the Camino.  If there were other Americans, from other parts of the country, in the group as soon as I mentioned I was from California one thing would come up, “In N Out Burger”.

Despite the fact we have miles of beaches, wonderful National Parks, landmarks like Hollywood and the Golden Gate Bridge, what most people who have visited California from other parts of the Untied States talk about and long to return to when they come back to California is “In N Out Burgers”.

It is hard to blame them.  This hamburger joint, which was established in 1948, uses only fresh ingredients (even cutting their own fries as needed), makes every hamburger to order and simply tastes great.   There menu is simple, because they simply know what they do well and they stick to that.  What is not to like?

I know people for whom, when they travel to California, the first place they head after leaving the airport is to an In N Out.  While they are in California they will eat multiple meals there, and when they leave, they start talking about their next trip and their next Double Double.  Given this fact, it should not have surprised me how many other Americans found my access to In N Out Burger as the best part of my being from the great State of California.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are other hamburger stands and I imagine there are people who are just as loyal to them.  In fact, here in California, you will often see a row of fast food restaurants, often several hamburger joints, one right after another.  I imagine there are people who are loyal to all of them.  Others examples might be, “Five Guys Burger and Fries” or “The Habit”.   

There are differences between these establishments and there is room for honest debate.  For example, where as In N Out has a simple menu, Five Guys allows you to put just about anything on your burger.  Some think the creativity afforded by Five Guys makes it a better hamburger place. 

My wife, for example, likes a Five Guys hamburger with cheese, A1 Sauce, and grilled mushrooms,   You cannot get this at In N Out.  If you asked for it the guy, in the white shirt and red apron with the big safety pin holding it up, behind the counter at In N Out would probably say something like,” I am sorry we do not have A1 Sauce or grilled mushrooms.  If you had your heart set on A1 and mushrooms, this would be a disappointment for sure.  You might even counter, “Well that is how I like my hamburger and that is what I want, couldn’t you make an exception?” 

At In N Out the answer would be, No.

Maybe you are persistent and go back and forth for a few minutes and a line begins to form because it is taking too long to place your order.  Eventually, the man behind the counter might, in the kindest way possible (because that is the kind of people In N Out hires) suggest you head over to Five Guys, because that is the kind of burger they make. 

You might be unhappy about this, but you have to admit it seems fair.  It is a hamburger stand for heaven sakes and here in America, especially in California, we have lots of choices when it comes to hamburger stands.  If you do not like the burgers one place serves you simply go to another which suits your taste.

You simply do not see this in Europe.  Maybe this is why the Europeans seem to think the enthusiasm for In N Out Burger is a bit overdone.   If you come across a burger place in a city in Spain, and you really want a hamburger, you had better stop and eat, because it is likely you will not find another soon.

The experience of the scarcity of these kinds of restaurants in Europe, now that I am back at home, has caused me to notice here in America our fast food restaurants are built in clusters.  You will find two or three on a major corner or several of them in a row on a street.  This is purposeful.  Social scientists have theorized if you place a variety of choices in a central place, people will be willing to drive there to do business.  In this case, each restaurant will likely have more business, even though they are next door to their competitor, because more people are willing to drive to and frequent the area.

While noticing this, I have noticed something else; our churches are built the same way.  You will often find two or three on a major corner, and I know of several streets near me where there are four or five churches in a row.  It is almost as if our churches have recognized the marking strategy of the restaurant industry and decided to employ it when choosing a place to locate their buildings.  I guess the thinking is, you are more likely to drive to church if there are lots of churches in the area.

Unfortunately, churches have not stopped there.  Many have also adopted the attitude of the guy behind the counter who says, “Sorry we do not make it that way here, maybe you need to go to another restaurant.”  This is perfectly legitimate for someone who is making hamburgers, a place where they produce a product for you to consume.  This, however, is not the purpose or function of the church.

The church is described in scripture as a body or a family.  Both are images of interdependent systems which do not function as effectively, or at all, if you start removing their parts.  In fact, when talking about these images the Bible speaks of the stronger members of the community serving, sacrificing, and even giving up their freedom for the sake of the weaker brothers.  It speaks of those members of the body which seem to be weaker as being necessary and those parts of the body we deem as less honorable are being given more abundant honor.  

These are not descriptions of places where products are created to be consumed, but communities in which people are valued, grown and matured. The Bible, it seems, has made no provision to say to your brother, if you do not like it there is another church down the road you might want to try. 

It must grieve the heart of God that we build our churches and pattern our behavior after the hamburger stands which surround us.  The Church is not an organization dedicated to meeting a market demand.  We are a people, set apart by God, which has been charged with making his Kingdom known.  This community is to operate on a completely different economy than the world which surrounds it.   We are to live up to the high and noble calling which we have been given, not employ the strategies and practices of our favorite fast food chain.

The Apostle Paul puts it this way in Ephesians 4: “I implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as also you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all who is over all and through all and in all.”

Again in Colossians 3 he says: "So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience; bearing with one another, and forgiving each other, whoever has a complaint against anyone; just as the Lord forgave you, so also should you. Beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body; and be thankful."

It seems it is in unity and love, not in diversity of choice, that we live into our calling and manifest the Kingdom of God.  I wonder what the result would be if this is what we called people to, rather than presenting them with the choice of simply going on the next hamburger stand, I mean church, down the road.

Hats off to You!

Friday night, my wife and I went to the volunteer appreciation dinner for an organization call Pathways.  It is a group which is dedicated to providing service to the terminally ill and compassionate support to grieving families. My wife has been serving with them for the better part of a year.  Because of the nature of the support you offer as a volunteer, you do not necessarily see the others who also serve.  This was the first time she saw so many of her fellow workers in one place.

It was a nice evening.  They had a local dance group entertain us.  They served dinner, recognized each volunteer, gave away small tokens of appreciation, and recognized a few who have gone above and beyond the call.

The table where we sat had two other volunteers and their guests.  One was a lady who needs someone to drive her anywhere she goes, but she still serves by going to the hospital and meeting with people and their families who need the support Pathways offers.  She received a volunteer of the year award.  You could tell it meant the world to her.  Even though we only shared a few minutes at a table together, I must confess I was quite proud when they announced her name.  I hoop and hollered on her behalf.  She blushed.  What can I say, you sit at my table, you become my people.

The other volunteer at our table brought, as her guest, the women she serves.  Watching them interact, you could tell there was a significant bond between them.  I will share a bit more about that in a moment, but for now all I can say is, their interaction spoke of a much deeper commitment than simply giving a few hours to help someone in need.  You could tell they shared life, and it was beautiful.

After the awards were all given out, Meg, the woman who coordinates it all, transitioned to a much more poignant part of the program.  It was the time given to recognize those whom they had served who had passed this last year.  She mentioned the honor my wife had of being present with the women she served as the lady made the journey from this life to the next.  She acknowledge this is not the everyone’s experience by mentioning another volunteer who left the person they cared for in good health, only to find they had passed two days later.  No matter what the circumstances was at the end, they wanted to take a few moments to remember those they had served, and loved.

Because last year the candles set off the fire alarm in the venue, Pathways decided to have vases where flowers would be placed, representing each life which was lost.  Meg then read off each name.  There were 22 clients who died this last year.  It was powerful to watch each caregiver make their way to the table, select a flower, and then place it in the vase.  It was especially so when the name of the lady my wife served was called, and she got up to take part in honoring Neva.

A few moments later, the lady who was sitting across the table from us, who had brought the women she serves, stood at the reading of a name.  She walked forward, placed a flower in a vase and then made her way back to our table.  When she arrived she bent down and hugged her guest.  It was the wife of the man whose name was read.  Their embrace was one which spoke of a shared journey through the pain of watching someone you love take the hard road home.  It also spoke of their shared commitment to walk the next stage of life together.  It was a privilege to sit so close and watch this sacred moment.

James tells us in his epistle, “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.”  By orphans and widows, I think he means those who do not have the ability to care for themselves and who do not have the family to step in the gap.  I have a feeling he would not mind one bit if we expanded the definition to include the terminally ill who find themselves with the same need.  What I witnessed in that room was religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless.  Witnessing it, the pollution of this self-centered world seemed so very far away.

You might notice in the picture some pretty colorful hats.  The theme for the evening was "Hats off to You," and to make it fun, we were asked to wear our favorite hat.  I did not wear a hat (rebellious from my youth, what can I say), but this fact in no way diminishes my desire to take my hat off to these people for their willingness to give far more than a few hours a week.  They invest their lives. They willingly enter into a stage of life which promises much joy, but which also promises the reality of loss and the pain which accompanies it.  They give selflessly and in the process they impart much value to the people they serve.  They are a gift, and their lives are a example to us all.

I take my hat off to them.

Residue

The church we have been attending has a table, just as you walk in, with name tags and markers on it.  Each Sunday, as we make our way into the service we stop and write our name on an adhesive tag and stick it to our chest.  In a community, with lots of new people this is helpful.

Most Sundays, as my wife and I are walking to the car we remove our name tags and fold them in half, allowing them to adhere to themselves, rendering them harmless.  Several weeks ago, one of the tags slipped through our little ritual.  It not only made it all the way home still attached to my wife’s shirt, it somehow was able to hang on long enough to make it to the laundry basket, where it stayed bonded to the fabric until laundry day.

I do the laundry in the house, mostly because of my mad folding skills.  I am also good at stain removal and sorting cloths into appropriate piles.  What I am not good at is checking pockets or, as I have recently discovered, removing name tags.

You would not think failing to remove a name tag would be that big of a deal, after all they peel off so easily only an hour after you put them on.  Heck, sometimes they even start to curl on the edges before you are ready to remove them. 

Not checking for name tags is a bigger deal than you think.  I am not sure if it is the days and days they sit in the laundry bin, or if the glue is activated by water to form a more secure bond, but I do know if you leave a name tag on for several days and then wash it, it sticks far better than you can imagine.

When I went to fold the cloths and discovered the shirt my wife had been wearing the prior Sunday still had a name tag attached to it I simply pulled it off.  Well, that is at least what I intended to do.  It gripped better than had when it was new.  While the paper peeled off, it left behind a film of glue which was unsightly and gave no indication it intended to become detached.  Bummer!

If water had given it super strength not normally seen in a name tag, I hypothesized another round in the washer might just release it.  No such luck, it just balled the glue up into clumps.  I then tried to roll these tiny balls around until they fell off the fabric.  This removed about half the glue, but there still was an outline where the tag had been and a significant amount of glue remained.

 I repeated the wash and rub process several times, but the glue could not be fully removed.  Eventually, I had to give into the fact the shirt, because of its contact with the name tag, and the experience of being bonded together in the water of the washer, would never be the same.  I threw it out.

This should not have surprised me.  Glue is supposed to bond things together. There is a commercial currently running where it shows one brand who’s strength comes from moving beyond the surface of a material and penetrating the pores to create a stronger bond.    In fact, glue which bonds like this often becomes stronger than the material itself.  Glue two pieces of wood together and try to break the joint.  What you will often find is the wood itself will give way and break before the glue joint fails. I think this is how all glue works, especially when it is given time to cure.

Next week will mark the one year anniversary from when I was told I was being unglued from the community where I served.  I had cured there for a very long time.  The initial tearing off of the tag was harder than I would have imagined, and it left glue stains much like the one on the shirt.

 I spent the first few months washing and rubbing, trying to remove any remnants of the glue which remained.  I was successful at balling up some of it and discarding it, but I could not fully remove it all.  At about the six month mark there was no longer any large globs of glue present on the fabric of my heart, but you could still see discoloration between the threads caused by the adhesive.

 If this had been a shirt, I would have long since thrown it away, but it is my heart and I cannot fulfill the call of God on my life without it, so I kept on washing and rubbing.  At the 10 month mark I would have told you all traces had been removed, there was no longer any glue left.   This felt good.  It felt like being freed. I was sure I had reached a significant bend on the road to healing from the loss.

I have often reminded others, when they are approaching the anniversary of a significant loss, not to be surprised if the feelings and emotions come back to them.  I have friends who talk about feelings out of sorts, not knowing why.  When they stop to think about it, they realize they are near the date when the loss occurred and they are able to make sense of what they are experiencing emotionally.  While the tag may have been ripped off, and they have done much work to remove the residue of the glue stain, when the anniversary comes around it is as if a stronger light illumines the fabric of their heart and the outline of the tag is once again able to be seen.

This is exactly what this season feels like for me, and while it makes me feel sad, I do not wish it away.  I am done washing and rubbing.  I am content to carry with me any remaining residue for the rest of my life.  What remains is a reminder of how significantly attached I was to a people.  I never want to forget that.  I want to remember the mark it has left on my life, because it reminds me not only of the loss, but of the love which was present.  For in truth, love is the glue and having once loved you simply cannot ever erase the mark it leaves.

I have hope the Lord will be gracious to me and once again place me in a community where I can become attached to a community of people where together we learn how to live and love like Jesus.  I desire to be with a people in community where we can glue ourselves to one another with the bond of love, where we can know the joy of being firmly connect, and of seeing others grafted into our clan. 

The glue which remains is a reminder it is indeed possible.

Humbled by Generosity

For 20 years, directly or indirectly, I oversaw the finances of a large church.  When I first started, the budget was just under a million dollars. By the end of my time in the position, the budget had at times climbed as high as 2.4 million.  I do not have the exact figure, but over the 20 years that I served at that church, it received 27-30 million dollars in general fund giving.  Add to this figure $4 million raised for a building, another few hundred thousand collected for various other facilities repairs, hundreds of thousands of dollars for missions and you have quite a  bit of money collected.  The congregation of the church is made up of very generous people.

When it came to general fund giving, I could tell you the giving patterns which would show up each year.  I could estimate very closely what percentage of giving would come from the top 20% of givers.  I knew when we would be behind for the year and by how much.  I knew when we were likely to catch up.  I knew when it looked bad but was not, and when it looked bad and we had to worry.  I have not seen the numbers from the church in over a year, but I bet I could write a number on a piece of paper and it would be pretty close to where its finances are at this point in the year.

The one thing I never knew was who gave what.  I never knew who the big givers were, and I never knew who did not give a thing.  This was not just a policy; it was very intentional on my part.  I did not want my ability to love and serve the individuals who made up the congregation to ever be influenced by what someone did or did not give. People are to be loved and served because they bear the image of God, not because of the resources they have and share.   If I ever work in a church again I will do it just the same.

You can imagine, given my experience and this tightly held principle, how hard it was for me when I recently launched a project on Kickstarter and found out I would be receiving updates on who gave, and what they gave.  This was necessary because the rewards offered for giving to the project were different based upon the amount pledged.   This fact did not change, however, how uncomfortable it was in the beginning for a man who had spent the last 20 years avoiding this kind of information at all costs.

That feeling was quickly replaced with another as the pledges began to come in.  The uncomfortableness of the process was soon replaced with a great humility.

It began the morning of the launch, I was with my best friend and I told him I had started the Kickstarter.  He immediately pulled out his smart phone in order to insure he was the first to sponsor me.  I think he was more excited than I was.  It was a gift to see some so eager to support you and to see joy on their face at having done it. 

While driving home from our breakfast, my phone dinged with a notification of the second person to back my project.  It was someone who has not been blessed with an abundance of resources, and yet they chose to support this endeavor.  The widow who gave her last mite would not have moved me any more than this act of kindness.  I wept as I drove home and could barely tell my wife why when I got there.  I would find more then one backer that fit the description of not allowing their circumstance to determine their generosity.

I had two couples, who had one of the spouses recently laid off, pledge a gift. At a time when they are probably wondering what their finances will look like in a few months, they chose to demonstrate generosity.  This was not just the committing of some funds to a project, it was a deeply spiritual act of blessing and trust in God.

I would have thought the people I know best would have given the most, and certainly many of them did.  I was surprised, however, to see people who share a passion for seeing people transformed into Christ's image, but who I do not know as well, give so generously.  They made pledges beyond what I would have ever dared to imagine.  Several times during this process I had to catch my breath as I opened an email containing the news of generosity beyond my expectation. 

I had young adults who we used to take to children’s camp join the team.  I served them when they were growing up, I served alongside them when they were in high school and college, and now I found myself in a position to be served by them.  To experience our life together coming full circle was a great grace.

Of course, my closest family got behind me, but there is something which touches the deepest parts of your soul when your parents, children and wife are all in when it comes to belief and support.  

My heart was also moved by the people I never met who wanted to be part of this project.  To have a complete stranger back you is powerful.  I was also touched by the people who chose to support who I have long known but have not lived much life with in decades, and by the many good friends who not only supported the Kickstarter, but were also excited to see it get closer and closer to the finish line.  I had people share with me they were getting on the site multiple times a day to see where we were.  I celebrate with them the fact we are fully funded!

Then there were those who chose to give even after we had reached our goal.  They were not giving so we would hit our target; they gave because they wanted to be part of what we were doing.  Actually, it is probably more accurate to say they gave simply because, in various ways, we are part of one another.  It is a privilege to know these kinds of people.

The journey I will write about began two years ago when I was demoted. I met with my son to let him know what was going on before he heard it from someone else.  I told him I had to choose to either take the new position I was being offered, or quit.  For reasons which are not important to share, my son encouraged me to quit.  He was not simply reacting; his reasoning had some wisdom and in the end proved to be correct.  Growing up in a ministry family there are certain things you just come to know in your gut.

After listening to him and considering his advice, I pulled out the book of Philippians and read chapter two out loud.  It commands us to have the same attitude as Christ, who was willing to humble himself.  I asked my son, “What if the decision before me was not whether to stay in a job or not, but was I willing to enter the school of humility or not? What if this would all be used by God to help me develop the attitude of Christ?’  To grow in humility, I reasoned, means sometimes you must be willing to be humiliated.  I did not want to run if this is what God was doing.  After some prayer, and a few days to be sure I was not simply reacting, I chose to stay.

This past month, as I have watched the support for my project roll in from friends, family and people I do not even know, I have learned another way in which humility can be grown in you.  The school of humility also includes the experience of being the recipient of the kindness and generosity of others.  I have been humbled by the love my  supporters of my project have shown me.  I have been humbled by their willingness to get behind this creative project and believe in what will be birthed through it.  I have been humbled by their belief in me.  I have been humbled by their willingness to sacrifice on my behalf, and give beyond expectation.  I have been humbled by their excitement and joy in the project. I have seen much humility in the people who have partnered with me, and it has been used by God to grow humility in me.

I am blessed and humbled to be surrounded by such gracious and generous people. Each and every one of them is a teacher and gift to me.

Where do the pieces fit?

A month ago, I set into motion events designed to marry my gifts, experience and even my dreams. I wanted to write a book which would be born out of the spiritual journey I have been on for the past two years.  I decided to use Kickstarter, a website that helps artists gain support to fund their projects, to gather a group of patrons who would be willing to partner with me.

I have to admit, hitting the launch button on the project was scarier than I thought it would be.  In that moment, you are putting yourself out there.  You are letting the world know there is something on your heart which you wish to create and share; maybe something you have been made to give to the world.  You are telling those who will take the time to explore your proposal, there is something you believe about yourself which you are ready to step into.  You wonder if they will believe it too. You wonder if you should risk it.  You second guess yourself, but with the click of a mouse, there is no going back.  

I wish I could report my heart’s reaction, when the click was made, was to believe others would understand what God has been doing in this season, and would be drawn to partner in what He will produce through this journey.  What crossed my mind in that moment, however, was, “What if after putting this out there, all I hear is crickets?”  Thankfully that has not been the case, and there is a good chance we will reach the finish line.

When the idea for writing this book came to me, I did not have walking the Camino as part of the plan.  One day, while walking and thinking about the book, the connection was made in my mind between the spiritual journey which I had been taking in my heart and the physical journey of walking the Camino.  Soon after, the idea of the Kickstarter project was born.  Since then, I have had a vision of how it might unfold and what the outline of the book might be. The journey, however, is not complete.  New pieces of the puzzle are still being added.  What is being born in this process is still being formed.

This weekend, I was on retreat with one of the people who has chosen to get behind this creative project.  He had read the page and bought into the premise, but this was one of the first times we had seen each other since the launch.  One morning we got up early to walk (you have got to get the training in) and as we did, I was able to share more of what was on my heart and how I hoped the experience of walking the Camino might help shape how it will be expressed.

At one point, he turned and asked me what I thought about him joining me on the trip.  He regretted he could not walk the whole 500 miles, but would love to meet up with me for the last leg of the journey.  This was unexpected, but because we have traveled so much life together, I was open to the idea and told him so.  Bright and early Monday morning, I received an email informing me he had talked to his wife and she was all for it.  He had also spoken to his boss and his company was willing to rearrange a trip to China, he was scheduled to take, so it would not conflict with the Camino.  In short, he was in.

This turn of events was a bit unexpected.  It was not what I had been planning, but then again the last two years were not what I would have planned either.  They have been an exercise in willingness and openness to yield my desires to what God might be doing.  This change in what I was envisioning seems to be a continuation of this theme, and I do not think it is by accident.

I spent some time sharing these developments with my wife and as we talked about it, it was not hard for us to imagine God might be up to something in this unexpected turn in the road.  God appears to be working in ways which are bigger than what I am thinking or even imagining. 

You may be thinking, big deal a friend and supporter may be going along. It is bigger than that.  I am not even sure I can explain why, but I am confident I will be able to put it into words at then end of the Camino. Until then, you have to trust me when I say, this man's coming along feels like something much bigger than a friend showing up for a walk.

If that were not enough, I had a meeting on the same day with a gentleman I know through Biola University.  He had approached me with an opportunity for a ministry he wanted me to help design and lead.  We spent an hour and a half dreaming of what might be possible and envisioning the impact of this potential future reality.  At the end of the conversation, as we were talking about what the next steps would look like, I mentioned I would be unavailable in June.  I explained I would be walking the Camino.  He lit up and asked me about it.  He then asked a question which seems to be becoming quite common, “Would you mind if I went with you?” 

At first I just smiled and thought to myself, "This is is turning into a fellowship of the Way."  I then said, "I am open to it.”  He then launched into how God had laid this on his heart some time ago and what it would mean to be able to do it.  I thought about how the shared experience might actually better prepare us for what we had been dreaming about for the last hour, and simply wondered, “God, what are you doing?”

This is a question I have had on my mind a lot in this season of transition.  As I explained to the man from Biola, it is like there is a table before me and God continues to place puzzle pieces upon it.  I do not have a box top for reference.  I do not know what picture we are trying to create.  I can make out the shapes and the colors.  I can even put a few pieces together, but to complete this puzzle I am wholly reliant on God to help me see how the pieces He has laid before me will fit together.

This is a far different journey than trying to force the pieces together, or wrestling control from God.  It is a different way of walking. 

So when two men, on one day, decide they want to join you on the journey, all you can do is thank God for the new pieces on the table and then ask for His help in connecting them all together. He is up to something and I am expectant to see the picture which is revealed as these pieces begin to take shape.

I wonder, what is going on in your life which may feel similar?  How many puzzle pieces are on your card table?  What has happened to you which is unexpected and may be an invitation to trust God is up to something you have not yet envisioned or imagined?  How willing are you to refrain from forcing the pieces together?  Are you willing to release control?  How open are you to waiting on God to show you how it will all look?  

These are important questions to consider.  I think the answers to them will make all the difference in the world regarding what kind of picture will appear as the pieces begin to fit together.  I can wait to see fully the picture of what God has been doing.

P.S. I am three days away from the finish line on Kickstarter. At the time of writing this, we have received 85% of our goal. If you want to find out more about this project, you may go to my Kickstarter page: www.kickstarter.com/projects/803864521/crossroads-on-the-camino-de-santiago. I would be grateful if you did.

Of Blind Men And Data Cables

When I was first married, I worked for a company which manufactured data cables. Most of the cables we built were for medical devices.  If you ended up in the hospital in the late 80’s and found yourself attached to a heart monitor there is a chance you might have been wired to it using a cable we created.  We filled a niche market by being able to produce one-off cables and small runs.  Because no one else was doing it, it also meant this small upstart company was growing like a weed, and we could charge a premium.

We handled this growth by systematizing everything, and through a little bit of sleight of hand.  We talked about being able to produce unique, one off cables, but the truth is we used a limited amount of parts and tooling.  We could make a cable which would get the job done, but it would be with the same materials we used for nearly every cable.  It was a great system for making data cables.

I was hired as the accounts payable and receivable clerk, but within a very short span of time I was also working alongside the owner running the production line.  He had designed it using Total Quality Management principles which allowed us to produce 1 or 1,000 cables with quality and speed.  We were unique because you could order just one cable and we would not only produce it, often the same day, but we would also injection mold the connector.  This may not mean much to you, but for the guys designing the cables it was cool.

We called the production line the “Carrio C” after the owner and the shape of the configuration.  We prided ourselves on the fact we would only touch a part once during production and because we used standardized parts, we could build several different cables at the same time on the same line.  It was a rush to help balance the line in order to move cables through each stage of the process at a pace where as one cable was being stared, another was being completed.

Why all of this was on my mind this morning I do not know, but I woke up thinking of this manufacturing environment and also thinking of Jesus.  It is the contrast between the two which held my attention.  Honestly, I do not know if Jesus would have done well working in our shop. Jesus did not seem to systematize His ministry in the same way we ran our production line.

What gave us the ability to do what we did in our shop was the capacity to reduce the process to the least common denominator and then repeat the practice over and over again.  This is not how Jesus worked.  People and ministry were not reduced in this way.  He seemingly makes a point to do just the opposite.  For example, when Jesus healed people He did it in a different way every time.

When Jesus heals Bartimaeus, without any other action but speaking the words, “Receive your sight; your faith has made you well,” He heals the man.  When He encounters the blind man of Bethsaida, Jesus first spits in the man’s eyes, He then asks him what he sees.  When the man reports his sight has improved, but is not clear, Jesus then lays His hands on his eyes and the man is fully healed.  Another time, Jesus passed by a blind man.  He stopped to heal him.  This time He spits on the ground, and make clay of the spittle and dirt, and applied the clay to the man's eyes.  Jesus then told him to go wash in the pool of Siloam.  The man did and came back seeing.

Imagine how hard this must have been on the disciples who were taking notes.  Under the heading “Healing of the Blind,” after the first encounter they might have written: Say these words and sight will be restored, “Receive your sight; your faith has made you well.”  Then after the second encounter they scratched that off and wrote something about applying spit to the eyes to heal.  Maybe they even noted exactly how it was applied.  This too was eventually crossed out and the mud plaster method was noted.  I bet their notebook was a mess.

It seems to me it is impossible to take notes on Jesus’ "system" of ministry.  There are definite principles we can learn and employ.  For example, I would feel very confident in asserting everything we do must be rooted and grounded in love, but to trying to come up with the kind of system which we relied upon when we were manufacturing data cables seems impossible from Jesus’ modeling of ministry.  The fact is, He very rarely did things exactly the same way.

I believe this was intentional on His part.  It prevents us from reducing faith and ministry to a formula, and it forces us to recognize we are not dealing with a product, but with people. 

Part of the reason each one of Jesus’ interactions were different was because it was not simply about healing a physical aliment, it was about healing the person.  I do not know why it may have been more powerful for one man to simply have words spoken over him, or why for another a mud plaster was more appropriate.  I have a hunch, however, if we were able to sit down with Jesus and ask Him, his answer would have a lot more to do with the heart of the person than with method of application. 

He did not force people into his manufacturing system; instead he applied the characteristics of the kingdom to each individual’s story.  All encountered love, acceptance, forgiveness, and healing, but it looked slightly different because of who was being healed.  It was never about the method, it was about the relationship between the healer and the one who needed healing.

On the surface, approaching people and ministry in this way may seem more difficult than setting up and sending people through an assembly line.  Relationship does takes more time than systems, but it is also the only way to bring about the complete healing we all really need.

While we hear these stories of healing and see men who were once blind and who now can see, they are more than accounts of the restoration of a physical capacity. I think there is a more significant healing which also took place, one which touched the deep wounding of the heart.  It is the place where our need for healing often goes unnoticed.  It is the place where we experience the crippling of loneliness and isolation.  These can only be healed as we are seen, known, accepted, and loved.  This is the deeper healing Jesus gives as He approaches each person in a way which speaks to their uniqueness.  It is a healing which is difficult, if not all together impossible, to attain in a assembly line approach to people. People, after all, are not data cables.

If I ever find myself in a position to once again manufacture parts, I will draw heavily from the systems and methods we employed while manufacturing data cables.  If I ever find myself in a position to be able to be used by God to bring healing to the lives of people, I will draw from the example I see in Jesus.

I think it is very important not to get the two mixed up.

All The Lonely People...

In a moment of musical clarity, which probably gave a glimpse into the heart of the lyricist, the Beatles asked the question, “All the lonely people, where do they all come from?”   I think the answer to this question resides somewhere in the reality we all have felt alone.  That is why to the writer of this song, there seemed to be so many of us.

This truth was once again brought to may attention this weekend as I listened to a group of people share their life stories. Because of the confidentiality necessary to create safety in this environment, I will not share any part of what they said.  I will,  however, share what was resonating in my heart as I listened.  It is a truth I recognize in my story, and have witnessed in different ways in the life journey of many others.  May be it is part of yours as well?

It begins with the acknowledgement of the simple reality; people often feel a deep sense of loneliness.  This can be a low grade feeling which seems to be a constant companion throughout life. People who experience this often have trouble remembering a time when they did not feeling alone.   It can also be a very intense reality in certain seasons of life like the loss of friendship, the death of a loved one, or the severing of a marriage.  While loneliness in these circumstances is brought on by an event, it often then stick with the person for years.  Whether always present or showing up in spurts, I have not met very many people who, if they were being straight with you, would not admit to feeling lonely for significant seasons in their life.

Loneliness can be present even when we are surrounded by other people.  We can be awash with family, friends, and even our community of faith and still feel quite alone.  We can even know these people love us and want the best for us, but somehow their good intentions and proximity does not fully erase the sense of isolation.  It seems logical to assert being surrounded by people will reduce your chances of being lonely, but being around people simply does not guarantee you will not experience loneliness.

The cure for loneliness is not being around people, it is being known.  The sad reality is often we are surrounded by lots of folks, and do not feel known by any of them.  How known do you feel?  Can you think a person or group of people with whom you feel seen and understood? If you answer "not very" or "no one," you need to know beyond any shadow of a doubt, you certainly are not alone in feeling this way.

The other part of what was resonating in my heart was born out of the experience of listening to the life stories of these wonderful, and beautiful people.  I could not help but notice; even though people identify themselves as feeling lonely, this fact does not take away their capacity to snuff out loneliness in others.  This appears to me to be a gracious gift.

Think about how easy it is to chase away loneliness by providing even small opportunities for someone to be known.  A simple touch of the shoulder allows someone to feel as if their presence has been recognized.  The question, “How are you really doing?” moves the conversation beyond the polite “Fine” or “Good”, and invites a person to share even a small truth about what is going on in their heart.  In the process they may actually feel seen.  Sitting down for coffee and letting a person know you have plenty of time and are more than willing to listen creates the space necessary for them to begin to share the deeper concerns of their soul.  Asking to hear someone’s story is an invitation for them to be known. Refraining from giving advice and simply mirroring back what you have heard  enables them to feel understood.   Taking an opportunity to pray a blessing over them may be the very thing which allows them to receive the truth of their value and the real possibility all of their story can be redeemed.

Even someone who knows what it is to feel the pangs of loneliness can share these gifts.  Maybe, because they know what it is to feel alone, they can actually do so in a much more attentive and compassionate way.  If my theory is correct and we have all felt the sting of loneliness, we can all develop the capacity to give these gifts to one another.

Having the capacity does not mean it will necessarily be easy.  Speaking their story out loud can be scary for people who have never had the experience of being invited to be known.  It can be down right frightful for those who have taken the risk in the past and have been dismissed or hurt in the process.  This is why it is also important, with the invitation to be known, you also communicate they are loved.  You want them to be confident, despite whatever they share, you are for them and will love them.  If someone is able to trust you will love them no matter what, they will also be enabled to take the courageous step of allowing you to know them.  Maybe not all at once, but like the slow unfolding of a rosebud, they will open up.  

In the unfolding of their story you are likely to see both light and shadow.  What is true of all of us is our stories are made up of both good and bad, both the broken things and the beautiful things.  Often, as someone is sharing their story with you, you are able to see traces of the sacred in places they could not even imagine them showing up.  In helping recognize these places, you have the opportunity to help them recognize how both the broken and beautiful things can be redeemed for good.  This is powerful because it can help them make sense of their story, all of it.

It also makes them feel seen and known.  Being known chases away loneliness.  This is a beautiful gift for both the one who is sharing their story and for the one who is listening.

I have noticed, when I have had opportunity to pay attention to anothers' life story, listening not only helps chase away their loneliness, it also works at removing mine. No matter what degree of loneliness I may feel when entering one of these conversations, I have never felt as alone after someone has risked telling me a part of their narrative.  In their story, I often see parts of my own.  Even if I shared nothing about myself, somehow I feel known because of what our stories hold in common.  

In the telling of their story and recognizing the places of similarity, a unity of spirit is born.  It is impossible to feel completely alone when you feel unified in spirit to another.  This unity may not give you the sense you are fully known, but it does impart to you the hope it is possible.  This is an unexpected gift to the one who listens.

What would it be if we simply recognized the common condition of many hearts is varying degrees of loneliness?  What if we embraced the fact we have the capacity to cure this condition by creating a safe environment where we extend love and posture ourselves to listen?  What positive impact would the invitation to be known have on those around us?  I think it would be significant, healing and life-giving.

I imagine if we could create such places we just might have to change the lyrics to the Beatles song to something like, “All the lonely people, where did they all go to?”  It is a promising thought.  The possibility lies within you.