Something Bigger

There are few moments in my life when I've seen the threads of my experiences attached in such a way that an intricate pattern emerges. I have not always been a great planner and I suspect that even if I had been, I would see things appear that I never planned on in the first place.

It's almost as if...someone else is in control.

I don't mean "in control" in the sense that I'm a puppet whose strings are being pulled. I mean it in the way that my sons sometimes bring me odd things like a broken remote control car, a saw blade, and batteries and say, "Dad, will you make a robot out of this?" I have control because they asked me to take control (I tried to make the robot but failed.)

The stuff I bring to God seems just as random. I'll bring Him my doubt, mixed with some fear, a miniscule amount of faith, some dreams, my relationships, a bunch of questions, months and years of my life where I wanted nothing to do with Him, mistakes.

And somehow, He does something with these things that convinces me that they may just be the right ingredients. That the right ingredients are my experiences and my junk and like a son, I simply say, "this is all I have. Can you do something with this?" I surrender to let Him control the outcome and He comes up with something so intricate, so magnificent, so remarkable that my only response can be...

You made this out of that stuff I gave you? You created a masterpiece out of the rags? You connected all these seemingly random events, people and places?  You must have had this planned.

I didn't intend to move back to the Los Angeles area. In fact, just a few months ago someone asked me if I would consider moving back to which I replied, "no", quite emphatically.

And, I find myself in Los Angeles, gazing at the universe of my life. In awe.

Overwhelmed

Q: What do Los Angeles and Portland have in common?

A: Nothing

I felt overwhelmed the second we got off the 101 and headed toward Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles off Hollywood Boulevard this afternoon. The city is busy and fast and people honk their horns and nearly rear end your silver car if you don't go fast enough. I haven't had the speedometer over 80 mph for 7 years and that was the norm today.

I'm having a bad case of culture shock.

It's day 1 of my life in LA and I'm freaked out. It could be that I only slept a few hours last night...that could be adding to my general state of confusion. Thinking about driving the moving truck for 15 hours is definitely on my mind, too. Getting another car, and finding a house and all of those details...I should just press the pause button here. There's no need to add to my shock.

I'm thankful that I got here safe, that I had dinner with friends tonight, that I hear in Jenn's voice and in the voices of the boys the sense that they miss me. I miss them terribly already and it's been a day and a half.

I'm thankful to have a family that I miss.

The Only Spiritual Discipline

A few days ago a friend asked me what I would consider to me my spiritual disciplines. I replied that my "disciplines" have changed over the years and that I really only have one spiritual discipline that I practice every day. "What is it", he asked. "Belief", I replied.

We can be so busy trying to earn intimacy with God or be even busier trying to good things for Him that we miss Him altogether. Listen to what Jesus said when the disciples asked Him what they must do to do the works of God:
 
Therefore they said to Him, “What shall we do, so that we may work the works of God?”  Jesus answered and said to them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He has sent.” 
John 6:29

Want to do the works of God today? Believe in the one He sent.

Thanks PDX

Thank you for the great friends, the amazing coffee, painted streets, funky art installations, Powell's City of Books, the St John's Bridge, Sauvie Island berry picking, McMenamins...especially Kennedy School, letting the homeless stay in R2D2 village for now, micro brews, Kenny & Zukes, Thai Lahana and memorable walks in Sellwood with Jenn after our dinners there, hours and hours of cycling, letting me join the Rose Parade that one time (for at least 20 minutes before we were asked to leave), for closing all the bridges each August for the bridge pedal, 55 MPH, the hipsters who all look the same and have still failed to realize it, epic beards, snobby Voodoo donuts employees, miraculously holding all this rain in the ground with no sink holes....thanks for our time here.

The Other Samaritan

Who is my neighbor?

Jesus answered, "A certain man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who both stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead. By chance a certain priest was going down that way. When he saw him, he passed by on the other side. In the same way a Levite also, when he came to the place, and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he traveled, came where he was. When he saw him, he was moved with compassion, came to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. He set him on his own animal, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. On the next day, when he departed, he took out two denarii, and gave them to the host, and said to him, 'Take care of him. Whatever you spend beyond that, I will repay you when I return.' Now which of these three do you think seemed to be a neighbor to him who fell among the robbers?"

He said, "He who showed mercy on him."

Then Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise."

There is something unsettling for me about this parable and it begs a question that has been on my mind for awhile. That question: "How do we make the road safe for our neighbor so he doesn't get beat up, robbed and left for dead?" Proactive mercy is just as important and needed as reactive mercy. We should give the hungry food but we must also make sure that we create conditions for food to grow. As we help the homeless get off the streets we should also do our best to affect the social conditions that brought about their homelessness in the first place.

The other Samaritan sees broken systems, broken governments and broken philosophies and goes about healing the wounds that exist in each in order to make the conditions more favorable for all.

How a blessing acts

I will be leaving in a few days for our new adventure in Southern California. I said goodbye to a close friend tonight as we shared a pint and reminisced about our time together in Portland. At one of his lowest points he stood on a bridge downtown and was very seriously considering jumping. He decided not to which was a great decision for many reasons, not the least of which was the fact that he saved me from great sadness. The following day he went to the same bridge and spray painted a stencil of his feet in the same spot on which he stood the night before. He said he wanted a reminder of how close he came that night.

Tonight he told me that he walked on that bridge just this afternoon with his wife of one year and his spray painted footprints had finally washed away. He then went on to give me the most heartfelt blessing a man can give. I told him that he has the gift of making me feel incredibly uncomfortable because his words mock every insecurity I have about myself. He has always made me feel like I'm invaluable. I wish everyone in the world had a friend like him.

Thanks for not jumping. Thanks for planting your feet in our friendship. Thanks for breaking bread with me, and drinking pints with me and making me feel uncomfortable with your words. Thanks for showing me what a blessing looks like and how a blessing acts.

Quinn's New Freedom and mine

I have been talking to Quinn about the great benefits of learning to ride his bike for nearly 3 years now. He'll be 8 years old in a few months. He tried riding about a year ago but he fell and scratched his knee and that was that. At times I've made him some sweet financial offers but even those didn't help motivate him. He's not materially minded and I knew that so I shouldn't have expected a different outcome. I've learned a lot in the process.

This weather this morning was beautiful, and felt especially sunny given the fact that I made waffles for breakfast. Waffles are the sunshine part of breakfast. Bacon is the horizon. Coffee, the air. Those three sentences are ridiculous. Quinn and I went outside to play basketball and I said, "Quinn, doesn't today feel like the day you're going to ride your bike?" He thought so, too.

I held his handlebars as I pushed him down the street and then let him go. With a big smile on his face he zoomed by me and said, "Dad, I'm doing it." He said something about how he felt free like he was flying. He's riding his bike now as I write this.

It all came down to this: we don't do things until we're ready. Who knows what makes us ready. Sometimes, maybe all the time, we just need to know that the support system is there when we are ready. I stopped pushing Quinn to do something he wasn't ready to do and trusted him to know when he was ready.

The past few years for me have been the equivalent of not getting on the bike. Partially I started to believe the naysayers who said that I wasn't ready. Then I had to get through the hurt of rejection from those who pulled away. And in the process, I discovered a great community of authentic people who emboldened me to get back on the bike.