The Isolated Sales Staff

Two weeks ago I went to Dallas, Texas, where everything is big including the malls and the hair. I was a part of the hot Carr Knowledge Sales staff! Yes… if you know me, I’m all about the smoke and mirrors, the glitz and glamour. But when it comes to sales, I personally wouldn’t rely on me to keep a paycheck coming in. But in the inception of the trip it didn’t look like that. I got my brief, I got my one-sheet, and we had a fancy booth at the RAB convention, and we soon were talking about this wonder technology that streamed and podcasted, and made most of the people we talked with from the Radio Industry light up. Oh I fumbled a few times on my delivery, however, when I actually got across what my client did, the people took a card, a one-sheet, and I was positive I would see them online. I was a salesman!

So, long about halfway through the day I was asked to leave. Maybe my partner was thinking that I was kicking too much sales ass, but in reality I had another mission in Dallas; a black ops mission. Total underground. Which, when you think about it, if you have a choice between a regular job and a secret agent job… call me zipped lipped Mcgee! So my co-worker and I were chosen to meet the guy who wrote the code for the technology we were selling. Black ops part: obtain the code. Reasoning: because the investors don’t trust him and would like to take the burden off of his hands.

So… when we met this guy it wasn’t a pretty picture. He was sickly, and partially nuts. We met him in his home which at one point would have been a fairly cool loft, but now looked similar to a deleted set from the movie ‘12 monkeys.’ Half projects- whether technology, art, or home renovation- were strung about. When we got there, My co-worker and Sickly McSickerton opened up their laptops and began speaking “Geek.” (It’s always important to have a technology guy that can “bust into the mainframe” when you’re on a Black ops mission) A few hours later after our presence had warmed up to the clammy individual my co-worker asked point blank: “can I see the source code.”

The man quickly stood up, and in a writhe like contorted disposition had a fit muttering how the code is “His” and “it is his intellectual property” and “no one will see it unless they need to see it.” If I had blurred my eyes and ears I would have heard "my preciouss, yess" After de-escalating him, we never managed to get the code away. Black ops mission: Failure.

While we were driving back to the hotel, my friend told me that everything that Gollum did give him didn’t work. I asked “Did the technology work that we were selling this morning?” He said … “No. I don’t think anything that we were selling this morning exists on the servers” So there we were, the next day inside a grand looking booth, sales sheets in front of us, and music blaring… the sales staff to a non-existent product. Needless to say… we didn’t sell that much.

Have you ever sold something that didn’t work? I’m thinking back to a garage sale that I had once where I was silently praying to myself “don’t ask if it works, don’t ask if it works” Yet the very first person asks me “does it work?”
My answer: “for fifty cents does it matter?”
This guy was persistent, “does it work?”
My response: “I’ll give it to you for a quarter.”

I think sometimes our faith can act like a sales pitch. WWJD! We have the bracelets out there. The minister or pastor is up there doing the dog and pony show. And you hope to God that when you bring the new person to church “the service is not too weird.” There’s even stuff that is meant for marketing purposes that I don’t even understand. I once saw a T-shirt that was the name of Jesus inserted into the Reeses Pieces logo. I’m not sure what the Graphic Designer was thinking. I might be able to understand “Jes-its” the cheesy catholic wafer, but what are you selling when you’re wearing “Jesus Pieces.” What is that?

I also think that a lot of times we try to sell ourselves as well. You know you want to portray yourself as the shiny, I have it all put together, guy. I have nice Job, a great house, my life is hunki dori. And those who really push it sometimes really reveal their own insecurities. Possibly we want you to believe that we’ve got it put together, because the reality is that things aren’t that hunki dori.

At the Bridge we have a large number of people that live outdoors that come to church on Sunday. And lately it’s been extremely amazing because some of those people have been getting residences. Last week was a little disconcerting for me because of a cash-flow issue, I couldn’t pay my rent, so I was facing an eviction notice. So as I was meeting people at church, a couple people were telling me: “Geoff, I got an apartment, Geoff, I’m living indoors now.” And all I could do is smile and say congratulations. But inside I was thinking to myself. “Can you tell me of the bridge with the least amount of spiders?”

Finally I broke down and told someone who also had some trouble holding down an apartment, and his jaw dropped. “What?” “You?” “Geoff?” “the guy who has it all put together.”

Isn’t it interesting how we can so quickly make faith assessments when things are going bad… and for that matter when things are going good. Ohhh he just got kicked out of his house God must not be with him, wow that guy has all of his ducks in a row. God must be really blessing him. Ohh he lost his job…he must have done something to deserve it… Wow he has the greatest relationship, God loves him.

I tend to see that when the going gets tough… the friends start migrating away. Because when it comes down to it, no one likes drama. It’s the ruffles on the chip. Oh sure the company would tell you the ruffles give you more taste in your chip; but its not taste you get when you have friends that are full of drama. Its more like sour cream and onions. Everybody would like smooth sailing…It’s lonely having a life that is full of drama… but it’s also lonely having a life that is without drama.

I try to work the sales angle in my life. And it works me all the way to my therapist. I tell her how I don’t feel sometimes that I can share that drama. I tell her “You see… I’m in the limelight, I’m supposed to be this ‘something…’ this guy who has it all put together. So to share my drama with them would be to ‘burst their bubble’ of who they thought I was.” She had a comeback: “It must be awful lonely being someone you’re not.”

So what do we do? Those of us who sell, are lonely being someone who we are not. And those of us who don’t sell are lonely because we don’t fit in. I want us to read a story of a very lonely woman. She wasn’t into selling, or if she did, she lost her pitch. People found out that her technology didn’t work. And she was forced to be alone.

1Jesus realized that the Pharisees were keeping count of the baptisms that he and John performed 2(although his disciples, not Jesus, did the actual baptizing). They had posted the score that Jesus was ahead, turning him and John into rivals in the eyes of the people. 3So Jesus left the Judean
countryside and went back to Galilee. 4To get there, he had to pass through Samaria. 5He came into Sychar, a Samaritan village that bordered the field Jacob had given his son Joseph. 6Jacob's well was still there. Jesus, worn out by the trip, sat down at the well. It was noon. 7A woman, a Samaritan, came to draw water. Jesus said, "Would you give me a drink of water?" 8(His disciples had gone to the village to buy food for lunch.) 9The Samaritan woman, taken aback, asked, "How come you, a
Jew, are asking me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?" (Jews in those days wouldn't be caught dead talking to Samaritans.)

10Jesus answered, "If you knew the generosity of God and who I am, you would be asking me for a drink, and I would give you fresh, living water." 11The woman said, "Sir, you don't even have a bucket to draw with, and this well is deep. So how are you going to get this "living water'? 12Are you a better man than our ancestor Jacob, who dug this well and drank from it, he and his sons and livestock, and passed it down to us?" 13Jesus said, "Everyone who drinks this water will get thirsty again and again. 14Anyone who drinks the water I give will never thirst--not ever. The water I give will be an artesian spring within, gushing fountains of endless life." 15The woman said, "Sir, give me this water so I won't ever get thirsty, won't ever have to come back to this well again!"

16He said, "Go call your husband and then come back." 17"I have no husband," she said. "That's nicely put: "I have no husband.' 18You've had five husbands, and the man you're living with now isn't even your husband. You spoke the truth there, sure enough." 19"Oh, so you're a prophet! 20Well, tell me this: Our ancestors worshiped God at this mountain, but you Jews insist that Jerusalem is the only place for worship, right?" 21"Believe me, woman, the time is coming when you Samaritans will worship the Father neither here at this mountain nor there in Jerusalem. 22You worship guessing in the dark; we Jews worship in the clear light of day. God's way of salvation is made available through the Jews. 23But the time is coming--it has, in fact, come--when what you're called will not matter and where you go to worship will not matter. "It's who you are and the way you live that count before God. Your worship must engage your spirit in the pursuit of truth. That's the kind of people the Father is out looking for: those who are simply and honestly themselves before him in their worship. 24God is
sheer being itself--Spirit. Those who worship him must do it out of their very being, their spirits, their true selves, in adoration." 25The woman said, "I don't know about that. I do know that the Messiah is coming. When he arrives, we'll get the whole story." 26"I am he," said Jesus. "You don't have to wait any longer or look any further."

27Just then his disciples came back. They were shocked. They couldn't believe he was talking with that kind of a woman. No one said what they were all thinking, but their faces showed it. 28The woman
took the hint and left. In her confusion she left her water pot. Back in the village she told the people, 29"Come see a man who knew all about the things I did, who knows me inside and out. Do you think this could be the Messiah?" 30And they went out to see for themselves.

Come see a man who knows all that I have done. I don’t know about you, but to me someone who knows all of my drama I’m not leading people to. Instead I’m paying him blackmail money. And maybe the initial response of these people was to figure out this puzzle. Woman with issues + guy who knows everything about her multiplied by the number of people she’s telling = I got to see this. In fact I’m sure at least 4 other ex husbands are asking if they need to be paying some blackmail money.

Incidentally, as I was talking to my counselor about my ‘drama.’ She said this. “Geoff, for the rest of this session can I ask you a favor? Instead of using the word ‘drama’ which is negative because it refers to ‘drama queen’ which is what you don’t want to be; let me suggest that you replace the word with ‘story.’ Because regardless of how you feel about it, it is your story. It is part of you. And you might as well accept that.”

We may feel isolated at the well. Our story may do that to us. It could be ‘not telling’ your story that makes you feel just as isolated. But there is a man that comes to you. Humbly asks you for a drink; and knows all that you have done. Yet he remains.
He knows all that you have done. Yet he remains. That is not isolation. That is someone you can trust. Someone that handle it. Someone with the Grace enough to be your God. The living water is yours to drink. Yet somehow we have believed the lie that it isn’t for us… It’s for some person down the road who has it all put together. Whose drama free life glimmers and shines… the Salesman.

God is not into sales. Because the god of sales is man’s idol. The idol of perfection, the worship of the ‘arrived’, the attraction of ‘correct’. For it is this abbreviating of your “story” or the editing of your drama that allows you to stand without grace in front of God. Jesus isn’t into half of you. Jesus in fact is not into just Half you. Jesus knows, loves, and is into all of you. Drama and all.

Jesus walks past the salesman, and talks to you. To your soul. He does not despise you, as others have. Although you’re alone, you’re alone with Him. He speaks to you of life… of the gift of God; He tells you that all you have to do is ask and have. You may have no understanding of His meaning; but it is not condemnation, it is grace… grace that stoops to you, that knows your sin and is not repelled by it, it asks you for water, it is above any prejudice with regard to you, it has high contempt of those with ‘no drama’… grace which does not conceal your sin from you, which makes you feel that God knows it nevertheless, He who knows it was there without alarming you. Your sin is before God, but not in judgment. He still remains. Knows you… all of you. And remains.

What does that do for you? Your sin is before God, and he loves you. He stuck around. He chose you (all of you) over your “sales-self”. The moral effect upon the woman is evident. She forgets her waterpot, her toil, her circumstance, her reason for being there. She is engrossed by this new object that is revealed to her soul, by Christ; so engrossed that, without thinking, she becomes a preacher; she proclaims the Lord in the fullness of her heart and with perfect simplicity. He had told her all that she had ever done. She does not think at that moment of what it was. Jesus had told it her; and the thought of Jesus takes away the bitterness of the sin. The sense of His goodness… of his love… removes the guile of heart that seeks to conceal its sin and sell the shiny exterior. In a word, her heart is entirely filled with Christ Himself.

So… we’re all here at the well. Isolated…because we don’t have it all put together. Some of us are not letting other people drink because they’re not matching up, and others refuse to drink because the guards don’t reflect the grace of the water. Today… be entirely filled with Christ. Know today that God loves you, right now, as is. And within that simplistic thought, within that revelation, get to know someone else’s story… and remain by them.

How Did I Get Here?

I wasn’t always the moral piece of work that you see before you today. I had some shady beginnings. In third grade I got in a fight. After losing the fight you would have thought that I had learned my lesson, and changed my ways, as I sat in the principal’s office making hyperventilating post crying sounds as I explained the ridiculous circumstances that made me pick a fight with Dan Clark, the largest bully in the 3rd grade.

You would think that I would have moved from my shady past or my shady friends for sitting in the vice Principal’s office as a sophomore in High school. You would think the fear of getting suspended alone would be enough to break friendships. Friends like the ones I had. Friends that got me in the office to begin with. It might surprise you that I was nearly the arms supplier to what the vice principal saw as the Portland version of the trench coat mafia. My friend, you see, held up a classroom with an AK-47 because he wanted this girl to go out with him to a dance. The reason why I was in the office was it was my AK-47…my AK-47 Squirt gun. Yes I’ve had a shady past.

And then there was my brush with the law. As a senior in high school, only 8 short months after the Rodney king beatings I got my own whooping from a cop. There I was in old town. We had just been at Chinese food. And I found myself outside a very round window. I immediately peered inside to see an entire company staring back at me. It turns out there was a meeting, or a banquet going on, and it just so happens that the stage was right beside the circular window. My synapses fired and I quickly gathered my two other friends and came up with a plan. We all moved out of the windows site, and then slowly and fluidly began our best fish impressions and “swam” around our newly installed aquarium. We got the reactions we wanted as fish, some laughing, others giving long looks of disdain. To the point of creating a detour from whatever boring presentation was being droned on at the time.

I was ecstatic at the newest form of botherment. I quickly glanced around to find more round windows, to no avail. My friends were walking towards the car, but my fish impression days weren’t up yet. So I quickly ran across the street to the nearest Chinese food café, and began once more doing the fish impression that I was proud of. This time as I peered in, something not as inviting was starting back at me. Inside the café sat three cops. And they weren’t just sitting at a table where they could see me a little. They were sitting diner style at the long shelf table that was attached to the window.

Immediately my face went from fish to fear. I quickly dead-panned and began walking fast to catch up with my friends. When I reached them I looked behind me, and my fears were realized. One single cop had just left the door of the café, and it looked as if he was following us. A half a block later he was gaining on us, and sure enough when I was not 10 feet from my car, I felt a very strong hand seizing me from the neck. The voice behind me asked as he squeezed the back of my neck, “Are you OK?” There was obvious tension in his voice, and the actual question of his tone could have been something much different then ‘are you OK’.

Paralyzed I shook out a response: “yeah.” How I can say I was doing fine when this cop’s Vulcan death grip is digging into my vertebrae I have no clue. Nevertheless the contradictions continue as his next response was to turn me as if I was his hand puppet to face him and tell me “I thought you were calling for help.” Now to this new recruit’s defense the act of fish facing and the act of saying the words “help,” could be very similar. And If I had actually been yelling help the way he believed, I would have had to be a mute. Which completely justifies this guy using me as his chiropractic model. However I wasn’t calling for help and this cop definitely wanted to give me something to remember him by, so after releasing his hold of my neck, he quickly gave me two slaps to my face. Apparently, according to Portland Chinese Patrol, not being a mute deserves a hard spank to the face. I left with my face a little red, mainly from the slap.

How did I get there?

Have you ever asked that of yourself? How did I get here? And not just the night you drank too much and woke up nude in a strange room. How did I get here in my life?

Usually when you ask this assessment question, you aren’t particularly pleased with where you are. You find yourself in a dead end job, or no job, relationships aren’t what they panned out to be, you look at your life very much like a rolling stone. I can’t get no satisfaction is your cry. Unsatisfied! Some of us have had the scenario where it was the lowest point in our lives when we were forced to ask “how did I get here?”

Maybe its not the lowest time in your life, but having a new year turn its page makes you realize what has been relaxed. As I stare at myself in the mirror I look at my own non-chiseled physique and I ask myself “how did I get here?” And somehow I can remember when exercise became less of a priority and eating fast food became more “economical.”

Maybe you’re like some people who never ask the question. Afraid of the implied dissatisfaction of the question. Or maybe simply too proud to even ask. Or too blind to really ask it.

I want to share with you a story this morning that I’m nearly positive every one of you knows. But this time I’m going to tell you the story inside out. A huge fad these days with clever directors is to start with the ending and go backward, like that movie where the guy doesn’t have a long term memory, and so you spend the entire time, trying to figure out what happened in the past.

This particular story doesn’t begin where I’m going to start. But long about halfway through the story, we see Eddie with a bunch of pigs. Not ones like the Portland Chinese patrol of ’93, rather, these were farm pigs. And not the cute little pot belly pets that some rich women carry around, but large, gross, sows. These particular oikers dwelt somewhere in the middle east round about 1st century, there were probably Jews within neighboring towns, but this area was mostly a gentile population. Now most of us have heard the derogatory term, pig or pigsty, but few have a true distain for pigs the way Eddie had. He was a Jew, and hated pigs like any other Jew should. But Eddie was making due with what he had. You see Eddie was starving. And he had just landed this job feeding these pigs. I guess he was feeding them carob pods. I think these are the same things that they make fake chocolate out of. And as he threw these pods to these beastly animals. His stomach growled. His hand stopped throwing the pods to the pigs, and he looked at his handful. He wasn’t too proud at this point to consider eating what he was feeding the pigs. But the workers around him said he couldn’t. There he was, starving, alone, humiliated. And at this point he asked himself “how did I get here?”

As he took a long look he saw that the drought extinguished his friends money, the places where he stayed. He had to get a job. All his friends had to get jobs. He was sad to see his life go to couch surfing after having so many spend the night at his place drunk and passed out. He would throw the best parties. But one of the things that he started to realize is that parties cost money. So soon he went from playboy to mooch.

You may ask was there a stock market crash? Was his money tied up in wheat? No it was like every other out of control pseudo celebrity… He got his money through an inheritance.

Now, most people in this predicament are out of luck. The inheritance they had, they didn’t invest it properly and you end up with a similar result to vanilla Ice on VH1. A Staving B celebrity that makes good copy on “Where are they now?” But Eddie was a little bit different. You see, his father who gave him his inheritance was still alive.

There was a dramatic, crazy moment in which Eddie thought running a farm was BS and wanted to jump ship and party with his inheritance. So he demanded it from his dad, and his dad gave it to him.

So Eddie in pondering all of his past…In asking “how did I get here” … clearly saw how he got to be starving on a pig farm, not even getting to eat what the pigs had to eat.

But something changed for Eddie. It was one of the most blique moments of his life. However he did see something of hope. His pride was gone. His necessity was ripe. And he saw a way out. He said:

'How many of my father's hired hands have more than enough food, and here I am dying of hunger! 18 I'll get up, go to my father, and say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight. 19 I'm no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired hands." '

Eddie had huge pride issues that had been toppled. He used to be his father’s son but his actions seemed nullified it. And he saw that, and he acknowledged it. And Eddie took his first steps towards his father’s house in a long time.

Maybe you know the rest of the story, and maybe you don’t. Does his father make him a hired hand? I want to stop there because I want to address something that perhaps some of you feel is a bad word.

The word is repent.

It’s a scary word, it’s the word of the street preacher yelling at someone who he doesn’t know. It’s a word that many of us don’t understand but it’s a word that isn’t foreign to church and sermons. But nonetheless it is a word that when people utter it, all the rest of what leaves their mouth is forgotten. Partially for good reason because the moment someone says repent what follows is normally “because you’re a sinner” or something else extremely predictable.

But I want to expose Eddie for one moment. Sure Eddie partied. Sure Eddie “sinned against heaven and in his father’s sight”. Eddie was an asshole. But sometimes we identify too much with Eddie, and other times we can’t identify with him at all. But we tend to look at the characters of this story as ourselves. Whether we’re away from God, or close to him we say whether we are Eddie or not. But it blinds us to this one terrible beautiful moment in this story. The point in which Eddie Repents. And I know when I say that word millions of you all of the sudden know exactly what that means. But lets look at it fresh.

Eddie has hit this point where he asks himself “how did I get here?” and after truly assessing his life, he sees that where he is, is not what he wants for his life. And at that moment he puts his pride, and blood rights down. These being the two things that got him there in the first place. And after he has laid those down, he begins the first steps of a long journey home.

Do you need to begin thinking like Eddie? Or are you exactly where you want to be?

I don’t know about you but somehow the word has been stolen in my mind, by jerry fallwell and the Prostitute silliiquy. “I’m soooooo sorry” And I guess in that case it’s probably true. But I would like to bring the word from scary judgment ridden Christianity to the hope that Eddie felt.

Eddie was going to eat, Eddie was going to a better, less embarrassing job, and in the end… if you read it, Eddie has a restored relationship with his father and his sonship is returned. Repenting is moving from what you see as wrong, to something that you see is right.

God Loves you. The father always wants you back. Grace is there and always will be. However, its not up to God. This is your deal. It takes your part; your movement towards God; your effort in beginning the road back to the house that you will call home.

I’m here to tell you today that you can take that glimmer of what once was, or more likely the shimmer what could be; and fan that spark of hope into a flame of a first step. Taking a simple assessment of your own life; where are you? Are you at a place you don’t want to be? Change, and start moving the other direction.

Now maybe you say “Geoff, I have. I’ve tried stopping and moving the other direction, and I end up here all over again.” I say to you: “get help!” It could be that you may need to find another way other than cold turkey. There might be something in your life that you fight every day, and on the good days you don’t think about it, and on the bad days… well, there you are again. It could be that your step towards freedom is to talk about it with someone that might have solutions. A counselor type person, a friend that isn’t in your predicament. And be honest with what you’ve tried, and what has worked and what hasn’t.

You see, repenting doesn’t have to be this huge religious word. It can be a way of life. Assessing where you are, and taking steps to where you want to be. Instead of doing what Eddie did, with one huge V you can have a series of squiggles that get you to the same place.

But if you are on the V route! that road back may look long, too long. You may feel so far away from that place that at this point you’ve given up. And the only thing that is keeping you company is the bitterness that you feel about where you are, especially when you think about what it would be like to be where you would want to be. God is reminding you about the end of Eddie’s story. The part where the son can barely be seen in the distance. And when the father recognizes that it is his son, he runs to meet him. Your road may be long. It might be as long as being a hoodlum in the 3rd grade. But take heart, God sees you where you are, and sees those first steps, and is beeming to hold you in his arms again.

Flip The Baby

We don’t know much about the Christs…
Not the Christ but the ChristS, you know… Plural. The Smiths, the Neills, the Blacks… The Christs…we don’t know much about them. I don’t even really know their last name… hence Mary and Joseph Christ. You know… Jesus Christ’s parents…Mary and Joesph Christ. Of the Nazereth Christs. Or maybe back then the culture was to go around with one name… like Cher… or Madonna.

Regardless the bible doesn’t tell us much about them. Sure it tells us they’re Jewish… Very Jewish… Bloodlines back to Adam… but … so am I. It tells us that Joseph was a little chagrinned at the Holy Spirit for getting to his wife before he did. Possibly 9 months of chagrin. The bible doesn’t tell us of Mary’s gravitation towards blue clothing, or tell us when both Mary and Joseph developed the golden saucer type light that encircled their heads. Mathew doesn’t write down the astonishment of two very Jewish, Middle Eastern parents at the delivery of a blue eyed baby. There is a lot we don’t know about the Christ family.

We just know that for a good amount of time they were in charge of Jesus. He was their little baby boy. And since before he was born this kid was steeped in controversy. #1 you can’t imagine what effort it takes to convince your entire synagogue that you’re still virgin. Zechariah, Mary’s cousin’s husband, the high priest could have vouched for her that God was up to something however he had been struck mute by the very angel that Mary had seen.

And wouldn’t you know… Its Tax Season. Joseph, with the nine months under his belt of married chagrin, has to up an move to Bethlehem for the census. Now this isn’t really the baby’s fault… its more his bloodline’s fault as a descendant of David, and possibly the prophets fault for needing something to be fulfilled. But regardless lugging a very pregnant mother across country is probably not the honeymoon Mary and Joseph Christ were dreaming of.

It was as if a wake of chaos was following this baby. The Owner of the stable outside the very popular Bethlehem Inn had to pay for chiropractic work on some of his prize “lowing” cattle, due to them not having a feeding trough for several weeks. And once the Christ Family actually found a house in Bethlehem, well here come 3 kings from a place in the Orient called Ahr. They were a nice group, don’t get me wrong, they threw Mary a shower. She might have been a little pissed at Baltizaar for giving the Myrrh instead of the diaper Genie that she had registered for. But sure enough, Joseph’s dream of settling down in the City of David, was interrupted by a warning to get out of town. Turns out these Ahrians were the catalysts to starting a mass genocide killing spree on all of Bethlehem’s children two years and younger. So “for the sake of the baby” the Christ Family fled to Egypt.

I’m sure it wasn’t easy to raise “God Incarnate.” Joseph and Mary must have been looking over their shoulders as they did that “new parent thing.” I’m sure they realized the gravity of the situation. But I can’t imagine they realized the gravity of the situation. There he was, the savior of the world. The Fabled king… the Messiah. And there they were two parents trying their hardest to raise a baby who they loved.


Two weeks ago I got to meet the newest edition to my family. Little Kathleen Alexandra Liddell. My family was together for Thanksgiving and I finally got to see my sister, my brother in law and their four month baby girl (they live in San Diego). It was fun to see them. Little Katy was totally cute, and was the age that she kind of was like a stuffed animal with eyes. She sat quietly in the chair, swing, or being held by someone just taking it all in. Her eyes seemed to have magical powers. When they focused on somebody, that person would somehow turn into a fool. Either making a face, or talking in a strange cartoon type tone. Normal conversations about politics would be interrupted with an over emphasized “THAT’S RIGHT…THAT’S RIGHT” a weird face and a farting noise, and then resumed as if nothing had happened. My sister and brother in law were proud. You could tell they loved their baby very much. They would do anything for her.

There were some others that came to thanksgiving too. Galen was my roommate in college. He and I had a great time starting our fraternity. We hung out in Ireland this last August. My mom calls him her favorite Asian son, and Galen seems to have special powers as well. Whenever Galen is around somehow people tend to line up and tell him that they have problems with their knee, or arthritis in their hands, or that they can only bend their elbow this far. He patiently listens to our dehabilitations and calmly tells us what exercises to do, or what “the real problem” is. You see, Galen is a Physical Therapist. And this was his first time meeting baby Katy as well.

It was interesting watching them size up each other; Katy, being the first born daughter of the Liddell’s, and Galen being a physical therapist. Galen seemed unaffected when the baby cried. When Katy was in my arms and she began to fuss, I immediately outstretched her towards my sister with a look on my face as if I had broken the child. Galen didn’t act the same as everybody in the house. We all seemed to be enchanted by Katy, but Galen seemed to study her. Not coldly like an experiment, but warmly like his job asks. His PT specialty is in Pediatrics. So even though he is equipped to deal with my family’s ailments, his job is to work with kids.

As the night progressed, I witnessed a light bulb go off in Galen’s head. He cooed at Katy as she was playing on the matt with the dangleys above her. He picked her up and put her back down, face down… not in a malicious way. But more as if he needed to see something. As if he was a scientist who just poured chemical a and b into test tube c. She seemed a little shocked, but not by the flip, just that someone would have the audacity to put her on her stomach. Within 30 seconds she began to cry. Not a cry of “I’m in pain” or “help me mother” but more a cry of “this really pissed me off.” Galen allowed her to stay there and cry for another 20 seconds before picking her up. Where he gently said, “I know… I know… you didn’t like that at all… That really pissed you off… I know.” But he made no movements to give her back to my sister. It was as if he was superman and Baby Katy’s bullets simply bounced off and lodged into the pottery on the shelf.
I don’t know what it was about this moment that seemed so poignant. Life has all of its twists and turns and experiments but this seemed larger then most of them. I knew what he was doing. He was giving Katy tummy time; which helps with development.

As I studied it: Having babies sleep on their backs has successfully reduced the rate of SIDS, but has also been accompanied by reports of an increase in the number of babies diagnosed with flattening of the back of the head. Katy, because of her life of laying around, swinging, and laying on the mat, gave her a propensity to look to the right which was beginning to do some “flattening of the head” on the right side.

The most common time to see head flattening according to University of Auckland Brigham Young University was age 4 months. No new cases began after 8 months of age. Overall, about 90 percent of the head shape problems disappeared on their own by age 2. The more hours that babies spent flat on their backs, the more likely they were to have head flattening. Even 5 minutes a day of tummy time had a protective effect. The back is great for sleeping, but other positions are wonderful for when babies are awake. One Doctor prefers at least 30 minutes total of tummy time each day once the cord has fallen off.

Now I know what you’re thinking… Geoff, we’re in church… this is not Babies 101. I know you think you’re niece is cute but, please, spare us. No.

I feel this very simple action of flipping the baby is extremely important. My sister and Brother in law love my niece very much. They would do anything for her. Yet their love of the very thing they would do anything for blinded them to the things they need to do. Their baby needs to adapt. It needs to grow. It needs to be flipped. Their baby needs to live within the tension of living life. And as parents, it’s their job to do one of the hardest things a parent can do. Facilitate the growth of their child.

And you’re saying to yourself… Geoff… I don’t have a four month old, Geoff I don’t have kids… or Geoff what does this have to do with anything? Before you simply think that my sister is an unfit mother, think to yourself what you’ve done to facilitate the growth of your baby. We all have them. It’s the very thing that drives you. It was the motivation that was behind Mary and Joseph moving to Egypt. Sure they wanted to preserve the life of their child. But it was something more beautiful than that; something that was mapped into their DNA that allowed them to protect that kid with their life; something that allowed them to weather the stream of chaos that came with having their particular child.

What are your hopes? What are your dreams? What are your loves? What gets you up in the morning? What is your baby? It’s right there in front of you, and some of you are so happy with the idea of your baby that you are blind to the fact that it’s getting flat. Is there something that you love, about yourself, or someone else, or a dream you have that in long overdue to be flipped over. Is your love of that baby co-dependence? Meaning you are so wrapped up in the crying and struggle that happens when we grow, that you would easily forsake it for a flathead.


God asks us to flip the baby. Is your life filled with fires, and when you have a moment to breathe, you just do nothing, and as a result you never get to the place you want. FLIP THE BABY, and prioritize the things that you want to do and stick to them. Are you repeating the same actions over and over and expecting different results. FLIP THE BABY, and take another route. Are you teetering on the edge of faith and afraid to move any closer because you don’t want to be one of “them.” FLIP THE BABY and know that God wants you to be more you than you can be without Him.

In your life you are going to be asked to flip the baby. The thing you love most will cry and be uncomfortable and you have to be the cause. My sister and Brother in law have two choices, give the kid tummy-time or get surgery on a flat head. God places us in opportunities where we have the choice to grow or stay flat. The growth causes crying, pain, and adaptation. Not easy… but necessary. God at one point even asked it of His son Jesus.

I still marvel at the balls Joseph and Mary had at the possibility of giving God incarnate “Tummy-time.” As Mary’s hands shook as she flipped the baby, she might have expected a bolt of lighting, or possibly an odd harp music playing as Jesus floated back onto his back. But more than likely all she saw was Jesus struggling to get upright, and eventually get pissed off and cry. Jesus himself had to grow, learn to crawl, learn to talk, learn to finally love and flip the baby himself. One night in Gethsemane, Jesus knew what was ahead of him. The Cross. And three times he asked to have his destiny removed. Only to hear a silent response. Knowing his love of God and his love for humanity he saw what needed to be flipped in order for growth to happen. Himself. “God, Thy will be done.” And three days later, after oceans of pain, days of crying, and thoughts of hopelessness. Christ emerged in glory. He flipped the baby to reconcile humanity to God, He flipped the baby to underline the fact of a loving God for us, He flipped the baby to give us inspiration for our own growth and struggle with life.

God wants you to know that you are loved today. So much that there was a huge struggle in order to bring you close. He came that we may live, love and be in him, As you go out today, ask yourself, what has stopped you from growing what you love? Because perhaps you need to flip it.

My Achy Breaky Heart

It was a cold morning. I got in my car with no heat. I was so cold. Was it me that was so cold, or did I feel something more? I was cold, like I was doing something wrong, like I was engaging in sin. Like the holy spirit was nowhere near me. Or was I just cold? Because it was November… and I had no heat in my car.

I arrived at my destination. I had my agenda in mind. “You can’t stay too long,” I thought to myself, “or you may regret something. Today Geoff it’s like a band-aid… you got to rip it right off.” We went into the bank, and clinically we signed the documents. We then drove to the courthouse where we dropped them off. As we walked back, the sun shone and I was a little warmer. It was a beautiful fall day. The type of fall day where the sun lights the trees on fire with their colors. Reds and yellows lit our way back to the car. When we got into the car we tried to navigate our feelings of loss, disenchantment, brokenness. But mainly we just kept it light.

My counselor said that I might want to do something symbolic. Something Pomp and circumstancey. So I wrote a poem the night before. I figured what’s more Pomp and circumstancey than reciting a poem.

In the cab of the car I held it together long enough to read this:

Ode to an Unfettered Horse by Geoffrey Neill

Ride Magnificent Ride!
Out goes the tide
as sunset outstretches out towards the night
and you, Magnificent, gallop far and wide to your hopes and dreams to be astride

I am tearful as I see you ride
For I recall when our worlds collide
You came upon my land untied
Escaping that which made you cry

I fell in love Magnificent mine
With your beauty, speed, brilliant design
I brought you in and let you dine
And I think you stayed because I was kind

And for a time this time did shine
And you basked within the morning light
And I cared for you and you did ride
Along my lands once upon a time

But then one morning I peered outside
You left during the night
I built no fence; I thought you liked the grazing lands that you abide
I felt I had to hold on tight to bring you back from your flight
So I took off into the night

And I found you on the mountainside your mane with burrs, but shining bright
Approaching you, stepping light, convincing you to run back to sight
It was hard but you did ride back to the lands that were mine
And we spent that time and that time did shine

But soon your dreams made you pine for other lands that were hard to find
And this dance we danced, times 8 or 9 and I soon saw that I did find
That every time you crossed the line, was a piece of me I could not find
I cried for times you’d reach my side, and you’d come again… and those times did shine

But there comes a time within this life, when the dance is dancing only strife
And the land has been cut with a serrated knife, and you, Magnificent, have no delight
So you lead the dance, and we do the shit(e) and I half-assed follow into the night
And we’re both tired of the same old plight, and here we are: a disillusioned sight

And I see…that we … began to hide
Within what we wanted on the inside
I with a fence, and you outside.
We are compelled today to do what’s right

So I swing my unreal fence aside, any chains from me please cast aside
And on this day, please move with pride into the sunset you always eyed

And so … I sigh.
Ride Magnificent Ride!
Out goes the tide
as sunset outstretches out towards the night
and you, Magnificent, gallop far and wide to your hopes and dreams to be astride

And with that we said some emotional words of encouragement for each other and I dropped her off. I had just got a divorce. And despite the waves of emotion that came upon me that day, the thing was…my heartbreak was that of years previous.

You see I was a Christian. A follower of Christ. Born again. Born into freedom. Connected with the living God. Living the life of a man full of the Holy Spirit. And that label seeped into my being, my soul… I wanted to one day to become a pastor a church. I felt called to the ministry. I loved the idea of doing good. Doing right. Doing the right thing. Having correct morals. Being aligned with the good side… the winning side. I loved it. And what’s not to love. You’re meeting nice people, helping the poor, singing songs, hearing inspiring messages, and most of all at peace with God.

It could be possible that this need to be good might have stemmed from the way I approached my family. I was the Son who took notes on his older sister. Who viewed carefully the mistakes she made. Saw the fits, the fights, and whatever else brought repercussions. I was someone who didn’t want those repercussions. Something in me wanted from the beginning to “live right” but more than that…I think the possible reality was that I wanted to live a “consequence free” life. I wasn’t really into “doing the right thing…” Seriously I could care less. But I was more interested in finding the path of least consequence. I didn’t want to rattle anyone’s cage. I wanted the path that is the best for me. But more importantly, I wanted the path that didn’t have shit attached to it. NO CONSEQUENCES.

And deep down there was absolutely nothing really wrong with that. I believe my heartbreak set in because I began to notice something else. Despite the fact that I had aligned myself with the living God, I had some assumptions that were not necessarily living up to my own expectations. “I was with the good guys now.” “Life should be good.” These were my assumptions. “I’m connected with Jesus now.” “He’s inside me… everything should be smooth sailing.” And unfortunately, as my doorway into Christianity opened into a hallway, I saw that things weren’t always peachy keen.

Oh sure I heard the occasional sermon that talked on “why bad things happened to good people.” I came from normal everyday life so I wasn’t expecting my conversion to all of the sudden right the wrongs of life, and ‘DING’ I would soon be a millionaire pastor that was well known everywhere and who’s shadow creates world peace as it descends upon the places it falls. I wasn’t living in a delusion. But for some reason I did believe that if I aligned myself with “the right way of living” I would move through…Consequence free! My dreams would be fulfilled, and I would have the life of a storybook.

So there I was… A good boy. And there was life. The twisted machine that grinds us all up and spits us out. And in midst of the difficulties that we call life, (which I’m sure to some of you I’m a complete pansy) somehow my theology neglected to tell me to stop smiling and take notice. Stop and take notice at my own heartbreak. My Christianity somehow allowed me to believe that my heartache, should be cured by quickly saying to the wrong doer “I forgive you”. I somehow believed my heartache should be placed to the side along with my self worth. I would think “I am a sinner, so I shouldn’t complain about the scraps I get.”

As difficulties arrived on my doorstep, I loaded them on my back and maintained a smile, because “I was a part of the good guys, and I was going to do the right thing” And as more hardships knocked on my door, I attempted to laugh them off, but somehow they continued to pile up on my back. When my wife left me the first time she told me I had changed. Which was true … “I was much more realistic” and maintained a smile while balancing the ever accumulating “very realistic” heartbreak on my back. And when the shit hit the fan and “She was done.” There… I collapsed on the ground, immobile by the mountains of glazed over, laughed over, very real heartbreak.

I don’t know about you today. Do you have something that is bothering you. Hurting you. Making you feel sub par. Are you an addict? Are you in survival mode? Are you simply stuffing your heartache into your pleasant façade? Do you have a great smile? When someone asks you a hard question do you laugh?

The psalmist writes:
PSALMS 23:4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, [a]
I will fear no evil, for you are with me;

I believe this morning that God is with us in our circumstance. He is with us in our heartbreak. Now it could be possible that many of us somehow believe that heartbreak isn’t a part of the plan. But let me tell you. Unfortunately, heartbreak is a part of the plan. The more we begin to extend ourselves in love, (whether it is towards a spouse or someone we don’t even know) the more we up the ante when it comes to possible heartbreak. We completely increase our gambling odds. Now this might make some of you feel as if you would rather step onto the sidelines and let everyone pass by. But unfortunately or fortunately loving others is going to be the greatest of things you do in your life. So fear of heartbreak is actually something that stops us from living.

(I don’t want to champion heartbreak at all, but I do want us to see that this is a church. And not only a church but one with a mission. One to reach out to the Young and Disenfranchised of Portland. To reach the ones who have slipped through the cracks. This is a church of people that have been used as human mortar under the bodyweight of life. So… I hate to brake it to you… but it is more than likely that by you being here, you are dealing or have dealt with a fair amount of heartbreak in your life.)

Oscar Wilde writes that “Hearts are meant to be broken.” But many times we have no clue why our heart is breaking. The only way to understand and move through our own heartbreak is by being quiet and giving the hurt attention. As we heal through taking notice and leaning into the reasoning behind our broken heart, we begin to see that our hearts are meant to break open fully. We are meant to feel anguish, sadness, and mourn the loss of things in our life. To have only joy, happiness, and elation is to only live half the life God has allowed us to live. And to fear the other half of life is to live half your life in fear.

A poem written by Wendell Berry Illustrates what are process should be

I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
Around me like circles of water.
My tasks lie in their places
Where I left them, asleep like cattle…

Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its site.
What I fear in it leaves it,
And the fear of it leaves me
It sings, and I hear its song.

What we find as we listen to the songs of our heartbreak: tones of rage, fear, loneliness or longing. But as we listen to those tones you will see that they do not stay forever. Rage turns into sorrow; sorrow turns into tears; tears may fall a long time, but the sun comes out in the morning. A memory of old loss sings to us; our body shakes and relives the moment of loss; then the armoring around that loss gradually softens; and in midst of the song of tremendous grieving, the pain of the loss finally finds its release.

Are you hiding your heartbreak? Are you afraid of what may happen if you allow your sadness to bubble out. God doesn’t want us to be a people that stuff it. He doesn’t want us to have pretty smiles, perfect morals and hidden fucked up lives. When heartbreak comes knocking, God is asking us to open the door. You don’t have to be willing. God’s not asking you to be a sadist. But God is asking us to look. To take notice of our pain, lean into our broken hearts and go through that heartache so that we may not live half our lives in fear. So that we may truly forgive, or simply love again. God is with us. And you know what? We are with us. Today… if you are hurting, lean on to your friends and counselors. Hopefully they will pray with you, cry with you. Let you express yourself without worrying that you don’t have a smile on your face. It’s hard to move through the melancholy of our lives. But don’t be afraid, you have a God that will walk through these shadows with you. He knows that by addressing it, leaning into the reasons why, and morning the loss of whatever it is, that your heart will break all the way open, allowing for more love to enter your life. Today begin to look inward, tell the truth to yourself, however it looks, so that you may let your broken heart be mended.

The Dash That Lies Within

It’s a somber day. You’re in a church, not like this one. Its grand woodwork and pews seem to extend for miles. The stone on the inside stretches to engulf the brightly colored stained glass. The gentle church organ is playing something unrecognizable but it seems to set a very melancholy tone. People are sitting on the hard wooden benches, dressed in black. Someone has died. And as you walk up the aisle you see certain family members and some friends. You remember reading something in the paper about a death occurring, however it seems strange that you’re there. The casket is now before you. You gather enough strength to look in and inside ...there you are…dead. You listen to what your family, friends, coworkers say about you… what are they saying? The scene changes as you see your body get lowered into the grave.

The grave stone says
RIP
Here lies YOU
This year – that year

Then all of the sudden the earth starts moving near the grave stone… you might think it’s a earthquake when all of the sudden you see a hand clawing its way towards the sky… Its you … the dead… coming to rise again …cause this is thrillah….

Sorry… I know totally lame to bring up MJ. I’m so Bad…but I left my other sermon in my billy jeans… so if you don’t like this one you can probably Beat It…. Its All hallows eve eve today, and you can’t get away from the spooky… and what’s spookier than a graveyard … am I right?

I guess the reason why I’m thinking about the spookiness of headstones is that two weeks ago I began helping my dad archive pictures onto the computer. These were pictures different people I’m related to… it just so happened that these were of my grandfather’s dad. There were pictures of him as a baby, the house he was born in, his football pictures at University of Oregon. As we looked through all 14 of his pictures, we selected 8 that we actually knew who was in the photos or what exactly was happening. We found his death certificate, and some newspaper clippings about him. Typesetting it we realized that the sum of his life could be compiled into 8 pictures, 3 pages of text, and a death certificate. After about 2 hours worth of work, my dad looked at what we had and he told me “well there’s your great grandfather… an entire lifetime and we only have 11 pages.

And it got me to thinking about an even more grim scene.. I realized that on a gravestone below the RIP and the person’s name is the year they were born *dash* the year they died. An entire lifetime can be abbreviated into a mere dash.

Close your eyes and feel the mortality of the human body you’ve been given. Death is certain for us—only the time of death is yet to be discovered. Imagine yourself to be at the end of your life—next week or next year or decades from now…sometime in the future. Now cast your memory back across your whole life and bring to mind two good deeds that you have done, two things that you did that were good. They don’t need to be grandiose; let whatever wants to arise show itself. In picturing and remembering these good deeds, also become aware of how these memories affect your consciousness, how they transform the feelings and state of the heart and mind, as you see them.

Look carefully at the quality of these situations, at what is comprised in a moment of goodness picked out of a lifetime of words and actions. Almost everyone who is able to remember such deeds in this meditation discovers them to be remarkably simple. They are rarely the deeds one would put on a resume. For some people a moment of goodness was simply the one when they told their father before he died that they loved him, or when they flew across country in the midst of their busy life to care for their sister’s children as she was healing from a car accident. It could be that you thought back to a crowded street where you and someone else got to a parking spot at the same time, and you gave it to that person.

The things that matter most in our lives are not fantastic or grand. They are the moments when we touch one another, when we are there in the most attentive or caring way. This simple and profound intimacy is the love that we all long for. These moments of touching and being touched can become a foundation for a way of life, and they take place in the most immediate and direct way. Mother Teresa put it like this: “In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love.”

I did this exercise 10 years ago and found myself drawing a blank when it came to any good deeds. The reason why was because everything that I had flagged as a “good deed” was also something that had an ulterior motive with my benefit at the end of the road. I racked my brain over and over to view something that I had done in my life that I did purely for the betterment, or love of someone else. I found nothing. Perhaps you are in this boat. You close your eyes and all you see is what you’ve done to others to benefit yourself, and what you’ve done to get where you’re at today. Let me tell you this morning that this is no life. Your dash in the middle is a self centered life, one that doesn’t have charity built in, it doesn’t benefit others. In fact it is this sort of life devoid of love that people do not miss, if not even give a sigh a relief when this person passes away.

In his first letter to the Corinthians Paul pleads with the church in Corinth to let their dashes…the ones that comprise their lives, to be filled with love. For it is his view that as everything falls by the wayside unless you fill your life with the love of God.

But what does this look like? We’ve already heard from Ken this morning on what his experience. I have another story that is similar. It just happened recently that a friend tried to extend his comfort zone to try to begin loving people. He writes this.

Well, I headed out to meet everyone at Pioneer Square tonight for the hang out and giveaway. But my lame ass didn't get up out the house until 7, and when I arrived downtown clutching a package of socks, there was no one to be found.I was a little mad at myself for missing [the gang], but oh well, I thought. I'll bring the socks the next time ... I was going to just go browse Powell's… and head home.Then I met George. I was walking along and passed him panhandling on Broadway, near the Heathman. I pulled out my last 5 dollars and dropped it in his basket, and I smiled and greeted him, and he thanked me, and I said "anytime" and told him God bless. I was walking away when he said "Thank you for treating me like a human being." I turned back around and said "hey, don't mention it, that's what it's all about." I leaned against the store window next to him and we [started] talk[ing].We talked for over an hour. That $5 and eye contact were the price of admission to the life of George, and it was well worth it. And if things had gone as planned, I'd have never met him.George is in his fifties and has been homeless for 30-some odd years. He has no cartilage in his knees, plus arthritis. That's what I learned in the first two minutes. The rest of the time was spent talking about life, the universe and everything, and learning what George thinks and feels. Things like, if you love your enemies, you can have no enemies. Like, God loves us and looks out for us, even in the hardest of circumstances. Like, They can jail your body, but you have to LET them jail your spirit. Like, he would rather be homeless and alert to the world with its beauties and dangers, than comfortable and complacent. Like, we don't have to grow senile and decrepit, if we … care [for] our bodies and spirits we could live longer… in … health and vitality. I tried to help George out, and it's HIM that blessed ME. Our conversation veered from the Chronicles of Narnia to Tibetan monks to the societal changes wrought by the internet. Every moment in his presence was joy, every word and gesture of his dripped love.Our conversation only ended when George pulled up stakes to go camp out of the rain. Whatever else happened (or didn't) happen the past day, I was fulfilled in meeting and communing with George. We hugged, twice. We parted as brothers. Oh, and I gave him the socks. I'll buy more for the next time.

That is his experience in the dash that we call life. And as someone typesets my epitaph I’m not sure they will get the nuances of what my life has been about. When I think back on my life what pops up as one of my “good deeds” is simply giving my sweatshirt away. I met a guy downtown, a huge New Yorker, and I happened to have on a New York sweatshirt. He commented on it several times. I felt that it would be nice to give it to him. He was taken aback, weirded out, at first couldn’t accept it… as I insisted and he put it on. To this day we are great friends.

What is the value of your favorite piece of clothing? Is it more valuable than lets say … your soul? I’m not advocating going and giving away all of your stuff. I am questioning our priorities! What are you doing during your week? How much of your life is devoted to loving others?

We are a creative community, and I want to be clear on one thing. Art is not Love. What was written about this mans experience is inspiring, and inspired by what he did. We can write about love, sing about love, paint, write poetry, and speak about love… But all of these are inspired by the ACT of loving. Don’t fool yourself into complacency and oblivion by allowing your inspirations be what should be your aspirations. Please by all means write, compose, paint, be as creative as possible, but realize that the act of loving someone else with no agenda is what will inspire your artistry.

James, in talking to churches all over the map, says “do you say you have faith in God? Then do something!” He says that true religion stems from caring for those who have slipped through the cracks. Loving, caring, spending time and energy blessing other people with no agenda is NEVER GOING TO BE EASY. Like my friend who met George…Things won’t go as planned! Yet it was in that seemingly negligible space of availability, and effort….that loving someone with no agenda brought its reward. What was that reward? Lives were changed on both parts. Connection with a loving God happened to both parties… however small. And that is what God is calling you to do every day.

We’re so conscious of our time, yet we spend none of it doing the things that would truly make it remarkable. Let’s be remarkable…This week I want to ask you to take one half hour out of your week and spend it doing “a good deed” for someone else, with no expectation of payback… none…. Think about it… How will your life change years from now if you begin to prioritize love in your life. Doing the small things with great love… What will your dash look like?

I'm One Sick Preacher!

It was a grim scene. I was driving like a bat out of hell towards a place called White Salmon. I had never been there; I only knew that at a particular fork I was to turn left. I was calming myself by saying that I somehow would know when to turn. Then a voice floated on my right making the scene even more cinematic. “loves” the voice said. It was my girlfriend who was uncomfortably lying in the passenger seat. I glanced over, careful not to careen off the cliffs on my right. “yeah?” she wearily uttered ”3 taps means I love you. OK?” After which she taps on my hand 3 times with her finger. At that point my mind goes into any sort of schmaltzy “Beaches,” Fried green tomatoes type of movie. You know the kind my mom loves to go to. Or sit up and watch round about Christmas time, bawling her eyes out between Hallmark commercials. The one where the cancer patient tells the faithful husband of 25 years “3 taps means I love you” before entering into a coma. And he sits next to her side and at one point before they’re about to pull the plug she gives him 3 taps. I’m thinking “is this how it ends?” as my girlfriend in stuntman type of gusto has been launched from a 9 foot teeter totter to come plummeting to the earth. I could only pray, I could only think of one destination I needed to get to, As we are racing towards the hospital, I felt the gentle touch of her finger 3 times - tap tap tap. All I could think about was when we get to the Doctor, we’ll know.

Have you ever had the experience of needing a doctors help? You feel utterly helpless, and completely needy. We all have gone sometime, and we all will need to go sometime. What are feelings you have associated with doctors?

I think it could be odd to picture. But in Ireland, after the family that was hosting me was asleep, there I was, in my shorts, on doing squat thrusts in front of my old college roommate. I know it looks sordid, and when I say he was checking me out it might sound sordid, however my old roommate is a physical therapist and I had a sports related injury. Doing capoeira outside on Alberta street in May. And Messed up my knee. He was checking it out because I never saw anybody for it. (insurance reasons) Anyway, he ended up looking at my knee. After doing a couple tests on it and having me squat and other things, he said “good news, it seems like it’s a muscle tear and you can probably do up to 98% of what you did before.” He told me that I needed to use it. I said “I’m scared because it might hurt again” So he proscribed a couple exercises and encouraged me to try to use it equally with the other. 2 months later…I’m able to run on it.

Now I know that you all have doctor related stories, times you got better and times that you got sick, and you might tell me this isn’t health class, or this isn’t an insurance seminar, where are you going Geoff?

Well it’s been on my mind because I’ve been sick the past three days.
And being sick is never fun for me.(as if its fun for anyone else) My body tends to shut down. It’s completely lame because … I have stuff to do. I’m an important person. I can’t be in bed. I have to have a personality. And what sucks is that one of the first things that go out the window when I get sick is I lose my personality. I begin this routine of Frankenstein versus the rest of the world. Questions get shot my way and my response is ahhhhhhh. How are your doing “ahhhh” do you want anything to eat “ahhhh” what do you want to eat “ahhhhh”. But more than the last three days I’ve found out that I’ve been sick my whole life. And the scary thing is…its terminal. Yeah, I haven’t told a lot of people yet, perhaps you have noticed it in me before but I am sick… sick…and wrong.

Only someone as sick as I am would tell you this joke:
“Three vampires walk into a bar. One orders a blood on the rocks. Another orders a double blood. The third simply asks for a mug of hot water."Why didn't you order blood like everyone else?" asks the bartender. The vampire pulls out a tampon and says, "I'm making tea!" ”

I know… I know…I don’t condone vampires either, anybody who dresses in goth without dangling a huge crucifix around their neck has something wrong with them. Anyway, Oh yeah… I’m totally sick. The fact that as I was studying for this message I got detracted for a good ten minutes reading about some guy’s explosive diarrhea experience that caused him to vomit into his elastic ankled sweatpants. Gives you a good indication on how sick I really am.

So again you’re asking… Geoff I get it, you now no longer have any credibility? So why are you still talking?

I’m trying to shake you up. Make you think differently. You probably got up this morning and said. I wonder what the lord has for me this morning. You probably came to church thinking, we’ll get to sing some songs and hear a message that will make my heart be excited for being a Christian for today. Little did you know that sick ol’ Geoff was going to tell you about the fabled launching of his girlfriend in ’05 or explosive diarrhea?

But there was a toppling of people’s religious contexts in the year 30 AD as well. And there was a man who seemed a little nuts and was noticed by the religious folks in the crowd. This man asked people to follow him, because he told them that he was the Son of God. Sound nuts? Maybe not to you because you’re in a church, but to the religious of the time, only a very sick person would make such claims.

“9 Passing along, Jesus saw a man at his work collecting taxes. His name was Matthew. Jesus said, "Come along with me." Matthew stood up and followed him. 10 Later when Jesus was eating supper at Matthew's house with his close followers, a lot of disreputable characters came and joined them. 11 When the Pharisees saw him keeping this kind of company, they had a fit, and lit into Jesus' followers. "What kind of example is this from your Teacher, acting cozy with crooks and riff-raff?" 12 Jesus, overhearing, shot back, "Who needs a doctor: the healthy or the sick? 13 Go figure out what this Scripture means: 'I'm after mercy, not religion.' I'm here to invite outsiders, not coddle insiders." (MATTHEW 9:9-13)

And if the Religious leaders at the time looked up that scripture. They would have looked up Hosea 6:6 that was talking about a group of people that were doing all of the correct religious sacrifices but had no concept of the reasoning why. They were doing it with pride, thinking they were top of the food chain when God saw that they were clueless.

Are you sick this morning? Are you seen as a crook, riffraff, disreputable, maybe an outsider? Or do you see yourself as someone who has it all together, upstanding, and healthy.

I was hurt this week as I was reading a website of a church that proudly expresses that John 3:16 states that Jesus died only for those who believe. And that in itself didn’t hurt me because it does say “JOHN 3:16"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son,[a] that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” It hurt me because they used this scripture in conjunction with a predestination scripture to form this particular stance: if you do not believe in Jesus, Jesus didn’t die for you and therefore you are Not worth the church’s time. Not redeemable ..possibly even subhuman. They use this view to fuel a rage that is teeming within them that allows them to look upon humanity. And those that are crooks, riffraff, disreputable, sick, or maybe simply outsiders are targeted, and they get a message. But it isn’t a message of a Jesus who stayed in their dysfunctional home, or came up to them on the street, or saw them for who they are. It is a message of judgment. A message of anger.
These insiders are allowing the “good doctor”, “the great physician”, “the wonderful counselor” to give only and singularly the bad news of judgment. No wonder people want a second opinion.
No wonder people want to hear better news of a god that doesn’t have anything to do with Jesus. No wonder people only switch on the Trinity Broadcasting Network if they want a good Chuckle. No wonder people are so confused about whether Christians are actually safe people or are they SICK?

In a very difficult time in my life, I had just seen my counselor that day, when some news came my way that was devastating. I knew I didn’t want to freak out and call my counselor after I had just seen her 3 hours previous. But I didn’t know what to do. Immediately I sat down on my couch and began looking at the chair in front of me. And I began to think that Jesus was sitting in the chair, very much like my counselor would be. I then talked to the chair for an hour, the way I would my counselor. Am I a nut? Perhaps… Do you think I’m sick? well I’ve already proven that one. But did I gain incite into myself that calmed me down, yes. Did I view this as a prayer to God, yes. Why do I keep asking questions and answering them? I don’t know.
Perhaps because I want us to see this: Doctors have that ability to tell you what’s wrong, and if they pinpoint it correctly, even though you still hurt, somehow the effect of knowing tends to put you at ease and have the effect of making you feel better. The Doctor’s diagnosis is one that can be good news or bad news, but it is the news that allows you to move into a better place for yourself.

The interesting thing was when my friend told me that my knee injury wasn’t permanent… I believed him. So I began walking on it squatting on it and not favoring my other leg. And it is in fact getting better.

And Today …Doctor God has some bad news for us… Your sickness, is terminal. If you do nothing for your sickness it will eat you alive. But God has some good news too… Its referred to as Gospel… good news, our sickness has a cure. It has a miracle healing everlasting cure. What is that cure you may ask?

But God proves His own love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us! (Romans 5:8)

Regardless whether we view ourselves as insiders, or outsiders, sick or well. It is God’s desire to see that you become who you’ve been created to be. Whole. And no matter how healthy, sick, uppercrust, or riffraff you are… God wants you to know that you are loved, we are loved, all on an equal playing field, whether you feel like you are reaching your potential or just barely making it. Jesus is your cure. You can believe it or not.

His love. Grace, in turn should cause us to become a great lover of people, whether they are reaching the maximum potential or not. A lover of mercy, and lover of forgiveness. One of the great commandments is Love your neighbor. How can you build up the person next to you? Across the hall. Downtown. How can you get to know them outside of their labels. Your labels…Economic, spiritual, or other.

Where is God’s heart this morning? Its where it always is. Its where it always has been. Its asking you to be whole. The Doctor sees you and even though you have quite a bit of therapy ahead of you. Its beckoning you forward. Its pulling you out of your circumstance and saying that “you are mine.” The great physician’s heart is always in love with you. You, as you were meant to be. God’s heart is compassionate towards your life. The Doctor Knows exactly who you are and where you’ve been. The Counselor knows beyond a shadow of a doubt what makes you wince about your life, what sickens you about yourself, and what you feel trapped in. The Doctor is “in” and he is here to speak into that that trap, that sickness, and say “come.” Those habits are not who you’re meant to be. “Come,” You don’t need to be embarrassed. “Come with me,” “follow me” and you will be well.

And the bands played...

Two weeks ago I was in the heart of Northern Ireland. In the western part of Belfast. I had just finished going into a local pub called “the Gin Palace” where supposedly some ungodly amounts of Guinness were polished off nightly. I thought that I may help them out in their endeavor; however no one was interested in talking to me in there. But as I left, staring at me, in front of the hostel, was a marching band. It was a parade. The beautiful brightly colored flags were waving; there were about ten snare drummers, twenty flutists and a base drummer that was kicking his bass drum’s ass (One of the funniest things to watch). As the crowd began to gather, more bands came. I asked naively what this was, and someone told me it was a Band Parade. I asked what is it for, and they clarified: “it’s a parade…with bands.” I knew this person was not going to be terribly helpful and asked someone else… and someone said that it was a competition. Soon I landed a question on a man full of tattoos and with a shaved head (which every man and boy in Ireland is either bald or has a shaved head): “who do you think is going to win?” To which a Cockney accent declared “no one will win.”

I soon had a new best friend due to my purchasing him a pint of Harp and he shared with me a plethora of off color jokes. It turns out my new best friend Dennis was a stanch Protestant. He had arrived in Belfast 30 years prior, stationed there to keep the peace. I had seen what peace had done earlier that day. As my bus crossed the division between the protestant neighborhood into the catholic neighborhood, I saw the murals the poked fun of each side’s interpretation of the other’s versions of peace: depictions of massacres, caricatures of the other side making them out to be monsters. Finally I caught a glimpse of something even more disturbing: “The Peace Wall of Belfast.” And between houses was erected a 25 foot fence that looked as if it was out of some post apocalyptic movie. The Peace wall’s thinly woven steel grating was saturated by barb and razor wire as well as prongs to “keep the peace.” I guess anything that would stop the bottle bombs.

Dennis shared with me his side of who the other was. His view of the “finians” as he called the catholic side, was one that was shaped by 25 years of service to the UK army. 25 years of war: Bombings, his friends dying, and his heart breaking over and over again. As a result the finians we not people to Dennis, they were filth that needed to be swept up. He had created a hard persona that seemed to get crazier the more pints of Harp I bought him. However, I found his stories fascinating. It was like watching a train wreck… you know its going to be bad… but somehow you can’t take your eyes off of it.

He leaned over to me and asked me what I thought of the bands. I said they are beautiful… I wish I knew the occasion. To which he told me “you think this is great, you need to come here July 12th. What a site! Ten times the amount of bands are playing in the streets, and then they go and play on the finian side as well.” --- Now in a lot of American High schools the status of the boy in the band is not too favorable…and the status of the boy who plays flute in the band is usually not too well received--- however, I soon realized what the status was of these men who played their flutes so proudly. Their main purpose in playing, was to create unrest. Their playing was a war cry. And as they entered the parts of town that they were not allowed, riots would follow. And as I stood there I realized how correct Dennis was when he told me “no one will win.”

When I woke up the next morning, I began to realize the magnitude of the hatred of these two groups, the Catholics and the Protestants. I soon felt sick to my stomach to realize that the people’s faith label had turned into a gang name. The heart of the message was extracted because of people’s lack of living by the message. Incidentally, John Stewart asked his audience on the daily show as a picture of Jesus floated above him “Have you ever tried to live your life by what this guy has to say? I mean, after about an hour or so you need some me time.” But somehow that jocose poking fun at living your life religiously loses its humor when your religion becomes your gang. Later when I arrived in Dublin I got to meet someone who was in the IRA (someone who “fights for his country”), and sure enough his bands were playing loudly… and for him no one was winning.

And there once was a man in the 1st century whose bands were playing. And the thing is when your bands are playing you can’t really hear who is winning. You’re so enamored by the music--the sound of your own tune--that you have no idea that you’re not winning. And unfortunately the sound of your own tune doesn’t allow yourself to see that the person next to you isn’t winning either. The man’s name was Saul. And Saul was a man who was involved in a gang of Jews. And their gang’s tune justified murder to them. And more importantly it justified murdering Christians. This man became notorious for his hunt. He was a man who was truly feared by all Christians at the time. It actually took an act of God to stop this man from marching to his own tune. After being commissioned by the chief priest to act as judge jury and executioner, Saul had quite an experience on the way to Damascus.

3He set off. When he got to the outskirts of Damascus, he was suddenly dazed by a blinding flash of light. 4As he fell to the ground, he heard a voice: "Saul, Saul, why are you out to get me?" 5He said, "Who are you, Master?" "I am Jesus, the One you're hunting down. 6I want you to get up and enter the city. In the city you'll be told what to do next." 7His companions stood there dumbstruck--they could hear the sound, but couldn't see anyone-- 8while Saul, picking himself up off the ground, found himself stone blind. They had to take him by the hand and lead him into Damascus. 9He continued blind for three days. He ate nothing, drank nothing. 10There was a disciple in Damascus by the name of Ananias. The Master spoke to him in a vision: "Ananias." "Yes, Master?" he answered. 11"Get up and go over to Straight Avenue. Ask at the house of Judas for a man from Tarsus. His name is Saul. He's there praying. 12He has just had a dream in which he saw a man named Ananias enter the house and lay hands on him so he could see again." 13Ananias protested, "Master, you can't be serious. Everybody's talking about this man and the terrible things he's been doing, his reign of terror against your people in Jerusalem! 14And now he's shown up here with papers from the Chief Priest that give him license to do the same to us." 15But the Master said, "Don't argue. Go! I have picked him as my personal representative to Gentiles and kings and Jews. 16And now I'm about to show him what he's in for--the hard suffering that goes with this job." 17So Ananias went and found the house, placed his hands on blind Saul, and said, "Brother Saul, the Master sent me, the same Jesus you saw on your way here. He sent me so you could see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit." 18No sooner were the words out of his mouth than something like scales fell from Saul's eyes--he could see again! He got to his feet, was baptized, 19and sat down with them to a hearty meal.

This man marching to the tune of “murderer in God’s name”…he was cleansing the world of blasphemers. Someone who is a Jew through and through… God came in and changed his tune. (He was now in charge of telling non-Jews--the lowly unclean non-Jews) He was now in charge of telling the non-Jews about God. How much Karma is that?

Saul was a Jew, and I don’t want rail on other religions doing stuff in God’s name that’s fucked up. There are far too many people in Christianity doing terrible things in the name of God to address. I’m sticking to my small circle of influence and knowledge base. OH we can go to the far right crazies like Pat Robertson who gets a little tongue-tied when talking about the Venezuelan President, asking for governmental assassination, or kidnapping… however he would like you to interpret it. AND We can address the haughty criticisms of men who believe somehow that Hurricane Katrina, and its devastation, is God’s judgment of the “sinful city” of New Orleans. (Which by the way does point out their myopic and shallow view of who God is, and their true lack of understanding of what is actually happening when calamity occurs) But I would rather take on something a little bit more personal… Something that we can’t just dismiss because its “out there” …because it doesn’t get national coverage…I want to talk about what we do in the name of God?

In the summer of ’95, in the fervor of my becoming a Christian at 20, I had the only conversation that I would ever have with my best friend Timory about my faith… It quickly turned into a political discussion about abortion. And about hell. Both of which I was merely quoting items that I simply heard from other people in my church. That next April, my friend was dead. She fell out of a three story window on her birthday. I didn’t have the ability to convey the grace I was shown. She had been blocked by the noise of my band, but I hadn’t gotten the chance to understand the sheet music yet. The bands of Christianity’s bad press were playing for me, and it seemed as if my band was going down a street to cause a riot… and it grieved me, and her, and we never talked of my faith again.

And my heart still goes out to Timory, and the music that she heard that night from my mouth I hope no one would hear again. Because the title of the tune the fife was playing was “MY GOD IS A PRICK.” And I had no clue, until she died, that no one was winning.

Dennis’s band in Belfast was playing the strong fife call of the Red hand of Ulster… the protestant symbol, but as I got to know him better I found that he was both protestant…and atheist. Sure enough no one was winning.

The man Saul in the first century, in fact he did change his tune and his name. And sure enough Paul the apostle went on to dive into the non-Jewish world. He wrote this in his first letter to the church in Corinth:
13:1 If I could speak in any language in heaven or on earth[a] but didn't love others, I would only be making meaningless noise like a loud gong or a clanging cymbal. 2If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I knew all the mysteries of the future and knew everything about everything, but didn't love others, what good would I be? And if I had the gift of faith so that I could speak to a mountain and make it move, without love I would be no good to anybody. 3If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it;[b] but if I didn't love others, I would be of no value whatsoever.

Paul knew his past actions of murder in God’s name were the meaningless and tragic gongs of fanaticism. Those symbol crashes sent the message throughout the land “MY GOD IS A PRICK!” Not that God is in need of being defended, but I believe that we should recognize who He truly is.

Is God a Prick? With the amount of nut-jobs and sandwich board preachers out there you would think so. With the amount of devastation and pain that is out there you would think so. With the bible talking so much about sin and punishment and gnashing of teeth…you would think so. So is he a prick?

I think one of the things that gets misinterpreted in the tune of God is that God is Holy. This implies that every excellence fitting to the Supreme Being is found in God without blemish or limit. It also implies that all other divine moral excellences (goodness, justice, mercy, truth, and grace) are unified and made mutually harmonious in infinite degree in God. Holiness can be something and has been interpreted as a Prick like feature of God. For it is his holiness that can’t stand sin, and it is his holiness that would like people to fly right, don’t do this and don’t do that, and if you do, eternal damnation…Total sandwich board Christianity. But let me clarify: this holiness is God’s Character. Meaning: This is who God is… not the personality or choices that God makes, it’s like you having a belly, a cowlick, or leg hair. God has to deal with His holiness. Now people who get off on yelling about people sinning, and God not wanting to be around sin, sometimes… they might be accurate, however, I believe they are playing the tune that most of the time we all misinterpret.

We think about the angry God, the vengeful God, God who is a Prick, and when we think of this we are usually are listening to the tune of perfection for our lives, or a need of perfection in the world as we know it. But here’s the God that should be recognized: For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. In knowing himself, and knowing you, he created a way to jump the perfection gap and have you come close. God even went to the lengths of death so that you could be with him. The song of Jesus Christ is a love song that crosses the barrier of an imperfect human and brings them close to a holy God.

Quickly and with the help of God’s re-tuning, Paul played his music as equally loud as he did before. However this time it was with love… he wrote this:
13:4Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud 5or rude. Love does not demand its own way. Love is not irritable, and it keeps no record of when it has been wronged. 6It is never glad about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. 7Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

This morning I would like us to check ourselves. We may have had a specific feeling that God is supposed to move one way or the other. And it causes us to say specific things. Or perhaps you’re thinking God feels this way about this, and as a result you have been stepping out and doing something specific.
My question for you today is: Is your band playing the song “MY GOD IS A PRICK?”…if so nobody will win.
I believe it is time to retune our band to play the tune to God’s love…
for if we do…everybody will wins.

Fire From the Sky...Fish From Below

“Fire will come down! Brimstone will be upon you! In Forty Days you must get right with God, repent and turn from you your sin or else you will be destroyed.”

Oh yes we’re here in the open and I don’t know what you were expecting but I’m about to give you a little Fire and Brimstone. Because I think its high time that the Bridge went to places that we never go… Here we are today out in the sun. Worshipping God outside. And we’re out of our element. So I’m making it even worse and talking to you about one fire and brimstone preacher of the bible.

Now you might have heard of him but this was a prophet of old that had a lot of hatred towards the people he was preaching to. You see, this Fire and brimstone preacher had a strange call by God to go over to a very wicked city. And say that in forty days y’all gonna die.

Now when I say wicked city: There are some places where child prostitution is running repent in the world, and those citys are actually pretty tame compared to this particular one that Mr. Fire and Brimstone was called to. They had piles of severed heads of their enemies in the street. Perhaps at Christmas time they decorated the severed head Pile. If they caught and captured their enemies they would cut off their hands, feet, ears and noses, and would pluck out their eyes. This was one of the reasons why this fire and brimstone preacher didn’t want to Go…I think he rather liked his features. He hated them… they might have killed his friend, brother. And sure enough they sat high on the totem pole with their thumb on every nation in the land. But the other reason was the implication on why he had to go and preach fire and brimstone… There were countless nations that have been destroyed by acts of war in the past without warning… or more specifically Prophet’s warning. But this prophet was to go to this nation and tell them that if they didn’t shape up that they would be destroyed.

Now normally this wouldn’t be that big of a deal. But the sheer gall of God asking this man. A holy man. But also a very angry man. To go to another Nation and give them a warning well it just wont do. So Mr. Fire and Brimstone packed up and went the opposite way.

Well perhaps you have heard of Mr. Fire and Brimstone before… His name was Jonah. And perhaps you have heard of the outcome of the story…

Jonah runs the other direction… towards Tashish… gets flung into the sea by a bunch of freaked out Sailors. Gets gobbled up by a fish. Three days later gets barfed onto dry land with fishy goo all over him. And he decides to finally do what God wants him to do.

Now something crazy happens when he ends up preaching the Fire and Brimstone. Something happened that probably no street Preacher in the history of time has ever had happen. The people listened. Not only did they listen, but the largest scale revival happened on account of it… This is what the King said “Do not let any man or beast, herd or flock, taste anything; do not let them eat or drink. 8 But let man and beast be covered with sackcloth. Let everyone call urgently on God. Let them give up their evil ways and their violence. 9 Who knows? God may yet relent and with compassion turn from his fierce anger so that we will not perish.”
And not only did they do this but God turned from his anger and spared the city… So the angry Fire and brimstone preacher was foiled. God’s in his grace and Mercy changed his mind about them and they lived… the end… well kind of 75 years later under a different rulership Nahum came tried to ask them to be nice again and they ended up getting destroyed.

Now… I don’t know about you but all of these fun bible stories about judgment and grace and the fishy fire and brimstone preacher make me wonder if my life is at all connected as a Christian. I know that my faith somehow says that God is Immutable…meaning unchanging. But it just seams that ever since Jesus, we don’t have random prophets going to nations declaring that there demise is imminent unless they straighten up. And I know that currently we don’t have particular nations that are severing the heads of those around them… but there are bad things that are happening. And So it is easy to ask… do I have the same God of the Old Testament?

Are you confused about the complexity of God, the allowance of pain in this world? Do you cry out “why God?!?” when you hear of all the evil that is in this world.

Someone might make the argument that God just lets this world follow the Third law of Thermo dynamics. That everything goes from a more orderly state to a state of chaos. And sometimes it feels that way. The fact is God has not created this world like a wise old watch maker and let it keep ticking and is now doing other stuff. God is intimately involved in everything that is going on in this world. From birds getting their food to nations crumbling. The idea that God is not involved is just not what the bible tells us. In Job when Job’s in the whirlwind and God is ripping him a new asshole near the end of the book he says: “"The wings of the ostrich flap joyfully, but they cannot compare with the pinions and feathers of the stork.14 She lays her eggs on the ground and lets them warm in the sand, 15 unmindful that a foot may crush them, that some wild animal may trample them. 16 She treats her young harshly, as if they were not hers; she cares not that her labor was in vain, 17 for God did not endow her with wisdom or give her a share of good sense. 18 Yet when she spreads her feathers to run, she laughs at horse and rider.” and implying that the animal is actually too stupid to survive. So in order to maintain its existence God has to intervene. And in order to maintain our existence God is constantly intervening.

But if God intervenes how come there is so much evil in this world. We’ll #1 people are fucked up. So a lot of times people make choices that hurt other people because of selfishness, greed, desire, and old fashion sin… This is any choice you make “not” to love another person. Treat them like an object, use them, make choices that intentionally destroy promises you have made to them, using your words as swords, generally not treating them as a brother. There is a lot of evil in this world because people do a lot of evil in this world. God, though he is intimately involved in this world is also slow to anger, and abundant in mercy. Now when the evil is being done to you this is somewhat aggravating. But when the table is turned and you do something “wrong” it feels pretty good to have a second chance.

I was thinking about that this week and I started off with the really difficult idea that God hates sin. Why else would he have destroyed ninivah? But God hates sin? Now that statement to me is difficult. And when someone says that statement I actually cringe… because it’s usually uttered by one of our favorite street preachers. In their angry voice. More than that … I sin. So that means God hates me. I want to hear about the God of grace and mercy… and how much he loves me… not any of this sin stuff. And as I started thinking about the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New testament. There was something key to my faith that stuck in the middle that was the very representation of both sides of the coin. THE CROSS. What a symbol of how God feels about sin. The judging God of the Old testament is right there in your face with a very real bloody symbol of how he judges Sin. You can’t deny it. The cross is a very vibrant metephore for how God feels about sin. No wonder it has been a point of contention with society since it occurred… because Humanity doesn’t want to rest with the idea that it is apart from God. It would rather believe that it is God. Let me put it straight to you so you can understand. You are not God. You are Human. God is God. And he has done something to redeem you back to him. The very symbol of pain is also the symbol of pure love and communion. THE CROSS.

And he chooses everyone to play by these rules. The rules of love. And for some reason we sometimes have it in our head that God’s chosen are the men with crowns or women with the pretty dresses, the high hair and the bible tucked under their arm. But God’s chosen are the ones who have his nature imprinted on their hearts. God’s chosen are the ones who love. There’s no other litmus test. Do you love? If you don’t, fuck-an-A, this might be your first clue that you need to do something differently. And maybe you’ve already come to the conclusion that you’re not one of God’s chosen because you have seen some of them. Because sometimes even the chosen have a tendency to resemble assholes that simply poop out an angry message of their own agenda. You need to know that everyone is in process. Those who say they know about grace, and abuse it; as well as those who don’t. God will take care of the justice needed to handle those who abuse their heart’s nature. However we can’t throw the baby out with the bathwater. God has chosen all of us… all the world… And he has chosen, and created us to be in his nature. “God is love” first john reads. And in order to truly be who we were meant to be. We Must Love. There is no other meaning to life. If you play music without love you might as well be the wind blowing through a fence…useless and unproductive…and probably creaky.

God’s nature is to love… and in the third chapter of Jonah after the angry fire and brimstone preacher was spit up by the fish, the story says that God spoke to Jonah a second time. And probably if Jonah left again towards Tarshish a big fish would swallow him again. Because God is in the business of giving out his grace to everyone. To Everyone. Including the angry preacher who doesn’t want to give it out.

God wants to speak to us a second time today. And it could be that you’ve been in the belly of your own fish… your own death… and you know exactly why you have been in that fish. Because you have been hiding from God. Trying to separate yourself from God. Maybe because you feel you deserve it. But listen:

You don’t have to be separated from God. Your actions however wrong were exactly that…wrong. And you cannot undo the consequences. However you are not alone. And God says to you today that there is a way out. And that is grace. Grace travels outside of Karma. It sees you where you’re at and it lets you off the hook. It sees the massive debt that is in front of you and pays it. No fees, no sir-charge, no points, no interest. Pays it flat out and asks nothing in return. You don’t need to believe you deserve it…because you probably don’t. But in order to receive it, you do need to accept it.

Accepting such a difficult thing as grace means we have to soften ourselves. Allow ourselves to see that we might not have it all figured out. Allow ourselves to take a risk and believe in such a concept. And accepting that grace also means that we are admitting that we need it. Some of us today would believe that the very things that are killing us are the very things we need to hold onto. And we would rather allow ourselves the liberty and focus of maintaining our lifestyle rather than saying…”I need help.” There is grace for you today.