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My daughter, Claire, is on the move. Last month she found her walking skills, and every day since she has been getting better and better at them. If you remember the alien in Men in Black, then you will have a vivid picture as to how she walks around the house. Like the alien, she is not quite comfortable in her skin yet, but she is totally committed to a more mobile lifestyle. This new stage in her life has caused me to change my parenting style. I have gone from asking, “How are you doing, sweet Claire?” as she stays in the location I have put her to “Where in the world is Claire?”

When the room gets quiet, I know she is up to something elsewhere, so I begin my parental ritual chant, “CLAIRE? Come out come out wherever you are?” I find myself repeating this over and over…not because I am particularly found of these words, but because she typically doesn’t respond to them. Off I go searching the rooms in the house to find where she has gone (and what trouble she might have gotten into!).

When I do find her, she turns to me and gives me a great big smile. Then, in an innocent fashion, she hands me whatever she has been playing with as if to say, “Dad, I just came in here to go get this (substitute anything breakable or harmful to children here) for you.” I reach down, pick her up, and redirect her to more children friendly pursuits.

It dawned on me this week as I was calling for Claire repeatedly one evening that the Lord calls out to me. Often, I treat the Lord as if he is in one room of the house, and if I choose to leave the room I am out of God’s presence. I can go see him if I want, but it is up to me to go to him. The gospels teach something completely different.

In John we read that the “word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” It is Jesus who came looking for us! He desires for us to be in his presence. The action is on God’s part, not mine. Jesus’ pursuit of us, his call for us to come into his presence, is an invitation to me to take part in life. He calls me from my self-destructive ways, and teaches me to live, really live, in his presence.

This week, my wife pointed out one of my more “unique” traits. I have this most uncanny ability to notice new things. For instance. I notice when my wife gets a haircut. I notice when she is wearing new clothes. I notice when my kids do something new, or reach a new stage of development. I notice when my co-workers take risks in serving others. I notice when many of you take steps of faith. I am even aware of mundane things like new patches on the pavement on the streets that I drive. I find myself keenly aware of my surroundings and changes…yet what I didn’t necessarily know, was that I don’t verbalize the value of these changes.

So, when I notice that my wife gets a haircut, I say to her, “You got a haircut didn’t you?” Then she would reply, “Yes, I did.” And then I would move on to other subjects internally thinking that I have done my job. Internally, I am celebrating these notice statements as victories. I noticed! I pointed out! I am aware of others! I am conquering selfishness! All the while, my wife is left wondering whether I actually like her haircut or not. She is left vulnerable, and in the dark as to how I feel about her and her new haircut. I am finding out this happens all the time with my observations about life. I notice, and then I move on. I fail to tell others why I noticed. Your hair looks good. I like your new shirt. Thanks for cleaning up your toys. Thanks for being an example to me in the way you serve others. You helped me worship today by letting me see the steps of faith you are taking in your life. Thanks for taking care of the pot holes!

My particular illness of noticing without following up that observation with words that express encouragement to the other, has caused me to see all of the opportunities I have missed to celebrate others. As a result, I realize that withholding my praise, or assuming there is praise in making my observation verbal, does not lead to blessing in other people’s lives. It can actually have the opposite affect.

Pray with me that we would be a community that is moved in our observations of God’s work in other people’s lives to express it with words of blessing…liberally and without holding back.

Dinner time in our family is not the best part of my day, usually. It is a time of survival, really. Just getting through the meal is a test of willpower and perseverance.

It is the end of the day, and we are all tired from the day’s pursuits. My kids have short fuses because of their weariness and hunger. My wife has carried the responsibility all day to care for our little ones, and when I get home I take over and she works on trying to get a meal (or more likely meals) on the table that everyone will eat. When it is ready, we usually have to coax and cajole our kids into eating what has been prepared. I never would have imagined a kid refusing to eat macaroni and cheese, spaghetti, or potatoes, but that is where we are right now in child development. If more food goes in the stomach than reaches the floor, we call it a moral victory, even if my daughter substitutes the hot dogs for the ketchup as the main course. However, my wife, Samantha, introduced a new tradition in our dinner time routine that has gone a long way to change my attitude about meal times.

This summer, my wife asked each of us, “What was the best part of your day?” This is a simple question, but each time we ask it, I am surprised by what affect it has on me. This meal time question makes me look forward to dinner, yes it is still hard, but everyone’s answer to the question of “What was the best part of your day,” has been redeeming. I move from thinking about the labor and work of the day, to the joy and the opportunities the Lord has given to me in the day. Not only does it change my thinking about my day, it helps us delight in the joy of other people’s experiences in the day as we share them with each other. Many times the best part of our day involves one another, and so it becomes a time to affirm each other. This simple question has taken a hold on our family in a great way. It has helped us move from enduring the day, to celebrating the day together.

Pray with me that we would be a community that would take time to celebrate what God is doing in our midst so that we might gain strength and encouragement to persevere when life gets hard.

How many of you remember your first love note? I distinctly remember mine. It was to a girl I had a crush on when I was in the 5th grade. Well, to be honest, I don’t remember the content, I just remember the process of writing. I believe the year was 1978, and I was “in love” for the first time. Thanks to a just released hit love song, I was given the fuel to pen my very first love letter in the 5th grade. I listened to this song a 1000 times before actually writing the note so my heart would be filled with the proper passion. Here was my inspiration:

Some say love it is a river
that drowns the tender reed
Some say love it is a razor
that leaves your soul to bleed

Some say love it is a hunger
an endless aching need
I say love it is a flower
and you it’s only seed

It’s the heart afraid of breaking
that never learns to dance
It’s the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance
It’s the one who won’t be taken
who cannot seem to give
and the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live

When the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows
lies the seed
that with the sun’s love
in the spring
becomes the rose

The Rose, by Bette Midler

There is no telling what I actually wrote (and for everyone’s sake, let’s hope it never resurfaces), but I do remember writing with all of the passion and tenderness a 5th grade boy could muster. At the time, I thought I was writing the most important words of my life. Looking back, well it was probably the cheesiest thing I have ever written in my life! But for this 5th grade boy, they were words of life as I tried to express to someone for the first time that I liked them.

Thinking back on this process of writing my first love note, I find many similarities to what I think the journaling process is all about. Writing to record life is fine, but I don’t sense there is any formation of our spirit in that type of writing. To me it is a way to track time, and impute some meaning into our daily experiences by metaphorically or physically passing our experiences on to others in the form of written words.

When I think of the process of journaling as a Christian practice, the context is all about love. It is not much different than trying to write a love note to someone whom you like! The songs that fill our hearts with inspiration are the very words of God himself. He has been revealing his love for us generation after generation. As we read the Scriptures, we find his words fueling us with his compassion and love. Our words, by comparison, are just attempts to love him back. And this process of loving God back, no matter how trite our words of love for him might seem by comparison, is an essential act of worship. God no doubt receives and cherishes every word we can come up with to love him back.

What if Song of Songs was the primary text for us to learn to journal? What if this vivid description of romantic love in the Scripture is to teach us to pray like we are in love – with passion and anticipation of connection with God? At first pass, that concept makes me blush. Can I really think of God as my “lover?” Yes, I can. And when the context for my journaling becomes words to express my love to him, there is much in my heart to be transformed. I guess I am learning that if God really loves me, then I can start anywhere in my journaling, even if I don’t particularly want to love him back at the moment. The process of talking to my “lover” usually woos my heart back to him even if it has wandered away. Love is like a flower, and God its only seed. When we speak to our lover, our hearts are usually transformed. Therefore, we can pray song of song style:

Song 1:2 Kiss me—full on the mouth!
Yes! For your love is better than wine,
3 headier than your aromatic oils.
The syllables of your name murmur like a meadow brook.
No wonder everyone loves to say your name!

Pray with me that we would be a community that would learn to pray like we are in love. May our words shine as we find ways to love God back.

These past two weekends, Samantha and the kids have been gone to visit family and friends, so they have left me home alone. Knowing I would miss my family these last two weekends, I was still looking forward to some alone time. I was actually looking forward to practicing solitude. As an extrovert, these are troubling words to write, but in my world now with two young kids my time is not my own. There are very few moments anymore when I can choose to spend my time however I wish. So I went into last weekend with purpose to do what I wanted to do.

The first thing I noticed was how efficient my weekend was. I wasn’t waiting on anyone, and no one was waiting on me. Food prep and was minimal as I was only cooking for one, and since there was no food spilled on the floor to wipe up, the clean up duty was a snap! If I wanted to go somewhere, I just hopped in the car to go, no wrestling children in car seats and gathering snacks for the journey, etc. I was also able to accomplish some projects around the house as well. I was streamlined, and I was firing on all cylinders. However, by Friday night, I became restless.

While I was able to get a lot done, I was still restless. I wanted the weekend to be a practice of solitude, but in actual fact I was practicing accomplishing tasks and celebrating the to do lists that I was able to get through. I wound up tired from the day’s activities, and I lacked the rejuvenation I was expecting from such accomplishments. The fact is, I wanted to share my accomplishments with my family, but they were not around. Instead of taking advantage of these desires to connect with others through prayer, I turned on the television to numb the longing and tune out my heart’s cry.

Saturday was much of the same thing as Friday. It took me till Sunday for me to start paying attention to God’s knock at the door of my heart. While alone, I was not practicing solitude because I was filling my time with tasks and busy things to do. I was not taking advantage of the solitude I was afforded. The truth is it is hard to face your soul when you are alone. But it is in that confrontation that the Lord met me.

The fear I had in coming to God during my weekend at home alone, was transformed into an expression of joy with God. I will spare you all the details, but one thing in particular was, as always, unexpected. I was captured again with the communion of God…the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In finally being able to willingly put aside the to-dos and the distractions, I was able to enjoy the presence of God in my life. Again, He revealed the ways he has been at work in my life. I left last weekend with a deep appreciation that I am indeed not alone in this world and that the things that happen in my life are not random but purposeful, kingdom events in which I am called to participate with God.

I share this with you because solitude is counter-intuitive. Not many of us have the stomach for it. Practicing solitude seems to be self-destructive when everything in our hearts is crying out for community! Yet, it is the very thing that helps us to understand that we are indeed not alone in this world and that all of our life is meaningful.

Pray with me, that we would be a community that takes such bold risks in our faith as to intentionally make room in our lives for solitude so that we can hear God’s voice above the rest of the voices in our lives.

This past week in Sunday Class, Paul encourages the Colossians to just say, “No,” to those who were showing them the myriad of ways to develop their spirituality beyond the work Jesus. We too, need to hear Paul’s encouragement and employ the word, “No,” rightly in our life.

So often I use this word incorrectly. I use it in a manner to turn down things that are good for me and things that I would enjoy. I don’t know if you do this, but often when I am over at someone’s house and they offer me a drink, I usually respond by saying, “No thanks,” even when I am thirsty. For some reason, my knee jerk reaction is to deny the offer. Therefore, I end up denying the giver of the gift and deny his or her pleasure in giving it (not to mention the denial of my parched throat the joy of a cool drink!).

In thinking about why I typically respond negatively to the hospitality of a drink offered, I have come to the conclusion that what I am really saying is, “No thanks, I would rather deny my basic need for water than to be indebted to you by taking you up on the offer of a free drink.” This is very foolish, I know, but I think there is some truth to it. In saying, “No,” to the offer, I am also unconsciously saying, “Yes,” to my self-sufficiency. By saying, “No,” to these offers of hospitality, I am also saying, “No, to the joy of living in community with others. I could go on, but this little use of the word “no” has massive ramifications on the development, or underdevelopment, of my spiritual formation.

Is it any wonder then, when I hear God’s invitation to come, my knee jerk reaction is to say, “No thanks.” Pray with me that we might use the word “no” rightly. Pray that we would use the word in order to clear out the clutter in our lives so that we can hear God’s call to come to him.

“If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink.
Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.”

(John 7:37-38, NIV)