A couple of weeks ago, the training wheels literally came off. We decided it was finally time to help Annika learn to ride a bike (especially since we got her one for Christmas. Shhh!). Until recently, she hasn't showed a lot of desire in learning to ride but now other bike-riding kids in the neighborhood have stirred her interest. While she hasn't demonstrated off-the-charts aptitude in coordination and athleticism, I was hopeful we could learn in relative short order.
We did.
Could I get a Woo Hoo?!?! There were wobbles, even falls. We had second-guessing and wanting to "take a break" (aka quit). There was lots of encouragement, if not cajoling. Starts and stops. False starts. And Reminders. I found myself helping her see what I was seeing. "Annika, look how far you just went!" "Annika, You just rode your bike by yourself" (albeit for 5-10 yards). "Annika, think of what it will feel like when we can show mom how good you can ride a bike all by yourself." I was hopeful because this has been done before by countless others. And I was confident that future enjoyment of riding faster, more independently, with friends, etc would far outweigh the immediate struggle.
This week in Advent we're considering Hope. Tuesday's reading from the Advent book says, "Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later. For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day when God will reveal who his children really are."(Rom.8:18-19). It's hard for me to think about hope without also thinking about waiting. Can you have one without the other? I love hope but not such of fan of waiting. Yet, waiting isn't just idle time (like standing in line or sitting in a doctor's office). Waiting usually involves patience, practice, faithfulness, and commitment.
So, how do we live in a culture that values instant gratification and maintain hope? Hebrews 11:1 says, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." Hope is different than wishful thinking. It's a confidence of things to come. It banks on Truth and the promise of God. I think the discipline of hope recounts the faithfulness of God and helps us see a better tomorrow. Advent helps us see Christmas as more than a birthday. Advent (which means 'coming') reminds us that Christ came AND ALSO that he's not done yet either. God is actively restoring this good earth to the way he intended. So, hope is not just a feeling we have but a practice. Hope in practice can feel like the training wheels just came off.
Hope-full for what's to come,
David Sunde
Certified Cycling Trainer
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Recovering
When it comes to the challenges we all face in life, I think we sometimes confuse being in a tunnel with being stuck in a cave. It may be dark but you’re not through it yet, either. The difference between the two is that eventually there is light. And, where there’s light, there’s hope. But sometimes it feels like that light can’t get here soon enough. It feels like we end up doing a lot of waiting before we see light at the end of the tunnel.
What does it mean for us to celebrate recovery. I like to think of recovery as healing. I also tend to think all of us are healing from something—substance, control, spending, childhood, eating, or resentment. Yet, it’s our brothers and sisters in formal recovery programs – meeting weekly and working the steps – which we can possibly learn the most from, especially what it means to be “in process”.
I don’t really like the idea of being “in process” because all that reminds me of is that I’m not there yet. It tells me that I still got work to do. It feels like waiting. And there’s nothing I can do to expedite the process, except be faithful to it.
The hard part as a person of faith is that throughout history & Scripture, even personal experience, I’ve seen God act instantly. My heart and faith tend to leap. I love when healing and recovery is an instant success, like when Jesus heals a young man who was blind from birth (John 9:25). When cross-examined by religious elite, this bright-eyed teen gives a simple testimony saying, “…I once was blind but now I see”. Honestly (and I know it’s not true but) it just feels like God’s more apart of that then when we’re in process.
I’ve heard that we don’t lose our sight as we grow old. Rather, we lose our ability to focus. Maybe the best recipe for recovery is keeping focus over time. There’s something God wants us to see when things don’t happen right away. I think it’s that he’s closer than we think.
What if all of us could say, “B/c of my support, my doctor, my community group, my sponsor, my parents, my husband, my kids, or my counselor…I’m less blind than I was last week.”
As a church, we celebrate all people who are recovering, healing, and growing. There’s room to be present and be in process. We call it grace.
There’s another picture of Recovery in scripture that might feel more relatable. The majority of time we don’t have instant success or overnight healing. Despite the Apostle Paul’s impact and influence, his life was continually in process. In his writing to the church in the ancient city of Corinth, he describes a thorn in this flesh (II Cor.12). Despite pleading with God to heal him and/or restore him, he gained no relief. Many interpretations are given of this passage – epilepsy, back, limp, sight, temper, greed. Whatever it was it was a hindrance and apparently humiliating. Yet, there is a divine beauty, maybe God’s wisdom, in that we’re left without knowing for certain what Paul’s affliction is.
He was able to celebrate God in the middle of it even though he wasn’t delivered. I think we want to be like Paul in being able to celebrate while we’re in process, one day at a time. He celebrates it while, like the rest of us, wants the instant miracle.
When it comes to healing - whatever we’re recovering from - God’s in the process as much as he is in the fix. In some cases, God heals instantly. In others, it takes over 20 years of practicing sobriety. Either case is still a miracle. God’s in both!
When we celebrate recovery, what we’re really celebrating is that God heals. When we see people go through recovery, we’re witnessing a miracle regardless of how long it takes. Maybe a miracle is best described – not as something extraordinary – but experiencing the life that God intended.
Heaven is where things are as God intends. When God created the world he said that it was good—not perfect—good. As long as we have responsibility, it will feel like work. But it is good. We celebrate recovery because it looks like heaven on earth.
[Excerpts taken from message given at Riverbend Church, 10/25/09]
What does it mean for us to celebrate recovery. I like to think of recovery as healing. I also tend to think all of us are healing from something—substance, control, spending, childhood, eating, or resentment. Yet, it’s our brothers and sisters in formal recovery programs – meeting weekly and working the steps – which we can possibly learn the most from, especially what it means to be “in process”.
I don’t really like the idea of being “in process” because all that reminds me of is that I’m not there yet. It tells me that I still got work to do. It feels like waiting. And there’s nothing I can do to expedite the process, except be faithful to it.
The hard part as a person of faith is that throughout history & Scripture, even personal experience, I’ve seen God act instantly. My heart and faith tend to leap. I love when healing and recovery is an instant success, like when Jesus heals a young man who was blind from birth (John 9:25). When cross-examined by religious elite, this bright-eyed teen gives a simple testimony saying, “…I once was blind but now I see”. Honestly (and I know it’s not true but) it just feels like God’s more apart of that then when we’re in process.
I’ve heard that we don’t lose our sight as we grow old. Rather, we lose our ability to focus. Maybe the best recipe for recovery is keeping focus over time. There’s something God wants us to see when things don’t happen right away. I think it’s that he’s closer than we think.
What if all of us could say, “B/c of my support, my doctor, my community group, my sponsor, my parents, my husband, my kids, or my counselor…I’m less blind than I was last week.”
As a church, we celebrate all people who are recovering, healing, and growing. There’s room to be present and be in process. We call it grace.
There’s another picture of Recovery in scripture that might feel more relatable. The majority of time we don’t have instant success or overnight healing. Despite the Apostle Paul’s impact and influence, his life was continually in process. In his writing to the church in the ancient city of Corinth, he describes a thorn in this flesh (II Cor.12). Despite pleading with God to heal him and/or restore him, he gained no relief. Many interpretations are given of this passage – epilepsy, back, limp, sight, temper, greed. Whatever it was it was a hindrance and apparently humiliating. Yet, there is a divine beauty, maybe God’s wisdom, in that we’re left without knowing for certain what Paul’s affliction is.
He was able to celebrate God in the middle of it even though he wasn’t delivered. I think we want to be like Paul in being able to celebrate while we’re in process, one day at a time. He celebrates it while, like the rest of us, wants the instant miracle.
When it comes to healing - whatever we’re recovering from - God’s in the process as much as he is in the fix. In some cases, God heals instantly. In others, it takes over 20 years of practicing sobriety. Either case is still a miracle. God’s in both!
When we celebrate recovery, what we’re really celebrating is that God heals. When we see people go through recovery, we’re witnessing a miracle regardless of how long it takes. Maybe a miracle is best described – not as something extraordinary – but experiencing the life that God intended.
Heaven is where things are as God intends. When God created the world he said that it was good—not perfect—good. As long as we have responsibility, it will feel like work. But it is good. We celebrate recovery because it looks like heaven on earth.
[Excerpts taken from message given at Riverbend Church, 10/25/09]
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Being Present
I have these moments - not consistently but with some regularity - that feel like time is just flying by. The pace makes me wonder if I might be missing something along the way. It probably has something to do with my kids. Annika lost, yet another, tooth this week. Bjorn's projected to be Max (from Wild Things' fame), which is a return to his first-ever Halloween costume as a 2 year old. He doesn't remember it. 2002 was 7 years ago! And this week, I'm preparing for this Sunday, which happens to be the first day of NOVEMBER!! What happened to 09?!?!
Life happens so fast. If you’re a parent, our cubs go from teething to crawling to talking. Then Blink, they're starting school. Blink, they start driving. Blink: they're off to college. I'm learning the discipline of being fully present. While they're not driving or heading off yet, I want to be fully engaged today. I think I have to for it to be fully meaningful. Sometimes it doesn't look like a monumental outing as much as it does mundane activity. Sometimes it feels like work. But it is good. I like to think of it as building a life together. For us, it means we housekeep, eat out, run errands, play, entertain, and/or host others TOGETHER. Every meal, bedtime prayer, morning routine, holiday celebration, day off together is a building block.
Peanut Butter toast in the morning as we go over spelling words is something I CHERISH. It's the ministry of presence. It's who God is with me whether I'm mindful or not. But my faith feels way more meaningful when I'm aware. So does family life.
Seems like we're all in a season of life where our margins feel small. Priorities are shifting. Responsibilities are mounting. And opportunities for something else are plentiful. And yet, I find myself...satisfied. I like what we – as a family, as a faith community – are building together. It’s not perfect, seamless, or less of a work out. But, here again, it is good. I think the point of a community of faith is that we walk together in support and solidarity. We celebrate as much as we learn along the way. We give as much as we receive. And, we remain fully present in effort, if not a need, to serve.
Life happens so fast. If you’re a parent, our cubs go from teething to crawling to talking. Then Blink, they're starting school. Blink, they start driving. Blink: they're off to college. I'm learning the discipline of being fully present. While they're not driving or heading off yet, I want to be fully engaged today. I think I have to for it to be fully meaningful. Sometimes it doesn't look like a monumental outing as much as it does mundane activity. Sometimes it feels like work. But it is good. I like to think of it as building a life together. For us, it means we housekeep, eat out, run errands, play, entertain, and/or host others TOGETHER. Every meal, bedtime prayer, morning routine, holiday celebration, day off together is a building block.
Peanut Butter toast in the morning as we go over spelling words is something I CHERISH. It's the ministry of presence. It's who God is with me whether I'm mindful or not. But my faith feels way more meaningful when I'm aware. So does family life.
Seems like we're all in a season of life where our margins feel small. Priorities are shifting. Responsibilities are mounting. And opportunities for something else are plentiful. And yet, I find myself...satisfied. I like what we – as a family, as a faith community – are building together. It’s not perfect, seamless, or less of a work out. But, here again, it is good. I think the point of a community of faith is that we walk together in support and solidarity. We celebrate as much as we learn along the way. We give as much as we receive. And, we remain fully present in effort, if not a need, to serve.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
All Things New
The largely-popular Broadway musical, Rent is a provocative commentary on the nature of community. It seems like community often gets dumb-ed down to homogenous relationships. Rent is anything but uniform. The narrative combines a wide range of personalities, interests, and backgrounds. Yet, void of strong family ties, they create friendship, support, and shelter together. Aspiring filmmaker Mark Cohen, one of the leads, makes a profound statement saying, “War isn’t the opposite of peace. It’s our ability to create.” So, what are we creating with our lives, in our homes, with those that are most near, and in our City with those that seem most different?
In the Hebrew language of the Old Testament, the word for “compassion” comes from the root word, “womb.” The picture is of a birthing. Something new is being born. It seems that are ability to create – or the Creator’s Spirit in each of us – is intended to demonstrate care, offer help, and/or author hope.
If we apply this to our life experience, it means that my compassionate acts gives people the benefit of the doubt. It affords them another chance. I offer a “fresh start.” Compassion requires me to take inventory of what I find most value – my very full calendar, my limited financial means, or my cherished relationships. Typically, it’s not hard to “give of myself” if it doesn’t intersect with those things. But what if what I have is supposed to involve others, even if that means I lesson my indulgence or occupation of those gifts. I think such compassion will dramatically change the way we relate to each other.
In the Hebrew language of the Old Testament, the word for “compassion” comes from the root word, “womb.” The picture is of a birthing. Something new is being born. It seems that are ability to create – or the Creator’s Spirit in each of us – is intended to demonstrate care, offer help, and/or author hope.
If we apply this to our life experience, it means that my compassionate acts gives people the benefit of the doubt. It affords them another chance. I offer a “fresh start.” Compassion requires me to take inventory of what I find most value – my very full calendar, my limited financial means, or my cherished relationships. Typically, it’s not hard to “give of myself” if it doesn’t intersect with those things. But what if what I have is supposed to involve others, even if that means I lesson my indulgence or occupation of those gifts. I think such compassion will dramatically change the way we relate to each other.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Controlling Interests
What do you think brings greater satisfaction/joy/contentment/pleasure: Something you can control OR something beyond your control?
I think most of us, if we are honest, recognize that both can produce desired results. Yet, I’m suspicious that something beyond our control has greater potential for impact in our lives.
Most of us battle a need to control. Or, maybe what we battle is a loss of control. It’s the feeling of being out of control financially, romantically, with our health, in our jobs, among friends, with our reputation, our eating, emotionally, in scheduling our days, evenings, and weekends.
Any one of these can trigger a response to tighten our grip. Certainly, what’s at stake is a motivator. But so is our faith. Grace is God’s invitation to begin again; perhaps to loosen our hold.
So, here’s a thought I’m kicking around: When we celebrate grace, maybe we’re also celebrating something we can’t control.
It reminds of an early church father, Paul the Apostle, words which says, “for God’s gifts and his call are irrevocable” (Rom.11:29). Grace means simply a gift. It comes from the Greek work, ‘Charis’. It’s where we get the word ‘charismatic’ or ‘charisma’. It’s that indefinable, indescribable quality in a person that makes them particularly gifted. In show business and performance art, it’s simply referred to as having (or not having) “it”. And, you can’t control “it”. You either have it or your don’t. Simply put, grace. So then, it’s what we do and how we leverage grace that helps us let go, un-clench our fist, or bite our tongue.
Maybe the question we need to ask isn’t, Do I feel in control? Maybe the question is, to what extent does the Creator have control of me?
I think most of us, if we are honest, recognize that both can produce desired results. Yet, I’m suspicious that something beyond our control has greater potential for impact in our lives.
Most of us battle a need to control. Or, maybe what we battle is a loss of control. It’s the feeling of being out of control financially, romantically, with our health, in our jobs, among friends, with our reputation, our eating, emotionally, in scheduling our days, evenings, and weekends.
Any one of these can trigger a response to tighten our grip. Certainly, what’s at stake is a motivator. But so is our faith. Grace is God’s invitation to begin again; perhaps to loosen our hold.
So, here’s a thought I’m kicking around: When we celebrate grace, maybe we’re also celebrating something we can’t control.
It reminds of an early church father, Paul the Apostle, words which says, “for God’s gifts and his call are irrevocable” (Rom.11:29). Grace means simply a gift. It comes from the Greek work, ‘Charis’. It’s where we get the word ‘charismatic’ or ‘charisma’. It’s that indefinable, indescribable quality in a person that makes them particularly gifted. In show business and performance art, it’s simply referred to as having (or not having) “it”. And, you can’t control “it”. You either have it or your don’t. Simply put, grace. So then, it’s what we do and how we leverage grace that helps us let go, un-clench our fist, or bite our tongue.
Maybe the question we need to ask isn’t, Do I feel in control? Maybe the question is, to what extent does the Creator have control of me?
Friday, September 4, 2009
All Things New
The largely popular Broadway musical, Rent is a provocative commentary on the nature of community. It seems like community often gets dumb-ed down to homogenous relationships. Rent is anything but uniform. The narrative combines a wide range of personalities, interests, and backgrounds. Yet, void of strong family ties, they create friendship, support, and shelter together. Aspiring filmmaker Mark Cohen, one of the leads, makes a profound statement saying, “War isn’t the opposite of peace. It’s our ability to create.” So, what are we creating with our lives, in our homes, with those that are most near, and in our City with those that seem most different?
In the Hebrew language of the Old Testament, the word for “compassion” comes from the root word, “womb.” The picture is of a birthing. Something new is being born. It seems that our ability to create – or the Creator’s Spirit in each of us – is intended to demonstrate care, offer help, and/or author hope.
If we apply this to our life experience, it means that my compassionate acts gives people the benefit of the doubt. It affords them another chance. I offer a “fresh start.” Compassion requires me to take inventory of what I find most value – my very full calendar, my limited financial means, or my cherished relationships. Typically, it’s not hard to “give of myself” if it doesn’t intersect with those things. But what if what I have is supposed to involve others, even if that means I lesson my indulgence or occupation of those gifts. I think such compassion will dramatically change the way we relate to each other.
I was thinking this week, trying to decide, if our past or our future defines us more. You can argue that our past – full of life experience, trials and track records, unmet expectations, regrets, or rewards – shape us most. It would be hard to dispute it. Yet, I often find driven people, relentless in their pursuit of goals. It’s hard not to see how ambition, dreams, and goal setting is defining them. However, maybe the thing that defines us most is the present. Obviously, the past or the future can’t be thought of as mutually exclusive. Regardless of circumstances, we all have a choice in how we choose to respond. And we all have today – this moment – to create a better way, if not a blessing. Through compassion, he makes all things – our homes, our hearts, our relationships, our cities, our world – new.
In the Hebrew language of the Old Testament, the word for “compassion” comes from the root word, “womb.” The picture is of a birthing. Something new is being born. It seems that our ability to create – or the Creator’s Spirit in each of us – is intended to demonstrate care, offer help, and/or author hope.
If we apply this to our life experience, it means that my compassionate acts gives people the benefit of the doubt. It affords them another chance. I offer a “fresh start.” Compassion requires me to take inventory of what I find most value – my very full calendar, my limited financial means, or my cherished relationships. Typically, it’s not hard to “give of myself” if it doesn’t intersect with those things. But what if what I have is supposed to involve others, even if that means I lesson my indulgence or occupation of those gifts. I think such compassion will dramatically change the way we relate to each other.
I was thinking this week, trying to decide, if our past or our future defines us more. You can argue that our past – full of life experience, trials and track records, unmet expectations, regrets, or rewards – shape us most. It would be hard to dispute it. Yet, I often find driven people, relentless in their pursuit of goals. It’s hard not to see how ambition, dreams, and goal setting is defining them. However, maybe the thing that defines us most is the present. Obviously, the past or the future can’t be thought of as mutually exclusive. Regardless of circumstances, we all have a choice in how we choose to respond. And we all have today – this moment – to create a better way, if not a blessing. Through compassion, he makes all things – our homes, our hearts, our relationships, our cities, our world – new.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
A Good Line
Probably the best line I’ve heard in weeks came from my 7-year old daughter while attending the Broadway production, Wicked. As the story line unfolded, she/we were drawn into the drama. The “different” sister was being shaped into the outcast image by the meanness around her. Not a kind word or gracious gesture to be found. Hurt was mounting and Annika asks,
“Daddy. Why would she act wicked when she has a friend?”
All I could come up with in that moment was that, “she’s not wicked. She’s good. The people around her are making her out to be something she’s not.”
To my little girl, the power of words is only outweighed by the weight of relationship. We all have bad stuff, mean words, and failed attempts. But we still have a choice, if not responsibility. That choice to do the right thing or to like who you are, at least in the eyes of Annika, is more plausible with a good relationship.
How many of us have relationships that serve as personal barometers for conduct, speech, faith, and service? Relationship that help my attitude, discern my motivations, fuel my desire. I need relationships that encourage and challenge. Ones that bring out the best version of me but not feel I have to perform, either.
This sounds idyllic but, in looking for that in another, I’m realizing something in me. I’m learning who I need to become. And in this moment, Annika’s teaching me. Her question speaks of her reality. It’s how she lives and processes right from wrong, good and bad choices. It’s how she’s deciding who she wants to be in the schoolyard or in the classroom. She has a consistency about her that feels really natural (not obliged).
Oh, but from the mouths of babes…. She had a good line.
“Daddy. Why would she act wicked when she has a friend?”
All I could come up with in that moment was that, “she’s not wicked. She’s good. The people around her are making her out to be something she’s not.”
To my little girl, the power of words is only outweighed by the weight of relationship. We all have bad stuff, mean words, and failed attempts. But we still have a choice, if not responsibility. That choice to do the right thing or to like who you are, at least in the eyes of Annika, is more plausible with a good relationship.
How many of us have relationships that serve as personal barometers for conduct, speech, faith, and service? Relationship that help my attitude, discern my motivations, fuel my desire. I need relationships that encourage and challenge. Ones that bring out the best version of me but not feel I have to perform, either.
This sounds idyllic but, in looking for that in another, I’m realizing something in me. I’m learning who I need to become. And in this moment, Annika’s teaching me. Her question speaks of her reality. It’s how she lives and processes right from wrong, good and bad choices. It’s how she’s deciding who she wants to be in the schoolyard or in the classroom. She has a consistency about her that feels really natural (not obliged).
Oh, but from the mouths of babes…. She had a good line.
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