Like a warm coat…

It was late January/early February, a couple of years ago, when I realized my winter coat was not doing the job. Austin was experiencing a rare period of several days when the temperature never rose above freezing?and neither did I. So I figured I'd go to the mall or maybe a couple of department stores, and find something warmer. Piece of cake, right?
Wrong.
On the coldest day of the year, every store was stocked with shorts, t-shirts and swimsuits, stuff that would be handy come spring break or summer vacation. Apparently you're supposed to plan ahead for the future when it comes to weather preparedness.
My method has always been more like "take care of the present and the future will be okay." It's why I have trouble with long-term goals; I'm near-sighted.
I finally found a coat. It was marked down to a bargain price because it was "last season" merchandise. It's easy to miss today if you're only focused on tomorrow. If I am only concerned with where I'll be in ten years, I have a hard time knowing what to do
right now. "Sufficient unto the day," you know.
If you want to have a happy future, if you want to be able to look back on a beautiful past, you only have to live in faith and love for one day: today.

Inflammatory remarks…

It’s a cold, wet day in Austin. That always brings out the firewood sellers, the intrepid entrepreneurs who park their trucks or trailers along the side of a busy road and erect a couple of stacks of “CLEAN DRY OAK.” It’s a pretty good marketing tool. When you’re driving along with the heater cranked up, you start thinking, “I bet I could fit a stack of wood in the trunk.” Perhaps you even have a fireplace at home.
Today, though, I saw a firewood merchant with a new tactic. Not content to just stack his wood like the others, he had brought along a small barbecue pit and was actually burning his wood by the side of the road. I thought this was genius; it not only helped the woodseller to stay warm, it provided tangible proof that his product was flammable and could actually produce smoke and heat and a satisfying crackling sound. That guy is gonna go far.
Churches get stuck in the same sort of rut. They put a couple of pieces of wood out front—in the shape of a cross—and then they wait for people to stop. But unless the passers-by can see some fire, can feel some warmth, there isn’t all that much reason to stop. I’ve heard lots of church people remark, after a particularly inspiring song, “If that don’t light your fire, your wood’s wet!”
Well, sometimes our wood is wet. And when that happens, we’re much less likely to attract the cold and lonely, the shivering searchers. But when our faith is burning bright, the light and warmth will draw people like moths.
Thaw out. Heat up. There’s only one difference between a torch and a stick-in-the-mud. Flame on!

What did he mean by that?

Perhaps you missed the news a couple of weeks ago: Merriam-Webster (you know, the dictionary people) announced their “Word of the Year” for 2007. Are you ready? It’s “woot.” Actually, the preferred spelling is “w00t,” with zeroes instead of o’s in the middle. I was already familiar with the word; I have a 16-year-old daughter…plus I’m very, very hip, dontcha know. It’s used as an expression of joy or celebration, sort of how you’d use “Yay!” or “Awesome!," as in: “Woot! The new phonebooks are in!” The word is just one of the terms which has entered common usage from the world of computers and online activities. I still recall some blank looks last year when I told my classes I’d set up a “blog” to keep them informed. “What is a blog?” I was asked several times. I think all of us have become familiar with “spam” in its non-meat context and know what is meant by “Googling.” And maybe you’re comfy talking about how many “gigs” your “thumbdrive” will hold, or the “unboxed” video that’s on your “Tivo.”
Lingo—or jargon—can either make you feel part of a group or make you feel like an outsider to said group. We try here at Riverbend to avoid “insider” language; we don’t talk much about being “saved” or “walking the aisle.” I’ve never heard anyone refer to the Riverbend congregation as “saints.” There’s a reason. We ain’t saints. We’re all people who went searching because we were in pain, we had needs, we wanted love…and we found healing, sustenance and acceptance in the message of grace we heard here. Maybe “grace” is a code word, too, but it’s one that’s worth exploring. Grace is when somebody gives you the most valuable thing in the world, even though you don’t deserve it. Grace is messing up royally and still being loved. Grace is being relieved of the weight of your own guilt. It’s not code; it’s good news … w00t!

From the bucket seat…

I’ve had trouble writing the past few weeks. All the ideas I had seemed to be shallow and dull, and my attempts to flesh them out felt awkward, clunky. I have a list of ideas, but I would scan down the list, thinking, “Nope…nope…nope.” Since nothing new was working well, I recycled some old columns; if anyone experienced deja vu, they haven’t mentioned it to me.
But I needed to figure out why it was such an arduous process lately. Where had all my ideas gone? Today, while I was at lunch, I figured it out.
My dad used to say that you’ve got to empty out your bucket if you want God to fill it up. I think my bucket had gotten so full that there was very little room for new ideas, new blessings. Full of what? Supply your own joke, if you want, but the real answer is that it was mostly full of me. Periodically I start thinking I’m pretty important, that I’ve finally got it all figured out. Some part of my brain tells me that I can wax eloquently on any subject, answer any question, leap any tall building with a single bound. Pretty soon I’ve got a bucket full of ego, self-importance and superiority. And I don’t notice it until suddenly I reach for some inspiration and find…only me.
I mentioned awhile back that we had rented a dumpster in the process of cleaning house. It was the smartest thing we ever did. Out went tons of old stuff I’d been saving, things that I had built up to be important. We had room to move furniture around, room to actually walk in our walk-in closet, room for new, more worthy things.
At the beginning of this new year, I need to perform the same emptying of myself, to make room for more of God and what he wants me to learn. It turns out that I don’t have it all figured out. And knowing that is the first step toward wisdom.

May all your elephants be white…

This year I’ve been to three of them and I’ve been invited to two others. I refer, of course, to the “white elephant” Christmas party, an activity that was once rare but is now becoming as ubiquitous as that nagging recording of Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer. The white elephant party—when done properly—is a bonanza of bad gifts, a panoply of cheesy merchandise “as-seen-on-TV” or found in the garage. I love a good white elephant because I’m a big fan of the odd and the inexplicable. Years ago, I acquired a parmesan cheese shaker which is shaped like the leaning Tower of Pisa. I have a deck of cards featuring mugshots of famous people. Just this week I became the proud owner of a red trucker cap with real deer antlers hot-glued onto it.
I know some people fret about what to take to a white elephant party. They don’t realize the beauty of the pale pachyderm: picking out a tasteless item for a random person is much easier than deciding on a desirable gift for any actual person on your gift list. I don’t know what to get my mother this year, but I’ve had no problem coming up with multiple ideas for white elephants—gifts that NObody would ever buy for themselves.
Giving people stuff they don’t want and can’t use is as close as I’m likely to get to doing government work. If God had asked my advice two thousand years ago, I would probably have recommended that He send an angel to follow each person, 24 hours a day…with a taser. You commit a sin — ZAP! Instead, He made sure the first Christmas gift was perfect…perfect in every way.
Elephants are supposed to have excellent memories. God, on the other hand, tends to forget. He forgets my sins, my past indiscretions, my failures. Forgetting the past? What a present!