Into Silence and Chaos

“Oh little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie.
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth, the everlasting light…” (O Little Town of Bethlehem)

So says the classic carol… but in my world, it’s 6:51 am, and the sky is is just beginning to brighten in anticipation of the coming dawn. The world is beginning to come alive around me, as the weak December sun begins his short journey across the sky. In what is supposed to be a season of congeniality, I am detecting more than a few voices of desperation, fear, and uncertainty. Behind the polished carols of consumerism, all is not well. With the United States’ financial bulwark collapsing under the weight of Dionysian extravagance, and the forces that once made us the strongest nation in the world now rending our sociopolitical landscape into competing, diametrically opposed factions…not much hope in this holiday, if I may be so bold.

A few thousand Kilometers south of my coffee-shop-hideout, a mother in Port-Au-Prince wakes up to another day in an endless procession of struggle. Her hungry children look to her, their lone parent, to find sustenance for their malnourished little bodies. Her silent desperation will go unheard by those of us who benefit from the majority of our planet’s resources. Across an ocean – and half a world away – an 8 year old will pick up his Russian-manufactured Kalashnikov assault rifle and use it to take a life. Forced into a war he will never understand, he is a pawn of men devoid of regard for life…

“History keeps repeating itself. That’s one of the things wrong with history”
-Clarence Darrow

 

In the Middle East, worshipers hurry to prayer, bowing down under a cloud of fear and hatred, not knowing if the next syllable of song may be the last word spoken before a bomb blast cuts their prayers short. As they pray, a soldier nearby is also praying, longing for his home and family, thinking of what is out of reach and not knowing when – or if- he will return to hold his children in his arms. In the same region of the world, the same little town of Bethlehem spoken of by my carol is almost un-remarkably immersed. The birthplace of He whose introduction was “Peace on Earth, goodwill among mankind” is ravaged by the pitiless division of racial and religious misunderstanding. A prize to be taken, a point to be made – a bargaining chip to be bartered for power…

Maybe you don’t have time to worry about all of the above,  because the stress and the struggle to just make it through the day are enough to consume the entirety of your waking moments. Maybe you don’t need someone like me to tell you about oppression because you experience a beat-down every morning when you open your eyes. Maybe you have experienced fear and failure on a level so deep you no longer hope to do more than exist – maybe you feel like all that remains in your future is the bleak landscape of the Way Things Are. If so, then listen up:

“Where charity stands watching
And faith holds wide the door,
The dark night wakes, the glory breaks,
And Christmas comes once more.” (O Little Town of Bethlehem)

The beauty of what Christians celebrate at Christmas is this: that into the madness and chaos and heartbreak of history, into the darkness and silence and oppression, a different story has been spoken. To those unloved and unwanted, outcasts and outsiders, hopeless, confused and alone in the terrifying silence. You have been spoken to. Love, and healing, recovery and restoration, peace and wholeness have been spoken over you. God incarnate, Heaven and Earth, Brokenness and beauty, Your messed up world and your beautiful future have come together in Jesus. Jesus isn’t some statue or stained glass caricature, he’s not a catchword for pompous, arrogant asses who beat people down in the name of God, church, and religion. He’s not anything more or less than than the only one who will ever know you for exactly who you are and love you completely without a single condition or reservation. You can come to him with everything that scares the hell out of you, everything that shoves your face in the dirt, everything that chains you to your past.

That’s Christmas. That’s real, and I swear to you that’s true.

“The people who walk in darkness have seen the Light,
and on those who dwell in the domain of darkness, 
the Light  has shined” – Isaiah 9

“Come to me, all you who are beaten down and weighed down,
I will give you rest.” – Jesus

So my hope for you – God’s peace-offering to a messed up world – is His own blood, and his offer of rescue, of renewal, of restoration.
I hope you find it. All you have to do is ask.

Grace and Peace,
The Suburban Vagabond 

The Good Neighbor: A Parable Re-imagined

An American businessman, an oil executive, was flying into Afghanistan for an important meeting. On the way, his plane experienced catastrophic engine failure, and was forced to crash land. The passengers and crew – with the exception of the businessman – were all killed. He managed to stagger out of the burning wreckage, and lay bleeding, battered, and bruised under the shelter of a boulder, crying out for help from God and man.”

Soon a humanitarian worker in the employ of an international aid organization passed by and saw the wreckage. He stopped to ponder the plight of the businessman. “I wish I could help this man!” He said. “But these hills are full of insurgent fighters, and even now they are probably waiting to ambush anyone who tries to help.” He went on his way.

Next, an American missionary passed by. He was on his way to a local village to baptize several new converts. He stood aghast, surveying the horrific scene. “I should help this poor, injured foreigner,” he thought while getting out of his car. Suddenly he stopped “I wonder what the villagers would think if I delayed their meeting? Would I lose all the time I’ve invested to build their trust if I put this foreigner above their needs?” He hesitated. “Besides, Who knows if this is some kind of trap. There may be insurgents hiding in the hills, and what would my wife and children do if I were assassinated or captured by terrorists?” With a hurried glance to the heavens, he arrived at a decision. “I will pray that God will send this man some assistance, and if he is still here on my way back I will take it as a sign from God that I am to help him.” Like the other, he hurried on his way.

Forsaken and alone, the businessman lay under the boulder, feeling his life fade away. He no longer had the strength to call out…

At that moment, a local villager, Ibrahim, came by. Like the others, he stood in shock at the carnage, But only for a moment. He ran up to the wreckage, praying to Allah that someone was still alive. Finding the businessman’s apparently lifeless body under the boulder, Ibrahim rejoiced to hear his heart still beating. Unwinding his turban, he stopped the bleeding as best he could, then he carried the businessman to his car as tenderly as a mother would carry her child. Ibrahim took the businessman to his own home where he was treated as an honored guest. He called the local doctor to examine him, while having his wife prepare the best foods for him. When he was sufficiently recovered, Ibrahim took the businessman to his cousin Farzad  the smuggler,with instructions to conduct him safely to the American embassy in Kabul. Ibrahim payed for all of this out of his own pocket, without a thought of the possibility of repayment.

So who was a true neighbor to the American businessman? Go and do the same.

One More Step…

I want to be a pastor. Even typing those words evokes a visceral recoil from somewhere deep inside my gut. It’s a realization I’ve come to in the past six weeks, as I’ve been looking for the next part of life to appear in front of me. I’m not even sure if I can really explain or quantify it. I mean, I somehow doubt that I would be on anyone’s list of “people who would be good at being a pastor”. I’m sarcastic…I’m obnoxious. I have commitment issues. I question EVERYTHING. I will drop a four-letter word when I’m mad. I HATE establishments, systems, and rules. I’d rather go for a long hike than attend a party.  I’d rather hang out with a homeless dude than attend a prayer breakfast…but maybe that’s the point.

I grew up in a community of ‘insiders’ who, more or less on purpose, taught a way of life that was about being ‘in’, and if you weren’t in, then you were screwed. I spent most of my young life trying to wrestle with the dichotomy between the God I met one night under the starry autumn sky and the angry, legalistic being that was taught in ‘church’(I was always scared to death of that one). Then I found Jesus, and have spent the last 6 years re-shaping my view of everything…I guess to sum it up, I’ve always identified with the outcasts and downtrodden…always felt more like one of them than any other group of people…

When I read the gospels, I see a God who has come for me, a God who loves the outcasts more than I ever could, who spent His entire earthly existence butting heads with the powers and systems of oppression, who made Robin Hood look like a frickin’ sellout (he took a WHIP to a 1st century version of a ‘religious book store’), and then, in the greatest act of cosmic subversion, used His own death to literally destroy death and all the establishments and systems of the rule-makers and religious fakers!

“He stripped all the spiritual tyrants in the universe of their sham authority at the Cross and marched them naked through the streets.” – Colossians 2:15 (The Message)

As I’ve fallen more in love with this Jesus, I’ve realized it is not enough for me, personally, to give cognitive assent to His existence. It is not enough for me to hang out with the Jesus crowd. If I am to follow Him, I have to literally follow Him. Out the back door of the establishment, into the streets and back alleys where the down-and-outers, the have-not’s, and the outcasts reside. Because the “good news” of Jesus and God’s Kingdom mean there is more than the way things are, that Heaven has physically invaded Earth, and that everyone who was, is, or will be an outsider can lay down every burden, every fear, and every failure to receive a new life. I cannot be OK with being a mere recipient of a Christian “goody-bag”. Y’know, the one that has the “ticket-out-of-hell” and the manual to become wealthy and happy…that’s first-order BS. I’d rather be found with the hopeless, hurting and confused. Those for whom the message of Life is buried under mountains of pain, bitterness, and  bad choices.

That’s why I want to be a pastor…I want to be part of a church that, as Jon Foreman of Switchfoot perfectly states is  for “The dropouts, the losers, the sinners, and the fools”. I know this is a journey that will cost me everything. I know that I will spend the rest of my life in direct conflict with religion and pretension. I know that this is the worst ‘career choice’ ever, and I don’t care, because it is impossible to receive Jesus into my heart without Love moving my hands.

And there, I guess, is the point. Part of my call in life is to never let us (the people of Jesus) become complacent. What is your hang-up, what is your excuse? What are you holding onto? Who aren’t you loving? Who are you ignoring? Why are you the oppressor? Whose throat is your foot on? Will you be satisfied with enjoying the “goody bag”, or are you going to leave everything to follow this crazy Messiah? You have a choice. This moment, and every day for the rest of your life…

One More Step…

I want to be a pastor. Even typing those words evokes a visceral recoil from somewhere deep inside my gut. It’s a realization I’ve come to in the past six weeks, as I’ve been looking for the next part of life to appear in front of me. I’m not even sure if I can really explain or quantify it. I mean, I somehow doubt that I would be on anyone’s list of “people who would be good at being a pastor”. I’m sarcastic…I’m obnoxious. I have commitment issues. I question EVERYTHING. I will drop a four-letter word when I’m mad. I HATE establishments, systems, and rules. I’d rather go for  I’d rather hang out with a homeless dude than attend a prayer breakfast…but maybe that’s the point. 

I grew up in a community of ‘insiders’ who, more or less on purpose, taught a way of life that was about being ‘in’, and if you weren’t in, then you were screwed. I spent most of my young life trying to wrestle with the dichotomy between the God I met one night under the starry autumn sky and the angry, legalistic being that was taught in ‘church’(I was always scared to death of that one). Then I found Jesus, and have spent the last 6 years re-shaping my view of everything…I guess to sum it up, I’ve always identified with the outcasts and downtrodden…always felt more like one of them than any other group of people…

When I read the gospels, I see a God who has come for me, a God who loves the outcasts more than I ever could, who spent His entire earthly existence butting heads with the powers and systems of oppression, who made Robin Hood look like a frickin’ sellout (he took a WHIP to a 1st century version of a ‘religious book store’), and then, in the greatest act of cosmic subversion, used His own death to literally destroy death and all the establishments and systems of the rule-makers and religious fakers!

“He stripped all the spiritual tyrants in the universe of their sham authority at the Cross and marched them naked through the streets.” – Colossians 2:15 (The Message)

As I’ve fallen more in love with this Jesus, I’ve realized it is not enough for me, personally, to give cognitive assent to His existence. It is not enough for me to hang out with the Jesus crowd. If I am to follow Him, I have to literally follow Him. Out the back door of the establishment, into the streets and back alleys where the down-and-outers, the have-not’s, and the outcasts reside. Because the “good news” of Jesus and God’s Kingdom mean there is more than the way things are, that Heaven has physically invaded Earth, and that everyone who was, is, or will be an outsider can lay down every burden, every fear, and every failure to receive a new life. I cannot be OK with being a mere recipient of a Christian “goody-bag”. Y’know, the one that has the “ticket-out-of-hell” and the manual to become wealthy and happy…that’s first-order BS. I’d rather be found with the hopeless, hurting and confused. Those for whom the message of Life is buried under mountains pain, bitterness, and  bad choices.

That’s why I want to be a pastor…I want to be part of a church that, as Jon Foreman of Switchfoot perfectly states is  for “The dropouts, the losers, the sinners, and the fools”. I know this is a journey that will cost me everything. I know that I will spend the rest of my life in direct conflict with religion and pretension. I know that this is the worst ‘career choice’ ever, and I don’t care, because it is impossible to receive Jesus into my heart without Love moving my hands.

And there, I guess, is the point. Part of my call in life is to never let us (the people of Jesus) become complacent. What is your hang-up, what is your excuse? What are you holding onto? Who aren’t you loving? Who are you ignoring? Why are you the oppressor? Whose throat is your foot on? Will you be satisfied with enjoying the “goody bag”, or are you going to leave everything to follow this crazy Messiah? You have a choice. This moment, and every day for the rest of your life…

 

In Between Dreams

A sabbatical can be a grave thing. At this moment the fledgling family that I like to call my tribe is circling our lives in a holding pattern. In between what I hope is a momentous future and what has been a tumultuous season in our lives, we are working out the difficult uncertainties of 21st century life. This, however, I know to be true: sometimes God taps you on the shoulder and says “Step aside.”or me, I have found this season to be simultaneously completely refreshing and deeply frustrating. On the positive side, I have been using this moment to analyze what I have learned from the last couple of years.

Some big realizations have included:

• I am, have been, and always will be uncomfortable in a group of “insiders”, particularly those of the religious stripe. The anarchist in me despises elitism in any form, and the disciple in me gets annoyed when church people start making decisions for God. I am an outcast, and I’m not selling out until all the outsiders are insiders and we can stop using outsider/insider terminology.

• Solitude, Silence, Reflection, and the Wilderness are non-negotiable essentials of a healthy life. The above things are counter-intuitive to all modern thinking.

• Directly related to the above…I need God. I’m screwed if I try this life thing on my own. That’s not necessarily a new realization, but one that I feel pressing on me with a renewed urgency. At 25, I’m halfway to 50 – and already well into my adult years. Life is too short to screw around. This is real.

On a side note, being a dad continues to be one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. Watching Lux as she learns to walk, talk, and interact with the wide world is something so beautiful I’m not sure I can adequately describe it. Parenthood is challenging in a way nothing else in life is, but the payoff is infinitely proportional to the sacrifice…Lux, by the way, is now saying “eewwwww”, “touch that” (which we at first thought, with much consternation, was “ta-tas”), “more”, “NO!” (oh joy), along with the usual complement of baby words…

Music continues to become a larger part of my life. I am writing songs at a rate that is, for me, furious. (this means, like, 1 a month). Being a perfectionist about music  is really annoying, and I am constantly revising. However, I have material recorded, with what I consider an acceptable quality soon to follow. Stay tuned.

I’m sure I will enter the theological and philosophical fray again soon, but until then,
Peace,

The Suburban Vagabond

I will leave you with an excerpt from the Kingdom New Testament, translated by NT Wright. I have been reading through the gospels again…more to follow on that soon:

“Blessings on the poor in spirit! The Kingdom of Heaven is yours.
Blessings on the mourners! You’re going to be comforted.
Blessings on the meek! You’re going to inherit the earth.
Blessings on people who hunger and thirst for God’s justice! You’re going to be satisfied.
Blessings on the merciful! You’ll receive mercy yourselves.
Blessings on the pure in heart! You will see God.
Blessings on the peacemakers! You will be called God’s children.
Blessings on you who are persecuted because of God’s way! The Kingdom of Heaven belongs to you.”
[Matthew 5:3-10, KNT]

Poetry (10/13)

Here is where we lie
The end of all half-truths
The dirt a cold reminder
Water to a fire

This blade was greedy
When youth’s fire bright
Blood red in greedy light
In the wars of gain

This blade is broken
A shattered hilt
Memories of kings
now forgotten thrones

All thrones end
Cold bones hide
From truth and time
In hills of stone

You have prevailed
Keeper of time
All the crooked lines
In you they end

And the thrones broken
No words remain
Feet of clay shattered
Your throne, King unstained

Another Step

I have accepted it; I will always be a nocturnal creature. My best ideas – my moments of inspiration always reach out to tap my shoulder from behind the dim curtain of a night sky. So be it. I’m learning to play to my strengths, and self-imposed insomnia is apparently one of them.

Wow. I don’t know who reads this, and how much they would be interested in the life of one crazy, itinerant troublemaker, but I have to say it’s been interesting. I have spent the summer in a strange schizophrenic world. someday, when I’m far removed from the people and places that comprise them, I’m sure I’ll be able to relate all of the stories in detail, but for now suffice it to say I have seen the beauty and  the ugliness of Christian faith and practice in America. That, however, is not what this blog is about…I could go on about the negative and never touch on the positive, and that would be a horrible tragedy.

Tonight, I want to talk about grace. See, in our foray into the world of ministry, myself and my wife (Amanda) found ourselves immersed in a nightmarish combination of unrealistic expectations, horrible Christianity (by which I mean the “practice” part of “faith and practice”), and painful interpersonal conflict. A couple of days ago we finalized our exit from the ministry (unfortunately hastened by another relational snafu), and turned our attention to the process of recovering our finances, reconnecting with our community of friends, and taking stock of life in general.

The result of this has been a twofold realization for me; 1)Life, particularly my life, is a beautiful thing. 2) Grace is a big deal. Not a “kind of important” sort of thing, but a “BIG DEAL” thing.

First things first: As I have taken stock of my life as it is, I have realized how much I love everything that God is doing in me, through me, and for me. I don’t say this flippantly or with casual appreciation. I am deeply and almost indescribably grateful. I have been blessed with a beautiful, unbelievably understanding wife who puts up with my ridiculous and often difficult personality.  I have an amazing daughter, who has brought so much joy into our lives in her 10 months of life. I am surrounded by a community of brothers and sisters, a tribe who has supported, encouraged, listened, and prayed. Additionally, I work for a company who values the people who work for it more than most, and goes out of its way to make their lives better. I don’t even know how to begin to say how thankful I am for these and so many other things. All of this, however, pales in comparison to the existence of grace, and it’s availability to humanity.

God doesn’t just invite us into a life where we have the opportunity to atone for our mistakes, failures, and shortcomings. Rather, he invites us into a world where those things don’t exist. Rather than pretending that we have not ever screwed up, God says “All have screwed up (that’s “sin” for you churchies) and fallen short”. Yeah, I can agree there. I’m screwed up – you’re screwed up. But then God -goes and says “I’m going to die for all the screw-ups. Oh, by the way, you are free. I Am the One who makes all things new…”. I know one thing is true for all of us; in the words of a good friend “we all got sh!* to deal with”. So true – we who are struggling, falling, messing up, and often hopeless. God just steps in and says “stop it. I got this”. What kind of a God is that?!

Let me tell you – if there’s one thing we Christians don’t understand – it’s grace. So if someone out there thinks that Jesus is like that bitter, controlling, angry tortured soul who they think represents God and the Church, I want you to know He’s not like that. Rather, He’s like the guy who you want at your party because He makes the snobs uncomfortable and puts the losers at ease. Every time He went “to church” He started a riot, and once He chased off a bunch of angry, chauvinistic hypocrites who were about to stone a woman who was sleeping around. The rich and powerful hated Him, and the poor and disenfranchised couldn’t get enough of Him.  Jesus is the patron saint – the Savior – of “down-and-outers” and “can’t-quite-get-it-togethers” like me and you.

So as I step into the future, I step into a new world. A world where I am free of my past, my self-destructive behavior patterns, the shame of every time I’ve wrecked things for myself and somebody else. Jesus doesn’t give me the luxury of hiding behind what has happened. Rather  - you, me, and everyone else are invited to face a future without self-imposed limitation. This is truly a Brave New World. This is grace, and this is the gift of God who came to us “Not to condemn, but to give life.”

So as I move forward in life, I do so with bi\oth an abiding and profound sense of humility, and a fire in my heart to fight for the world that Jesus talked about – this Kingdom of Hope. I am watching and praying that it will come – in my life and yours.

The Suburban Vagabond

This Bright Hope…

Tonight, I am waiting to see one of our CCI teams off on another cross-country trek. While I was waiting, I decided to do what everyone with countless details and conflicts, dreams and demands should do – I ran. I ran – harder and farther than I have in a long time. I ran to the edge of exhaustion, and I pushed myself farther and farther into the sweat and the pain. My calves burning, knees begging for relief, drenched in sweat and straining, I ran past the mental marker denoting the edge of my previous jogging forays. I felt sick, worn out, used up. Done.

Life’s like that. You work. You try. Hard. Harder. You psych yourself up, only to see your dreams struck down – again and again. Every fiber of your being cries out for something, begs for relief…but there is no hope, at least none that you can see. In the words of songwriter Jon Foreman: “You’re pushing ’til you’re shoving – you bend until you break, ’til you stand on the broken fields where our fathers lay.” The very difficulty of the living takes the life out of you. Raise your hand if you have felt this way… and if your hand isn’t up, it’s likely haven’t lived long enough.  I wonder how many of us spend our days locked in the solitary confinement of desperation, feeling abandoned, discarded, wondering where the life is in life.

Back to my run. As I pushed my protesting body over the pavement, I did so with certainty of what awaited me at the end of the run. A lovely blend of Hydrogen and Oxygen commonly known as “water”, a soft bed…rest…my wife and baby girl…I would forget the pain of the last half-hour in the bliss of the AC. I had hope. now, back to life.

The real tragedy of Christianity in our time, the one that the clergy-charlatans and theologians alike miss, is that everyday, ordinary, hopeless and desperate people can spend their whole lives in contact with church-attendees and pretend preachers on TV and never know that there is hope. Because beyond whether Rob Bell, or John Piper, or Mark Driscoll is right about Jesus (and for two of those, I certainly hope not), there is one thing I know to be absolutely true about the message of Jesus: God wants you to know that you are not alone. His desire for you to know this was so great, that His very blood screamed the message from bloody timbers. You are not alone. There is hope. God himself has come for you. Bled for you. There is hope. Not the ethereal hope of Utopian myth, not the soulless hope of modern mechanics, but the keen-edged hope of the Creator who promises that one day, the scales will be balanced and love will win. Justice will meet Mercy, and Creation will be renewed. Heaven and Earth, together again.

This is my hope. Not just because I believe it is coming, but because I have heard the rumblings of what is to come. Every time love wins out over violence, we glimpse the world-to-come. Every time forgiveness is chosen over retribution, the skies crack and heaven shines through. Every time I fall down and ruin everything and find myself set back on my feet, I hear the whispered promise that things have begun to go right. For all of us, atheist and preachers, devout and outcast, alone and forgotten, or well-loved and popular. There is hope…

“Throwing the First Stone”

As everyone who can read this now knows, Usama (Osama) Bin Laden is dead – at the hands of US government operatives. Around the country, reports of rejoicing poured in…Our enemy is dead. Or is he? Sometimes I wish it could be that easy, but the way of Jesus never is. I didn’t, of course, know Usama personally, and I should probably be thankful for that…but let me tell you what I do know…

Jesus was given dozens of opportunities to deal out judgement, death, and retribution – he did not take one. Here are a few of his thoughts on justice, judgement, and condemnation:

• “ You judge by human standards; I pass judgment on no one.” [John 8 ]
• ““But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.”
• “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5)
• To a women condemned to death for breaking “God’s law”, He says “I do not condemn you” [John 8 ]
• The most prolific author of what we call the “New Testament” was Paul aka “Saul”, a former terrorist and murderer of entire families. In spite of his history, the Church forgave and accepted him.

According to the teachings of Jesus and his disciples, our enemies are not human. Our enemies are not terrorists…not flesh and blood. Paul the ex-terrorist said that “the last enemy to be defeated is death”. When that happens, when no one else has to die, I will rejoice. But not today…

A Vagabond Father’s Perspective.

It’s amazing how quickly time passes. It almost seems cliche’ to  say it, but it’s a reality for me right now. I have always been comfortable talking about my perspective on anything, but this whole fatherhood bit…I seem to struggle to elucidate my feelings on the whole experience. It is something I love so much that it has almost instantly become a part of my very identity. I am no longer just an individual, no longer a partner to my wife, I am a nurturer – a teacher, a father. There truly is no feeling like this.

As far as the practicalities of parenting go – I’ve started figuring this concept out in reverse. For me, the process of understanding the countless decisions I must make in the years ahead begins with understanding the legacy I want to leave my daughter. What that will look like is – obviously – a reality that time alone can manifest, but unless I understand what I am aiming for I fear that my daughter will end up wondering why her father left her only the memories of a misspent life.  More than avoiding a future of hesitancy, however, I want to give my daughter the gift of momentum, of knowing that she is a part of a bigger story, and that what I have done with my life was in the fanatical, radical chasing after “Unarmed Truth and Unconditional Love” (MLK) that characterizes the Way of Jesus. That inevitably leads me to the self-searching question: “What will it look like for me to live a life that results in a legacy for my daughter that I (and she) can be proud of?”

I have no doubt this process will take the rest of my life to work out, but every story has a beginning, and every journey has a first step, so here for your interaction are my resolutions regarding the legacy that I will leave Lux:

I will leave a legacy of questions:

Humanity so blindly accepts the perspectives foisted upon them by their nationality, their religion, their demographic, and the carefully crafted messages of the marketing machines. To rise above, we must learn to evaluate all that we see and hear. This world is not what it seems. Learning how to ask the right questions is an integral part of living a life of value. Question everything – but take care to ask the right questions. Questions aren’t the end – simply the means.

I will leave a legacy of action:

Surveys and studies indicate the overpowering reality that the critical determining factor in whether children follow in their parent’s footsteps is whether definitive action based on belief has been demonstrated during their formative years. Parents, you can lecture, scold and shame all you want, but you will make little progress if you aren’t demonstrating what you want your kids to value. This is exactly why American churches aren’t transmitting their values to the next generation. Too much talk, precious little substance. I want my daughter to know that what I believed in was valued enough to demand my effort, my energy…my everything. It is not enough for me to say to her “here are my beliefs, preserved and transmitted intact to you as a valuable family heirloom.” Rather, I want my legacy to her to be like a dinted weapon – scuffed and scarred in battle, a constant reminder that she is part of a dangerous story – a High Adventure worthy of all she has to give. The legacy of experience, that is a worthy gift – it is a constant call to action.

I will leave a legacy of dreams.

To be specific, I want to leave my daughter a legacy of dreams pursued. I fear that too many parents feel that, regardless of who they were created to be, their only purpose for postpartum existence is to focus all their resources on seeing their offspring into adulthood. Parenthood is a heavy responsibility, no doubt, but it shouldn’t consume our identity. Becoming a father has spurred me to push harder in pursuit of my dreams. I want to be able to look my daughter square in the eyes someday and say “I pursued with every fiber of being the gifts and potential I was created for – and so should you.” I know that countless influences in Lux’s life will militate themselves against her dreaming or seeking to manifest the world she will dream of. The only way I know of to teach her to be a dreamer and dream-pursuer is to become one myself. Everyone settles for something, and I choose not to settle for less than I was intended to be – if only so my daughter knows that she can live likewise.

 

So there it is. The first threads that will become the work of art known as my legacy. What will it look like to me and to you? Most importantly, what will it look like to the next generation?