-Complaining is contagious
-Sometimes the act of articulating something negative causes it to balloon, both in size & scope.
-The more I look for positive, encouraging thoughts to think on (& words to express) the easier they come.
-Praying through the Psalms is an incredible way to test the heart.

After I came out from under the anesthesia, I asked the dental assistant if I’d said anything interesting during the procedure; she just said, “You must really like the 49ers. You told me more about them in the last 40 minutes than I ever wanted to know. Ever.” Ah. I am a 49er fan. Go figure.

Her schedule is occasionally tough in that it is opposite of mine – working afternoons & evenings to ‘close’ which sometimes ends up about 10:45 p.m. Even though she’s the one doing the work, I find that its easy to feel sorry for me, sitting home, holding down the fort, interacting with the kids, doing school (& house) work, waiting.

I recognize that I could get whiny. Lose perspective. Forget that theBean doesn’t exist for my convenience. (Sounds so childish saying it like that, but hey, sometimes there’s ugliness revealed in the soul that needs to be addressed.)

I’m challenged to find my peace in Christ – to learn to be content, even in a non-optimum situation. To be thankful for God’s provision & working in her life, for the favor that she has been shown. Knowing that this, too, is just for a season. And that I have an invaluable opportunity to nurture a relationship with iDoey & theWeez… & to grow in my dependence on the LORD.

Plus I can catch up on my ‘for fun’ reading.

No formulas for life; no pat answers. No clichés. Just God’s faithfulness & goodness in the face of the challenges that life inevitably brings, & reminders that He has promised to finish the good work He’s begun in me. And for that, I am thankful.

And today its against the Dodgers. Fitting.

What happens when we’re done? Good question. We shall see.

Choosing words carefully… I’d say that this book presents a reinvented, reinterpreted, more ‘palatable to the masses’ christianity. Love, as an attribute of God, is elevated above & seen almost exclusive from all of His other attributes, & therefore provides the canvas for the reinvention. e.g. “Because God is a god of love, we can know that hell isn’t permanent or eternal, & that ultimately even the hardest hearted individual won’t be able to resist God’s love, & will be saved.” And it seems that any time there is a mention of God’s judgment or addressing the consequences of sin in the book, what is presented is a small, twisted caricature of a ‘little g’ god, not the God revealed in Scripture & in Christ.

After I finished the book, I read a couple of reviews from people that had actually read the book – here’s one that is pretty thorough & isn’t mean-spirited, antagonistic, or an ‘anti-Bell’ diatribe.

What we believe about God matters. The cross matters. And this isn’t one of those topics where we can just say, “I guess nobody really knows, & everybody has an opinion, & everyone’s opinion is just as valid as the next…” We have Scripture, & we have Jesus’ words on the subject of both heaven & hell. Simply because in our oh-so-enlightened 21st century the idea of hell is distasteful & repugnant to many doesn’t mean we can validly redefine & re-imagine it (& God. & Christ. & the Bible. & the cross,) to better fit our own, more ‘appropriate’ world-view. Sigh.

Yes. TheWeez is on the verge of High School.

Oh Goodness.

“I would NEVER, EVER even think of going to church… if I did, as soon as I walked through the doors I’d probably:

• get ZAPPED by lightning
• burst into flames
• cause the building to fall down around me
• experience something crushing, cruel, & horrible…”

The first couple of times I heard it, I was in Germany; once in downtown Frankfurt, once at the youth hostel where we were having the pastors’ conference. I attributed it to the general state of unchurched-ness of The Fatherland. Silly me.

And then in the last 10 days, I’ve had similar conversations here at home, at Starbucks, the new & improved Great Basin Brewery, & even in the parking lot at church. All people bemoaning the probable (& most certainly horrible) outcome of their crossing the threshold of the church building.

In a couple of the situations, I had the opportunity to pursue some clarification – here’s a ‘sum-up’ of what the people I talked to thought…

• most had funky ideas about God & His character.
• A couple thought that somehow, someway Fred & the family Phelps are accurate representations of God’s heart for people.
• Most expect church to be a place of  self-righteous nitpicking, & an endless barrage never-measure-up condemnation & accusations.
• A common thought was seeing self as Excluded. Beyond help or rescue.
• Not seeing how they in their uniqueness could or would fit in a ‘church world’ that is perceived as mostly irrelevant to ‘real’ life.

I don’t know whose quote it is, or how bad I’m mangling it, but  it goes something like this:

You may be the only church a person goes to, & may be the only Bible someone reads.

For me, it speaks to the need to live in a way that accurately & faithfully reflects Christ’s love, acceptance, & forgiveness – & a love that meets people right where they are. And it reminds me a bit of a post my friend Tim wrote not long ago about getting the church to people.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t play you; but we needed our good players in the game so we could win big, ’cause I really don’t like the Coach from (insert school name here). Next time I’ll try to get you in the game more”

My theWeez is a smart girl – & after this happened the 2nd time (its been 4 games & counting by now,) she vented to me, saying, “Daddy! Does he think I’m DUMB? That I don’t know that when he’s ‘apologizing’ for not playing me he’s really saying I’m not a good PLAYER.”

I’d love to be able to soften the blow to my precious theWeez, to somehow make this situation better… but I can’t. She’s getting a chance to experience, up close & personal, that just because someone is an adult in their 30s, there is no guarantee that they’ve ever really grown up.

I’m sorry my girl.

Oh, & Coach N, theWeez is on to you. And she is not amused.

There’s a lot of temptation to try to hit the proverbial ground running, but it just didn’t seem like a good idea. Part of the reason is that I came back with a bit of the crud – seemed like everyone I interacted for the last 2 weeks was sick with a cough. Mine hasn’t gotten bad, though I can feel the war within my body, & also have the sense that it wouldn’t take much ‘pushing through’ & ignoring my physical limits to open the floodgates for sickness. No thanks.

I’m almost feeling normal in the morning.

A picture that stands out in my head is from the Frankfurt to DC leg of my trip home. A young mom had a 12-15 month old little girl with her, & the baby wasn’t happy… the kind of “baby unhappy” that comes from an interrupted schedule, a lack of sleep, & unfamiliar surroundings. Mom tried all the tricks in the book to keep her girl quiet, but the little one had had enough, & was past comforting.

I watched as some in her vicinity went out of their way to make comments to her about getting her kid to shut up (if not directly, then loud enough for her…& me… to hear…) as though she wanted her baby to be in total meltdown. And I got to see a person volunteer to help with the baby so mom could go to the bathroom. Eat her meal. Have a good cry & regain her composure. Hmm. It moves me even as I type this.

Challenges me to think & rethink my own life & viewpoint, how I see people & situations that are unfolding in front of me. Trying to remember that the world around me isn’t a movie set for a movie that I am the STAR of, with the rest of the human population serving as the supporting cast & extras… that there’s more going on than just what I see. Feel. Hear. Experience.

This is especially true in the context of church & functioning within a church family. It’s possible to be ‘saved & redeemed’ self-consumed, self-focused, grumpy, petty individualists with no patience, & to treat those around me with indifference or frustration when they’re not doing what I’d like them to be doing. And when they’re not considering Me & My feelings, which are Real, Important, & Significant, don’t you know?

Umm. My filters are on the fritz.

It was crowded (even at noon on Friday,) & there was so much noise, so much stuff, & so many people that I was wiped out after only 20 minutes. By a great feat of strength & skill, I managed to make it another 10 minutes, then we headed to the car, just in time. Fortunately, the Grande Americano revived my soul, as did looking into (& getting lost in,) the deepest blue eyes Ever. Sigh.

Mostly because my confrontations with pride seem to take on an almost other-person-ly interaction… as though my wrestlings with pride aren’t internal, but rather external, taking place in conversations with self that contain an element of shock; the same type of shock at turning the light on in the garage when you’re taking the garbage out, only to discover a rat. Not a little mousey-mouse, but a big rat. There’s a “WHOA!” element to that discovery, & something more than distasteful. Repulsive even.

That’s how I feel about discovering bastions of pride lurking within. I found her this time when I did something I haven’t done in many a moon: I slept through an appointment.

I take pride in being on time. I take pride in remembering people’s faces, names, & phone numbers. I take pride in being able to remember & keep track of my schedule, both in my head & on my iPhone. I take pride in being prepared for multiple scenarios in which I’d need an alternate route & directions to get where I’m going. I take pride in other people knowing I can do all these things, & like it when they talk about my preparedness, my memory, & my punctuality.

Hmm. Seems like I take pride a lot.

I awoke in a stupor, which is a warning sign for me that the candle has been burned at both ends for too long… I looked at the clock… & couldn’t believe it. I had missed the appointment. Totally slept through it.

The self-flagellations began. Pride had been dealt a blow by my frailty, by weakness brought on by attempting to be superhuman. Ignoring my limits, ‘just this once.’

The worst part wasn’t so much that I had missed the appointment; it was how wounded & deflated my pride was. And how long it took me to get past it. (NOTE: the person who I had the appointment with was more than gracious, forgiving, & compassionate.)

And also to repent. For getting caught up in the greatness of me. For subtly & quietly feeding my pride, letting her grow, nourishing & encouraging her development. Asked the Holy Spirit to check me out, search me for areas where pride & other infestations of destructive self-absorption may be lurking. Silly me.

I feel better today.

Except today I couldn’t find My Pens. They’re mine because I purchased them special, just for me. I had placed them in My Spots (on my desk at work, by my sofa, & at theGiant Scofield table, so no matter where I am, I have a pen,) but there was no pen to be found.

No. Pen.

Pen thieves.

I know its only the 1st round of the playoffs, & that the mighty Phillies are waiting for the winner of this Giants/Braves series… but my team is in it. So, hoping beyond hope, I watch the games intently, often through clenched eyelids, thinking that maybe, this will be the year.

It could happen.

That line has stuck with me for years… & reminds me that what I need, what changes me, my life, my heart, & mind is relationship & fellowship with God. And that God would dwell with me… ala Revelation 3:20…

It’s easier to seek His hand… to come to God with a wish-list or a ‘Christmas list’. With the “I wants” & “I needs” clearly marked. in hand…

My Giants started the day 1 game out of the lead in the NL West… which leaves me hoping beyond hope that maybe This could be The Year that my Giants win it all. If they make the playoffs, we’ll see how it goes. I like their pitching, & am pleasantly surprised at the recent binge of clutch hitting.

Ahh.

I’ve been alive long enough to see the world change, & baseball with it. There was a time that the following quote by Jacque Barzun may have been true:

Whoever wants to know the heart and mind of America had better learn baseball

I don’t think so anymore.

The pace of the game, subtle nuances that escape all but Vin Scully, the unwritten rules, & a 162 game season so rudely interrupted by the start of America’s real national pastime, football, have all combined to relegate baseball to a 2nd tier sport that slips year after year towards the brink of obscurity.

And it gives me great joy to learn & keep learning from those that have gone before me, walking a similar path to the one I’m on… & those that are a few steps ahead of me in life.

1. Our spiritual maturity is measured by the degree which we communicate the love of God to & with others.
2. Our spiritual maturity is also measured by how we encourage others in their spiritual growth & development.

Both of these indicators aren’t fantastic, spectacular, or even… spiritual, in the way that many see spirituality. One thing that stands out to me is that they aren’t focused on the individual, but rather look to others, their lives, & how they can be encouraged, helped, & blessed.

Something I read the other day still rings in my head… it was in Ezekiel 3:24 where Ezekiel has fallen on his face due to the glory of the LORD being revealed. Here it says that the ‘Spirit entered me & made me stand on my feet…”

The Spirit gave Ezekiel strength to stand, & then gave him direction at what to do next. Wow.

Its very encouraging to me to see the Spirit, God’s indwelling representative in me today, actively participating in the “what to do” & the “how to get there.”

I was in John 6 (NOTE: for those of you also on the SOAP plan, I do realize that John 6 wasn’t scheduled to be read until Wednesday, but I couldn’t help myself & read ahead.) The context: Jesus has just had a lengthy interchange with the Jews of Judea over His healing of a man at the pool of Bethesda on the Sabbath day; an action that they believed to be in violation of the 4th commandment (Chapter 5.) Chapter 6 tells of Jesus’ miraculous feeding of the 5000… & the subsequent response by the people who heard what He’d done. Crowds began to follow Him everywhere… but it wasn’t because of what He was saying, teaching, & testifying about. Here’s what jumped out at me:

Jesus said, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you seek Me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate of the loaves & were filled. Do not work for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you, for on Him the Father, God, has set His seal.”

Then they said to Him, “What must we do, to be doing the works of God?” Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He has sent.” So they said to Him, ‘Then what sign do you do, that we may see & believe You? What work do You perform? Our fathers ate manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’ Jesus then said to them, Truly, truly I say to you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the Bread of God is He who comes down from heaven & gives life to the world.” They said to Him, Sir, give us this bread always.”

Several things stand out:
• People will go a long way for free bread
• They want to know what the ‘works of God’ are
• Jesus challenges them to believe in Him – & that this is the work that God wants from them.
• They ask for a sign to prove Jesus is the Christ – & this is after He’s healed the guy at Bethesda, & after He’s turned 2 fish & 5 loaves of bread into a meal for a multitude.

What are they really looking for? Another sign? Something sensational?

Takes me back to the Yancey Book I’m currently reading, & the discussions with Chum about signs & wonders. Signs (which point to something, someone, or somewhere) aren’t the point – they’re just signs, they’re not the destination. Those that didn’t believe, wouldn’t believe even when confronted, repeatedly, with the miraculous. They just asked for more signs.

Signs don’t bring about belief. Devotion. Love. They point.

Chewing on this.

After watching it, all members of the fam agreed (albeit reluctantly,) that the movie really is a love story, (though theBean threw in the caveat, “Its is a really great love story, but it sucks because they use fear & lies to keep the people in a world of farce.) Booyah!

Makes me want to watch the whole thing a couple of times, followed by Field of Dreams. And maybe The Sandlot.

Sigh.

So, today, a joyous occasion. After 4 false starts & missteps, the DVR is being installed as I type this. Which means that I needed to call & cancel the TiVo service. Which is a lot easier than it sounds. Should be simple, right? Call in (because you can’t cancel on line, don’t you know? For my protection. Right. I think that it just might be that they make you call in so they can hit you with the Full-Scale Guerrilla Blitzkrieg (FSGB,) which employs intimidation, cajoling, ridicule, name calling, & other fun Techniques of Manipulation to try & keep you as a customer.

I’d prefer not to recount the entire 20 minute interchange with Andrew, which I endured in order to obtain the elusive Confirmation of Cancellation code, hanging like the proverbial carrot at the end of a stick. And yes, it really was that bad. Bad enough that I’d like to call in to talk to a supervisor to discuss my experience. Bad enough that at one point I asked Andrew, (in my best Steven Seagal ‘I’m totally under control but I’m so incredibly fearsome you really don’t want to continue in this vein because of my knowledge of Kah-razy’ voice):

“Is it your job to attempt to antagonize me to the point that I just hang up the phone before getting the elusive Confirmation of Cancellation code, thereby maintaining my TiVo subscription? Do you realize that I had my mind made up to cancel this service when I called in this morning, & all of your Techniques of Manipulation, attempted twisting of my words, & unwillingness to Cut to the part where we CANCEL the service have only served to harden me to the idea of EVER using, let alone recommending the TiVO service to ANYONE?”

To which Andrew replied, “I just can’t see why you won’t keep this great service at the great price with the great deal I’m offering you.”

Oh goodness. Breathe. And I realize I’m upset. Frustrated. On-the-verge of snap-age. Over TiVo. But its not about the TiVo. Its more about the discomfort of conflict. The feelings of being manipulated & not having my “No!” heeded. Anger at the part of me that wants to give in, to make Mr. Andrew happy, pay more money for a service I no longer need. Just to make the conversation stop.

Asking God to examine my heart.

You’d think that the result of God’s miraculous provision, protection, deliverance, & presence would have been the undying, unwavering love & devotion of the people that He provided for, protected, delivered, & dwelled with. Surprisingly, what actually happened was that Israel complained & grumbled. Chased idols. Mistrusted. Wished for a return to the good old days of slavery in Egypt. Rebelled against their God-appointed leader. And God.

Makes me think about Jesus in the Gospels, & how He would heal, & then tell those that had been healed not to say anything about it. For the longest time, I never really understood why He would do that. In my mind, it seemed that these signs, wonders, & miracles would serve to point to Christ as the Messiah, the Anointed One, the Promised Saviour… & that people would have had even more reason to believe in Him because there was evidence of His power & might backing up His words.

But when I read through the gospels, there were many, many miracles that Jesus did. Turned water into wine. Raised the dead. Fed 5000 people with 2 fish & 5 loaves of bread. Healed every kind of disease. Was transfigured & transformed, revealed in all His glory. Was crucified & buried, then was resurrected from the dead. Was taken into heaven in the full view of hundreds of people.

And the result? Lots of crowds, not many disciples. Lots of people, the multitudes, the religious leaders , & even a king, continually asked Him to perform more signs.

Sigh. Gonna ponder & meditate on it.

Life is beautiful.

My mind raced, mentally flipping through the calendar that exists in my head (isn’t there one in yours too?) finally coming to rest on today. Yesterday was June 16th, so that would make today… June 17. Hmm. It’s the 20th anniversary of the day my little brother, John Leavy Locke, went to be with Jesus early on a Sunday morning, Father’s Day, at 4:34 a.m.

I wrote a little bit about my brother not too long ago HERE. And as I sit here pondering the fact that its been 20 whole years since his death & ‘home-going,’ I take the time to revisit & rehearse the memories I hold most dear of my brother. They flicker through my brain like the rapidly turning pages of a picture book.

Folding newspapers together in the early morning as we prepared to go do our paper routes. Football. Soccer. Baseball. Hoops. What an athlete. He was the best of the 4 of us, by far. Rocking the mullet that shook Carson City on Day 1 of his tenure at Carson Middle School. I don’t know if it was the surf shorts, Jetson’s T-shirt, vintage Air Jordan’s or the infamous mullet that got him called to the office as a “distraction.” They hadn’t seen anyone like him before. His mix tapes. The rosy cheeks I see every time I look at thePasty Gangster. The smile. The temper. The baseball being thrown at me simply because I went in to wake him up. The grumpy comments because I was on the phone (again) too late with theBean. And a million others…

But I digress.

Here’s to Johnny – & the profound influence he has had & continues to have on me & the man I hope to be.