Tag: humility (Page 2 of 3)

Good Fights

September 9, 2013 /

I think I had a pretty good fight recently.  Not great, but it was progress.  Let me backtrack.

Someone did something that made me, well… furious!

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I grew up in a home where there was very little conflict, and when there was, we ignored it.

You know, like a kid who thinks if he closes his eyes no one will see him.  So conflict’s not really been my thing.  It’s had to be a growing edge for me as an adult.

And I’ve done it wrong. A. Lot.

When someone said something thoughtless, or did something mean, or (gasp!) was controlling or dismissive or disagreed with me…

I’ve done the angry email thing and the passive-aggressive thing, and the withdraw and punish thing…

See, I told you I was bad at this!

But the other day, once I settled down, I experienced a tiny (and I mean tiny) victory.  Continue reading

Star-gazing

December 19, 2012 /

“Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews?  We saw His star when it rose and have come to worship Him.” Mt. 2:2

This fall John preached a sermon in which he asked the congregation to close their eyes and point to the direction they thought was north.  This is a picture of what happened.

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Although many got it right, there were also those who’d be in trouble if they were a migrating goose.  One of the challenges of the with-God life is keeping our bearings.  Aligning ourselves with God’s true north.

Continue reading

The Temptation of Cool

October 3, 2012 /

This week we’re in Atlanta for the Catalyst Conference.

For the uninitiated, this is the church world equivalent of the cool kids’ table in Junior high.  The one with the vibe that everyone wants.

Catalyst is for the young and hip – the guys who wear the rumpled uniform of untucked plaid flannel shirts or V-neck t’s, super skinny jeans and tiny black Rob Bell glasses.

They use product that makes their hair spiky or shave their heads if there’s not enough “there” there to mousse.  You used to see a lot soul patch and piercings going on, but not so much lately.

People like to write about Catalyst.  Tweet about it. It’s a good place to see and be seen.

Continue reading

Who’s Dancing With You?

August 27, 2012 /

Taking a little August Sabbatical so I thought I’d repost one of the most popular entries from this past year.  I’m glad you liked it!

I really admire my husband.

He’s brilliant and wise and athletic and better than me at everything.

Except maybe one thing.

When we were dating, we never danced.

And when we got married we didn’t have dancing at our reception.

And when we went to our first wedding reception as a married couple he didn’t ask me to dance and I cried and was sure he didn’t really love me.

I wrote recently that some friends and I have wrangled our husbands into taking dance lessons, and I’ve finally discovered why this has not been part of our life together up til now.  I’m not gonna sugar coat it.  I’m no Ginger Rogers, but John is truly bad.   I don’t understand it.  How can someone who’s so coordinated in so many other areas be so…not…in this area?  Sometimes we just have to stop trying because we’re laughing so hard.

It’s one thing to have a humility thrust upon you.  You make a mistake and have to apologize.  Like BP.  Or the captain of the cruise ship in Italy.  Or Lindsay Lohan.  You’re given a job to do and things don’t go well.  You’re humbled.

But to choose to step into a situation where you know you’re weak, vulnerable, open to ridicule?  That takes love.

Doing this together with some of our closest friends has led me to another conclusion.

Continue reading

How do You Right-size?

July 6, 2012 /

I love the story of Teddy Roosevelt who used to take his friends outside at night, look up at the stars and recite the wonders of God’s creation.

Marveling at the Milky Way, the searching out the spiral Galaxy of Andromeda…

After awhile he would say, “Now I think we’re small enough.  Let’s go to bed!”

Continue reading

A Letter of Apology

March 26, 2012 /

Dear World,

I want to apologize for my husband’s insensitivity.

Ok, and mine too.

But first his.

When we traveled recently to Palestine my goal was just to keep my head down, my mouth closed, and not cause an international incident.  As it turns out, maybe that should have been John’s goal.

One day as we were preparing to go out and about, wanting to make new friends in this foreign culture, we received a little shoe lecture from our friend, Brian Duss, who works with World Vision in Bethlehem.

He told us that in the Arab culture the bottom of your foot, or shoe is considered unclean and to cross your legs so that the sole of your shoe is exposed is a serious no-no.

Remember the guy who threw his shoe at President Bush a few years ago?  That was the worst insult he could hurl (literally and figuratively).  Anyway, we were warned NOT to cross our legs when we were with our Middle Eastern hosts.

The shoe lecture apparently didn’t hit home with John.  As a result he may have set US/Palestinian relations back a decade.

The night of the shoe talk, a friend of ours graciously took us to visit a Muslim family in Ida refugee camp in Bethlehem.  As we were enjoying the Turkish coffee they offered, the wife and their baby were sitting next to John.  John immediately crossed his leg and started “playing” with the baby, nudging her with his foot!

No, no, NO!

I, being the good wife I am, gave him “the LOOK”.  But he glared right back at me and continued!

I put my hand firmly on his leg and he glared at me again, like “What are you doing woman!??  I’m making friends with the baby!  I’m building a cross-cultural relationship!”

Desperate, I considered saying,  “Ixnay on the oeshay”, but these people speak at least 5 languages and I figured one of them was bound to be Pig Latin so that was out.

After at least 20 minutes of this John finally uncrossed his legs and I gripped his thigh like in a vice.  Gradually a look of awareness crossed his face and he behaved til we left, thankful for the patience, grace and understanding of our hosts who didn’t kick us out of their house in disgust.

So, I apologize to the Arab world for John.  And while I’m at it, I apologize for that time last year when he asked our waitress when she was due and she wasn’t pregnant.

But, world, I also apologize for me.

I was pretty relentless giving John a hard time about this international insensitivity, but there have been so many times when I’ve been clueless too...

  • Giving Maggie “spiritual advice” when she’s having a bad day and just needs a listening ear and someone to say “I’m so sorry.”
  • Talking about the delight of our daughters’ accomplishments with someone whose kids are struggling, or with someone who hasn’t been able to have kids…
  • Sharing about the joy my husband brings me with someone who longs to be married and isn’t…

I know you understand, world.  Sometimes, we’re all just thoughtless and make mistakes and we all need to smear a lot of grace around like frosting on a cake that came out a little lumpy.

Many times it isn’t even that we’re so self-absorbed…we’re just not other-aware enough.  Like when Hillary Swank accidentally went to the birthday party of that Chechen warlord.  Oops.

But still, I want to apologize.

Today, when I walk into a room I’m going to try to take the time to stop and see the individuals as beloved children of Jesus.

Today I’m going to try to take Paul’s advice more to heart and “Consider others as more important” than myself.

Today I’m going to see if can I make the other the most important person in the conversation.

And today I’m going to slather grace around when others may be insensitive to me, because, well, we’ve all been there.

Sincerely,

Shoe Boy and Clueless Girl

Have there been times when you’ve been made aware of your own insensitivity?  What have you learned?

Bubble Wrap and Three Responses to Criticism

February 8, 2012 /

This was a text I received from daughter Maggie awhile ago:

“This afternoon a man from the DC Legislature and Regulatory Services in the office next door reprimanded me for playing with bubble wrap too loudly.

BTW, You raised me.” 

Hmmm…Really.

This text raises so many questions.

The Jesus-y way people used to say this back in the day was “I rebuke thee!”  And it came with flames of fire, and lightning bolts.  Like Jason Bourne, Bruce Lee, and 007 doing their super hero moves in a whirlwind smack down of high kicks, karate chops, back flips and flying tackles.

Rebuking seems like the biblical free clobber card although these days it often comes under the guise of “doing a Matthew 18:15”.  If we’re honest, sometimes I think we can enjoy being the clobberer (or imagining it), but as the clobberee we usually we feel like we’re picking ourselves up off the matt, bruised and bloody after being called out.

A few weeks ago I was corrected loudly and publicly for a mistake I made.  Then later in the day I was scolded for something I wrote.  It felt like Simon Cowell had told me he had never heard anyone with less talent.  On national t.v.  Want-to-crawl-in-a-hole-pain-full.

We Christians don’t like making mistakes.  It’s so, you know…ungodly.

Once in awhile critique comes wrapped in love from those close to us, like Mr. Rogers putting his arm around us and gently saying “You messed up, but it’s ok.  We all do.  You’re still a part of the neighborhood.”

But more often it comes from a stranger and it feels like Mark Driscoll has put us on his “Jesus hates you” hit list.

All this bubble wrap stuff has made me think about the ways we usually respond to criticism or correction.

1.  We hold hoard it like an 80 year old grandma saving plastic baggies to reuse.  We let it define us.  Maggie could see herself forever as the “Bubble Wrap Bimbo.”  Let it drown out any affirmation.  Research shows that it typically takes 4 positive interactions with someone to offset one negative one.  We’re giving reprimands a lot of power!  Maggie might so focus on the rebuke that she’d miss the three other compliments on her creative bubble dance moves, her cat-like reflexes, and her innovative use of trash.

2.  We rebuke the rebuker.  Replay the conversation in our heads complete with witty original comebacks.  In these scenarios we always emerge righteous and are able to do an end-zone victory dance with moves like Victor Cruz in the Super Bowl while the other person begs forgiveness for being  SO wrong about us.  Victim turned Victor.

3.  We look for the truth, learn from it, and move on.  Borrrrring, you say?  Yeah, and it’s about as easy for me as competitors on the Amazing Race, sifting through the mud to come up with the prized Japanese frog.  But I’ve seen it done so I know it’s possible.

What might a frog from the mud text from Maggie to Regulatory Guy look like?

RG, Sorry the noise bothered u.  It was thoughtless of me not 2 tone it down, but bubble wrap is joy in plastic!  Next time I’ll invite u 2 join us in the dance.  Have a great day! 😉

Just recently Mark Batterson tweeted, “Criticism, even unfair criticism, can be a blessing in disguise. It keeps you humble.”                                                                              Great.  Thanks.  Yea for humility.

I’m trying.  End zone victory dance fantasies aside, my prayer this morning was, “Lord have mercy on me, a sinner.  Help me to hear the words of truth in each criticism aimed at me.  Let my words of correction always be few and seasoned with grace.”

What’s your most common reaction to criticism?  How do you handle it?

Who’s Dancing with You?

February 1, 2012 /

I really admire my husband.

He’s brilliant and wise and athletic and better than me at everything.

Except maybe one thing.

When we were dating, we never danced.

And when we got married we didn’t have dancing at our reception.

And when we went to our first wedding reception as a married couple he didn’t ask me to dance and I cried and was sure he didn’t really love me.

I wrote recently that some friends and I have wrangled our husbands into taking dance lessons, and I’ve finally discovered why this has not been part of our life together up til now.  I’m not gonna sugar coat it.  I’m no Ginger Rogers, but John is truly bad.   I don’t understand it.  How can someone who’s so coordinated in so many other areas be so…not…in this area?  Sometimes we just have to stop trying because we’re laughing so hard.

It’s one thing to have humility thrust upon you.  You make a mistake and have to apologize.  Like BP and their oil spill.  Or the captain of the cruise ship in Italy that ran aground.  Or Lindsay Lohan.  You’re given a job to do and things don’t go well.  You’re humbled.

But to choose to step into a situation where you know you’re weak, vulnerable, open to ridicule?  That takes love.

Doing this together with some of our closest friends has led me to another conclusion.

We all need friends who will dance with us.  People with whom we feel safe enough to say “yes, we’ll join you” even when it makes us vulnerable, or it’s risky, or has the potential to be downright embarrassing.

These are the people who will always laugh along with you and defend you and pray for you and forgive you even when toes are getting stepped on or you’ve made a wrong turn and bumped into them.

These are the people you can call at midnight when your world seems to be falling apart, or you have exciting news.  You help them carry their lamps and wine glasses to their new home and they help fix your leaky faucet.

They’re the ones who show up with chicken soup when you’re sick and light sparklers with you on holidays and stand at the graveside with you when your dad dies.

They write notes to your kids and you take theirs sailing.  You’ve run out of gas together on vacation and you’ve prayed.  Wow, have you prayed.  Together and separately, through laughter and tears.

Waltz.  Jitter bug.  Fox trot.

They know all your weaknesses and how you miss the beat and can’t twirl, but they still love you.

These are our people and we’re theirs.

More than anything they have our back.  And we have theirs.  No matter what.

Like I said before, these humiliating dance lessons were a choice, but recently John has been in another situation that has required public apologies and explanations and some people have been really mad, and others have been really mean, but then…there are those we dance with.

Recently, after a hard experience, a friend gave John a hug, and later he found that this note had been slipped into his pocket.

If you don’t have friends who will dance with you, find them.  They’re out there.  And if you do have friends who dance with you, maybe remind them you’ve got their back (or their toes).

Who’s dancing with you?

“Small things” and “Great work”

January 18, 2012 /

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about two verses in the Old Testament that sound like they should be mutually exclusive.  

A verse that I love is one where the Old Testament prophet Zechariah warns us not to “despise the day of small things.”  (Zech. 4:10).

I’m thankful for this reminder.  My days are almost always days of “small things”.  I’m tempted to consider mine a pretty superfluous life…To think nothing I’m doing adds up to anything with eternal consequences.

Conversely I consider my husband and the things he’s doing, and I often think of the second verse that’s been on my mind, Nehemiah 6:3 “I am doing a great work and can’t come down.”  You look at his life and you can clearly see great work he’s invested in.  He has the privilege of caring for the poor around the world.  Leading institutional change in the church.  Investing in eternity through ministry to thousands at our church.

But what if the small things are also the great work of God?

What if there’s “Great work” that looks like great work, but there’s also great work that never gets a shout out?  What about people around the world who are humbly, faithfully, offering gifts of grace…

on dusty roads,

in conversations at coffee shops,

next to strangers at airports,

in school classrooms,

in office conference rooms

What about all the small decisions just to remain faithful?  To put one foot in front of another?

What days in the Bible seemed like throw aways?  Days of small things that didn’t really matter?

The day David did the task of leaving his sheep to bring bread to his important brothers who were doing the “great work” of fighting Goliath and the Philistines?

The day Ruth left her home to travel with her mother-in-law to Bethlehem and start a new life?

The day the widow of Zarephath used the last of her flour and oil to make a meal for Elijah?

The day Mary and Martha opened their home to Jesus?

What if parents crept into their children’s rooms while they were asleep and prayed over them, saying “It may seem like a small thing, but I am doing a great work and I can’t come down.”?

What if businessmen and bus drivers and baristas and teachers and techies sealed their resolve each day to do the small things as Jesus would with the refrain, “I’m doing a great work and I can’t come down.”?

The other day a woman approached John and told him about a friend of hers who she had invited to church for the first time.  The friend walked in and saw that John was the pastor she started to cry in utter amazement, at the personal care of God.

She said that she had been on a flight from Seattle to Minneapolis having a terrible day and was in tears (apparently this woman has been crying a lot lately).  A man on the flight noticed and asked if she was ok.  At the end of the conversation he said, “I’d be happy to pray for you.”  When she walked into church for the first time she saw the stranger who had listened and prayed for her on that flight.  It was John.

In God’s economy, this small thing may be a greater work than all the more high profile things.

A small thing that has the potential to be a “great work” of God.

You never know…

What’s a small thing in your day that may become a great work of God?

When Practice becomes part of Personality

January 9, 2012 /

I am a pray-er, but I don’t feel like I’m a very good one.  I don’t keep lists of prayer requests for others or date them or write down answers when they come, and I feel guilty that I pray on the fly a lot.  I journal prayers, but honestly they’re pretty self-centered.  I think I’m inconsistent in my intensity and devotion to this practice.

The thing is, I (and I think many of us) compartmentalize prayer like a word picture I read recently.  We can see prayer like little squares of syrup in a waffle that don’t spill over into other squares.  Prayer is in this square, and not that square.  We’re precise.  We follow guidelines.  We’re, dare I say, stingy with our syrup.

But I have the privilege of being friends with a man who is a drench-the-waffle-with-syrup-and-have-it-sog-up-everything kind of pray-er.  Literally, anytime and ANYWHERE you see him, he will ALWAYS say, “Let’s have a prayer.”

He prayed with a friend of ours over the broccoli in the produce section of the grocery store.

He huddled up with a bunch of half-dressed men in the locker room at the pool.

He jogged around our church praying for us when we first moved to Minnesota.  He prays with our daughters in the middle of a crowded room, oblivious to all around him.

Here’s the thing.  For Roger, prayer is not a practice.  Not a thing he does.  Not a square of his waffle to be filled with syrup.  It’s part of who he is.

Who Roger is is someone deeply in love with, and constantly in conversation with his heavenly Father.

Roger shows me someone with…

  • A posture of humility and dependence on God.  Someone whose life says “My God is big and I am small.”
  • An understanding of the character of God – His power, mercy, sovereignty
  • A perspective – an affirmation of who is ultimately in control.

Roger is about 587 years old, so he’s had lots of time to practice, but I wonder, at what point did this practice become a part of his personality?

What are ways you’ve found to incorporate prayer into the moments of your day?

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