Lake Louise Church of the Nazarene

Sometimes I wonder where I left my sense of humor. Seriously, I like to laugh, have fun, tell a joke (funny or not), but when I start writing I get all serious. I used to write and find humor in all sorts of things. People said that it reflected who they knew me to be. Now I’m like a grumpy old man sitting on a porch yelling at people to slow down. Where did my sense of humor go?

Maybe it was in my Masters degree. My first paper was filled with witty insights, social commentary, and a healthy dose of sarcasm. Then I realized that Masters Degree students have no sense of humor. This is serious work. These are serious times. There are governments to reclaim, religious ideas to refute, Bible translations to defend, and denominations to promote. We are not in a ‘fun and games’ time of our lives. These are serious times and they require serious people. Maybe I lost my sense of humor somewhere between deconstructionist theology and the theoretical foundations of human nature. See, nothing about that sentence was fun or funny.

Maybe I lost my sense of humor because I just found out that the world is supposed to end in December of 2012. Yep, people got tired of Christians predicting when Jesus would show up so they have jumped ship to the Mayan calendar for a dose of world ending terror. The difference is that the Mayan story lacks an airlift rescue before it all goes bad. All of that makes me wish Y2K was true because all that crisis predicted was a total economic and societal collapse, but there would still be sunsets. On the bright side, we still get one more Summer Olympics to watch and at least one more Fall color tour. We will, evidently miss Christmas. Maybe this 2012 idea will build up steam in the Christian community and we’ll give a rebuttal that the actual time of Jesus’ arrival is later. Then we could sell a few more books and stuff. After all, if you add the digits in 2013 they equal six and you can’t go wrong predicting the end of the world when the numbers add up to six, right?

Maybe I lost my sense of humor because of the political climate of our time. If Carbon Dioxide is one of the culprits of global warming, the temperature is going to climb over the next couple of weeks and months because of the political conventions. We have politicians yapping about all sorts of things. Each party is staking their claim to God and their right to rule. And we Christians on both sides are poking holes in their lives and policies trying to prove that our candidate is actually the ‘chosen’ candidate. I almost expect to hear the voice of James Earl Jones say at the end each political ad, “I’m God and I approve this message.”

Maybe I lost my sense of humor because I lost sight that God has never been too concerned about who was king, emperor, Caesar, or president. Maybe I lost my sense of humor because I forgot that Jesus has already been crowned King. Maybe I lost my sense of humor because I forgot to love the things that God loves. Maybe if I realized that nothing can come between me and God I would get my sense of humor back. If Justin Timberlake can bring sexy back, maybe God can bring funny back. What do you think?

The Christian life does not happen in a vacuum. It is a shared experience. It is life lived with and among people as we follow Christ. The challenge is that we often forget the communal, life-lived-together aspect of the faith. When that happens, sermons take on an extreme amount of importance. The words the preacher speaks begin to take on an importance of epic proportions. A preacher needs to say all of the right things all of the time. Why? Because we are excluding the key component of living lives for others to observe and emulate.

We forget that our lives are to be examples. We are supposed to help people learn about Jesus by the way we live our lives. We help them when we apologize when we are wrong. We help them when we give sacrificially. We help them when we love our enemies. We help them when we live in such a way that Jesus Christ shines through. The faith is easier to understand when it is observed than described.

 My wife, Ruth, was taking part in a management class. The communication exercise was not easy. The instructor gave each person a shape. There were straight lines, triangles, circles, and squares. These shapes and lines were put together into a shape. Each person had to give detailed instructions on how to draw the shape. There was a catch, however. They could not use the words of the shapes to describe them. A triangle now becomes a geometric shape in which the sum of the angles equals 180 degrees. There are only three sides to this shape. That is a lot of words to describe a triangle.

Well, Ruth is brilliant and thought the best way to describe this shape would be to show it to them. She cut the design out, pasted it to a piece of paper and wrote, “Draw this shape.” The instructor said that was not the intent of the exercise. I thought it a great way to get it done.

Imagine the life of Christ; there have been countless volumes written about the life Jesus lived and the example he gave. Without an example to follow there is a void and we will fill the void with something. That something is words.

I am not against words. I am a preacher. But if no one is living the Christ life in my congregation, I need to use more words than I know. Let me put it this way: People will learn more quickly how to forgive when they have seen it, experienced it in their lives. People will learn to pray when they have seen it.

I was fixing my motorcycle when I learned this lesson. The bike was idling roughly and there were some problems with it at highway speeds. My friend and I started to look through the manual for some trouble shooting ideas and there it was right before my eyes. They had instructions on how to not only eliminate the problem, but how to keep the bike in top working form. There were a lot of words used to describe something I realized my friends had quickly demonstrated for me. Their examples filled the vacuum words would had to fill if they did not show me.

Don’t get me wrong, we need words. But the words are a part of the package, not the total package. Jesus didn’t say the Bible was useless. He showed us how to live the Bible. Jesus said, “Follow me.”

Where are you today? Do you expect your preacher or your professor or books or movies to say everything that needs to be said about the Christ life? If so, does that expose a vacuum in your life? Maybe evangelism is a simple as saying, “follow me as I follow Christ.”

My wife and I just celebrated our 25^th wedding anniversary with a trip to Traverse City. It was the annual Cherry Festival and we participated in one of my favorite pastimes – people watching. There were all sorts of people walking up and down the streets. There were kids on skateboards, folks riding motorcycles, people on scooters, and some funky golf cart looking things. People were walking up and down the streets until late at night. But one thing stood out to me as we watched all of the people enjoying the festival; there were a lot of kids holding their parents hands.

I know it sounds silly, but my daughter is 20 and doesn’t hold my hand anymore. I remember walking down the street with her little hand in mine. I remember picking her up and carrying her when she was too tired to walk anymore. I remember her sitting on my lap and me reading a story to her. I remembered all of those times while I watched these moms and dads with their sons and daughters.

I don’t know when Lindsay stopped holding my hand. I miss her reaching out and taking my hand when she wanted to show me something she had found. I miss her taking my hand when she was nervous in a crowd. I don’t know when she stopped holding my hand; I do know that I miss it.

Let’s be honest. Our children will grow up. They will get older and they will become more and more independent. That is how it works. That is the way it is supposed to work at least. But sometimes with that independence comes an uncomfortable distance. I know from my experience I don’t call my mom and dad as much as I should. What makes me think that my mom and dad miss me hold their hands any less than I miss holding my daughters hand? I know I have grown up. Now, instead of running to my dad when I am scared, I am the one that must put on a brave face and tell my daughter everything is going to be okay. Actually, she doesn’t even need me for that much anymore. I sure miss those days.

That got me thinking about God. When I first became a Christian, God was so close. I ran to God for every little thing. I ran to God with every decision, every question, and every worry or doubt. As I grew up I started to understand more of what God liked and didn’t like. I was better able to make decisions based on what I was learning from God. I was growing up. And I think that is okay. We are supposed to grow up and mature. We are supposed to be able to make decisions based on what we have learned and are learning. This is the way it is supposed to be. Eventually I let go of God’s hand. But with that came an uncomfortable distance. I didn’t talk to God much. I didn’t spend much time with God at all.

Maybe that’s you. You used to be really close to God and walked hand in hand with God every day. Maybe something happened in your life that hurt you and in anger you lashed out at God and stopped talking. Maybe you just grew up and let the relationship slip to the sidelines of your life. I don’t know when you stopped holding God’s hand, but I know God misses it.

Wherever you are, whatever you have done, no matter how far you feel you are from God, there is a hand waiting to be held. Reconnect with God this week. Reach out and remember what it is like to be loved and have joy. You might just want to pray a little prayer and get caught up with God on what’s happening in your life. Love is waiting to be held if you will just reach out your hand and let love’s firm grasp find you. While you’re at it, if your parents are still around, give them a call. It will make their day and yours. I promise.

I am not interested in a timid life. I do not want to die with more left to give because I was afraid of trying, of getting hurt, of losing. I want every moment spent on life and living, not fear. I would rather fail in great ways than not try at all. I would rather be laughed at for trying than to sit on the sidelines wishing for the courage to try.

I want to know the pain of a broken heart because that will mean that I loved much and loved deeply. I do not want to be afraid of love just because it hurts when it is lost. I want to love so deeply that it feels like a truck has been dropped on my chest. Because that kind of sorrow is only found in the deepest, most intimate of relationships. If avoiding sorrow would cheat me of that kind of love, I will not do it.

When I die I want to know that there was nothing held back, nothing left to give, and no reserve. I want to be totally spent in living my life to the fullest capacity God has given me, and when I see Jesus, he will say, “You look tired. Well done!”