This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.
The mythologist Joseph Campbell described the quest as the hero’s journey out from the ordinary to a place of adventure with the hope of magical rewards. It sounds fabulous. Until it’s not.
I’m currently on a quest for a personal retreat day. It’s not nearly so heroic as what Capbell described. Magical rewards? No, I just want to find a place where I can spend the day away with Jesus for prayer and journaling. A place without ping pong. Ping pong? [Read more…]
I’ve realized a lot about myself as a leader since last March. You know what I figured out just last week? I probably knew it but I never really put it into words? I hate being an enforcer. I can do it, but I hate it.
“No, no, you have to wear a mask when you come in on Sunday. No, you really have to wear a mask. No, it actually has to go over your nose. That’s the whole point. Really.”
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. Did I mention that I hate it?
I said as much last week in my Sunday message, as I made a larger point about how hardship can–not every time, but many times–shape us closer into the image of God.
As I repeated, “I hate it,” for the fourth or fifth time, I began to see knowing looks, heads nodding slightly, in the congregation. Ah, I thought, those are the other enforcers out there. They hate it, too.
We’re doing the work–however imperfectly–to lead through a pandemic.
None of us are enjoying this. None of us.
So, here’s to the enforcers–to the principals, the supervisors, the coaches, the teachers, the pastors, the administrators, the flight attendants, and everybody else whose job descriptions include looking out for other folks. You’re exhausted, too, and we know it.
Thank you, enforcers, for the hours spent pouring over public health orders, crafting safety plans, revising safety plans, communicating the new and newly revised safety plans, and then making those safety plans happen in the face of constant suspicion (at best) and outright hostility (at worst).
Thank you, enforcers, for keeping us safe.
Remember Indiana Jones? “Professor of Archaeology, expert on the occult, and how does one say it… obtainer of rare antiquities”?
I grew up watching those silly movies. For way too long, I wanted to be an archaeologist. Then I took an archaeology class in college. It only took half a semester to figure out that archaeological excavation is tedious, thankless, and (mostly) completely lacking in the adventure depicted in the films. I struggled even to stay awake in class as the professor showed slide after slide of pot shards. I was finished.
Those wistful days of archaeological naps came back to me recently, as watched the new Netflix film The Dig. The Dig tells the story of the discovery, in 1939, of the Sutton Hoo. No, not a creature in a Dr. Seuss book, the Sutton Hoo was a burial site in rural England where, among other archaeological finds, were the remains of a burial ship, loaded with gold and other artifacts, from Anglo Saxons of the early medieval times. It was one of the most important historical discoveries of the 20th century, as it showed the world that the people of the 7th and 8th centuries were incredibly sophisticated artisans and ship builders. As Charles Phillips of the British Museum remarks in the film, “The dark ages are no longer dark.”
As the film remembers, the person responsible for the discovery was a man named Basil Brown. Despite the enormity of his discovery, though, Brown was left almost unrecognized for his achievement. The Sutton Hoo artifacts went on display a decade after their excavation with no mention of their excavator. Only in recent years was his name included in the vast exhibit space given to the artifacts within the British Museum. One website goes so far as to dub him “the invisible archaeologist.”
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