Expectation

October 13, 2023 | Leave a Comment

Those jobs we never asked for

I had lots of ideas as a kid about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I never, ever, in a million years would have thought I’d end up in ministry. Not ever. I wasn’t even raised in the church. It never even could have crossed my mind. But here I am. Or, should I say, “Here I am Lord” (1 Samuel 3)?

Our Old Testament friend Jonah did not set out to be a prophet. No, God made him a prophet when he spoke to him that day and told him, “Go. Go to Nineveh” (Jonah 1:1). So, he did what any reluctant prophet would do. He ran the other way. You may know the story from there: a storm came, a big fish swallowed him, the same big fish vomited him back out on the shore, and then finally Jonah did his job. He prophesied, and the people of Nineveh repented.

Nothing could have felt worse for Jonah. He’d been stuck doing something he didn’t want to do, and he was successful at it. It was all God’s fault.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that there are a few of you out there who have been there: In the place you’re supposed to be, doing what you genuinely believe God wants you to do, but not necessarily enjoying it.

God has the same question for us in these moments that he had for Jonah. “Is it right for you to be angry?” (Jonah 4:4). Still, God builds Jonah shelter, and it makes Jonah “very happy” (Jonah 4:6), but God’s not done. God has more to teach Jonah, so God withers the plant. [Read more…]

December 23, 2022 | Leave a Comment

Happy Christmas Eve Eve

I’ve been wishing a “Happy Christmas Eve Eve” since long before Phoebe made it famous on Friends.

Christmas Eve Eve was a real thing in my house growing up. Christmas Day, even Christmas Eve, weren’t enough to contain what was the biggest event in our year. We started prepping for it in the springtime, planning gifts, making lists, and dreaming of the thrill. The year that my sister sewed me a life-sized doll? She started it on Valentine’s Day. Really.

We needed more than a day or even two to feel that sense of expectation. By Christmas Eve Eve, we were buzzing.

As real as the sense of expectation, though, was the sense of disappointment that descended by mid-morning on Christmas Day. Gifts opened, breakfast eaten, musical still playing on repeat for the seventy-sixth time, there was nothing more but to pick through the piles of opened gifts and wonder what came next.

What we celebrated was a holiday, not a holy day. It was an event on the calendar for giving and getting stuff that was supposed to signify the love we felt for each other in ways that our poor, emotionally grifting family couldn’t otherwise express.

I suspect it’s the same for many, but the gifts can’t fill a space intended for the manger. The food can’t fill empty hopes.

Christmas is, was and always will be a holy day if it is anything. We need to celebrate it as such or not at all.

So, no, a day or even two can’t contain the biggest event in history. So, I’ll go ahead and wish a Happy Christmas Eve Eve to everyone today, but with expectation of a different sort—expectation of love that doesn’t need gifts to prove its worth, expectation of joy that doesn’t end when the wrapping paper’s off, expectation of a Christ Child who will come again to heal us all.

June 6, 2022 | 2 Comments

My supposed-to sabbatical (Part One)

It’s Monday of the second full week of my supposed-to sabbatical. I was supposed to be in Ventura, CA, on the beach, for the month of June during my sabbatical. I was supposed to be walking dunes and eating at quaint cafes before taking long naps in the afternoon. I was supposed to be visiting with friends and colleagues. I was supposed to be reading and writing, free of the ordinary concerns of home and church.

But, several pulmonary embolisms later, my doctors have advised me that travel is questionable and staying by myself (however charming the accommodations) is out of the question. So, I’m trying to take sabbatical time at home. Ha! It turns out that my supposed-to sabbatical involves a whole lot of housework, because—you know—I’m home, so there are seven loads of laundry, [Read more…]

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