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You Can Dance If You Want To

1/30/2014

I remember a particular Saturday years ago when Reese was still very young. Mindy had a workshop and was away from home all day. So, it was just Reese and I. During the morning, Reese was watching a movie in our study, and I was working on a sermon at the kitchen table.

Even in the kitchen I could hear the music from the closing credits of the film. It was a pretty Celtic tune sung, I think, by Sinead O’Connor. I poked my head around the corner and looked into the study because I hadn’t heard Reese do her normal thing when the credits started at the end of a movie. At the time, as soon as they started rolling, Reese would shout, “Movie done! Movie all done! Daddy turn off!” But not this time.

When I checked in on her, Reese didn’t see me. She didn’t know I was there. And Reese was dancing. Happily. Intensely. Gracefully. She was spinning and jumping and moving her hands around in big, dramatic circles.

Since she didn’t know I was watching, obviously she wasn’t performing, at least not for me. I watched her for awhile and ducked away before she noticed me eying her.

When Reese came out of the room a few minutes later to look for me, I made a point of not mentioning the dancing. I don’t think I wanted her to become self-conscious about what she’d done.

Watching her dance just for the joy of doing so was one of the happier moments I’d had in a while, and it’s hard even now to put into words why that was so. I don’t think I’ll try. I’ll just receive it as the gift it was.

But I will mention two thoughts I’ve had about it since. The first has to do with a definition of character I’ve heard frequently over the years. People will say from time to time that character is ultimately who we are and what we do when we know no one is watching us.

Speaking honestly, at the time of her impromptu dance, my daughter had been getting on my nerves quite a bit. A lot of the edginess was supplied from my side, as it always is. I am, after all, the adult in the relationship (quite literally). But for her part, Reese was certainly bringing plenty of “terrible twos” to the party.

In light of this, it was wonderful to catch a glimpse into her character, into the Reese that happens when no one is watching. She was not simply a tantrum-throwing ball of wants and complaints. She was also someone who dances beautifully when alone.

Do I have the joy in me to sometimes dance just to dance? If I don’t, please, Lord, give it to me. It was good to see Reese had it then. I pray she still has it now. I want that to be a part of my character, and of hers as well.

The other thing that struck me about Reese’s dance was simply the intense physicality of it. She was really going at it. She wasn’t in hyper-active-spasmodic-mode, but she was doing more than a slow waltz. That characterizes a lot of Reese’s activity, and a lot of most kids’ activity, I guess.

Kids don’t “work out” much, but they exercise a great deal. They play. Their play calls them to both enjoy and exert their bodies. As an adult who “works out,” I probably exert my body a little more than average. But, I exert it to keep it from falling apart.

How often do I actually use my body to play? Where is the play? It often does not feel like there is much of it, quite frankly. Lately, I have been aching for more play. Lord, if I am losing my ability to play, please set me straight. And help Reese never lose her passion for play.

When Jesus famously told us to become like little children in order to enter the land of God’s rule, there were surely all sorts of reasons for Jesus’ choice of language.

Maybe part of why he used those words was because the Lord was calling us to be free enough in God’s love to be able to play like children, at least now and again. Maybe Jesus wanted to wake us up from the collective adult hallucination that we are the ultimate masters of our universes and so must be serious all the time.

Maybe there was also a call to dance when no one’s watching and not be ashamed. A call to dance simply to enjoy producing nothing, impressing no one, and gleefully wasting time as an offering of life to God. A call to dance ourselves a little of the way back to Eden.

I pray you can dance and play and let loose before God.

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There's a Zombie on Aisle Three

1/23/2014

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When Reese was two-years-old we had a fateful Friday night in a Kohl’s store.

Mindy was looking at flip-flops. Reese was ready to get moving and get out of the store. I was ten feet away watching them. Reese ran to her mom, bear-hugged Mindy’s left leg, and bit down. Reese broke the skin and left a raised bruise punctuated by blood.

It was shocking to witness. Mindy let out a yelp and I ran over and pried Reese away. Immediately Reese was different. “I bite. I bite Momma. I sorry.” I took Reese down a different aisle for timeout. I could not detect any noticeable remorse, although she said repeatedly, “I bite. I sorry. No timeout. I sorry.”

As I held her during timeout Reese pulled out the full range of cute to get me to end her timeout. She batted eyes. She made goofy smiles. She worked it.

This made the whole episode that much more disturbing. I found my mind drifting to gospels stories about demon possession.

Now I know that Reese isn’t possessed by evil. But what happened that Friday night was sick. It bore in miniature the hallmarks of what is often wrong with us as people and from what we often need Jesus to deliver us.

Ah, Reese, you little sinner. There was an abuse of power. There was the deep lack of concern and compassion for the neighbor. There was the resistance to real repentance. It may have all been “normal,” but that didn’t make it any less ugly.

I think Mindy and I would have contributed to the nastiness if we would have overreacted or imagined that this episode was the whole of who Reese is. It’s so obviously not. But, I think we would have also contributed to the “devil’s pleasure” if we would have acted as if it were no big deal, if we wouldn’t have taken any corrective action empowered by love.

Either approach would have been an abuse and misuse of our power as parents. It would have also demonstrated a lack of compassion for Reese. By overreacting or underreacting, we would have loved her poorly. Over-emphasizing the episode would have hurt Reese by reducing her down to her sin and pushing her toward shame. Blowing it off would have loved Reese poorly by not representing God’s call for her to become someone better, some more Christ-like.

The use of power is a huge issue in the biblical story. In the Genesis story, God is seen as someone powerful who has more than enough reason to use that power to wipe away a world that has broken fellowship with him. But, ultimately, God doesn’t take this path, and this choice is called mercy and grace.

Jesus is seen as the Son of God who remarkably does not use his power for his own advantage. He shares his power – forgiveness, resurrection, freedom, etc. – with us, even with those who betrayed him to death.

The Holy Spirit is sometimes envisioned as a fiery wind. Strangely this Spirit does not burn us to ash, but instead warms us to new life as we share the healing word and work of Christ in an often cold, sick world.

How has power been used toward us? How have we used power towards others? When we look upon Jesus – the one Christians trust is the Divine in flesh and blood – does our use of power resemble his?

Or does our use of power look more like a rabid toddler on the loose in a Kohl’s store? If we want to change how we use the power entrusted to each of us, how do we make that change? How do we seek God to make that change within us?

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Mystery Words

1/16/2014

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When Reese was very little and we were living in Phoenix, I remember taking her across the street to visit her friend. Her friend was a little boy a few months older than Reese was.

On this particular day they were sitting next to each other, and Reese was talking with great animation and excitement. She was waving her hands and squealing and going on about her “One Baba” and “Water John.”

I’ll save you the long back stories and just tell you that “One Baba” was (and still is) her name for her favorite blanket. “Water John” was her name for her favorite movie at the time, The Water Horse: Legend of the Deep.

It goes without saying that the little boy across the street and his grandmother both had no idea what Reese was talking about. Reese’s excitement was impressive, and she has a way of demanding your interest under any circumstances, but there was a barrier to the communication because the meaning of her language hadn’t yet been opened to them.

This is not only an issue for Reese. I’ve had any number of experiences when I’ve been talking with a car mechanic or a computer technician and not really known what was going on because their languages had not been opened to me. And this doesn’t even take into account the times I’ve been in countries that don’t have English as their predominant language.

In fact, I read an article recently pondering what Denver Broncos’ quarterback Peyton Manning might mean when he shouts “Omaha” over and over again before the ball is snapped and the play begins. There is confusion because Manning refuses (understandably) to let anyone other than his teammates in on the meaning of his language.

Apparently such issues of understanding are a common thing in life. So, it comes as no shock to me to see that it is a significant issue for Christians.

Now I’ve been a Christian for a while, so I have all these terms I can throw around with great excitement to anyone I meet – redemption, resurrection, salvation, sin, God, grace, peace, prayer, charisma, creation, etc, etc, etc. But what do they mean? Do the terms mean pretty much the same thing to both the speaker and the hearer? When I use the terms, do they mean pretty much the same thing as the Bible suggests they mean?

If we don’t think about this sometimes, we might end up throwing words around without creating understanding. My excitement might be interesting as I talk about “redemption” (like Reese and her shouts of “One Baba!”), but the lack of common understanding can build a wall that needs to be removed for the good news of Jesus to be shared.

I think a lot of my “aha” moments as a Christian have come when something like the original meaning of one of these “churchy” terms has become clearer to me.

For instance, growing up I always thought of “redemption” in terms of coupons in the newspaper. My mom would clip a coupon for 50 cents off a tub of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter margarine. We’d go to the store, my mom would “redeem” the coupon, and she’d save a little money. Redemption.

I don’t think it was until graduate school that I was taught that the biblical use of “redemption” has more to do with slavery and liberation than it does with pinching pennies. In essence, to redeem someone was to purchase them and then set them free. Redemption

So, years after I had begun to say Christian-y things like “Jesus redeemed me,” I finally started to actually understand a little of what I was saying. When I said, “Jesus redeemed me,” I was saying that I was trapped in some way, locked up, enslaved, and Jesus had come to me and set me free.

Understanding the little story behind the word helped me to see how redemption was told in the stories of the Bible and is still told in the stories of the world I live in everyday.

The same is true for all the words that our central to Christian jargon. I invite you to take one of those classic words from the list above and explore it. You might be surprised (and even blessed) by what you find.

For Reese to be able to tear down the language barrier with her friend she needed to be able to tell the story behind the word. Instead of just saying “Water John” she needed to be able to say, “Now there is this movie I love about a boy in Scotland who lives near a lake named Loch Ness. One day he finds a large egg….”

I need to learn the stories behind the words of my faith so I can tear down some of the barriers that might block the people around me (and often even myself) from a deeper, richer experience of God’s love in Jesus Christ.

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Falling Off a Slide

1/8/2014

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When Reese was two-years-old we would often take her to the play zone at the Paradise Valley Mall near our house in Phoenix. If you aren’t familiar with these set-ups, the first thing I’ll say is…good for you. In essence, the mall sets aside an enclosed area, covers it with springy flooring, and sets out all sorts of soft, easy-to-climbs slides and thingy-dingies for small kids to play on.

Until Reese was sure of her movement skills, I would follow her around all the time. But, by the time she passed two, Reese was running and climbing so well that Mindy and I would usually decide to sit on the sidelines and let her run amok. That was what we were doing that particular evening.

And things were going fine. But then Reese climbed one of the easier slide ladders. She made it almost to the top, and then she fell off backward and landed awkwardly on her head. The fall was probably from four and a half feet which, when you are less than three feet tall, is quite a distance. If you doubt me, just do the math for someone your own height.

We shouted and rushed to Reese without thinking. It was just reaction. We held her. I had Reese squeeze my finger with her right hand and then her left. After that, I had her wiggle her right foot and then her left. We asked her some questions and then had her show us her walk.

After a few snuffles, Reese was fine. A minute and a half later she was back attacking the play zone with everything she had to give (which is a lot). I trailed her the rest of the evening much closer than before. Hours later (or so it seemed) my heart rate returned to normal.

I found that I hadn’t been nervous in the moment, but a few minutes after the situation calmed down I felt sick to my stomach. I guess – a little like tears at a funeral – a physical sensation like that is an emblem of my love for my daughter.

But what if Reese had not been able to wiggle her feet a few moments and then a few years after the fall? What impact would have the accident had on my faith, on my relationship with Jesus?

I would have surely asked serious questions about my role in the accident. Should I have allowed Reese to play at such a distance from me? Was I guilty for causing the fall? Ultimately, I think I would have decided that maybe I should have made a different call, but the risk was not an improper one. Reese had proven she could handle the freedom I had given her.

I think I would have also asked questions about Reese’s role. Why did she fall then and there? Honestly, I think I wasn’t the only one who had become a little overconfident in Reese’s running and climbing skills. I think Reese had become a little overconfident in them as well. Overconfidence often leads to inattention and mistakes. But Reese’s fall finally wasn’t because there was something wrong with her or with what she was doing. It was, after all, an accident.

As a Christian I probably would have also asked questions about God’s role. Had God “caused” Reese’s fall? Unless I would have been clearly convinced otherwise, my assumption would have been that God didn’t push her backwards off the slides. I don’t remember many Bible stories of Jesus shoving children off play equipment. Not that there aren’t stories about God doing scary things, but that is not the norm.

In the moments and years afterwards I surely would have prayed for Reese’s healing, both through normal medical means and beyond them as well. I’m sure these prayers would often be full of pain and struggle. I would have rejoiced when things went well and ached when they did not.

But I hope my belief in Christ’s compassion, and so in God’s love, would not be dictated simply by our experience in that moment at the mall five years ago. I pray it would be shaped by the biblical stories of Christ’s mercy and his promise to be with us always – even until the end of the age.

I think my faith in the wake of the tragedy would also be shaped by the realization that God is not the only power in town. We make decisions that have real power to help or hinder life. And, I think there are forces in the world other than our own that can also decide to work against Christ’s healing and love.

Finally, I hope I would trust God to take care of business. If God can work a resurrection out of a crucifixion, God can take the worst things of life and do something blessed with them. If God is seen uniquely in a person named Jesus who dies for the world that betrayed him, then I trust this God with everything. This God is worth that confidence, at least in my opinion.

I also believe that this is the type of God who will make all things work out well in the end, and many things work out well long before then.

Imagining what could have been, I’ve gone through this “when bad things happen” checklist because I think there is a powerful tendency to make a one-size-fits-all assumption when disaster strikes us. It would be easy for me to say in one form or another after her tumble, “Oh, well. I guess God wanted Reese to fall off the slide and break her neck for some mysterious reason.”

However, this assumption looks nothing like Jesus and may be closer to fatalism than Christian faith. It may also blame God for things that aren’t God’s fault. And we know that blaming those we love for bad things they didn’t do often kills relationships – both relationships between people and relationships between people and God.

I know I would have struggled with despair. I pray that I would have allowed Christ to swallow that despair with his Cross and nurture hope with his Empty Tomb.

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Inevitable Heartbreak

1/1/2014

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Since she was very young Reese set herself up for heartbreak.

I remember the first time I noticed this. We were playing in a public park. Reese would call all the strange kids she had just met on the jungle-gym “friends.” She would run after a little boy, and I’d ask her what she was doing. “I run with my friend,” she’d say as if it were obvious, which I suppose to her it was.

And it’s not just kids. I’ve noticed her doing the same thing in reference to adults, especially those at church and at school.

I was pleased and saddened at the same time by her use of the word “friend.”

How wonderful it is that she looked to all the new people in her life with that kind of glow in her spirit. One of the greatest injustices, at least to my mind, is when a child is coached by early tragedy to eye any newcomer as a likely enemy and not as a likely friend.

But at the same time I had the dark premonition of an almost inevitable future conversation with a tearful Reese. In this talk I will have to try to explain to her that not everyone she meets wants to be her friend. Sometimes it seems people spend almost all their effort and energy on being the exact opposite of friends.

Sometimes we tend to spend our energy on what they call in politics “smear campaigns.” Sadly, from early on Christians have done their share of smearing other people who could have easily been friends. Yet, early Christians themselves also received a big helping of smears.

One of the best (or worst, depending on your perspective, I suppose) had to do with Christians being labeled “cannibals” because in worship services they ate the “flesh and blood of Jesus.”

As you may or may not know, Christian worship services often include a ritual, symbolic meal called The Lord’s Supper (aka The Table, Communion, or The Eucharist). At this time in the service someone will usually say something to the effect that Jesus called this bread his body and this cup of wine (or grape juice) his blood. Throw the statement into the negative spin machine and you get…nasty Jesus-eating cannibals!

If my memory serves me (which often it doesn’t), another controversy for the early communities of Jesus’ followers had to do with what is sometimes called “the holy kiss.” But this one wasn’t based on a smear. The early Christians deserved it.

In the close of a letter meant to be read in the worship services of the church in Rome, the apostle Paul wrote, “Greet one another with a holy kiss.”

To do this could easily be seen as scandalous because kisses were only for the right people – the people of one’s clan, or perhaps for the best of friends. But here is Paul asking for people in the community of faith to treat each other as intimates and as equals.

And these Jesus-follower communities were becoming meeting places of people who should not be associating equally as friends as far as the general culture was concerned – the rich and poor, the Jew and non-Jew, the male and female, the master and the slave.

Perhaps stronger still, these communities within them contained people at odds with one other because some conflict that had happened between them – a marriage was going sour, a law suit loomed on the horizon, money had been misused, cruel words had been spit back and forth.

Yet Paul tells the folks gathered as church to kiss each other as friends and family in Christ, to share a holy kiss despite their divisions. People who should not be at peace in such a way, people who were not friends through the arrangements of the world, were to treat each other as friends – even as brothers and sisters – because of the Christ they shared.

Now Paul and these early Christians were not idiots. Their daddies and mommies without a doubt had sat them down at some point and told them that not every stranger is a friend. Further, if you think they are, then you are cruising for an inevitable emotional bruising.

But perhaps those Christians also believed beyond all this that in Christ God was making all things new, including relationships. Maybe because Christ was real, the ultimate way to see another person in God’s real world was as a friend and not as an enemy.

When my inevitable talk with Reese comes, (and bits and pieces of it already have) I will have something to teach Reese. I can teach her about how the broken world often works to break hearts by showing us how many people are not our friends.

Yet Reese may very well have something better to teach me. She can teach me about how the healing love of Christ can work through something as simple as a kiss and the faith to see even strangers as friends.

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Robert here.

This is something called a Reese Piece. Reese is a nickname for Karyssa, my daughter.

Each Reese Piece is a brief exploration of some way I sense God has spoken to me through her.

God reaches us through the experiences and relationships of daily life. This seems obvious, but I find it’s something which is still easy for me to forget.

It is my prayer that “Reese Pieces” will encourage you to look for the ways the Lord is trying to reach you through the life you live each day and the people who populate it.

You Can Dance If You Want To

There's a Zombie on Aisle Three

Mystery Words

Falling Off a Slide

Inevitable Heartbreak

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