I'm Feeling Lost...

Let’s talk about ‘Lost.’ If you haven’t watched last week’s episode, I strongly suggest you stop reading this immediately. Also, if you don’t watch Lost, you will no doubt be lost if you continue. But for those of you who both watch Lost and are caught up, I feel the need to express my feelings about how strange the episode was. I’m not a huge science-fiction fan and I guess I’ve known subconsciously that Lost is a sci-fi series, but I’ve been able to successfully ignore that fact until this week. Things just got weird with the whole glowing orb of light coming from a cave that a stream flows into. I’m also still trying to figure out what exactly happened when Jacob’s brother (do we know his name yet?) came out of the cave as the smoke monster…I’m beginning to wonder if they will actually be able to close this thing up in the next 3.5 hours of television. It seems like a tall order.
The one thing, however, that caught my attention about last week’s episode was the idea of a ‘light’ inside every person that somehow originates in this one magnificent life that, if extinguished or contaminated, would somehow end existence. Maybe I’m stretching because I really want this show into which I’ve put so many hours of my life to mean something profound. Nonetheless I can’t help but think about the image of God that resides in each of us (Gen. 1:27). The first three chapters of Genesis are so difficult- seemingly impossible- to unpack, but the imago dei is something I find a little easier to wrap my mind around. So not only does the ‘light’ of the One who created us reside in each of us, but it’s also true that apart from God we cannot exist. You sometimes hear the Trinity called ‘Creator (Father), Redeemer (Son), Sustainer (Holy Spirit.’ Without the sustaining work of the Holy Spirit in our lives, we don’t even have the opportunity to come into a relationship with God because we would not even exist. It’s only by the power of God that life continues to exist.
So now the writers of Lost have played around with the ‘predestination’ debate and the idea that we are all created and/or sustained by a single entity. I wonder what theological quandary they will take on next…

Charlotte Madison Stone’s First Week:

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May 9

We’re starting to recognize that regardless of location or time in history, there is one tried and true method of growing faithful disciples of Christ: start your church in a country that persecutes Christians. We hear stories of this phenomenon particularly in places like China, but we still tend to think of it as a fringe trend- a series of unrelated incidents. However, the truth is that the Church Universal’s story begins in the story of a persecuted people. For the first 300 years of Christianity, the Roman empire and Jewish authorities pursued Christians with varying degrees of intensity (historical details are debated) because we didn’t quite fit in with or submit to commonly held customs and beliefs. We were a counterculture revolution that challenged the foundations of societal, political, and economic reality. Yet through it all, followers of the Way (i.e. what the followers of Christ were called before they were labeled Christians) grew by leaps and bounds across the regions bordering the Mediterranean Sea. I think I finally understand why persecuted churches tend to thrive. Persecution breeds desperation; desperation inspires focus; focus causes intentional activity; intentional spiritual activity is the beginning point of discipleship. Though Charlotte Madison’s first few days were quiet, calm, and collected, the last 36 hours have been more than intense. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that when Charlotte gets frustrated (particularly as it relates to eating), there is almost nothing that will calm her down. Margaret and I had our first sleepless night as we tried everything in our fledgling parental arsenal to calm her down enough to eat or sleep. To say we were desperate by 4:30 in the morning would be an understatement. But in that place of desperation, you begin to search the depths of your experience to figure out if there is anything remotely useful. For whatever reason, it often takes a place of desperation for me to remember that I’m a man of faith- faith in a God who provides everything His kids need in life, even nourishment for a newborn. As that focus and reliance on God takes its place among our parental tools, we have the opportunity to be intentional about how we invite God in and make ourselves available to the movement of the Spirit in the smallest of life’s crises. We don’t yet know exactly what it means to be faithful in parenthood, but we figure that’s a pretty decent place to begin.

Relief!

Charlotte Madison has been the quietest baby you could possibly imagine. Seriously- the only time she cries is when we check her diaper. She doesn’t cry when she’s hungry; she doesn’t cry when she has a dirty diaper; she doesn’t cry when she’s cold or hot; best of all, she doesn’t cry during the night! That is, until we have family arrive to meet her for the first time. It’s like she knows we want to impress! Last night for the first time since she was born, she was simply inconsolable. We tried new clothes, new swaddling, changing positions, changing rooms, changing lighting- desperation sets in quicker now. She was so upset, and we had no clue how to relieve the suffering. Finally- mercifully- we checked her diaper only to discover that it was little more than a dirty diaper (why we didn’t think of that earlier, I don’t know- chalk it up to another new lesson learned). I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to help your child go from inconsolable screaming to happily eating her next meal. It’s more than simple relief that she’s no longer crying (although I would be lying if I said that wasn’t part of it). It’s a sense of comfort that your child is no longer in pain- a sense of peace that she has been healed of her affliction. You need to know- we were desperate to ease Charlotte’s hurt and our heart’s only desire was to restore her world to order. If that’s our response to suffering, surely God responds more perfectly. Surely God hears the cries of His children and is compelled as a loving parent to respond compassionately and lovingly to ease pain.
PS- at this rate, I’ll be able to preach for years without having to google sermon illustrations again…

Driving Ms. Charlotte

I learned to drive in 1997 on a ’91 Mazda Miata, a ’66 Volkswagen Bug, and a ’95 Dodge Caravan. Two of those cars are standard transmissions, so I learned to drive with one hand on the stick, and one on the steering wheel. Only once in my entire life have I driven with two hands on the wheel: during my driving test to get my driver’s license in 1997. Until Wednesday afternoon. On the way home from the hospital in Tomball (Methodist- Willowbrook), I drove with my hands at 10 and 2 so that I could maneuver around whatever obstacle had the nerve to cross our path. I could have out-maneuvered Jeff Gordon in the name of protecting the newest addition to our family. Even more, as Margaret, Charlotte Madison, and I came home as a family for the first time, I drove with the cruise control set so that both feet were poised to come crashing down on the brake in an instant with the full force of my entire body if anything or anyone made the mistake of impeding our progress. It’s amazing how not even the mundane things in life (i.e. driving) are left untouched by the birth of our first daughter.

What a wonderful rainbow...

A year ago at about this time, Margaret and I got on I-70 near Manhattan, KS to begin the long drive to Texas to begin a new chapter of our lives and ministries together in Kingwood. Who was singing on the radio? None other than Israel Kamakawiwo Ole singing the famous ukulele version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World.” Given our departure from Kansas, we found the song to be a particularly appropriate expression of our feelings about our new adventure. When we heard it 3 more times that day on various radio stations on the way to Texas, we figured Someone wanted us to hear a message of hope, rather and a sense of fear about the unknown. So when we got in the car to leave the hospital with Charlotte Madison for the first time, what song was on the radio? Naturally, the sweet sound of a ukulele and Israel singing “I hear babies cry and I watch them grow, they’ll learn much more than we’ll know, and I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”

Charlotte Madison Finally Arrives!

Two weeks ago I wrote in my church newsletter (copied below) about how much I could relate to people in Scripture like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob who had to wait- wait a Long Time- for the birth of the child God had promised each of them. It’s so interesting to read Scripture through the lens of your own experiences that are similar to the events we read about in the Bible. While I wrote two weeks ago about how well I could relate to the idea of waiting (impatiently) for God’s promises, I write now as a man who knows the joy of a promise fulfilled. At 7:07 PM on May 3, I witnessed the love of my life bring the 9.1 lb, 20” love of our lives into this world. I’ve never seen true perfection before. I thought I had, but really what I saw was technical perfection; like a mint-condition baseball card or a perfectly new cell phone screen- you know, before it spends a lifetime in your pocket and get scratched beyond the point where you can actually read the screen. What I knew as perfection was really just the lack of blemish. Charlotte Madison was perfect from the very second she was born- not just in a “I have 10 toes and 10 fingers and a perfect rose-colored skin” kind of way- not just in a “I’m perfectly healthy and normal” kind of way. Hers was a created perfection- only achievable by the careful molding and shaping of the One Who created our universe. As the doctors worked diligently to heal Margaret, the only words that could come out of my mouth were “She’s perfect!” I paced back and forth between Mom and baby for the first 30 minutes of Charlotte’s life. I looked at Charlotte and made mental notes about everything I would tell Margaret. But by the time I got back to Margaret, the only thing I could say every time was “She’s perfect!” It was truly one of the most amazing- and deeply spiritual- moments of my life.