Star bellied sneeches

Oh the star-bellied sneeches

had bellies with stars

but the plain-bellied sneeches

had none upon thars....

-- Dr. Seuss

Children's classic or serious social commentary? This favorite book by Dr. Seuss explores the human tendency to want to be in a certain "group" and to go to extremes to gain admittance.

It sort of reminds me of how churches can work...

A few weeks ago, I posed the question on my facebook page, "What is the difference between focusing on advancing the Kingdom of God, evangelism and membership?" I received several replies to this, including one from my 17-year-old daughter that I believe deserves our attention. Here's what she says:

"Church membership has more selfish motives. Evangelism focuses solely on the spiritual. Advancing the Kingdom of God is more about showing love..."

Gold star for her!

I say all of these things because at times, I wonder if churches spend far too much time and energy looking for star-bellied sneeches instead of just reaching out to everyone in close proximity, revealing to them the baffling, endless, all-encompassing love of God?

I'm almost certain that the Great Commission tells us to go forth and make disciples of ALL people, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. There are no distinctions made WHAT-SO-EVER.

Sure, preservation of self is a necessary reality in church growth. But when preservation of self is the focus, the church is most likely to die.

I had lunch with a hand full of people at the homeless shelter yesterday. Several of them were oohing and ahhing concerning church services the previous Sunday. Others, impressed by their comments, insisted that this Sunday, they too would be there. I was astonished. I had never heard this kind of excitement about church since first beginning my weekly lunches at the shelter back in January. Yet I wondered how many of my fellow church members would be as excited as I was. I wondered, would they pat me on the head and say, "That's super duper Tammy! More plain-bellied sneeches!" all the while nursing thoughts of "... now if only we could attract more sneeches with stars upon thars!"

I don't know what the future viability of my church looks like. I don't know if ultimately, we will have to shut our doors to the plain-bellied sneeches because the star-bellied ones continue to pass us by. I feel so certain that what we are doing IS advancing the Kingdom of God.

Perhaps it's time for a reality check. Perhaps those with stars upon thars will NEVER darken the doors of our church. And that's OK ... provided we don't continue to gnash our teeth over it.

Savage beast

They say music soothes the savage beast. I was reading the blog of our friend Kenny recently and he was talking about some favorite music; and the gift of music, etc. It prompted me to comment that the appreciation of music is also a gift (or at least I like to claim that it is).

I can peck out "Mary Had a Little Lamb" (with chords) on the piano; even play either part of the "Heart and Soul" duet. I don't have a great voice, but I have pretty good pitch. No, I'm not particularly talented in the music department, but I love music. When I am driving down the freeway, I love cranking up my CD player and singing at the top of my lungs; just giving myself completely to the music. Man, I love it! And I must confess that I think my Father probably nurtured or at least instilled this love in me.

I was at a conference about a month ago in LA. They had a room that was just for prayer. It had soft lighting and incense and floor cushions and images projected on the wall ... and music; meditative music. One of the songs I recognized is Adagio for Strings (It is possible it is featured in The Passion of the Christ, but ironically, I'm certain it is in Platoon; the scene where Sgt. Elias is running from the jungle toward the platoon's helicopter and is gunned down in slow motion; yes, quite a visual as a backdrop for prayer!)

I enjoyed praying to that song and others like it so much that when I returned home, I promptly downloaded a handful of classical songs from itunes.

Yes, many of these pieces soothe me profoundly. Interestingly, playing them in the background seems to help me express myself more completely to God during those "wordless" moments. A particular movement in the music seems to depict my mood perfectly and I find myself thinking, "That's it, God, that is what I am feeling..." I am also surprised that I am NOT distracted by having music in the background. Somehow, it seems to drive me deeper into a meditative state.

I like experimenting with prayer and listening to different types of music and doing whatever is in my "power" to experience God in a new way; come to a deeper understanding of what he is like; brush up ever so lightly against the Divine. It soothes this savage...

Miss T

I know it's been close to a month since I've worked in the kitchen at SEARCH. I had such grand plans in the beginning ... volunteer every Friday. Then it became volunteer every other Friday. Then volunteer twice a month. Then ... well ... like I said, it's been at least a month.

Never the less, when I walked sheepishly into the kitchen and saw Billy the food services manager, he said, "Oh, you are a God send!" (How many more people in America would volunteer is THAT's what they heard when they arrived?) I replied, "Man, I'm a dead beat, I'm sorry I've been gone for so long." But he insisted, "No, you're a God send."

OK have it your way.

I saw a familiar face ... one of the clients who helps in the kitchen regularly. But I went completely blank and couldn't produce his name to save my life. "Oh man, wait, wait, it will come," I said. He feigned insult and said, "Now don't you do me that way, do NOT do me that way." He grew weary of waiting for my dementia to subside and finally blurted out, "It's Sam -- SAM."

Sam, yes of course! Sam I Am!

Another young man standing nearby introduced himself. D-Ray. He saw my church staff name tag and said as he shook my hand, "Nice to meet you, Miss T." It stuck. For the rest of the day, it was "Miss T" this and "Miss T" that. He was a nice kid.

I secured my baseball cap, washed and gloved up and donned an apron. My first task was setting water glasses out on the tables. I quickly realized that Billy was following right behind me, changing the placement of the water glass from in front of the plate to beside the plate. I laughed and teased, "QC! QC! I forgot the water has to go in a certain place!"

Yes, it had been too long since I'd been there.

Today I was assigned the salad/bread slot in the serving line. There were fewer people than usual eating lunch. Sam said it's because it's the end of the month and everyone has their relief checks, "So they aren't quite so desperate right now," he explained. Usually, we serve three shifts ... 40-ish the first shift, 30-ish the second shift, and 20-ish the third shift. Today we did only two shifts -- one of 37 and another of 17, plus a random number of staff plates here and there. I had remembered that I am never offered lunch, so today I had leftovers stashed in my car.

"Miss T, come on out here when you get finished..."

After all the plates were served, I played "Hostess," standing in front of the tables that Billy pointed the clients to. I like this job because it allows me to say, "Hello, how are you? How's it going?" and prove to the clients that they are not invisible. Oh, the sights I saw today -- at least one barefoot person and another who had rags tied around his feet. Many were in socks only, pathetic flip flops or mismatched, oversized, laceless shoes. I won't go into the clothing (or lack there of.)

"Miss T, let's get some more water."

Between shifts, D-Ray and I would re-ice and fill the water glasses. He made polite conversation and asked me questions like, "Did you play sports in school? You sure are tall. Do you work out? I can see the definition in your arms." He was a riot. A sweet riot.

Something interesting I noticed was a distinction in the behavior of the groups of clients. The first client group were the ones still in their natural habitat, fresh off the street. The second were those enrolled in SEARCH's GED class; on the road to getting their lives back on track. The "natural habitat" group ate quickly. They sat, shoveled and left. No chit chat. No relaxing. Just eat and go. (In fact, when I tried to engage any in conversation, they acted astonished, like, "You talking to me?") The group comprising the GED students ate at a more normal pace. They talked and joked and leaned back and relaxed. They took their time and didn't feel the least bit obligated to shovel and run. I have no idea what accounts for this distinction; perhaps those still on the street have yet to regain their dignity. Yes, this likely has something to do with it.

Once all the food service was over, we wiped down the tables and stacked the chairs. I was paid my usual compliment from Billy -- the privilege of cleaning the steam table. Billy is very particular about his kitchen, so I know this job doesn't go to just anyone.

After cleaning the steam table and washing trays, I was given a new assignment. "Do something real quick for me, Miss T." (When ever someone says "Do something real quick," it's never quick.) Billy pointed to a basket of laundered aprons and rags. It seems that when the aprons are washed and dried, all the apron ties wrap and tangle around one another. I told Billy, "Give me some scissors, I can solve this problem..." He laughed.

It took a good 20 minutes to take the aprons apart and fold them back up again. When Billy came to check on my progress, I asked, "You got some ironing you want me to do?" He laughed again.

The work was winding down by this point. D-Ray was finishing up the mopping. "Well Miss T, when am I going to see you again?" he asked. "In a couple years?" I laughed at his good-natured joking. "No, I imagine it will be at least two weeks. I always work on Fridays." He thanked me again for my help (which he did constantly throughout the lunch shift) and told me it was a pleasure to meet me.

Nice guy, that D-Ray.

I paid my respects to Billy and promised I would return sooner next time.

On my way out the front door, there was D-Ray. He had retrieved two garbage bags full of all his worldly possessions and was about to head out the door. As the reality of his obvious state of poverty soaked in and the fact that it never occurred to me as we were working together that THIS was the way he lived, I thought, shoot, I should offer him a ride. But I didn't.

Poor D-Ray. There sure are a lot of folks out there in dire straits. I have to admit it's a pretty good life being Miss T.

The best

I meet so many ladies in crisis who are so overwhelmed with life (that's sort of a redundant statement).

A sweet girl of probably 19 stared at me in wonder today as I was teaching a class on prayer at Bonita House. She asked sheepishly, "Does God really love us unconditionally?"

Yep, sure does. Next question?

She is overwhelmed, feeling like she has nothing to hold on to. Somewhere she got it in her head that she has to be perfect; it's perfect or nothing with God, don't you know? And when you see women week after week who need desperately to believe that they are loved unconditionally, you come to realize that way too many sermons have been preached on perfection.

I have three key phrases related to being "perfect" that I recite frequently these days; both to the rehab ladies and to myself.

Be the best (insert your name here) you know how to be today
Do your best. Isn't that what our Mom's told us? (Well, mine did). I remember in high school bringing home a few report cards that had some sad grades in subjects like calculus and physics. My Mom always asked me, "Does this grade represent the best you can do?" When I answered yes, she took me at my word and left it at that. So I suppose my Mom was the first person to teach me this way of thinking -- this goal of being the best Tammy I know how to be -- whether she realized it or not. It's really quite refreshing and freeing when you think about it. I don't have to be flawless. I don't have to be better than so-and-so. I don't have to hang my head in shame when I blow it. I just have to try again -- and keep trying -- to be the best Tammy I know how to be.

Is that the best expression of who you are?
This phrase surfaced a few weeks ago while I was teaching on the passage from Matthew's gospel about turning the other cheek; surrendering not only your tunic, but your cloak also; going the second mile. I was trying to explain to the ladies in my class that when we react in a mean, spiteful or hateful manner to another person, we are giving them power over us. Instead, when determining how to respond in the heat of an angry moment, it is better to try to get a grip and ask ourselves, what can I say/do that would be the best expression of who I am? Again, it ties to that idea of being the best _____ you know how to be today. Suddenly, excuses like, "Well, I just lost my temper," or "I was tired," or "He started it" don't measure up to that piercing question: Is that the best expression of who you are?

See people in the best possible light
We all want those around us to cut us some slack. "Give me a break!" we say in frustration when it seems like someone is busting our chops yet again. And yet do we do the same? (Golden Rule time). Do I strive to see every person in the best possible light? The biggest argument you'll get with this way of thinking is from people who are jaded, suspicious or wary of being taken advantage of. Sure, there are people out there who are out to hurt, cheat and lie to you. But not everyone. And who knows ... seeing someone in the best possible light; in a manner that goes against what they have been told their entire lives; may just save them. If nothing else, you will be choosing love over condemnation; and that is certainly a godly choice.

So what's a "real" life example of all of these concepts? Just so happens I had one yesterday. I was asking someone at the office for some help. Let's say his name is George. George has a habit of answering in a sarcastic manner. Unfortunately, he does it nearly every time and I confess it wears me out (or at least it did yesterday). As I was saying, George answered sarcastically one time too many yesterday and I snapped at him: "Shut up!" Clearly, it was not the best expression of who I am. He wouldn't let up. He made another off-the-cuff remark and even shared his remark; his assessment of me; to two other staff members. So I snapped again: "Really, shut up. That is totally unnecessary!" Clearly, I was not being the best Tammy I knew how to be. And as I huffed about what a jerk he is, clearly I chose not to see him in the best possible light.

This morning, I decided I would try again at being the best Tammy I knew how to be. At the end of our staff meeting, I went straight to him and said I was sorry. This was his big chance to say he was sorry too ... but he didn't. He merely replied, "It's OK." This time, I chose to see him in the best possible light; to say to myself, well, maybe he isn't very good at saying "I'm sorry." That doesn't mean he doesn't regret the entire exchange between us.

Regardless of his response, I knew my apology was the best expression of who I am. And at that moment, even if the moment was fleeting, I felt certain I was being the best Tammy I knew how to be. That felt pretty good.

Sometimes...

Sometimes I have trouble accepting things. I am in the middle of typing up prayer requests for the rehab ladies. Some days, the requests affect me more than others.

I have this overwhelming urge to strap on my red cape and get to work.

But I am powerless.

I can only do so much ... I am limited and finite.

Yet it is frustrating.

I know God sees everything I do. I know he knows everything I want for them. I know this feeling of helplessness where the ladies are concerned isn't entirely accurate.

And I know that this too shall pass.

Draw near

“Draw near to God and he will draw near to you..." -- James 4:8a.

Have you ever wondered why we sometimes feel at a distance from God? I suppose it really comes down to the senses. I know intellectually that God is always with me. But I don’t always “feel” his presence. In fact, sometimes when I try the hardest to enter into his presence, I fail miserably.

Is God removing himself from me? That is what it feels like; and the psalmist implies it time and again with laments such as, “Why are you so far from saving me, so far from the words of my groaning?" (Psalm 22:1).

(This sort of reminds me of the age-old question, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?)

If for what ever reason, I am unable to perceive God's presence, does that really mean that he is not there? Of course not.

Perhaps we place far too much importance on our feelings; our perceptions. "Draw near to God...." If I consider how this is accomplished, I'd have to answer that it is through such disciplines as prayer, reading the scriptures, worship, meditation, Christian conversation and the like. "... and he will draw near to you." Now how exactly is that accomplished? How is God's drawing near to me expressed? How will I know it when I "see" it?

It just isn't practical, I suppose, to expect (let alone demand) that warm, penetrating sensation I sometimes experience; a sensation I have come to recognize or identify or define as God's presence with me. Yet I would be a liar and terribly dense if I didn't admit that God's presence can be felt or perceived in many other manners as well. Sometimes when I see the beauty of God's creation, I feel his presence. Sometimes it's in music. Sometimes it's in the gifts of others. Sometimes it's a wordless sensation as I am praying or meditating. Sometimes it's a seemingly random or innocent remark from someone else that resonates within and goes to the very core of my being.

When Elijah is fleeing Jezebel and the men she has hired to take his life, he hides in a cave. The Lord asks him what in the world is he doing? He replies that he has been zealous for the Lord and served him well, but feels frightened and discouraged at the moment (I am paraphrasing wildly). The Lord invites him to step outside the cave and wait, "For the Lord is going to pass by." I can't remember the exact order, but a strong wind, earthquake and a fire next visit Elijah; and after each, the text proclaims, "but the Lord was not in ... the wind ... the earthquake ... the fire."

Finally, there is a gentle whisper. Elijah seems to sense that this is the Lord's presence. He covers his head (as a sign of reverence) and stands at the entrance of the cave, as if to soak it all in.

Is it possible that we sometimes miss that gentle whisper of God's presence because we have our ears tuned to an earthquake or fire or mighty wind?

More importantly, is it possible there are times when we simply cannot perceive God's presence, and not because we are failing him but simply because we are limited and finite? Yes, I think so.

A handful of lines above, I asked, "How will I know it (God's presence) when I see it?" Sometimes, I simply will not see it, feel it, hear it, experience it, perceive it. After all, the verse from James does not say, "Draw near to God and you will experience the sensation of God drawing near to you." No, it simply promises that he WILL draw near to us.

How much discouragement, loneliness, isolation or even depression could we shake off or avoid all together if we were simply willing to believe in faith that God is near, whether we can perceive his presence or not?

Even in those "dry" periods when the lack of "sensations" seem to imply that God is far, far away, if nothing else I can tell myself, this too shall pass.

That tree that falls in the forest does make a sound. And God is always near me; when I draw near to him and even when I don't. I will choose to believe that and live accordingly.

The End

Our connection with God, our relationship, our experience of Him, is the end; and it is all points in between.

Now what do I mean by that?

Jesus is pretty clear when he states, "I have come that they may have life and have it abundantly" (John 10:10).

Yet how many of us have read that verse and concluded, my connection with God is a means to an end.

If I just get right with God ...

... I'll be happy
... my kids will get better grades
... my Mom will be healed
... I'll find a job
... interest rates will go down
... Americans will export more than they import

You get the idea.

Is that what Jesus means when he says he came to give us abundant life? Which is he saying: That he is a means to abundant life or that he is that abundant life? I want to suggest (or rather pass on what I heard preached today) that abundant life can only be defined in terms of our one, true end: connection with God through Jesus Christ.

God's presence in our life is not the icing on the cake. It is the cake.

It may seem like a small distinction, a splitting of hairs, but when I heard our pastor make this statement -- that God is not the means but the end -- I think I actually drew in my breath, it hit me so profoundly.

How do I apply that idea to how I live? Perhaps it has something to do with serenity (and now I am suggesting my own ideas).

Consider the Serenity Prayer:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change
the courage to change the things I can
and the wisdom to know the difference.

I confess I have often read the Serenity Prayer and skipped right over the word, serenity. How pathetic is that! I have interpreted that first line as "help me accept the things I cannot change." But is that really what it is saying? No, it is saying in situations, people or relationships where change in unlikely, let me respond with serenity.

Webster defines serenity as a state of tranquility, dignity or quiet. In order to respond with serenity to frustrating, desperate, immovable and unchangeable situations in our lives, we have to be able to fully grasp that the end, after all, is God.

Fixing a messed up relationship is not the end.

Overcoming pain from the past is not the end.

Dealing with the challenges of today is not the end.

Conquering bad habits is not the end.

God ... is ... the ... end.

He's what we set our GPS on every single day. He is the destination.

Really, think about an author's use of the phrase, "The End." What does it mean? "The telling of this story is over."

If God is the end, there is no other way our lives are meant to find completion -- understanding completion to mean the best possible fulfillment of our designed purpose -- than in God.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to quote the lyrics of a favorite hymn:

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

You see, when I embrace serenity -- that position of grace and dignity that says, I will not allow this situation, that person, my pain, drag me off course -- I experience the end that is found in God, even as I make steady progress toward that end.

Perhaps that is what is meant by the idea of going on to perfection (or at least one explanation of it.)

You see, there are plenty of people out there who want to tell you about what they believe they are entitled to (our Founding Fathers described it as life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness). More often than not, entitlement mentality pulls me away from serenity and leads to me churning and frothing at the mouth over that which I believe I am entitled to, but have not yet received.

And doesn't that just lead us back to questioning God?

Where's my beautiful house?

Where's my beautiful wife?

Where are my perfect children?

Where's my good health?

Where's my fulfilling career?

Are any of these a means to the end which we know to be God?

No.

I have come that they may have life and have it abundantly.

Understand that the best expression of who you are is directly related to living a life that is pointed toward God in all realities, reactions and relationships. If you are able to live such a life, you will live quite abundantly indeed.