Sunday, July 27, 2008

Common Grounds - We're all the same.

"In the end we’re all the same." – Ben Kweller, Rock Musician


We are all the same.
On a physical level, we’re all the same. God made us of flesh and in the end we die. Our hearts stop beating and our lungs fail to rise and fall. Game over. There is no advantage in wealth, privilege, fame, popularity, notoriety, wisdom or education. Modern medicine might delay the inevitable but nothing can change our fate.


All the hours spent at work and school can’t save us. All the stuff we labored to accumulate amounts to nothing. As they say, "you can’t take it with you." Yet, we race around working overtime so we can have more stuff: a new car, a boat, the latest gadgets, a sparkling new kitchen. Will our new toys bring us satisfaction or leave us unfulfilled and wanting more? Are we so intent on our next purchase that we forget to enjoy what we already have?


‘"Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the Teacher. "Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless." What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun? Generations come and generations go, but the earth remains forever.’ Ecclesiastes 1:2-4 captures Solomon’s struggle to find the meaning of life. If death is the end, where can we turn for true meaning and purpose in our lives?


We are not all the same.
Through faith in Christ Jesus we know that the end to our temporary assignment on earth is really the beginning of our permanent mission in eternal life. By the grace of God and the power of Jesus’ sacrifice we are redeemed. Only those among us who believe will be saved. In addition, our daily lives on earth become richer through our faith and our growing relationship with the Lord. Jesus said, "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly." (John 10:10 KJV)


A friend asked me this week why I bother going to church. I did my best to share the joy and warmth I felt in worship and fellowship. He agreed that he was a big fan of warmth and joy; he finds all the warmth and joy he desires in sleeping late on Sunday morning. My friend is not interested in church, yet it seems he thirsts for something more.


Jesus has commissioned us to share his joy, his word and his way. As Jesus instructed the Samaritan woman at the well, "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life. (John 4:13-14) Our faith in Christ ensures that our death is not the end. How do I share this good news with my friend?


When the Athenians asked Paul, "You are bringing some strange ideas to our ears, and we want to know what they mean,"(Acts 17:20), they opened the door to dialogue. They invited further discussion and explanation. Likewise, my friend asked another question. It was an invitation of sorts: "What if you are wrong?"


Do you know someone so afraid of being wrong or fearful of looking stupid that they refuse to believe? "What if you are wrong?" You can tell he is seeking. There is hunger for understanding and thirst for wisdom in such a question. I offered the simplest of replies; "what if I am right?"

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Common Grounds - Every Child Needs a Laptop

"All children need a laptop. Not a computer, but a human laptop. Moms, Dads, Grannies and Grandpas, Aunts, Uncles - someone to hold them, read to them, teach them. Loved ones who will embrace them and pass on the experience, rituals and knowledge of a hundred previous generations. Loved ones who will pass to the next generation their expectations of them, their hopes , and their dreams." General Colin Powell

I love Colin Powell’s quote. It prompts me to find a small child to plant on my lap. There is immense power in a laptop - a most intimate seating - to convey knowledge, experience, and great expectations.

My own youth was blessed with warm embraces and laptop chats. I was bathed in the love of my parents. From them I learned how to love and how to serve. The hours spent at my mother’s side in the kitchen introduced me to the touches that turn an ordinary meal into a loving occasion. Mom opened my eyes to the importance of details. Meanwhile, my Dad encouraged me to think big. We worked together for years and I learned about perseverance, quick wit and how to sell the sizzle not the steak.

I spent ample time on my parents’ laptops. I was held, read to, and lovingly taught. My mother’s soft caress invited me to linger. She read to my brother and me each night as we explored the amazing fantasy world of novels. My father’s work caused him to travel extensively. Each faraway trip was an opportunity for a private laptop reunion. My parents were clear they had big expectations of me, hopes for a successful career and marriage and future. So what was missing?

Read James 3:17 and you’ll discover the missing ingredient. "...Wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere." Although our family life was filled with love, we forgot to include God’s lessons. The rich teachings I received were far from complete, for how can you learn of love and omit the most famous teacher? As Paul advised in Colossians 3:12-14, "...clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together is perfect unity."

I’m grateful to God for sending other teachers and other "laptops". Aunt Rosie reminded me not to be too busy to pray. A neighbor, Mrs. Brown, modeled authenticity and encouraged purity. Their teachings often fell on the deaf ears of a 12 or 17 or 24-year-old. Sometimes messages were lost or unappreciated. They didn’t give up on me and for that I am blessed.

I wonder, were they apprehensive sharing these values with me? Did they ever waver and wonder, "should I or shouldn’t I?"

Looking at Paul in Acts 17:16-23, I am humbled by his courage. He was ever brave and sure. If he had doubts about speaking the truth of God’s mercy through Jesus, there is no proof of it in his actions in Athens.

I look to my own children and wonder what message am I sending them? What lessons will they carry in their hearts? Not just the lessons from daily prayers or mealtime thanksgivings or evening devotions, what will they learn from our common everyday life?

As my parents grow old in years, I face the prospects of the tables being turned; someday I’ll be their caregiver. When my turn comes to hold them in my arms and wipe away their tears and calm their fears, will I have shared all they need to know?

I pray for the courage to share the Gospel with all those I love. I need courage. To be completely honest, I fear ridicule and rejection from those I love. Will they react as the philosophers did to Paul in Athens saying, "What is this babbler trying to say?" What if I never even try to share God’s promise? What then? My deeper fear is that I would miss my opportunity to spend eternity with them.

I pray that, like Paul, I will press forward in finding some common grounds to build upon. Rather than focusing on the difference between us, we can start with all we have in common. We want to be together to share love, laughter and a good meal.