mom a

pinwheelYears ago, as a young mom with three little kids in tow, I remember visiting my mother-in-law’s home for the weekend — a too infrequent delight for our entire family. After we sat down for breakfast and the always abundant spread of eggs, bacon, toast, muffins, and more, Mom A excused herself from the table, went to the pantry, and promptly placed a fresh box of Nabisco Pinwheels smack-dab in the middle of our meal. Yes, Pinwheels. Yes, breakfast. You know the ones: those old fashioned, marshmallow cream, mini-Bundt cake looking cookies, totally doused in sugar, covered in oh-so-unhealthy chocolate.

As a young mom committed to raising my kids in the way they should go, I couldn’t believe it. Pinwheels… really?! How could my mother-in-law, who’s supposedly older and wiser and attempting to help us in this prudent, persevering, raising-of-kids process, even think of putting such a sugar fest right in front of my boys? But having one of those indignant, self-righteous moments that every unknowingly immature, growing parent must confront now and then, I remained silent, said nothing, while quietly steaming inside that my kids were about to be ruined for life.

Funny. I’d like that moment back right now.

I stand amazed — and humbled — at how much we sometimes don’t know… and don’t know we don’t know…

My righteous indignation was undoubtedly well-founded, as of course, each of us wants to contribute positively to the lives of others; of course, we want to be healthy; and of course, as young parents we’re often feel we’re doing the very best we can. But what I couldn’t grasp at the time was how the offering of an unexpected, sincere treat did not impede any progress. In fact, eating those sweet Pinwheels may have been healthier in an emotional sense — noting how we were pausing to enjoy something we typically don’t… how we were intentionally enjoying something good.

My mother-in-law modeled many things well for our family. Among them…

… how to eat a blueberry bagel…

… how to semi-subtly tap in a puzzle piece, so that everyone would know you found exactly the right piece…

… how going to church every Sunday is less important than an authentic relationship with Jesus…

… how to be intentional with boys…

… how to discern really good barbecue…

… how to be consistent in honoring your spouse…

… how to be generous…

… how to be faithful…

… how to love a child other than your own…

… and how and when to intentionally enjoy a treat — how to savor something good.

After only a short stay in the hospital, Mom A passed away somewhat suddenly this past week. She had lived a good life, and valiantly modeling her faith for us once more, she was ready to go — embracing both what’s beautiful and next. I will miss her dearly. I will also be serving Pinwheels soon for breakfast.

Respectfully… lovingly… with both a wink and a tear…

AR

what’s bigger

1610794_10204629505367041_8243156950910377348_nThis past weekend I had the privilege to gather with several members of my family. There were 27 of us.

It was full of feasting and joy and precious both one-on-one and large group time. We laughed and cried and were both silly and serious. There were ample antics and fun and adult conversation. There was insightful conversation with those teens and ‘tweens and twenty-somethings, each who seems growing up far too fast. It was a wonderful weekend.

I haven’t always thought every weekend was so wonderful. I will admit to taking some days for granted. I will admit to sometimes taking life for granted. I will admit to often having fallen prey to focusing on the minute as opposed to what’s bigger. I will admit to sometimes allowing the proverbial “elephant in the room” to gain a life of its own. Sometimes I have focused on the less important.

I think as a culture we do that frequently; we focus on the less important. We seem to justify the focus, giving it life, supplementing its energy, allowing emotion and passion and anger and empathy to fuel what once was small, thus seemingly snowballing issues and irritants in size to then appear — yes, appear — as something they are not… something other than the less important.

Look around the world…

Look in Ferguson, Missouri.

Look on the streets of Jerusalem.

Look in Washington, D.C. (… ok… try not to look too hard…).

Look on Facebook.

Maybe even look around your living room.

Look at all the places we justify irritation and offense — where we justify the withholding of love, truth, and respect. Look at all the places where we’re so zeroed in on the plank in another’s eye… often so ignorant of our own.

This past year my sister was surprisingly, shockingly diagnosed with stage 4 esophageal cancer (… sorry… if that’s a proper noun, I refuse to capitalize it; it doesn’t deserve it). It came as news out of nowhere. She is 34.

For years we have all gathered over Labor Day weekend. And while we’re always thankful to be together, let me just say that this year, we were thankful a little more.

When you’re focused on the big picture, it’s a whole lot easier to let bygones be bygones… to let the little things remain little things… to not let petty, earthly irritants seduce any more attention than they deserve… and to not feed nor fuel that which is so obviously less important.

It’s easier to thank God for the sunset and appreciate the rain.  It’s easier to care for the crying babe and withhold all judgment.  It’s easier to be generous in our love, mercy, and grace.

While I would wish my sister’s circumstances on no one, I am thankful for how because of her situation — and because of her amazing, humbling, faithful, positive attitude — we are learning how to love our family. I am thankful for the focus on what’s most important.

This past weekend I had the privilege to gather with several members of my family. There were 27 of us. It was a wonderful weekend.

Respectfully…

AR

49

Route 49After celebrating another joyous birthday this week, I’ve decided maybe I should make a few notes of what I’ve learned before I’m 50.  I could publish such a post next year, but then everyone might find out I’m actually turning 50.  So with minimal tongue, cheek, and added rhetorical fodder, I humbly submit a few life lessons, learned by age 49.

  1. We complain about seasons a lot… in the summer, it’s too hot — in winter, too cold; maybe we should do a better job of enjoying what we have when we have it.
  2. We aren’t good at admitting weakness… for some reason we think it makes us look bad, when maybe the admission is the first real sign of strength.
  3. As we get older, some temptations don’t go away… except for that sticking your tongue on a cold fence thing.  (Granted, parents to-the-rescue in their pajamas look pretty funny.)
  4. Wisdom and intelligence aren’t the same thing… they just aren’t.  Wisdom is far better; sometimes, though, I think society teaches exactly the opposite..
  5. There truly is a time for everything… everything; the reality is just that we like some things better than others; there’s a time to sing… time to dance… time to be silent and still; there’s a time for war and a time for peace.  I don’t believe anyone really “likes” war, though.
  6. Social media has completely altered the meaning of “like”… it’s changed the meaning of “friend” and “privacy,” too; there are some excellent things which have resulted from the constant of social media in our lives… some not so great things, too.
  7. People are finicky about soccer… it’s not just all the faking and the flopping.  There are some incredibly talented athletes out there; there just isn’t a lot of scoring; and at least in this country, we like to score.
  8. People crave a savior… always… for all time.  The challenge is that no human — even if named “LeBron” — is so capable; salvation is not a human ability… makes me wonder why we crave.
  9. Some of us cling to faith; some of us avoid it; but everyone has a religion…  as no belief in an ultimate, loving Father is still a belief; it just prompts varied behavior.
  10. Politicians can be so silly sometimes (I’m being nice with the word “silly”).  We then fall prey into thinking all Democrats or Republicans are good because an ideology resonates deeply within us.  But some put ideology before treating others well.  I’m thinking the establishment is a huge part of problem.
  11. People have a hard time refraining from spending… especially if they really want something.
  12. Discipline goes with wisdom… not punishment.
  13. We idolize so many of the wrong things.
  14. We forget about God… worse yet, we think we have no need of him; that can’t be good.
  15. Respect is vital… always… but remember — I know we say this often — but respect does not mean accepting as equally good and right; it means listening, seeking to understand, and resisting the temptation to become the convictor of truth in another’s life.  Yes, yes… far too often we justify disrespect.  Some may even avoid this blog.

Still learning.  Can’t wait for 50.

Respectfully…

AR

mandela

Isn’t it interesting, when someone passes away, how so many seem to rush to claim him as “one of our own”?

 

When we observed even the anniversary of JFK’s death 2 and a half weeks ago, politicians and pundits and authors and activists again averred how Kennedy would undoubtedly be a staunch liberal leader or would have converted to strict conservatism if still alive today.  As initially addressed here, JFK advocated for a variety of positions, none wholly consistent with either contemporary party’s platform.

 

When respected “Fast & Furious” actor, Paul Walker, passed away in a tragic accident 2 weeks ago, fans rushed to express their adoration in their grief.  The massive outpouring made me wonder if Walker felt that strong connection with so many fans when still alive.

 

Once more, no less, in the death of former South African leader, Nelson Mandela, we see the inherent claims of Mandela being “one of our own.”

 

Mandela was unique…  an educated man… originally embracing non-violent protests… for a time associated with communism… serving 27 years in prison… working to extinguish apartheid, South Africa’s intentional system of racial segregation… becoming president… inviting other parties to help him govern… promoting forgiveness… mediating between other nations — such as between Libya and the United Kingdom in regard to the bombing of Pan Am Flight 103… developing a full and free democracy in his country… advocating for charity… respected by many… inspiring even more…

 

On par with Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr., Mandela was one of the great moral leaders of the past century.  His significant, perceived positive, global influence is considered comparable to Churchill, Reagan, and FDR.  His consistent message of unity and forgiveness in a racially-charged world spoke volumes.

 

After passing away at 95 last Thursday, many have seemed quick to identify with Mandela, claiming him as their so-called own.  The challenge is that to identify with him, one must not only weigh — but also practice — the wisdom within the complete spectrum of his teaching.  In other words, his message of racial reconciliation is hollow without the accompanying forgiveness and humility.  To identify with the man means to believe and practice his actual words…

 

I stand here before you not as a prophet, but as a humble servant of you, the people.

 

Money won’t create success; the freedom to make it will.

 

A good leader can engage in a debate frankly and thoroughly, knowing that at the end he and the other side must be closer, and thus emerge stronger. You don’t have that idea when you are arrogant, superficial, and uninformed.

 

I detest racialism, because I regard it as a barbaric thing, whether it comes from a black man or a white man.

 

Does anybody really think that they didn’t get what they had because they didn’t have the talent or the strength or the endurance or the commitment?

 

I was not a messiah, but an ordinary man who had become a leader because of extraordinary circumstances.

 

Unlike some politicians, I can admit to a mistake.

 

With the wide number who claim to either identify with or revere Nelson Mandela mightily, we should perhaps first take stock of his words, humbly recognizing that some of his words may subtly — or sharply — rebuke us instead.

 

Respectfully,

AR

could you keep an open mind?

Rarely do I simply repost the words of another, but there are aspects of the below piece that strike me as profound.  It’s written by Kirsten Powers, a liberal Democrat I’ve admired for years.  Powers is a nationally known contributor to USA Today, Newsweek, FOX News, and The Daily Beast.  Here is an edited version of her story, sharing how of all the people surprised by her decision to become a Christian, it was she who was most surprised…

 

Just seven years ago, if someone had told me that I’d be writing for Christianity Today magazine about how I came to believe in God, I would have laughed out loud. If there was one thing in which I was completely secure, it was that I would never adhere to any religion—especially to evangelical Christianity, which I held in particular contempt…

From my early 20s on, I would waver between atheism and agnosticism, never coming close to considering that God could be real. After college I worked as an appointee in the Clinton administration from 1992 to 1998. The White House surrounded me with intellectual people who, if they had any deep faith in God, never expressed it. Later, when I moved to New York, where I worked in Democratic politics, my world became aggressively secular. Everyone I knew was politically left-leaning, and my group of friends was overwhelmingly atheist.

 

I sometimes hear Christians talk about how terrible life must be for atheists. But our lives were not terrible. Life actually seemed pretty wonderful, filled with opportunity and good conversation and privilege. I know now that it was not as wonderful as it could have been. But you don’t know what you don’t know. How could I have missed something I didn’t think existed?

To the extent that I encountered Christians, it was in the news cycle. And inevitably they were saying something about gay people or feminists. I didn’t feel I was missing much. So when I began dating a man who was into Jesus, I was not looking for God. In fact, the week before I met him, a friend had asked me if I had any deal breakers in dating. My response: “Just nobody who is religious.”

 

A few months into our relationship, my boyfriend called to say he had something important to talk to me about. I remember exactly where I was sitting in my West Village apartment when he said, “Do you believe Jesus is your Savior?” My stomach sank. I started to panic. Oh no, was my first thought. He’s crazy.

When I answered no, he asked, “Do you think you could ever believe it?” He explained that he was at a point in life when he wanted to get married and felt that I could be that person, but he couldn’t marry a non-Christian. I said I didn’t want to mislead him—that I would never believe in Jesus.

 

Then he said the magic words for a liberal: “Do you think you could keep an open mind about it?” Well, of course. “I’m very open-minded!” Even though I wasn’t at all. I derided Christians as anti-intellectual bigots who were too weak to face the reality that there is no rhyme or reason to the world. I had found this man’s church attendance an oddity to overlook, not a point in his favor.

As he talked, I grew conflicted. On the one hand, I was creeped out. On the other hand, I had enormous respect for him. He is smart, educated, and intellectually curious. I remember thinking, What if this is true, and I’m not even willing to consider it? 

 

A few weeks later I went to church with him… [when] the pastor preached. I was fascinated… Each week, [Pastor Tim] Keller made the case for Christianity. He also made the case against atheism and agnosticism. He expertly exposed the intellectual weaknesses of a purely secular worldview. I came to realize that even if Christianity wasn’t the real thing, neither was atheism.

 

I began to read the Bible… After about eight months of going to hear Keller, I concluded that the weight of evidence was on the side of Christianity. But I didn’t feel any connection to God, and frankly, I was fine with that. I continued to think that people who talked of hearing from God or experiencing God were either delusional or lying. In my most generous moments, I allowed that they were just imagining things that made them feel good.

Then one night in 2006, on a trip to Taiwan, I woke up in what felt like a strange cross between a dream and reality. Jesus came to me and said, “Here I am.” It felt so real. I didn’t know what to make of it. I called my boyfriend, but before I had time to tell him about it, he told me he had been praying the night before and felt we were supposed to break up. So we did. Honestly, while I was upset, I was more traumatized by Jesus visiting me.

 

I tried to write off the experience as misfiring synapses, but I couldn’t shake it. When I returned to New York a few days later, I was lost. I suddenly felt God everywhere and it was terrifying. More important, it was unwelcome. It felt like an invasion. I started to fear I was going crazy.

 

I didn’t know what to do… I was desperate. My whole world was imploding. How was I going to tell my family or friends about what had happened? Nobody would understand. I didn’t understand. (It says a lot about the family in which I grew up that one of my most pressing concerns was that Christians would try to turn me into a Republican.)

I remember walking into the Bible study. I had a knot in my stomach. In my mind, only weirdoes and zealots went to Bible studies. I don’t remember what was said that day. All I know is that when I left, everything had changed. I’ll never forget standing outside that apartment on the Upper East Side and saying to myself, “It’s true. It’s completely true.” The world looked entirely different, like a veil had been lifted off it. I had not an iota of doubt. I was filled with indescribable joy.

 

The horror of the prospect of being a devout Christian crept back in almost immediately. I spent the next few months doing my best to wrestle away from God. It was pointless. Everywhere I turned, there he was. Slowly there was less fear and more joy. The Hound of Heaven had pursued me and caught me—whether I liked it or not.

 

Respectfully…

AR

transforming the ruthless

He was ruthless.  By his own admission.  He lacked integrity.  By his own admission.  He was definitely not gentle.

 

Twice later I heard him speak, and I also read several of his books.  He was intelligent and certainly articulate.  Last weekend he passed away at the still spirited age of 80.

 

While blessed with the gifts of writing and speaking, those skills are not what attracted me most to Chuck Colson.

 

While undoubtedly a powerful political operative — albeit unethically shrewd — that insight is also not what attracted me most to Chuck Colson.

 

What attracted me most to the powerful Nixon administration figure was the undeniable,  unmistakable change in his heart.  He was a life transformed.

 

Prior to serving his sentence for obstruction of justice in Watergate-related charges, the Nixon aide (aka “hatchet man”) embraced Christianity.  He felt he had figured something new out; he made a commitment to follow his faith and serve his savior in a previously, unprecedented way.

 

When news of Colson’s conversion leaked to the press in 1973, the surplus of doubters was vocal and vast.  The Boston Globe reported, “If Mr. Colson can repent of his sins, there just has to be hope for everybody.”  Many, in fact, believed that’s Colson’s conversion was simply another shrewd ploy in order to minimize his negative image and maximize future potential, as he was nearing the onset of his 1 to 3 year prison sentence.  As naysayers oft exercise, many doubted the authenticity of Colson’s conversion.

 

“Show me.  Prove it to me.  Let’s see the transformation of your life.”

 

Colson did.  He was changed.

 

In 1976, Chuck Colson founded Prison Fellowship, through which partnering with churches of all denominations, has become the world’s largest outreach to prisoners, ex-prisoners, and their families.  The ministry is now active in 113 countries around the globe.

 

In other words, instead of utilizing his fame for self promotion, Colson used his fame and thus influence for the provision of others.  He didn’t choose for whom he would advocate based on political likemindedness.  He didn’t provide for persons based on income, race, gender, or any stereotypical demographic category.  No, Colson sought after the least of these, those without a known second chance.  As CNN commentator, William J. Bennett penned, “He fought tirelessly on behalf of the forgotten and condemned.  He defended the defenseless.”

 

To fight for the forgotten — to defend the defenseless — might be something a person does for a day or assumes for a convenient photo op.  Colson, however, served in this capacity for the past 35 years.  Those 35 years are evidence of a life transformed.

 

I appreciate his wisdom…

 

“Politics is nothing but an expression of culture … so if things are bad, don’t think it’s going to be solved by an election.  It’s going to be solved by us.”

 

“May the Christian church never be regarded as a special interest group.  We’re here because we love our neighbor.”

 

“The Bible – banned, burned, beloved.  More widely read, more frequently attacked than any other book in history.  Generations of intellectuals have attempted to discredit it; dictators of every age have outlawed it and executed those who read it.  Yet soldiers carry it into battle believing it is more powerful than their weapons.  Fragments of it smuggled into solitary prison cells have transformed ruthless killers into gentle saints.”

 

Transforming the ruthless into saints…

 

My sense is that Colson would have never desired for us to elevate him to sainthood status, but I have an additional sense he’d be thankful and proud of a life transformed… a life that gives hope to us all.  Well done, Chuck.  Well done.

 

Respectfully,

AR