Our Batons

This morning I listened to a student pastor speak on the importance of being for the next generation. He used the analogy of passing off a baton in a relay race. His last point was an encouragement to not waste your weakness-meaning your past brokenness, your inabilities, or your inexperience do not disqualify you from being on the track, being part of passing off your baton to the next generation. You can carry a baton and pass it on.

Got me to thinking about the actual baton. What is the baton we are passing off? Is it just a broad view of a way of life? What if each one of us knew in more detail what the baton is that we are carrying? I believe we have our own unique baton that we can pass off to countless others throughout life.

Many things come to mind for me. I have a baton of music that I have passed on in many ways. I have the baton of church leadership that is still running its course. I have a baton of living a contented single life. One could say I have a baton of running that I occasionally pass on.

Those are skills and experiences. We could, and I believe we should, consider our spiritual batons also. These spiritual batons are the core of who we are, how we live. We run with the baton of faith, surrender, peace, hope, love, mercy, humility, kindness, patience-what Paul calls the fruit of the Spirit.

Another thought about our unique baton could include the life challenges that God has used to mature us. These could be anything from experiencing loss of jobs, finances, relationships to seasons of doubt, distance, or disconnect. All of these things make up the baton that we are carrying.

What if we held tight enough to our unique baton making sure we don’t drop it but loose enough to let God keep molding it? What if we passed on these batons as often as we are prompted to while we are living rather than only after we die? What if we lived more for what we relay than what we grip?

You might have to get a wheelbarrow for all those batons. But imagine the impact when your race is over and your batons are still in the race.

Photo by Jonathan Chng on Unsplash

Remember

When the car dies

Remember what He’s already done

When the doctor isn’t smiling

Remember what He’s already done

When the check bounces

Remember what He’s already done

When 3AM parenting clocks in

Remember what He’s already done

When they move out

Remember what He’s already done

When the blue lights follow

Remember what He’s already done

When the house is empty

Remember what He’s already done

When you don’t know what you don’t know

Remember what He’s already done

When the tank runs dry

Remember what He’s already done

When shame invades

Remember what He’s already done

When your best is rejected

Remember what He’s already done

When forgiveness appears wasted

Remember what He’s already done

When eternity taps your shoulder

Remember what He’s already done

When reflection lies

Remember what He’s already done

When it’s your time

Remember what He’s already done

Photo by Mihály Köles on Unsplash

Light

Light uncovers

the begging to be

seen, corrected, confessed, forgiven, celebrated, heard, protected, cleansed.

Light pulls

out the

disfigured, undiscovered, forgotten, lonely, hurting, rotting, hidden, stolen.

Light comes

rhythmically to every

morning, home, friend, neighbor, child, field, highway, mountain.

Light resurrects

what darkness

broke, destroyed, severed, tore, distorted, invaded, belied, abandoned.

Light wins

in every

heart, mind, city, neighborhood, country, family, room, soul.

Photo by Josh Boot on Unsplash

Mile 4

Pat Schneider’s writing is inspiring. Needed attempt at brain pressure release.

Unsuspected I approach

They meander

Pacing and pecking, flapping and feeding, united and unique

Unsurprised I pause

They pass

busy and bothered, noticed and noted, caught and captured

Unhesitant I acknowledge

They came

sent and selected, happy and harmonious, celebratory and committed

Reflecting on seeing the flock of ibis on my run this morning, the day after my birthday, and my friend who joked I work like them. “The family flew in.”

“They Changed My Life”

Twice in the last 24 hours I’ve heard the same accolade given to a man: “He changed my life.”

One was in an episode of “The Good Doctor.” A character, grieving the loss of a coworker, said he had changed her life. Her grieving caused her to see it.

The other was in a devotional. A high school senior gave this praise to a teacher. Many teachers get this opportunity-to change a life.

As you read this, I’m guessing someone in your past comes to mind. A teacher? A coach? An employer? A family member? A pastor? A friend? A coworker?

This person, although living their life with purpose, most likely didn’t look at you and determine, “They need changing. I’m going to change them.” Not that literal. What they most likely did was simply see you. Listen to you. Answer you. Value you. Honor your place in the world. Give you a place in their world. And it was enough to foster change.

May we all see, listen, answer, value, honor, and give enough to foster change. May we all have said of us, “They changed my life.”

Photo by Zazen Koan on Unsplash

Grace to Fake It

I was called a liar yesterday. In jest while proofing my email, my colleague accused me of not being honest by expressing appreciation for a phone call that they understood I wasn’t really thrilled about having received. They were right, sort of.

My reply, “It’s called grace.” Amy Cuddy would call it “faking it till you become it.” (From her book Presence)

Let’s be honest. We don’t always have grace, mercy, love, forgiveness, trust-all the things we want to have, to be, to give. It’s that fruit of the Spirit list (Galatians 5:22-23) that we strive for, that we judge ourselves by, that we possibly believe just isn’t attainable.

Although Cuddy wasn’t making a spiritual statement with her suggestion, I’m suggesting we can adopt it when it comes to producing spiritual fruit. Following the Spirit’s lead, we can give grace, even if it feels less than 100%. We can forgive, even if it isn’t 100% pure…yet. Does that mean we are lying? I’d say it means we are “walking more in the Spirit than in the flesh” (back up to verse 16 in Galatians 5).

We have to start somewhere. Maybe what we all need is grace-grace to allow ourselves to fake (submit to it when it isn’t 100% what we feel) the fruit until we become it. Sorta like when your parents made you say you were sorry and you loved your sibling as part of their discipline tactics. 100%?

P.S. The reply email I received produced better results from faking it than not.

Participating in Mystery

Recently a colleague referenced this book by Pat Schneider:

After doing my usual thing of sampling it on Kindle, I purchased it. (NOTE: “Usual thing on Kindle” means if I’m enticed to highlight while reading the sample, it’s more than likely an eventual purchase.)

At first I wasn’t enticed, but then came these two lines from the same paragraph:

When I achieve true waiting, true listening, something happens that I experience as a gift…If I am made in the image of the creator, then I am myself a creator, and my acts of creating participate in mystery.

That first line grabbed my attention. It aligns with several messages I’ve heard recently, the most recent while driving to Orlando yesterday. (NOTE: To radio DJs, your words carry power.) I’ve lived most of my life feeling like I’ve taken on a burden when someone shares intimate stories with me. I’ve been eased and encouraged lately to see these sharings as gifts, completely altering how I listen and experience the moment.

And that second line, it’s a different way to say what I’ve often told others. We are creators. We are creative. We were created to create. Opening our minds to that truth and expanding our definition of creativity frees us to “participate in mystery.”

16 more chapters. What light awaits?

A Few Lines from Presence

I posted about Amy Cuddy’s book Presence on January 31. I finally finished it today. What a great read.

The last two chapters were worth the wait. Chapter ten addresses what she called self-nudging. Here are a few quotes:

Presence is about approaching your biggest challenges without dread, executing them without anxiety, and leaving them without regret. We don’t get there by deciding to change right now. We do it gently, incrementally, by nudging ourselves – a bit further every time.

Focusing on process encourages us to keep working, to keep going, and to see challenges as opportunities for growth, not as threats of failure.

The more you reframe your anxiety as excitement, the happier and more successful you may become.

And chapter eleven captures the point of the whole book. “Fake it till you become it.”