Rewatched Rain Man last night. Worth it. So many layers that each time I watch I have different reactions.
In the scene that takes the plot in a new direction, I had one of those reactions. Watch.
The 40-second clip of Ray and Charlie singing is what grabbed me. The beauty of their reconnection through music is unique and priceless.
Singing over someone is beautiful. It’s not the same as singing to someone, like Ray had to Charlie. It’s not the same as singing about or with someone. Singing over them stands alone in the connection created, thus the unique beauty of the moment.
The reason this stuck out to me was I had the opportunity to witness the beauty of someone singing over someone just the day before. I won’t go into the details. Technically, I wasn’t supposed to be there. I count it a joy to have witnessed.
When you sing over someone, no one cares about the elements and expectations of a grand performance like pitch or stage presence. In fact, it’s the opposite. The connection of hearts means the most in that moment. And that’s where the beauty lies.
As churchgoers attend church this weekend, I hope they’ll allow this connection to have room, whether they are being sung over or are doing the singing over.
As sabbath keepers embrace their time this weekend, I wish for them at least one moment of such beauty.
I closed on a new home April 28th and within 24 hours was completely moved in. That’s the short version. The long version includes many right decisions that I eventually started calling “going through the green lights” that I continued to experience.
The decision to move began in December simply by responding to a “for rent” sign. I wasn’t really sure about renting, but it was almost too good to be true. A .2 mile trip to work. After checking it out, the green light read “Move, but buy instead of rent.” The odyssey began.
I didn’t have a timeline other than sometime in 2025, ideally the first half. I now drove five days a week to Sarasota versus three, so the sooner the better, and before the summer heat.
I started a relationship with Zillow. I thought I knew where I’d be most comfortable in Sarasota, so I started following listings in that area. I found quickly that the possibilities widened to areas I had previously ruled out.
Zillow isn’t stupid. Floods of emails suck you in and can foster obsession. One trick that got me moving further on the journey was open house notifications. I finally broke down and went through the next green light: “It’s just an open house. Go and see what that location and price point feels like.”
That decision to go to a March 2nd open house led to an unexpected green light: “Here’s the agent you are going to work with.”
Funny. I didn’t know I was looking for one. I wasn’t in a hurry. I thought I had plenty of time.
Don’t get me wrong. No one forced me through that green light. But it was a little too obvious. My coming to that open house and them being the agent at that showing was supposed to happen. I wasn’t forced; but when the light is green, I’ve learned to keep moving.
Fear or uncertainty can cause us to not proceed down a path that we weren’t expecting or may not think we are ready for. This part of the home buying journey reminded me of two main things about God and his children:
He’s always at work preparing us for what he has in store for us.
He knows the desires of our heart and excitedly wants to fulfill them.
If you are sitting at a green light, take heart. It’s safe to move forward.
Came across this version of Matt Maher’s “Inheritance” yesterday. What a find!
Happy Easter!
Lyrics:
VERSE 1 Right from the very start You had me in Your heart Nothing but dust and yet You gave me life and breath Loved me before I knew For nothing that I could do You wrapped Your Word in flesh What an inheritance
CHORUS You don’t withhold a thing You were the offering I don’t deserve it It doesn’t make sense What an inheritance
VERSE 2 There on a lonely hill 10,000 debts fulfilled Heard in Your final breath Last will and testament Father, Your work is done Now let Your kingdom come Death has been laid to rest What an inheritance
POST-CHORUS 1 Oh, oh, oh What an inheritance
VERSE 3 Spirit of life and truth Filling the upper room Beating within my chest What an inheritance Counsel and closest friend What an inheritance
CHORUS 2 Freely You give to me Freely I will receive I don’t deserve it It doesn’t make sense What an inheritance
One thing I’m grateful for is the availability of creating playlists. They are a tool for wellness and many other things.
My Easter playlist is one of my favorites. Usually each year I edit it, typically by adding new songs. I’m not doing that this year. I’m enjoying the familiarity of the existing 20 songs, letting them remind me why this week matters.
Most of the songs were released over a decade ago, and probably half of them never made it to radio. They are hidden gems to my spirit.
I encourage you to check out my playlist for two reasons:
Finished listening to Seeing with the Eyes of the Heart today. One of the last discussion points centered on the reality we all encounter of facing aloneness.
Adyashanti stated he believed almost no one understood Jesus, making him one of the most alone figures in spiritual literature. To explain what he meant, his reply included these thoughts about aloneness.
Engaging spirituality in an authentic way will bring us to encountering our aloneness many, many, many times…Ironically the greatest feeling of belonging comes through these deep and profound encounters with our aloneness. It’s so paradoxical that our greatest sense of belonging comes by going through those doorways of aloneness…We almost always try to do end runs around aloneness, finding surrogates for the experience of aloneness rather than really meeting it…We’re all one. That’s a really great and nice thing. But we all are simultaneously very unique expressions of the one. We all have our very unique journey that is not exactly like anyone else’s…Aloneness, in the ends, leads through the door not only to connectedness but a kind of spiritual autonomy.
I relate.
There is an aloneness on the journey of making your faith yours, not anyone else’s. Think of any faith decision you’ve made to this point that was lifechanging or formative. It came down to you making that choice by yourself. Those decisions, those moments rooted you, grounded you, expanded the territory of your faith, and girded your faith in such a way that it no longer relied on another person’s faith.
Yet, because of that, you now have the strength, the maturity, or the allure to those in your faith community that draws people to inquire how you got it. And the connectedness is more about the kingdom than you. Your aloneness that you walked through, whether you wanted to or not, brightens your image of God. It’s attractive while also preparatory for your next round of aloneness.
These thoughts remind me of this quote:
“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.” -Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words
Beautiful and terrible await you in aloneness. Don’t be afraid.
Roughly a third of the way in, Adyashanti asked to address the topic of forgiveness. His thoughts were striking.
At one level I think the greatest forgiveness is when we really see that there’s no need for forgiveness because everything is inherently, consistently forgiven. It’s human beings that decide we are sort of God’s arbitrators of who can and cannot be forgiven, and it disconnects us from the experience of the way forgiveness works in the universe.
No need for forgiveness seems utopian. Yet, his reasoning is captivating. He’s not saying there is no literal need for forgiveness. He’s suggesting we must task ourselves to learn how it works, first from God and then between humans.
Some of Jesus’ last words on the cross were “Forgive them for they know not what they do,” referring to the people who put him there. If you are on the cross and you can forgive the people who put you there, that’s a pretty big forgiveness. You’re forgiving hate, and you’re forgiving violence…there’s a great teaching in that. If he couldn’t have forgiven them, he could have never been free from them. He would have been trapped in their hate because he couldn’t forgive their hate. He would have been trapped in their violence because he couldn’t forgive their violence…Ignorance can take some pretty violent forms…Most people are pretty much doing what they can do. What they are doing is an exact reflection of the state of their consciousness.
The striking image of these thoughts is being trapped. Couple that with being trapped in hate or violence with the foundation being the other person’s ignorance, forgiveness not only seems possible but desirable.
If we have no forgiveness, our participation in the world is seared with anger and hate, even if we are working with something that is very necessary and good. This motivation seems to come from fear rather than love.
May our searing be exposed. May love overcome our fear.
(At the end of February, I shared a few posts about Jesus’ statement “I Am the Door.” Here’s another one by my friend, guest blogger Mark Stanifer.)
I came across the image in this post during a season of transition. It mirrored exactly what I was feeling—standing in an empty room with only doors in every direction. No furniture. No guidance. Only choices.
That year, my word was co-operate. And the message became clear: this wasn’t about finding the one “right” door. It was an invitation to move, to trust, to co-operate with what God was doing in me.
I had recently left a corporate America role after 20 years. It was a massive shift. I wanted clarity, direction before moving—instead, I had doors. And silence. No signs. No indication of what was behind the doors. Simply doors awaiting my move.
At first, I felt stuck. Fear kept me frozen in place—fear of making the wrong move, of wasting time, of choosing poorly. I told myself I was being careful or wise, but really, I was just afraid. And that fear masked itself as waiting on God, when in reality, He was waiting on me.
What shifted for me was this: God didn’t want me to wait for answers. He wanted me to walk in partnership with Him. The movement itself was the point. So I began opening doors to see what was on the other side.
The movement did not lead to immediate results. Some doors were dead ends. Some were locked. Some simply lead me back to the same room. But the benefit was more than the results. It was in the movement itself. Because I learned that He wasn’t waiting behind a specific door—He was walking through each one with me. And, eventually I opened a door that lead to a whole new room to explore.
In John 10, Jesus says, “I am the door.” That line has stayed with me. He doesn’t just point to the way forward—He is the way forward. He is the door, the First Door.
The door, I’ve realized, isn’t the destination. It’s the turning point. It marks the moment of trust. And it’s the threshold through which partnership begins—both with Jesus and with who He wants me to become.
This journey has been deeply personal. It’s not about replicating someone else’s story or steps. The doors in front of me are mine to open. And what they lead to—growth, challenge, disappointment, doubts, pruning, joy—is uniquely tied to who I’m becoming. As you face and open your doors, your learning will likely be different.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
Don’t wait for the perfect door. Choose one and walk through it.
Courage is choosing in spite of the fear.
The wisdom comes from the choosing, not the waiting.
God isn’t waiting on the other side. He’s walking through each door with me.
The door is part of the growth. That’s where the pruning happens so I can bear more fruit.
This is a partnership. We’re co-creating my future, as I co-operate with how He’s at work in me.
Jesus said He came to give us life to the full. That life begins by first walking through Him—He is the First Door. The only way to true life is through Jesus. Once we’ve stepped through Him, we can trust He’s with us through every other door we open, no matter what’s on the other side.
Last month I had a conversation that left me with a feeling I didn’t want and, for sure, didn’t see coming. A few weeks later while attending a community event one speaker mentioned moral injury. And that feeling suddenly had a name. Check out this video to learn more about it.
This incident led me to intentionally choose to read several YouVersion devotional plans addressing the topic of racism. One of those was based on David Anderson’s book Gracism. Day 3 of that plan was very helpful, so I want to share this segment from that devotional:
From 1 Corinthians 12, I have identified eight principles or sayings that can guide us as we develop as gracists. These sayings lead us to actions that we can engage in to build bridges across the deepest divides of color, class, and culture. As you meditate on these verses, look for each of the eight sayings listed below.
I will lift you up. “Special honor” means lifting up the humble among us.
I will cover you. “Special modesty” means protecting the most vulnerable among us from embarrassment.
I will share with you. “No special treatment” means refusing to accept special treatment if it is at the detriment of others who need it.
I will honor you. “Greater honor” means God, as a gracist, has given greater honor to the humble.
I will stand with you. “No division” means when the majority helps the minority, and the stronger helps the weaker (gracism), it keeps us from division within the body (an opposite view than normal).
I will consider you. “Equal concern” means having a heart as big for our neighbors as we do for ourselves.
I will celebrate with you. “Rejoices with it” means when the humble, or less honorable, are helped, we are to rejoice with them.
I will heal with you. “Suffers with it” means empathizing with the pain of another and walking empathetically with the injured party.
If you identify as one of these people, this book may be for you:
Contemplative
Meditative
Pursuing Spiritual Formation
Chances are the terms Centering Prayer or Welcoming Prayer are new to you. They were to me, which drew me to the book.
The first three sections of the book include 10 chapters teaching the method, tradition, and psychology of centering prayer.
The final section focuses on inner awakening and introduces welcoming prayer in chapter 13. That chapter by far was the most resourcing. This tool is meant to help surrender be an underlying attitude and practice for meeting daily life.
The welcoming prayer follows a three-step process:
Focus and Sink In: Focus on how emotions or physical pain are being experienced in your body. Stay present without analyzing.
Welcome: By welcoming the emotion or pain, you are not attempting to eliminate it but disarm it.
Let Go: Two ways to go about this. 1) Short: “I let go of my anger,” or “I give my anger to God.” 2) Litany using the following formula: “I let go my desire for security and survival. I let go my desire for esteem and affection. I let go my desire for power and control. I let go my desire to change the situation.”
This quote sums it up quite well:
Here now, is the right place for you to wrestle before the divine face. If you remain firm, if you do not bend, you shall see and perceive great wonders. You will discover how Christ will storm the hell in you and will break your beasts. -Jacob Boehme
I don’t know about you, but I welcome the image and reality that the hell in me doesn’t have to be battled alone. I challenge you to try the welcoming prayer in the next 48 hours. Remain firm. Don’t bend. Welcome the beasts.
The last leg of my trip from Sarasota to Bakersfield, California, yesterday started in Phoenix. I had been watching the weather forecast for weeks, curious what to expect for the race tomorrow. So I knew it had been rainy that morning and was supposed to be clearing. When the pilot said he expected the last part of the ride to be bumpy, I nodded.
Sure enough, about 20 minutes before landing the clear skies gave way to a blanket of clouds. I decided I’d watch the decent through my window-seat view.
For quite a while we flew just above the clouds. That’s all you could see beneath the plane. I was waiting to see when the pilot decided to dive. When he did, I looked at my watch.
It was roughly six minutes later when the plane was beneath the clouds, the blanket shadowing Bakersfield.
I wondered what goes through a pilot’s mind before and during a decent into such coverage. If I could, I wanted to ask the pilot to give me one word to describe what he felt during that six minutes flying through the clouds.
Often we feel like that. Those six minutes could literally be six weeks, months, years, or decades. The possible one-word list is long:
Unsettled
Edgy
Heavy
Antsy
Lost
Tired
Frustrated
Guarded
The truth I was reminded of watching out that window is this: God doesn’t change.
During that twenty minutes while experiencing the beauty above the clouds, the uncertainty through the clouds, and the darkness under the clouds, my location and my experience didn’t impact Him. Our relationship remained the same every second.
Wherever you find yourself in relation to the clouds, hold on to this truth. The clouds were created. Their Creator is not drained or threatened by them. He remains the same above, through, and under.
John Gregory 