Learning & Growth

Sacred Space

/ johngregoryjr / 1 Comment

What is it about 3AM? God seems to enjoy waking me up from some whopper of a dream around this time, and off my mind goes. And my first thought is, “You know I’m trying to sleep here, right?”

This morning’s dream was fuzzy, but not. The main storyline was that a man had been told he had 24 hours to live. He wasn’t lying in a hospital bed. He hadn’t been in a tragic accident. Somehow he knew this was true, and he was working through letting everyone know.

He was sitting on a chair in the center of a room. People were coming and going from the room. It had the feeling of a wake, but the person wasn’t in a coffin. He was alive, still available for visitors to say, show, do whatever they wanted in the time they had.

And that’s the observation I had just made when I woke up. No one was rushed. Time seemed to not matter while it also ticked away. As he continued to contact people to share his news, people arrived to visit and say goodbye. But no one was panicked or hurried. The mood in the room was peaceful, almost sacred.

There could be many takeaways from this scene. The one that stood out to me at 3AM was the preciousness of space. It’s a gift when we receive it. It’s a gift when others protect it for us. It’s a gift that God offers to us probably more often than we think. It’s certainly a gift when we live in peace, without panic or hurry.

May we honor our spaces. May we recognize the sacred and sit in it as long as possible.

Photo by Matthew Henry on Unsplash

“No Thanks, Well-Meaner”

/ johngregoryjr / Leave a comment

This afternoon I had one of those “Huh…I never thought of it that way” moments.

I was describing to someone why it’s never worked out for me to pursue a particular job. Over the years many folks have encouraged me to pursue it, and I even came relatively close to it once. As I was telling this story, these words came out of my mouth: “It just never felt right. You know, sorta like trying on Saul’s armor.”

I stopped talking for a second to let that sink in, more for me than the guy listening. In my head I said, “That’s a perfect analogy. Can’t believe I’ve not made that connection before.”

If you don’t know that reference by the way, or need a refresh, check out 1 Samuel 17. It’s the David & Goliath narrative. Well-meaning Saul outfits shepherd boy David in his own armor. No go. David knew well enough that it wasn’t going to work. He took it all off, and we know how the story ends.

Suppose David ignored “well enough.” Suppose he caved because that’s King Saul. How do you question the king, that you just met? “Who do you think you are?” Suppose he allowed the natural to get in the way of the supernatural. We’d have a whole different story end.

Truth is, many relationships start by well-meaners that knew well enough. Many jobs begin that were never the right fit. Hindsight tells us that, but imagine what’s possible when courage undergirds one’s mindset and convictions so that well enough writes the story.

When we are in tune with God and with our own mind and body, we know well enough. And it’s really just a split second between anyone’s well meaning and our well enough that determines how the story ends.

In preparation for that split second, what if we chose this conviction? “I’m not here in the king’s name. I’m not even here in my name. I’m here in the name of the same God as David’s. Well-meaners, thanks, but no. In this moment, in this battle, in this decision, God’s well enough fits just fine.”

Photo by Nik Shuliahin 💛💙 on Unsplash

A Lesson on Friendship from My Shortest Friendship

/ johngregoryjr / Leave a comment

Friendships have been the subject of several conversations lately. It’s given me food for thought. But first, a running story.

Running in Naperville, IL., last October, race two of the weekend, we were somewhere around mile 7 of the half marathon. I had just taken a left turn on Ewing St and came upon a pack of runners. They were keeping a good pace which I decided to stick with for a while.

“You look strong,” one of the younger female runners said.

I was a little thrown. My awkward response was, “Thanks.”

She looked at me like, “Seriously. Good job.”

I don’t talk much with other runners during a race, but I decided to engage. I told her I’d ran a half the day before in WI, on my quest to run a race in all 50 states, so I was happy to be doing decently. For her to encourage me about how I was doing was a boost. She seemed to get a boost from a guy who could probably be her father sharing his journey.

We ran probably less than a mile together to the next aid station. I stopped for a drink, and she moved on. She was in my sight for most of the remaining miles. When I crossed the finish line, I found her. We congratulated each other. Our short relationship was over.

I may never forget her. In a small time window, she modeled friendship in numerous ways. The result: now I’m making an effort to be that friend on the race course. No, I’m not a chatter box. But in the right moment, when it looks like someone could use a racing friend, I’m trying to be that friend.

On the clock of our lives, it would be nice to have friends who stick with us for the entire journey, all the miles of our lives. But that’s not how it happens. For reasons of all sorts of nature, friends come and go. We come and go in their lives, vice versa. Some stay for a few miles; others stay for way more than the average. We develop a great pace together, we encourage one another, we do life together for as long as we can.

It’s sad when friends go. Sometimes we get to say meaningful goodbyes. Often times, we miss it; we didn’t see the end coming, and we are left with a loss that, if we allow it, could sideline us for a long time.

Today, my focus is on two things.

The first is to be grateful for those who are running with me right now. Receive all the friendship has to provide.

The second is to be the friend I wish to have. Gift all the friendship has to bless.

The Rich Ones

/ johngregoryjr / Leave a comment

Letting go is a skill. It could also be called a discipline. It also seems the more one practices it the richer they become.

Letting go of regret increases grace.

Letting go of anger increases peace.

Letting go of pride increases humility.

Letting go of worry increases trust.

Letting go of what could have been improves vision.

Letting go of unmet expectations increases mercy.

Letting go of control increases faith.

Letting go of disappointment increases joy.

Those who know how to let go or at least are growing in this skill and discipline are growing in their wealth.

They are the rich ones.

Photo by Максим Степаненко on Unsplash

There’s a Reason They’re Called Sweet

/ johngregoryjr / Leave a comment

We all have them. Some have many, or at least they’re told. Some are told they don’t have any, but they know that’s a lie. We all know that lie.

They are those things or moments that are unexplainably easy. Mostly likely, they also bring a sense of unmatched joy and satisfaction.

See if you recognize any of these:

  • Creating a spreadsheet for a new project
  • Hosting a baby shower
  • Coaching your child’s sport’s team
  • Baking for your new neighbor
  • Sitting with the elderly
  • Leading a volunteer team
  • Organizing the family vacation
  • Being on stage
  • Analyzing data
  • Writing thank you notes
  • Grilling for the July 4th block party
  • Sketching what you see at the beach
  • Laying out a floor plan
  • Onboarding new personnel

It’s that thing that when you’re done, people commend you and all you can say is, “That was fun,” or “I love doing it,” or “It just comes natural to me.” And they reply something like, “I can tell,” or “I wish I could do that,” or “Please don’t stop. I love watching you do it. It brings me joy.”

These things, these moments, these skills, these practices are what many like to call sweet spots.

You’re familiar with the term. But, like me, maybe you’ve not actually taken a moment to think about why. That question came to me way to early this morning, but I was glad.

I was glad because otherwise I wouldn’t have had these answers:

  • They’re called sweet because they bring pleasure-to their source, to their user, and to their receiver.
  • They’re called sweet because they have balance-not too much, not too little, just right.
  • They’re called sweet because they produce joy-during the prep, through the delivery, and by the memory.
  • They’re called sweet because they feel effortless-in the right lane, nothing blurred, nothing magnified.

Life can’t always be sweet. With intention, it can certainly be sweeter.

You have sweet spots. There’s a reason you have them.

Know them.

Own them.

Enjoy them.

Photo by Charles Etoroma on Unsplash

Small Christian Living

/ johngregoryjr / Leave a comment

Dear, dear Corinthians, I can’t tell you how much I long for you to enter this wide-open, spacious life. We didn’t fence you in. The smallness you feel comes from within you. Your lives aren’t small, but you’re living them in a small way. I’m speaking as plainly as I can and with great affection. Open up your lives. Live openly and expansively!

2 Corinthians 6:11-13 MSG

Earlier this week the explanation for division amongst Christians that resonated with me was how small we’ve made God…without seeing it. The next morning these three verses were part of my daily devotional reading. Sync.

When believers sing “How Great is Our God” but refuse to drive onto the campus of another church whose theology doesn’t perfectly align with theirs, Paul says, “You fenced yourself in…and God.”

None of us have all the answers. And the second we believe we do, God no longer sits on His throne. He’s lost any signs of “omni” because we’ve lowered him to our image, the reverse of our beginning.

Forgive us.

Forgive us for our reductive pride.

Forgive us for yielding to the temptation to make you in our image.

Forgive us for we know not what we do.

Photo by Ronny Sison on Unsplash

9 Ways to Better Goodbyes

/ johngregoryjr / Leave a comment

Today included a goodbye. And I can honestly say it wasn’t sad.

Not because neither of us care. Quite the opposite. The care is selfless.

I don’t exactly know how long we’ve known each other. But what I do know is that from the very beginning we cared as much for the other as we did ourselves. That’s a rare form of rich. Golden.

Upon reflection, here are a few ways to better goodbyes. From the beginning and throughout your journey…

  • Listen deeply
  • Be available
  • Provide safety
  • Say it
  • Name it
  • Encourage
  • Reveal unseen good
  • Affirm faithful decisions
  • Celebrate what’s possible

Photo by Leon Seibert on Unsplash

“That’s All I Had”

/ johngregoryjr / 2 Comments

For those who know her, you know.  More on that momentarily.

Today I wrapped up a quest to run four half marathons in eight days.  These were staged in four New England states: Connecticut, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine.  And I must say, the folks at Star Racing know what they’re doing.  Smooth.  Celebratory.  Friendly.  Leave no one behind.  Couldn’t have selected a better series of races to check off these four states.  Thank you, JC!

Getting to the race this morning, I wasn’t sure what to expect. One thing was certain: conditions were ideal. 45F, sunny. As for the course, JC had hinted yesterday that it might be challenging. My aches being manageable, I figured I’d use the first few miles to get familiar with the course and see how my legs were responding.

Around mile four, I was happy to realize two things. 1) JC was most likely just trying to not get my hopes up. The course was looking like the easiest of the four. 2) My legs were holding up enough for me to push.

That’s when I decided three mindsets for the last nine miles. 1) Take advantage of the cooler weather…and get done as soon as possible. 2) Take advantage of the easier course…attack within reason. 3) Don’t walk.  Unless you’re about to pass out, keep running.

Mile 10. Lord, have mercy! At the aid station, my first thought was, “Three more miles…No thank you! Seriously, 49 miles in 8 days ain’t shabby. I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK OUT!”

Fortunately, another runner who had also ran the last two days was there. We just looked at each other with a “C’mon man…we can do this!”

He walked/ran those last miles. I looped self-talk, “You are not walking! Just because he is, don’t!”

When I crossed the finish mat, I said, “That’s all I had.” True words.

More true words: I don’t get all the credit. I  could give credit to many things and people. But on this Mother’s Day, I must acknowledge that without the model of Lola Gregory as my mother it’s hard to believe I’d have the stuff to go after and accomplish something like this. If you know her, you know.

If you know her from the Illinois farm life, you know.

If you know her from the Chattanooga starting-a-family-of-four-with-seminary-student-husband life, you know.

If you know her from the Gadsden let’s-start-a-school-while-growing-a-church life, you know.

If you know her from the Thomasville I’m-going-to-finish-raising-these-kids-alone-in-a-new-town-working-a-new-job life, you know.

If you know her from the Murfreesboro one-daughter-still-home-in-another-new-town-working-another-new-job life, you know.

If you know her from the Tallahassee let’s-finish-this-work-thing life, you know.

Before I knew anything about determining mindsets mid-race, she’d become an expert in it. Although she thinks this week’s feat was a tad crazy, she gets the most credit for instilling in me the determination to cross a finish line saying, “That’s All I Had.”

To the best model I’ve had on finishing the race set before her, Happy Mother’s Day!

God Is Saying Something

/ johngregoryjr / 2 Comments

I’m not sure what’s going on. Maybe God is just saying, “I see you.”

I altered my plans for tomorrow morning by leaving for Vermont this afternoon. Tomorrow will be much better survived because of it.

I booked an Airbnb in Tunbridge, so I only drive 40 minutes to the start line in the morning. Bearable. What I didn’t know when I booked it and started on my drive was the following:

  • I’d pass signs for the birthplaces of two notable religious figures.
  • When I stopped for gas and food it was 5PM. The Congregational Church bells across the street started playing the hymn Softly and Tenderly. The lines of the chorus start, “Come Home, Come Home.” Again, it was 5PM.
  • My Airbnb host is a college track coach. He lives in the mountains. I can hear water running down the mountainside from my room window.

God is probably saying something more like, “Good thing I gave you common sense, and you decided to use it.”

Just for you, Sharon
Coach Bob’s yard
Maybe these guys can “run with me” in the morning (Photo in the room).
All the sounds of the mountainside

You’ve Got Ink

/ johngregoryjr / Leave a comment

A couple of weeks ago the devotional read during our staff meeting asked an interesting question: How do you view a pen that has ran out of ink?

The obvious answer is it’s no longer useful. File 13. A pen without ink is useless, right?

True. But another view gives us a more life-giving response. In an inanimate way, what if we viewed that pen as having given all it had? Yes, it ran out. But what if instead of only discarding it since it no longer can give what it once did we acknowledged all that it did faithfully give.

An alternate perspective from a simple life routine. Appreciate the pen for what it did instead of what it no longer can.

Pretty sure I’ve blogged about this before, but it brings to mind our need to maintain balance between being filled and pouring out. Unlike the pen, we don’t want to completely deplete ourselves. To serve community well requires all of us to pour out, which requires us to steward how we are being filled. It is a constant process. With great attention, it is a thing of beauty.

So let’s check ourselves. Right now as you read this, how much “ink” do you have left? Where/how/when do you best get refilled? Which parts of that does your calendar contain between now and Monday?

One more thing. Most likely you’ve been doing quite a bit of pouring out this month-a lot of ink has been flowing. Take a moment to remember where it flowed, what that did for you/others/God, and the story that ink wrote because you allowed it to flow.

TAKEAWAY: You’ve got ink to steward. Be Filled & Pour.

Photo by Laura Chouette on Unsplash