“Knowing Jesus isn’t just about when things go good. He helps you know you’re not alone when it hits the fan.”
“I’ve never heard that phrase, ‘hit the fan.’ What does that mean?”
“You’ve never heard someone say, when the **** hits the fan?”
“Oh yeah, for sure. That’s my life right now. Just never heard that phrase without the word ****. And yeah, I need this stuff to be true. My life is a mess.”
With St. Patrick’s Day this Sunday, I’ve been reflecting on Patrick’s life and deeds.
While all manner of silliness is now done in Patrick’s name as Americans pretends to be Irish enough to live out a drunken stereotype and wear colors they’ve not thought about for a second– Patrick really did live an incredible life of faithfulness.
Enslaved as a child, he escaped Ireland only to be called back to the land of his captivity where he spent a lifetime building the Christian church. Legend has it that Patrick planted 1,000 churches. Take that church plant gurus!
It’s interesting. I’m often told I’m busy. “I know you’re a busy guy… but.” “Would you have time to…”
On and on.
What’s interesting to me about that is that people think of me as a busy person when I think of my life as hard-working & efficient between intentional, gratuitous periods of slowness.
Perhaps the reason I look so busy is that I’m pretty good at saying no and you aren’t?
Last week, Kristen sent me a news story about Chris Baker. He’s a tattoo artist in Oswego, Illinois who does free cover-up tats for folks leaving gang life or women who have been trafficked.
Talk about Good News in the Neighborhood? I’ve never been in a gang and I’ve never been trafficked, so I have no idea what it like to have a tattoo which tells the world, “I belong to ____.”
I should say, this is one of our happy places in San Diego. Next to spending Sunday at the beach, grabbing In-N-Out and enjoying the sunset at Sunset Cliffs Park in Point Loma is one of our favorite things to do.
Technically, we go to a seldom used green space on the campus of Point Loma Nazarene University because there are only a few people and a large field for running around and playing. It’s a short half mile hike that we’ve done dozens of times and always ends with everyone smiling.
There’s just something about watching the sun disappear into the Pacific Ocean, running around in the big grass field, and walking back in the early dusk darkness that brings us all to a happy place.
Is there a place in your area that is your happy place? I don’t mean a place you go once a year on vacation. I mean a place you can go to regularly… a mini-retreat.
A couple weeks ago I confessed that worship times at church often leave me feeling lonely. My proposition was that this was, in part, to the lyrics of the songs themselves. (Along with a few other factors.)
I wrote:
I wonder what it’d be like to stand with my brothers and sisters in Jesus and lift our voices in worship proclaiming that I, me, mine are cheap compared to the power of we, us, ours?
