Sacred Mundane: The Blog

I am today overwhelmed by realizing how privileged Jeff and I are.  He just called from school, elated because he passed his Greek exam, but even more elated by the Seminary Chapel he attended this morning.  As commuter students, we’ve rarely had the opportunity to attend Seminary Chapel on Tuesday mornings, but now Jeff has made a commitment to attend this term.  They someone dwindled in recent years, but apparently there is a new resurgence of God’s Spirit taking place.  For the five or six chapels of the semester, each one will embrace and a different worship style, expressing the variety of ways that God’s people can worship Him through song, scripture, and response. This mornings was a more liturgical style, which some students have likely not been exposed to.  They sand responsively and read scripture responsively, and were blessed by how God’s Spirit moved over them, even while in this more “constrained” style of worship.  Jeff loves the idea of demonstrating different styles–helping students realize that there isn’t “one right way” to hold a worship service.

FOr the message, each chapel will have a different professor share.  The topics? They are asked to share what is their one message, if this was the last thing they were ever able to share with students before they die, what would it be.  Wow. Powerful.  These are men and women of God who have loved and labored with Christ for 20, 30, 40, 50+ years (Dr. Reeve is 92 and just retired after teaching at Multnomah for more than 40 years.  She has served Christ as a single woman her entire life.)  These men and women have wells of knowledge, wisdom, and grace to impart to us as students.  And the amazing thing is that they don’t just love to teach, they love us.

So today Dr. Blom shared a story, which I’d heard before.  He explained that is was through his mentors that he learned the most about loving Christ.  When he was a young pastor, he’d finished preaching a message and many people around him were telling him how good the message was, etc.  He was beaming, of course, and exclaimed, “I love preaching!”  His mentor responded, “‘Tis good to love to preach. ‘Tis better to love the people.”  Dr. Blom hadn’t done anything wrong, but this was a powerful reminder that we can fall in love with what we do more than who we serve.  “Tis good that I love to write.  “Tis better that I love the people I write for.  ‘Tis good that I love to speak at retreats.  ‘Tis better I love the people at the retreats.  ‘Tis good to love to minister and serve and do good deeds.  ‘Tis better to love the people, all of them: nice, grumpy, young, old, sweet, smelly.  ‘Tis better to love the people

Jeff and I are so privilege to be at a school where professors truly do love the people.  My mentor, the professor I mentioned earlier in “Being Believed In” amazes me about how she always makes the aim of our time to serve me.  I am her intern, which means that I will do anything she asks me to do, but she continually returns to what would be best for me, as her follower.  She loves what she does as teacher, scholar, researcher, but most of all she pours her life out for me, the person.  I’m so thankful for the men and women at Multnomah.  Jeff and I are privileged indeed.

So my prayer is that whatever we love to do, that most of all we would love the people.  ‘Tis good to love to _____, ‘Tis better to love the people.

Today I’m at school all day, which means that it is Daddy Day at home.  I hate leaving the house, realizing I’ll miss the precious moment when Dutch gets up in the morning, the smell of his breath (I know weird, I love the way he smells in the morning), kissing his round little cheeks, and the way he runs across the room when Jeff puts him down and jumps into my arms.  I love the “day off” that Mondays provide me.  School is a breeze compared to Mommyhood :-).  But most of all, I love that Dutch gets a special Daddy day.

Mid-morning Jeff emailed me to say that he and Dutch had been on a long bike ride (Jeff has a baby bike-seat on his bike and Dutch LOVES riding in it), and to the park, and then had stopped to share a large french fry at Burgerville (yes, my son loves french fries, who doesn’t?).  Dutch ate most of the fries and then made the sign for “please more.”  Fortunately they stopped at one large fry.  But all in all they were having a special day, and I had to smile and thank God for letting Jeff have these precious little moments with Dutch.  I know enough to know that Dad matters.

That’s one of the most significant things I’ve learned in all of my Family classes here at Multnomah.  In Conflicted Families we learned that 75% of adult disorders and emotional problems can be traced back to the person’s relationship with their father.  75%!  It’s also pretty well-known that when children are taken to church by their father growing up, they are significantly more likely to continue attending church into adulthood, whereas those who are taken by their mother have a far less chance of continuing attendance into adulthood.

It’s sad that we’ve diminished the role of the father in the home today.  Yes, there are natural, biological reasons that moms spend the majority of the time with the children, but amazingly enough, even thought the majority of hours are invested by the moms, dads play perhaps an even greater role in the developmental health of his kids.  In an age where an increasing number of dads are deadbeat, disconnected, or addicted to work, we more than ever need to encourage our men to invest in the home.  Children are hungry for their daddies.

I am so thankful to have had a childhood full of my father.  As a school teacher, he was home summers and most afternoons.  Even when he refereed many evenings, my amazing mother toted us along to colleges across the state, settling for late-night dinners at Burger King so that we could be together as a family.  I vividly remember running to the door each day shouting, “Daddy’s home, Daddy’s home!”  So I guess my call is for men to recognize their irreplaceable role as dads.  You are so important. So valuable. You don’t have to do the parenting thing perfect, but do it!  And moms, encourage your husbands.  Don’t nag them for letting the kids get dirty (or feeding them french fries) or letting the house get dirty.  Cheer them on in their devotion to the family.  All it takes is a little cheering and encouragement.

So thanks, hon, for making Daddy Day so special for Dutch.  Although I wish you would have saved me some Fries.

So for the past week our garbage disposal hasn’t worked (don’t panic Landlords, it’s fixed now!).  In fact, it only worked once when we moved in and then quit working.  Because I am deathly afraid of sticking my hand down garbage disposals, I refused to do too much rooting around down there myself, and just threw scraps of food into the trash. But the tricky thing was that then it quit draining.  So when I did dishes, the sink would fill up with this greasy, grimy water, which took hours to drain.  Then it left that oily scum all around the sink, so I was consantly scrubbing the sink too.  Needless to say, this was getting old.  So finally, today, Jeff, being the fearless warrior husband that he is, rolled up his sleeves (ok he was actually in short-sleeves because it’s super hot but it’s just an expression), and plunged his arm down into the disposal.  He soon discovered that the disposal had just kicked itself off (as a safety feature) because there was something caught down there.  Of all things–a rock. I have no idea how on earth a rock got into the disposal because I guarantee I have not been washing out any rock-filled dishes, but somehow a rock was in there and it was smashed to smithereens and then caused the thing to turn off.  Within minutes, Jeff had retrieved the rock remnants, reset the disposal, and Wahlah!–it was fixed.  Now I can wash dishes to my heart’s content with no nasty full sink of water.  Now the water rushes right down the drain, and everything is clean and shiny and good as new.  Yay!

So maybe it’s cheesy, but it made me think of Psalm 32, David’s testimony of the sorrow that comes from unconfessed sin. He writes,

“When I kept silent, my bones grew old, through my groaning all the day long.  For day and night Your hand was heavy upon me; My vitality was turned into the drought of summer.”

Sometimes we don’t even know the cause, but we know there’s something down there–something lurking down there in the disposal of our heart, and it’s too dark and scary to reach down our arm and get it out.  We fear what it might be, or that it might be too painful if the blasted thing turns on and turns our hand to hamburger (ok, the metaphor breaks down there).  But really, unless we are attentive, always attentive to keeping a short account with God and with others, we can get some pretty nasty buildup in our hearts, and before we know it, nothing is flowing. All is backed up, our joy is sapped, and there’s nasty greasy water all over our life.

I felt a little like that this week.  I didn’t even know if it was sin, but there was something weighing on me, and it was “heavy upon me”.  In situations like that, it almost doesn’t do any good to argue with yourself “is it sin or not?”  There’s no use sitting around talking about the disposal, like “Do you think it’s a rock? No, I think it’s a potato peel.  No, I think it’s a piece of glass. No…”  blah blah blah.  It doesn’t matter! The right thing is just to stick your darn hand down there and get it out whatever it is!  Well that’s what I finally did and it turned out to be nothing more than a harmless little rock, but I tell you what–I can feel the difference.  Things are flowing, my joy is back, the water’s running right down the drain and my sink is sparkly clean.

So the challenge this week is just to roll up your sleeve, plunge in your hand, and dig out the rock, whatever it may be. Maybe there’s nothing, praise God, but chances are there will be something soon enough.  Maybe a frustration with your spouse, an unresolved issue with a friend, something you said that you realize was gossip that you need to confess. Maybe it’s just an attitude, a way in which you were just a teeny tiny bit dishonest.  Whatever it is, it’s so not worth letting it clog up the drain!  Reach in, confess it, make it right.  Everything will flow so much better.  Believe me.