(First published at levite.wordpress.com on November 18, 2010)

The other day I was looking for a picture in my online photo album. I looked back at the pictures I’ve taken during the past year. I realized how many things I’ve forgotten.

You have, too. In your rush to be competent, to keep juggling everything, to stay focused, to not rest on your successes or dwell on your failures, you’ve kept moving, too.

But looking back can be helpful. So here’s the exercise I walked our staff through the other day.

You take pictures all the time. Photos, videos, audio recordings. You are constantly capturing images. Sometimes you use a recording device. Mostly, just your mind.

Take a couple minutes. Flip back through them. The activities of school starting. Vacation. Graduations. Weddings. Funerals. School ending. Spring events. The winter.

Now, having flipped through the album, what’s the image that makes you smile the most?

Describe it.

And we went around our circle describing those pictures. Some were about family. Some were about work. One was from a wedding, one from a funeral. We smiled.

Now, here’s the next picture to look for. Which picture makes you most proud?

That one was quicker, and deeper. The grandparents in the room, after the initial grab for their phones to show pictures, set the grandchildren aside and reflected. Some of us talked about the people we work with, the people we work for. Some of us talked about family or friends.

Now, here’s the last one.

I went to the whiteboard and drew a picture frame.

All of us have pictures on our desks that we think represent why we do what we do. But I’d like you to look through your pictures from this year and put a new picture in your frame. What picture from this year best captures why you do what you do?

It was hard for me to even ask the question. I realized that I was asking people to be pretty vulnerable, to think about the why of their behavior. I wouldn’t have done it if there wasn’t trust in the room, if I didn’t know that for this group of people there are whys.

We went around the circle. Some pictures were people. Some pictures were of places where life-changing conversations happen. Some pictures will stay inside that room.

But all of us gave voice to why we do what we do.

That seemed important. At the end of the school year, it’s nice to know that you’ve done work that matters. And we are far more likely to work passionately if we have a why, something beyond a what and a how.

So, what would you put in your three frames?

(First published August 29, 2012)

Last fall I talked about a story James Bryan Smith tells about Rich Mullins. He says that during one of his tours, Rich Mullins would spend the time before each concert with markers and a white board. He’d draw a map of the world and fill in as many countries as he could before the concert. When he was called to go to the stage, he’d write “The world as best as I can remember” and sign it and go sing.

I was thinking the other day about some of the ways probably need to remember our own world.

• I could start every morning by drawing the faces of my family and writing a couple words I remember from my most-recent interaction with them. The drawings would be awful, the remembering  powerful.
• Every night at ten, I could set an alarm to sound to remind me to disconnect here and focus on family and rest.
• As I did several years ago, at the end of a busy season I could sit with my boss and say, “Remind me what your heart for this place is.” This could work with a spouse, a board, or a team. It would also work with a mirror. And my boss would be happy to echo one ofPaul’s letters:

Finally, my brothers, rejoice in the Lord! It is no trouble for me to write the same things to you again, and it is a safeguard for you.

• As I start my Sabbath, I could draw a map and put dots by where my friends are, remembering relationships and concerns.
• At noon, I could write out the Lord’s prayer while eating my oatmeal, remembering that daily bread is a daily need.

I need to remind myself to remember. Here are some ways. What are yours?

Sometimes I get to the end of the day and know I ought to write, but can’t. Sometimes I’ll go back to the archives. Sometimes I write anyway. Sometimes, not often, I’ll say, “I have nothing.”

I’m at a church conference for a couple days. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Monday night, at the time that we “always” have a service, with music and a sermon, we were all sent to a recreation center. We bowled. It was a nice alternative to another sermon. And bowling with a guy who almost didn’t make it to a heart transplant last fall was pretty amazing.

But I’ve spent the day in conversations, long and short, with people from many stages of my life. I’ll have more tomorrow. And I am about out of words.

And I’m aware that while we were in our meetings, while you were in your life, a huge storm hit people in Oklahoma. For all I know, given the storm warnings, by the time you read this there may be more tornadoes, more storms, more people killed.

So in the middle of these conversations and storms, delight and death, and questions, I’ll leave us both with the words I prayed at the conference today:

“Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us.”

(First published October 27, 2009.)

Imagine a great restaurant. Wonderful food, fabulous service. Imagine walking up to the restaurant. Someone is in the entryway, the space between the sets of doors. “Wonderful,” you think, “There are greeters even here, just like Applebee’s.”

You get to the door. They aren’t opening it. You reach for the handle and start to pull. They grab the inside handle and pull it shut.

They spend all their time not going into the best restaurant, just keeping people out.

That’s what Jesus says the Pharisees are doing.

Imagine packing for a trip. A long trip. An international trip. You walk forever. You catch a boat. You sail forever. You are at the edge of everything. You meet someone. You invite him to be like you, to be part of your group. He agrees. You teach him the opposite of everything you know.

When he takes the entrance exam, he fails completely.

That’s what Jesus says the Pharisees are doing.

Imagine going on a camping trip. The people running the trip say, “everyone going hiking to the Golden Hills, needs to take one of these” and hands you an object. Then they do it again. Then they do it again. Your pack is getting as heavy as the one in a Meijer’s back-to-school ad. The people running the trip say, “here, let me help you put one of these bungee cords over the pile. Here, a little duct tape to hold that together. Oops, sorry about that sticking to you.”

Then they start hiking, arms swinging, no pack. “Be careful not to drop anything,” they warn. “The keeper of the forest has clear rules about that,” they say.

That’s what Jesus says the Pharisees are doing.

Instead, lead people the right way.  Be one with them. Be clear who you are following.

I was riding in a car with Eugene Peterson. He was driving.

I told him, “A Long Obedience in the Same Direction changed my life. I read it 25 years ago.  It has been shaping me since.”

(You’ve made that kind of comment to someone about a book or a blog post or a sermon.)

His next statement caught me off guard. “That’s why I put those questions in.”

I racked my brain. I couldn’t remember any questions in the chapters. I was afraid I’d been caught, that I didn’t remember the book as well as I thought.

After I woke up from the dream, I realized that there weren’t any questions in the book.

In my dream, as Dr Peterson and I rode together and walked around a campus, I couldn’t think of any questions to ask him. I couldn’t believe that he had come to visit me. Everything I thought to ask, I knew he answered in one of his books or in one of the several interviews and sermons and speeches available online.

That’s how I learn. I am unlikely to ask people, “How should I do this?” I learn better when I listen to how you have done it. And then I make the application myself.

I think I was dreaming about driving with Dr Peterson because I’d been talking about him a couple days before. I’d been thinking about reading mentors, about the kind of people that shape your thinking and living without ever having direct interaction. I realized that Peterson is the author that has shaped me most.

I’ll likely never meet him, never talk with him, never hear him face-to-face. But his approach to being a pastor, to talking about the Bible, to interacting with God influences you every day that you and I interact.

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Past posts about Eugene Peterson

• A long obedience
• The contemplative pastor

and an amazing interview with Eugene Peterson about writing and Bono and the Bible.