Every weekday

More, sort of, on sales.

Every weekday, I set up a little storefront here. I offer you 300 words. It will cost you time to buy them, at the expense of other words you could buy with that time, other tasks you could complete. It will cost you attention, focus that could be spent on other relationships. It will cost you peace, as you get frustrated with the words, or the thoughts behind them, or the claims on your heart. I’m offering and you are giving up something of value.

But.

Every weekday, I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God, and I take a seat in this box. I offer testimony about what I have seen, what I have felt. There are questions from prosecution and defense. What I have said in the past is brought up, put in front of me, called into question. And I do my best to give a clear account of what I know.

Every weekday, I sit with a blank heart and Sharpie and begin to draw. The lines are usually just lines. Sometimes they don’t go much beyond that. And I put up a stick figure in this window into my heart and go to bed and get up the next day and start again. But sometimes, the Sharpie draws blood.

Every weekday, I put on my dungarees and my yellow hardhat and pick up my shovel and head into the mines. I’m looking for those 300 word nuggets in images John captured, in prayers David said.

Every weekday, I sit quietly. Bruised, confused, I read love letters. With shaky hand, I hold my Highlighter. I draw it over words, hoping they flow from my fingers to my heart.

Every weekday, so do you.

Jon Swanson, sales.

Yesterday, Chris accused me of being in sales. He said

What are you selling? Who knows? Jon sells religion (though I’m sure he’d prefer I not call it sales).

The funny thing is, I’m more bothered by the idea that what I’m selling is religion than the idea that I am selling.

Part of what makes me comfortable with what Chris wrote yesterday, is a statement in a book that was open on my desk when I read Chris’ post. I know. It should be the Bible. But it’s actually Hugh MacLeod’s Evil Plans: Having Fun on the Road to World Domination (affiliate link). On page 12 Hugh writes,

“The market for something to believe in is infinite. We are here to find meaning. We are here to help other people do the same. Everything else is secondary.”

As much as I hate “doing sales”, I have to be honest with myself and acknowledge that my hate is rooted in selling fundraising stuff when I was in middle school and high school. The idea of trying to talk people into giving me money for something they could buy at half the price at a store always made be cringe.

But then I think about Chris and Hugh … and Paul.

Paul stood in Athens. He was talking about Jesus and resurrection. Some philosophers said, “Interesting. We’re not sure we agree, but come to TEDxFirstCentury and talk to us.”  So Paul did:

Men of Athens, I notice that you are very religious in every way,  for as I was walking along I saw your many shrines. And one of your altars had this inscription on it: ‘To an Unknown God.’ This God, whom you worship without knowing, is the one I’m telling you about.

So maybe I am selling. Something to believe in. Or someone.

Learning is hard when you don’t know something.

As part of my day job, I lead a weekly staff meeting. Nine of us who spend our time supporting the people who call themselves Grabill Missionary Church. We mostly have the title ‘pastor.’

At these meetings,  we talk about what’s happening in our lives, what’s happening in our areas of responsibility. We like and respect each other. The meetings are good.

Except for my opening question.

I ask things like “what song best describes how you are doing this week.” This week I asked “What is the most recent thing you learned how to do?” I asked that because I had spent the week learning how to use new video editing software. I was at the limits of my old software and realized that we would all benefit from me having something less frustrating and more stable. For all the upside of the switch, however, the process of learning while in the middle of producing a couple of  short projects was pretty draining.

Everyone talked about learning. Often about technology. Often about the frustrations of learning new technology. Most of us on staff are not IT people. We are people people. (They all are anyway. I’m more of an IT person. I don’t really like people. But don’t tell anyone. Please.)

After everyone talked about how it feels to feel trapped by what is so easy for the tech people but so paralyzing for normal people, I said, “That’s what it’s like for most of the people we talk to about church stuff and God stuff.”

“Having a problem? Just pray,” we say.

“But how do I just pray, ” someone asks.

“You just talk to God.” we say.

“But what if I do and I don’t hear anything?”

“Just read the Bible.”

“But where do I start?”

“I dunno.”

I was privileged to guest write for Jonny Rose on Sunday: I blog on a Sunday.

8 things to expect in conversations with Jesus

This list started last week in “The recipe that isn’t.”

1. Jesus often helps you with the conversation.

2. Jesus loves you more than you hate yourself.

3. Jesus challenges just about every attempt to routinize religion. Or, better, to routinize a relationship with him into religion.

4. Jesus does make demands. But not the ones that we impose on ourselves. Happens all the time. People say, “I shouldn’t say that in church.” “I couldn’t say that to God.” And I say, “Why not?” We filter ourselves by demanding that we talk the way we think God would want us to talk. But let him decide what he wants us to do.

5. Jesus is more like mystery than a puzzle. (This image is from Gregory Treverton who is an intelligence analyst, not a theologian.) A puzzle just needs the right number of pieces to make sense. The focus is on finding pieces. A mystery can’t be solved, can’t be all put together. People are mysteries. Relationship is a mystery. Not a puzzle.

6. Jesus will take the washcloth out of your hand. I want to clean up my own messes. Every time, I make it worse. Rather than a washcloth, I sometimes need a powerwasher. Or a toothbrush. Or spit. When healing, Jesus once used spit. When serving, he used a towel. Once, he even used blood. So don’t be surprised when he doesn’t take your cleaning recommendation.

7. Jesus keeps promises, but only the ones he makes. Not the ones I make for him. You know how when you are with someone and the two of you decide something and you start doing it and the other person isn’t? And you realized that the two didn’t decide. You did? Like that.

8. Jesus…

Wait. You write this one. What have you learned about talking with Jesus?

The recipe that isn’t

I was talking with a friend about following Jesus. My friend, like many of us, like me, would find a formula helpful. It would be great to have 3 steps or 5 levels or 12 magic words.

But recipes don’t seem to work with Jesus. My friend reminded me of the opening chapter of Searching for God Knows What, where Donald Miller says,

“To be honest … I don’t know how much I like the idea of my spirituality being relational … the formulas seem much better than God because the formulas offer control; and God, well, he is like a person and people, as we all know, are complicated. The trouble with people is that they do not always do what you tell them to do.”

I thought about this idea of no formulas, and of God as a person. I realized that though I can’t offer formulas, I can offer something else. I can suggest what to expect in conversation with God.

This is what you would do, right, if a friend of yours was wanting to meet another friend of yours who is a person of some authority? You’d offer some character insights?

So, here are a couple thoughts.

1. Jesus often helps you with the conversation. “What do you want?” is what he asked a couple disciples who came to him in a referral from John. Not meanly, but invitingly.

2. Jesus loves you more than you hate yourself. Our self-loathing gets in the way of conversations at times. We assume that people won’t want to talk to us. But Jesus seems pretty willing to talk with people who didn’t have things together.

I’ll keep going next week, starting with these:

3. Jesus challenges just about every attempt to routinize religion.

4. Jesus does make demands. But not the ones that we impose on ourselves.

300 Words A Day – Kindle edition