That’s a significant question.

We read. A lot. We hear. A lot. We say A lot.

And then we live. A lot.

Some of us are very comfortable keeping the input and the output separate. Some of us avoid the hard work of taking the interesting ideas we hear and the fascinating role models we read about and working to understand how all of that would work in real life, in our lives.

But you know what? Most of us actually are trying to make a connection. Most of us are attempting to change, to grow, to deepen. We are attempting, like the wise man, to hear the words of Jesus and put them into practice.

I mean, when we read that Jesus says,

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.

we do it.

• We listen to someone who annoys us and we say, “what would it look like to love this person in the way Jesus loves me?”
• We think, “what specific loving action can I do?”
• We pick one “another” out of all of the “anothers” in our life and we identify one specific action today that will prefer them to us and then we make sure that we do that one specific action today.
• We don’t look for the most extreme, most “anyone but that person” person, but we start with the first name and action that comes to mind when we say, “So God. Who would you like to love through me today?”
• Right after we read this post, we pick up the phone or we put down the keyboard or we pick up the floor.

Right?

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We want to do huge magnificent works of passionate loving action. We want to have a significant impact. We want to do something massive that will transform the world. We want to focus all of our energy into something amazing.

That’s what we want to do.

Instead, we decide that we can’t do anything massive, anything that will make any big difference. Or we get caught up in nothing.

An anonymous writer suggests that sometimes you don’t need massive works projects. Sometimes, the most effective way to help is with little pieces of love. Little bits of encouragement. Little words of affirmation.

Here’s what is written:

But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness.

That deceitfulness, that deception includes stories we tell like the “No one cares what I do” story or the “What I do isn’t significant” story or the  “What difference do I make to anyone” story.

In fact, any story that I am telling that claims complete independence from other people or complete inadequacy compared to other people will kill me, will paralyze me, with consume me.

And that is why I need to give and to get encouragement. Telling you that I need your contribution helps me think about your work and your presence and your existence. It chips away at my sense of independence. It chips away at your sense of inadequacy.

And chipping is the best image I can find.

It isn’t one time huge affirmations. Though they are nice.

It’s a day at a time, noticing that person, thanking that person, encouraging that person, redeeming that person.

Yes, that one. the one who just flitted through your mind.

Followers don’t leave each other alone. Like pests. Like partners.

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I want to know if God really hears me. I feel that he does, and that he sends signs letting me know I’m okay when I pray for him to stay with me and keep me safe, but I don’t want him upset with me that I’m not going to church regularly.

I believe in Him though, and know that if I believe, I’ll always stay safe.

I searched for the phrase “God hears”. I ended up with Ishmael, whose name means, “God hears.” It’s an odd story from Genesis 16 to answer this email.

God has promised Abram and Sarai an heir. But Sarai is past menopause and Abram is 86. God can do amazing things, but sometimes he needs help. So Sarai decides to use a surrogate, her servant Hagar. In those days, there were no embryo transplants. Surrogacy looked a lot like having a mistress. And after the procedure worked, Sarai sounds a lot like a wife who has discovered the mistress. Sarai verbally abuses Hagar. Hagar flees to the desert.

And in despair, Hagar cries out.

An angel, looking a lot like some guy, engages Hagar in conversation about her travel plans. And Hagar says that she is running. She has no plans. She has no toward. She only has an away.

The angel tells her to go back and then tells her to name her son Ishmael — “God hears” –. because God heard her frustration and pain. The angel doesn’t excuse Sarai’s actions, nor does he offer any hope she will be scolded. People who follow God often make bad choices.

Hagar heads back. She has a son. And a new nickname for God: “You are the God who sees me.”

Even as I was thinking about confessing my gossip, I remembered that Paul talked in his letters about good gossip, too. He told the people in Philippi that he talked to God about them all the time, thanking God for the relationship.

He told the people in Colosse that he had heard about their faith from a mutual friend, and that he was praying for them all the time.

He told the people in Ephesus that he prayed for them all the time and then detailed some of that prayer for them.

He told the people in Thessaloniki that he prayed for them all the time and then told them specifically that he was grateful for

your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.

I was suddenly convicted. Not in a “I am the worst of all sinners” way. More in a “what if didn’t start with ‘what should I write’ approach to praying before I write but in a ‘God, you know these people. Take care of them. Help them understand You, especially for those who have been so confused and abused by people who use your name. Thank you for curiosity and a willingness to try to learn a bit more about you” way of talking with God before I write.

So that’s what I’m doing.

Four days in the grave in a culture where burial happened the same day as death, where the body was wrapped. This was not a simple “he’s asleep”, a mistaken diagnosis. Some of the other times that Jesus had resurrected dead people were in the “I suppose they could be asleep” category. The little girl had just died. The widow’s only son was being carried to the burial.

I’m not saying they weren’t dead. When Jesus said, “She’s asleep”, there was universal scoffing. Of course she was dead. But Lazarus wasn’t just dead, he was dead and buried.

So when Martha walked out to see Jesus, to see the person who she believed could have done something, there was no question that her brother was dead.

“Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”

On a Monday morning after a hard weekend, we start out a lot like Martha. “Lord,” we say, “If you would have been here, Jesus, my feelings wouldn’t have been hurt. My exercise program would have kept going. My baby wouldn’t have died. I wouldn’t have been fired. I would be happier. I would understand. Life would be fair.”

Unlike Martha, I often just stop after that first sentence. I’m not interested in pursuing the conversation. Martha that day pursed the conversation, even knowing her brother was dead and buried, knowing that Jesus could have done something to stop the illness before the death. Because her only hope.was the Jesus who hadn’t acted yet but still could.

Even though Jesus may not raise my Lazarus, I have no other hope.

“Lord?”

(None of them have been quite as odd as the rooster crowing ringer that went off awhile back when I was preaching. I was in the last three sentences, the ones where my meanderings for the previous 29 minutes finally come together. And a rooster started crowing. I was sure that I hadn’t betrayed anything.)

I was thinking about how we could respond. We already put up slides and from time to time make oral announcements. We could escalate the warnings with images of phones being smashed or people being embarrassed or both. But the emphasis ends up being on the phone, on the disruption.

What if we focused instead on listening. The phone ringing isn’t a problem because phones are a problem. Or because it’s rude. The problem is that I have the attention span of a gnat. The problem is that I want to hear, that I need to hear, the message that  my friend has been working on all week, the message that God often hands him to aim at my self-centered heart.

We’re not trying to build a culture of politeness in church. Those of us who teach or preach often don’t care about polite. What we care about is connecting with people who want to listen.

As I was thinking about this idea of wanting to listen, I thought about Zacchaeus, a guy passionately aware that his focus on work was leaving him empty. So he found where Jesus was and climbed a tree to be able to see him. Incredibly impolite and undignified. But Z didn’t care. He wanted to listen. And Jesus connected.

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Here’s a “I want to listen” video draft I made. I’m curious about what you think. And don’t forget to turn your phone off this weekend.

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I watched a video about Ian and Larissa. They dated for ten months. And then he was in an accident. His brain and body were severely abused. After a long recovery process, where recovery means being able to understand each other, they got married.

Steve McCoy, a pastor, writes about his wife Molly’s struggles with Chiari Malformation. It’s a brain problem. She gets horrible headaches and worse. And there isn’t much that helps. Steve has many posts of their journey.  Recently, in the middle of one of the worst battles, he wrote:

We continue to talk and pray together about the goodness of God, His ability to heal and our request that He would heal Molly, and His power made perfect in weakness and the possibility of the weakness remaining rather than being taken away.

If you would, say a prayer for Molly and our family.

Bob Goff is a lawyer who sits at Disneyland to plan, is a friend of Don Miller, and founded Restore International:

Our goal is simple: to fight injustice. Restore International seeks to find daring and audacious ways to combat human rights violations, including forced prostitution and slave labor. Instead of just talking about it, we want to be actively seeking ways to bring hope, justice, and restoration.

Sunday night, I helped with a concert. A bunch of high school students want to keep young girls from Nepal from ending up in brothels by supporting Tiny Hands International. The free-will offering at the concert was over $6,000. After the event, Jon Andrews from Tiny Hands told them, “When your kids asked you what you did in high school, tell them you saved the lives of kids.”

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Then it’s the next morning.

The success is dulled. The commitment, foggy. The future seems permanently distant, unaffected by whatever you might do today.

If this doesn’t sound familiar,  go refill your coffee and get on to your day. Don’t even waste time here.

If, however, you are reading this and you know exactly what I’m talking about (and you, at least do), do what Jesus did one morning.

The night before had been wonderful, powerful, exciting. People heard that Jesus was staying at Peter’s house. Everyone brought an illness or a demon for Jesus’ autograph. “Heal my mom,” they said. “Keep my brother from being thrown into the fire,” they said.

He did.

In a foreshadowing of the Best Buy parking lot on the Friday after Thanksgiving, people slept in a line outside the door, waiting to get the Magic Healing Touch, as Seen on TV.

Early the next morning Jesus left the house. He found “alone.” He prayed.

The disciples found him. They said he’d made the big time. Word of mouth worked. He said, “We’re going to another village. I gotta tell them the good news. That’s why I’m here.”

What happened out there?

His dad reminded him that his purpose wasn’t making people happy. His success wasn’t measured in crowds. He didn’t have to solve every problem.

He simply had to do what he had come to do.

The line is long outside our doors this morning. We can do what Jesus did. Talk to his dad.

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This was first posted on May 24, 2011

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That paragraph shows that in relationship, the parties can know each other well enough to not need lots of explanation. They can share things just for the sake of sharing, not trying to accomplish anything other than what I hope to accomplish with my emails: to let our daughter know that I’m thinking of her.

Yesterday I sent a link to Andrew of an article. I forwarded an email to Nancy. Sometimes I send videos or articles to all three of them. I’m inviting us into a shared experience, to laugh separately at the same story. We aren’t in the same places, but we all have the same last name and share 21 or 25 or more than 30 years of life.

I have been known to write longer messages to one or more of my immediate family. I’ve  made lists, identified plans. I’ve been directive. But often I just want to connect.

It makes me think of an image of God from Zephaniah, an Old Testament book not often considered warm and fuzzy. Yet in this prophecy is an image of touching base, of being present, of caring:

The Lord your God is with you,
he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love,
he will rejoice over you with singing.

I listen closely, at times, for these casual links from God.

Last Monday, he wrote about the challenges some other people were taking on as they chose to follow Jesus

A full, abundant life involves hard work, sacrifice, and risk, because that’s where we experience excitement, joy, and authentic fulfillment. [God] absolutely invites us to leave our comfort zones, but it’s not because He wants us to be miserable. He knows a quest for comfort at all costs is a waste of life.

Last Tuesday, Rich went to the garage and discovered that the handcycle had been stolen from the garage while Rich and Becky were sitting in the house. He called the police, he walked through some fear and frustration, but by Thursday morning he wrote,

I remembered something I wrote during the ride: Life’s determined more by choices than by feelings.

I want to choose gratitude, even though I don’t feel entirely grateful. I’m thankful the thief just took a replaceable thing rather than entering the house and perhaps doing something much worse. I’m glad he escaped without detection, avoiding a potentially dangerous confrontation with us or our neighbors.

He got the cycle back on Friday, discovered in a pawn shop, delivered by the police. But  what’s clear to me is Rich kept his heart from being stolen. On Thursday, before he knew the cycle would be returned, while he still was unsure he’d be able to keep a commitment to ride again this summer, he wrote:

Of course I feel violated and a bunch of other emotions.

But this is an opportunity to choose intentional response over reflexive reactions. It’s not about denial, it’s about acknowledging and trying to make better choices.

I want to forgive, though I don’t feel forgiving. I want to be thankful even in the places that don’t feel like it. I want to believe God will use this for good, though it sure doesn’t feel very good right now.

I’m grateful for Rich’s honesty through the process last week, living up to what he said. But that’s Rich.

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For more information on his next ride, see Cincinnati to DC.