Love Your Enemies | The Enemy of The People

Wow, what a time we live in right now, and what a timely topic: enemies. The bible tells us to love them. I certainly don't want to downplay that essential command, but I do want to give the idea of enemies a closer look.

In the extreme sense of the word, enemies wage war - a physical battle with life and death consequences. In peacetime and comfortable culture, and certainly in these times of heightened anxiety, our enemies can be more contrived and personal. Out of our fear and insecurity, we tend to blame and shame others, often exaggerating cause and effects. We need a villain. Our enemies don't accidentally appear. We make them!

Inflamed emotions mix with lazy thinking (generalizations), and lead to negative assumptions that infect our interpersonal relationships and taint our notions about distant people - ironically, whom we don't even know. The sad result can be a self-centered personal and cultural strife (tribalism), with all the negativity that comes with it.

Our present reality in this exhausting, toxic political climate is being called a culture war. It's worsened by this isolating pandemic, social unrest and people who fan the flames of division to achieve selfish goals. I believe our biggest imperative right now is not to agree on everything, but instead to somehow turn down the thermostat and learn how to be civil again. And to do that, we need to identify our real enemy.

First let's take a step back.

The scriptures say we are ALL made in His image. That means all of God's created beings are relational - and connected, even though some aren't yet at a place of saving grace. Sin damaged our relating, but it did not disconnect us from each other. Relationship is in our creation DNA, and it is certainly our best earthly common ground.

I think it's all too easy for us believers to look at our sin in our rearview mirror and our earthly brothers and sisters in that view as well. We create an "us versus them" separation, where pride invades our hearts. But "for the grace of God go I." How we think of and how we relate to our "enemies" cannot only cause struggle, strife and even hatred, but it can render our witness ineffective. We not only get in our own way, tragically, we get in God's as well!

Our human bonds are frayed - but still are connected!

And linked by this: "For we all like sheep have gone astray". Would any good father disown his prodigal child, as the siblings wanted? No! In the biblical story, the father still welcomes his son with open arms, even after the other son complains about him squandering the inheritance. It appears that his father's long-suffering faith and support is what enabled his son to make his way home, and reconnect with his family. Vilifying his son would have prevented the completion of his change of heart (his repentance). I believe this humble and loving, God-centered view of our human brothers and sisters is an essential first step in helping to ease our divisions.

I know, I know, we all love our doctrine. But to what end? Or what is its service? How can we assume the best about and for people when they are not acting in a way we agree with? Maybe we start by putting people before our list of grievances. That does not dilute our own convictions, but it certainly can help clear our head of ignorant assumptions and clear a path back home, just like the prodigal son. It's so humbling to think someone's path back could go through me and you!

We really are in this together.

One thing I am convinced about - we must seek real conversations with our "enemies" (not online drive-by rants), and really listen to their personal stories! Our stories are our real cultural currency. We are all the sum of our storied parts--still in progress and influenced by the Holy Spirit in real time. Our Lord is inviting us to be more involved in others’ lives! He is entreating us to love - this biggest and best commandment.

And this: we really cannot affect change in someone without their permission. It's basic trust.

Here is my personal list of "rules of engagement" (no I am not very good at this yet):

1. Take the initiative (it takes courage), but be gentle

2. Look for common ground (it's there, look for it early on)

3. Be polite and show humility

4. Listen more than talk (I should get my turn to speak as I gain their trust)

5. Share, don't snare (I'm not the judge, just a witness)

6. Stay opened minded to creative Holy Spirit-inspired solutions

The real enemy? Yes it's the Liar, the enemy of our souls. But his methods can be as deceiving as his lies. His grand and calculated plan is to divide and conquer with emotional isolation. To get us to avoid authentic conversations and settling for lazy and incomplete information.

Romans 13:9-10 ESV
For the commandments, “You shall not commit adultery, You shall not murder, You shall not steal, You shall not covet,” and any other commandment are summed up in this word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Advent: He is Our Hope | Big Hope

We all want hope. Lots of it. By nature, it seems to come in very small ways, in between the layered pains of life - a “glimmer of hope.” Hope is truly essential to our mental health. It brightens our moments and mood, and it gives us something to look forward to. Hope is a small word, but with huge implications.

In its noun form, it appears to just be an emotion: "The feeling that what is wanted can be had, or that events will turn out for the best". And as a verb it seems more active, but still, is based on our attitude: "To look forward to, with desire and reasonable confidence".

Our bible treats hope with more weight because of what is hoped for. Rather than just that our earthly concerns will turn out well for us, biblical hope takes on an eternal dimension. In Hebrews (6:19) our inspired, heavenly hope is a point of strength: "This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls". Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

I love the way the bible describes the perfect trifecta of faith, hope and love. Hope by itself seems a bit “lonely” and perhaps can be too self-centered? To me that's significant because our lives were not intended to be only about just one of these. They all work together for us in beautiful concert.

As dynamic elements of our personal story, consider this:

Faith is action. A request to step out of the boat into the violent waves. It's all in!

Hope is about our attitude, how we view our current lessons of the soul. Good hope sustains this process for the long haul. And it gives us a future.

Love is always the goal -- the real reason for what we go through in life. We are to be fully invested in God's purifying of our love; with ourselves, towards the people in our lives, and back to Father God.

Corinthians 13:12-13
"Now we see a dim reflection in a mirror; but then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of these is love."

Yes, love is the endgame. But what about hope? To me, it's the dim reflection - the glimmer. It's also our promise, a down payment for our later reward. And it's a choice - our daily (or more) choice.

Our hearts are home to hope, and we are to invite it in. In this day of rampant cynicism amidst high expectations, our constant challenge is to hit refresh, purify our hearts, and return to our blessed hope.

Proverbs 4:23
"Guard your heart with all diligence, for from it flow springs of life".

In this season of advent, we all need hope. Even BIG hope!

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Miracles Welcome | Everyday Miracles

"Do YOU believe in miracles?" exclaimed shocked announcer Al Michaels at the end of the 1980 Winter Olympics hockey match, after the US rag-tag assortment of college players defeated the 4-time reigning champion Soviet team. Was this really a miracle? An underdog long-shot for sure, and with sports and national passion aflame, that heart-stopping ending certainly felt like one.

Faith themes do balloon before us when the big game or other important life issues are at stake. I mean who among us hasn't silently, or overtly in the heat of the moment, prayed for just the perfect outcome?

We've reserved the idea of miracles to a last resort scenario, backs against the wall, with our hopes and dreams on the line. It's also an interesting blurring of the lines between the spiritual and secular. As someone once quipped (probably me), there are way more than a few newly reformed atheists on their deathbed.

But is all this the right way to live? I mean, has our western independence and self-sufficiency kept us at a bargaining, "pact with God" level of relationship - when all other hope is gone? It's even a cultural cliche´, displayed in books and movies: "You know God, I've not always been at my best, but if you come through for me just THIS time, I promise ..." Not sure if any of that has actually increased my (I mean our) odds.

Miracles come with a high cost and should not be treated like 3 wishes from the genie in the bottle. They should remain holy and divine. But in Jesus' time on the earth, they were also sandals-in-the-dust, everyday tools. Sure, his amazing acts demonstrated love and compassion, but they were also teaching moments, with a faith component attached. Not just believe in THE MIRACLE, but believe in Jesus, and enter into and stay in relationship with him and the Father.

How many of us would thrive in or even want to be in a one-sided, superficial relationship? A rhetorical question for sure, because the answer is obvious. Just like our earthly parents, God birthed us, raised us up, taught (and is teaching) us many great life lessons. He also loves to act on our behalf and certainly will bless us with wonderful gifts. But like our earthly relationships, it's all about connection. He deeply desires our company. In cultural-speak, he wants to be there for us. But he also wants us to be with him!

Yes, miracles are as exciting as gazing up at Yosemite's lofty granite towers, but after the adrenaline rush ends, there's still the day-to-day living and relating to our Father. All these subtle moments add up to wholeness. Their sum total is the real miracle.

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Emotional Well-Being | Good Grief (and The Art of Being Human)

We are taught to be our best. To succeed. To learn quickly, sidestep mistakes and achieve. And no matter what, we learn to put on a happy face in public. But when we struggle with deep emotional pain (and we all do), this inauthentic social dance becomes doubly hard with the isolation it brings. And there is always unreasonable pressure to fix brokenness quickly - and move on.

We are all human, as God created us - in HIS image, and sometimes I feel that in our attempts to be better people, and better Christians, we send and receive a message that our humanity is inherently dirty and an automatic source of shame. Our attitudes and actions can certainly be sinful, but are we inherently bad?

We all love to label, and “mental illness” (or the more vanilla--depression or grief), are tossed around to help us try to understand. But it can be viewed as personal failure. Stigmas are an unfortunate byproduct of our social and religious systems, and because of that, I fear most of us don't seek help.

Even in an environment of compassion, making space for someone suffering in our midst can be clumsy and awkward, like the classic - what do you say at the funeral? Sadly, too often that conversation is avoided all together.

Speaking of grief, I used to think of it as an emotional health subset of a subset, applying only to the death of a loved one. Now with my Mom’s recent passing, it seems a lot bigger. Maybe a starting point for real personal change, not just a result of loss. Grief carries with it a lot of extra baggage - guilt, fear, anger, a certain disorientation, and certainly sometimes resignation (depression). But is there any good in it? I believe there is!

I am realizing that my sadness and bouts with depression stem from grieving over something lost. I yearn for something to be returned to its rightful owner. Or it goes even deeper, and farther back in my life, to things promised by friends and family but not received. This has led to gaps in my human experience, a feeling of "have I missed something?”

So beyond our creation story, made in God's image, to our redemption - can we learn something about grief from the life of Jesus?

I find it fascinating that his ministry covered the last three years of his time on earth, but why did the Father bring him here for three decades prior? To simply be human? Since Jesus was God, did he need to be raised and trained as a human child? Did he really need a spiritual apprenticeship in the temple?

All food for thought, but I suspect it had something to do with him leading us not just by word, but by example. He started sharing and modeling to his Jewish culture, then his legacy branched outward to the world. But he wasn’t just a hired actor. He didn’t “put on a show.” God lived his own humanity!

(Whew!)

Yes, Jesus was the absolute ultimate paradox - both God and human, and he experienced and displayed all kinds of human emotions. But did he grieve? In the Garden of Gethsemane, and with his disciples sleeping, he was alone in the night's darkness with his emotions as he anticipated his suffering. In a surprising display of his humanness, he asked the Father for another choice.

And later, on the cross, he cried out in the ultimate agony--separation. Why did the Father leave him alone?

Maybe Jesus wants to show us it's good to grieve. Maybe it's just part of our road back.

Sin and our fall from grace robbed us of many things. Our typical reactions are a misguided substitute for what was lost. It seems our social expectations and shame have diminished us so much that we’ve almost lost the art of being human. We don't like pain, but pain alerts us that something isn't right - for our own good. It's an authentic reaction.

I am learning to view grieving as an organic and positive process, a slow unlocking mystery, to a new level of wholeness.

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Common Ground | Right or Relationship?

Several years ago I was struggling in my marriage. You know, the typical getting to know each other kind of stuff, when a relationship goes from romantic to real. We weren't seeing eye to eye, rather we were going nose to nose. I don't remember now what the hot topic was, but I certainly remember what a great friend of mine said to me later as I told him about the conflict. He said I had two choices in any argument. I could be "right,” or I could have relationship. Which one, he had the guts to ask, was more important to me?

I instantly knew he was right. And wise. But, I silently reasoned, couldn't I have both? Well ideally yes, but in this case, no, as my ego was bigger than my logic. Struggles between people are typically chalked up to "lack of communication,” and yes, that's mostly true. But good intention can so easily be drowned in the words, due to the lack of strong relationship in the first place. Or it can be absent altogether, buried under our baseless assumptions. One of my favorite quotes is: “A great many people think they are thinking when they are merely rearranging their prejudices.” (And in my case, reiterating them).

We are taught from an early age that right is, well, RIGHT. Math either computes exactly or it's wrong and rendered useless. The scientific method requires earnest study, then an educated theory, then experiments to prove it wrong or right. In our biblical heritage, there is extremely high value, even if not always verbalized, in having right doctrine. We speak of being “right with God” with frightening consequences for the alternative.

In our current world, realizing a sense of common ground sometimes seems like a quaint notion reserved for pacifists, or a weak option if we feel like being nice to people. In reality, I would submit that it’s absolutely essential for any of us to not only get along, but to excel as individuals and as human team members.

Why? Because we ARE all relational. We were created that way. Every last one of us. And every good work in every facet of our human experience is in some way affected by, involves, or benefits others.

So should we devalue or even toss out our strong and long-held convictions, for the sake of agreement? Should we avoid honest conversations at all costs? Absolutely not. But here are a few things that help me navigate the thorny patch of words and people:

1. I should always be seeking a more “perfect truth”. I see through the glass dimly, and I always want to see more clearly. It’s okay to not have all the answers yet, and my view is typically tainted by incomplete information (emotional assumptions).

2. People, even those I disagree with, are way more important than my arguments. I will never influence anyone in a positive way, without already having a relationship with them. That comes first. Mutual respect comes next.

3. I have way more in common with others than I have differences, and we are frequently desiring the same good outcomes. “Us vs. Them” tribalism has to go. Can I work with others for a common good even while disagreeing with them?

I realize that I act, by nature, like a myopic mule with blinders on. But I desperately need others’ perspectives, fueled by their personal stories to complete my big picture. And empathy - borrowing others’ glasses to peer into their world - is a powerful key that unlocks it all.

It’s a win/win - righteous relationship!

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

The Advent of Revolution | Revolution of Love

Jesus started a revolution, but not in any kind of political sense. He came to challenge the way we relate and respond to God and how we live with each other. Our motivations and methods were all wrong.

Any kind of rebellion, religious or otherwise, was a hot button for this non-conformist growing up (under the surface anyway). Family and religious adherence, of course, was the thing. There really wasn't much grey area between "compliant" and "rebellious".

We live in a world of rules, I was told, and much of my early Christian experience was about the 10 Commandments, where rebelliousness brought consequences. And all too often compliance was a social currency, where the guilt was heavy and the reward for good behavior was at best, a dose of relief.

I was a child in the 1960s and 70s. Out my cultural window, so many kids older than me were actively and even violently rebelling from long-held social norms and because of that, breaking from their parents too.

In my teen years, even my Christian experience was starting to simmer on the social stove. My family's church was conservative and stale. Then a new church sprang up across town in a converted school, and although it was filled with beards and long hair, Faith Center had a dynamic pastor and an energetic, fresh culture of love and grace. And they embraced the Holy Spirit.

As with the outside cultural revolution, this spiritual movement was birthed and travelled by young people. Me and my sister’s exodus started by attending a bible study in a packed out home nearby: 25+ wide-eyed hippies loving Jesus. Seeing young people passionate about God perplexed my parents. And they were curious, so instead of fighting any of this gentle rebellion, a funny thing happened. My conservative parents were swept into it as well.

Soon the Sheldon family six were literally sneaking away from our old church to this new one - double services on Sunday morning. It was surprising to me and doing this as a family made me a bit peeved because my parents were infringing on our teenage cool. This was not their crowd and not their rebellion. It was ours!

That experience started a lifetime shift in me from rules to grace, from theology to love. I started to see and experience the relational aspect of my Heavenly Father and eventually saw WHY that was essential. Sure, the Law is important, scripture makes that clear. But Moses brought the tablets down as a last resort for a rampantly corrupt and marooned generation. The God/Man/Woman relationship was horribly broken and the way back was unclear.

Yes, consequences are motivators and so is guilt and fear. But to what end? All of it has little to do with relationship, the whole reason for redemption in the first place - and the ultimate endgame. If we build our lives on those negative motivators, we don't sustain long term compliance. And we are left STILL alone.

Jesus didn’t pass an edict, but like a caring physician, he made a house call. He was revolutionary, but mostly, relational! He personally showed, in word and deed, the Father’s never-ending love. But he didn’t just make himself a martyr - it was not merely symbolic. He walked and talked and fished and certainly joked and cried and sang and hugged his family, friends and even strangers along the way.

Now in our modern day, he teaches us how to love and to be loved - the ONLY formula for emotional healing, correcting destructive behavior and reconnecting our vital relationships. Desiring long-lasting, loving connections is a universal human trait. Without that, we truly are powerless to change.

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Salt and Light | Essential Elements

They are two of the most common elements in our universe. One is practical and even a bit mundane, the other grandiose and fantastic. Salt is a basic compound of our physical earth. It improves our appreciation of the food we eat, while aiding its preservation. In the beginning, light split our days in half and gave light and sight to our dark skies and eyes. So dynamic, it’s the very measure of extraordinary distances in our vast universe.

Both are, as we also know, key biblical symbols and metaphors for living and relating to each other in our world.

First, we are the salt of the earth, which is rich in human meaning because salt is either mined from beneath the ground we walk on, or distilled from our sea water. We are so connected to both earth and water. We live dust to dust and our great oceans are collecting basins for our storms - the rain cycle’s great runoff. Salt is both a value-added flavor to our food and a nutritional necessity. It touches our daily lives, like we touch others, with substance and a quality of life.

And we are a light on a hillside, one that should not be hidden. Darkness is the world's default state - a black void, with light being the welcome visitor. In darkness there is misery, loneliness, confusion, and a preoccupation with oneself. To live too much inward is not healthy, but light encourages hope, warmth and empathy as it reminds us that we are all in this together.

In this age of supermarket salt and light bulbs, it’s so very easy to take both for granted. Let’s all remember that both these relational elements are verbs as well as nouns. We are salt, but we need to spread it. We are light, but we need to shine! We are to invest in others and be involved, and are to do so intentionally.

Salting food is not a quick and casual act. It’s trial and error and a labor of love. And flooding a room with sudden light can be jarring and cause strife. Gently leading someone who’s granted us their trust INTO the light shows great care.

I can’t know how you will salt and how you will light. I’m not completely sure how it will look for me either. But I do know it’s always a work in progress, always a labor of love.

Matthew 5:13- 14 (MSG)
“Let me tell you why you are here. You’re here to be salt–seasoning that brings out the God–flavors of this earth... You’re here to be light, bringing out the God–colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept.”

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Adventuring with God | Adventure is Life is Adventure

“You good? Doing ok?” I managed four words between heavy puffs of breath. I consciously decided not to look down as sweat dripped down my glasses.

“Yeah, doing great,” she answered. “This is amazing!”

I was frankly a bit surprised at Colby. Weeks earlier, while considering this hike and climb up Zion National Park's Angels’ Landing, she expressed real concern about whether or not she could do it. Me, the life-long adventure junkie kept assuring her she could. But now in an ironic role-reversal, she was charging ahead of me on the narrow ledges while I was a bit tentative. Coaxing my 60-year old body and my tweaked ego up this rock was harder than I had envisioned.

Angels’ Landing is a crazy hike. The trail was blasted, blocked and chiseled fourteen hundred feet up an impossibly steep route on this enormous sandstone fin in the middle of Zion’s multicolored pastel canyon, back in the days of pioneer spirit and the beginnings of the National Park movement. The reward for gaining the summit is an astounding 360-degree view of multiple domes, cliffs and spires, over Zion’s incomparable valley as it wraps around this impressive rock and disappears into the closed-in narrows of the Virgin River's slot canyon. But we had to earn this prize with a full-body workout, step by step and grip by grip. And I was gripped with a bit of fear.

The lower section of the hike is a pleasant uphill jaunt on a paved trail, zigzagging back and forth and topping out on a ridge with great views. This is where reasonable hikers stop. The last 400 feet of gain is quite different. We traversed dangerous side slopes, tip-toed along small ledges, and stepped up and up on natural and human-cut sandstone steps on the narrow, knife-edge ridge, with 1,000-foot drops down both sides. Yep, I know!

Our literal lifeline was a hefty and welcome handrail chain, strung between metal poles bolted to the rock. Great for peace of mind, but also handy for hauling ourselves up and lowering ourselves down over rock slabs and through chutes. But this narrow and crowded trail is also the only way up and the only way down, with the chain being quite popular with everyone. We were constantly worming our way around people coming the other way, up close and personal. Their faces reflected determination and sometimes fear going up, with relief, accomplishment and joy coming down.

Soon enough we pushed past all the selfie-stickers on the flatter ridge top to the summit. The view and the physical/emotional accomplishment made it all worth it, but it got me thinking about adventure in our lives. Days like this are adopted by some of us, but what about unplanned events and outcomes that choose us instead?

Lately there’s been a notion circling around about God being wild and mysterious, with “reckless” love - bordering on the irresponsible. Seriously, God’s always been way more mysterious than we can understand, and it’s not hard to imagine him passing on his adventurous spirit to us as well, don’t you think? Yes, in some more than others, but there is intrigue in experiencing something, testing ourselves, while not yet knowing the outcome - be it a rollercoaster, a dangerous hike or reading a mystery novel. It makes us feel alive, or at least feel SOMETHING as we flirt with the edge of control.

Back to unplanned events and outcomes. It occurs to me that regardless of the source of the "adventure," the essence is the same. We are presented with something frightening to deal with, and it's sink or swim. How we handle it depends on our preparation and our resolve, but also our perspective going in. Because bottom line, we have to confront the fear.

The anxiety I felt on that rock wasn’t the result of anything tangible, rather just the POSSIBILITY of a bad ending, like a movie trailer falsely predicting my future. Fear isn't real, but the effects are. It ate into my enjoyment on that amazing day. In the extreme, it could have been paralyzing, even dangerous.

God, grant me proper perspective and allow me to conquer fear and view even my struggles as adventure. Build me up, drive me deeper, and enrich me.

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Perpetual Creativity | The Mirror Image

Like so many other biblical ideas, too often "made in the Image of God” stops at just being conceptual. God created us in his image - yes, we uh... LOOK like him, I guess. But what does that really mean?

In my earlier Christian experience, being saved was mostly just fire insurance, as the joke goes. Beyond that, there was scriptural knowledge to be had - a rider on the original policy, just in case. Oh my God, we better get everything figured out, or else!

And even more, biblical knowledge could come in handy for “pointed discussions” with the unsaved, because winning and being right is important, right? I’m obviously taking this down a path of unreasonable absurdity, but how much do we honestly catch ourselves thinking this way?

I bring this up because I’ve learned it’s so essential that we move beyond “Biblical Concepts for 100, Alex” to really getting to know God our Father deeper. We've heard He is Love. We know He is Love. But have we really embraced relating with him moment by moment?

To me, being created in his image can’t just be an aesthetic ideal on his part (as his “trophy children?”), but an actual birthing -- his offspring complete with shared spiritual DNA, fully intact (but of course a bit flawed). All relationships are a two-way street. Yes we’re made in his image, but I’d suggest God also reflects us in some ways.

God demonstrates this amazing relational bond best in his humble, dust-between-the-toes humanity. Jesus wasn’t only martyred on the cross in a heavenly symbolic gesture, he also assimilated into our earthly system for 33 years, through human infancy, childhood, his teenage years and young adulthood. His actual ministry covered only 9% of his time on earth. Why was the other 91% necessary? GREAT food for thought!

Jesus wasn’t just an idea, an ideal, or a role model. He was a child, teenager, son and brother, a young adult, a carpenter, and a Jewish spiritual apprentice - all before his ministry began. Because of this, we can be sure he cares so very much about the specifics of our lives - our parent/child relationships, our family issues, our personal success and failures, our jobs and careers, and our emotional and spiritual health. He really knows us, and he literally walked miles and miles and miles in our shoes.

Consider this: God CHOSE to first enter the human womb, then he spent 33 years LEARNING, or at least experiencing, everything in our earthly life. Besides the joys, he likely tasted boredom, impatience, worry and anger, and certainly loneliness, temptation, rejection, betrayal, pain and of course the horror and humiliation of torture and death.

He didn’t just, in a symbolic gesture, swoop in like a superhero to conquer the enemy, then make a grand exit so we would be amazed and believe. He mirrored our everyday mundane and painful lives because he and we are connected by royal bloodlines! He’s not a concept, he’s the personal and relational embodiment of true empathy, and a soulmate friend to get to know.

And for my money, God’s long-lived 33 year human life WITH us (Emanuel!) is so much more relatable, believable, and comforting than simply grandiose doctrine.

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Beauty from Suffering | The Value in Suffering

Suffering. It's an ageless and perplexing subject because it’s personally so difficult to endure and also so hard when someone close to us is laboring under its heavy weight. We can (and should) empathize with our sufferers even as we feel helpless. We can’t fix it for them, but that’s not really our job.

Suffering is pain stretched out over time - “long-suffering” is a common biblical theme. No one wants to suffer, and few of us would want it for anyone else, even perhaps someone who's wronged us horrifically. Beyond suggesting a Suffering Survival Guide here, the question should be posed - is there any real value in suffering? I think there is.

All of this takes on larger meaning when we remember that Jesus paved the way in our suffering, both as an example of how to respond the right way (acknowledging the Father), but also as emotional support from someone who's been there. His suffering linked heaven to our humanity and if we really think about it, he had the most to lose. His earthly life, yes, but certainly his heavenly dignity. God-becomes-man-becomes-tortured - what a massive fall.

So there's value in Christ's example. But what about the more practical? One of the most common human traits of an immature soul is pride and shallowness of character. We think things are going well. We attribute it to our smarts, our hard work, or any other number of things tied to our great efforts. Then the wheels fall off. We experience pain and loss. Our brokenness crashes down with our poor choices, the words and actions of others around us, or perhaps we don't really know why.

When we respond correctly, suffering “keeps us honest”, as they say. It adds depth of character to our shallow soul. And an added bonus - it fosters true compassion for others. More depth of character as we remember to gaze outwards, even as it hurts so much. Because others are hurting too.

As I write this, I am in some personal turmoil. It’s common life-stuff but as suffering typically goes, it feels worse than it probably is. So this blog post is fresh and sincere. Here is what I am learning in real time (ME, are you listening?):

1. Don’t suffer alone, and on the other side, don’t ignore the sufferer! Yes, we all live “out west” but we’re not cowboys on some far lonely outpost. We NEED each other. We really do, as both a giver and receiver of compassion. Isolation is one of the enemy’s harshest and most powerful tools. It leads to wrong assumptions and beliefs, and wild exaggerations. And it’s horribly lonely. We need to reach out, and that includes professional or pastoral care.

2. Pain focuses us, and locks us in. Sometimes I feel God uses it to get our attention, and keep it for awhile while he speaks and we learn.

3. We can ask God why, but we shouldn't get stuck on the why. He wants to interact with us, and answers will be revealed as we walk with him, and keep walking. Don't stop and get stuck. If we fall, get back up.

4. Gain perspective and identify the gains. Perspective is one of suffering's great rewards.

5. We need to give the sufferer space but be sensitive and “nearby”, observing, praying, and ready to connect. Don’t worry about not having words. Smiles and hugs are essential too.

Romans 8:18
For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

The “Aha” Moment!

We’ve all had one. That moment when we finally “get it.” When something you’ve been stewing on, a wall you’ve been up against, or a solution or insight you’ve desperately sought finally breaks. A pastor of mine years ago called it by its biblical name: revelation - “quickened by the Holy Spirit”. In modern parlance, the delightfully descriptive “Aha”.

I’ve always been intrigued and delighted, while equally frustrated by the creative process. It's a mystery. How are things unseen revealed? The human brain is a deep reservoir of life experience, an organic and life-giving engine of constant change, a perplexing soup of fresh learning and old memories responding to present situations.

And frequently, our brain runs on autopilot. In crisis, we get left behind and “stuck”, unable to understand what’s happening, or even why. I think it has less to do with smarts, and more with the emotional shrapnel of the battlefield - negativity flooding our senses and the smokescreen lies of our self-talk.

Be it simple, everyday, creative endeavors or answers to life’s situational and big picture questions, we yearn for a new discovery, something to match this fresh pain. Life is adventure, right?

Sometimes I picture our God as the Jedi Master, sans the Yoda ears, always teaching and training. He understands us and our situation intimately, but we don’t. With his divine and far-reaching perspective, he operates his expertly crafted lesson plan, while continually modifying it to adapt to our responses (and new mistakes). We gave him permission, after all.

And confounding us, he withholds bits and pieces of information, probably so we don’t get too discouraged and quit...until the time is just right, and when we’re content in our learned humility. Our heart is soft with trust. Our eyes are looking up, not down. He moves some final pieces on his chessboard and we start to sense a change coming. A change is coming. It’s time.

It hits us in a flash flood of understanding, relief, joy and gratitude. Ah-HA! The Big Reveal - Revelation!

Is all this just adventurous creativity on God’s part? From our end, it may just seem like garden-variety pain and frustration. But for our mysterious Creator, the same one whose galaxies are continuing to expand even after his epic initial burst, why not? Always creating. Always redeeming. He's always changing us with a great plan.

I wonder if we could adopt this fantastic creative insight from our Creator, direct it inside, then apply it toward others around us who are in process too (Aha - aren’t we all the same)? If perhaps not ever knowing the satisfaction of universal understanding, could we still know him, I mean REALLY know his character, and his ways? And could we always be generous with our hope, that he would indeed perfect us, and others, in his time? Seems like a great position to be in.

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Tension | The Fixer

I remember a good movie a few years back about a man who's contract job was to, by invitation, come into a company and fix things. Mismanagement and greed had taken a toil as ethical corners were cut. The resulting issues were a jumbled mess of political, legal and interpersonal challenges, allowed to fester until things boiled over, company-wide.

We are personally every bit as complex, and as broken people, have at times left a wreckage of mistakes and consequences in our rearview mirror. How much do we affect others? For those closest to us, a lot, and not always positively. Our main mission as believers is to remain humble, teachable, and do our best to practice compassion, forgiveness, and grace. To constantly "circle around", clean up our messes and grow towards God. And the proof in the pudding - to change!

But how much can we “fix” our past? Relational regrets are bitter pills to swallow, and certainly dwelling on mistakes isn't healthy. Finding our own personal path to wholeness is hard enough, but when we don't see restoration in our way, or on our timeline, it can bring us to a pretty lonely place.

Well beyond us, the Holy Spirit is constantly "working the night shift" with our loved ones. But what's our role to play in God's redemption? His providential work includes certain boundaries in others, to be respected for sure. Others have their own baggage, unique challenges, and an identity that we should not try to manipulate.

To define and find our right influence is not easy, especially with inherent emotional entanglements of people closest to us. I don't have a lot of answers, but I do know it takes intentionality, courage, and great wisdom that only comes from sitting at the feet of the Lord, and seeking help from a few close and trusted friends. And it takes patience.

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Faith, Hope and Charity

This week we break from our theme of Interruptible for an insight from Terry Sheldon...

As a child growing up I romanticized the Cascade mountains. Oregon's volcanic peaks were different than the Rockies’ smooth and sparkly granite, and they weren't clustered together en-masse. Each Cascade peak was a craggy sentinel, and although formed with ancient violence, now stood sleeping. And beckoning.

I looked to them for inspiration and dreamed of climbing their dizzying heights. I was most captivated by the ones closest to Eugene, the Three Sisters. Also known by our settlers as Faith, Hope, and Charity.

We believers know these three descriptors as signs of strong emotional and spiritual health, wonderfully described in the Bible’s love chapter, Corinthians 13. It all seemed to fit together for me as I took up backpacking and mountain climbing in my youth, and as I attempted to learn the lessons of faith, hope and charity in my Christian walk. Both parallel journeys have been rocky and challenging, but rewarding in their own ways.

Awhile back it occurred to me that Corinthians’ lovely three sisters were chronological in our spiritual lives. Faith (North Sister) is a formidable peak. I can compare it to my first realization of the magnitude of my sin. Accepting the Lord requires us to stand up to fear and take a giant leap (of faith). Although I never did attempt North, my spiritual climb has been arduous. A start yes, but with a Doubting Thomas heart. I really hoped for more - the perfecting of my faith.

I grew up admiring my father’s mountain climbing exploits and waited to go with him one day. My chance finally came as a teen, on Hope (Middle Sister). The climb was rough. We were on the wrong side of a ridge and got lost. We triggered a small rock slide, resulting in a smashed finger. Then clouds shrouded the mountain by mid-afternoon and we were forced to turn back. My summit hopes were unfulfilled, but they would remain.

I would eventually reach the summit of Hope in my early twenties. It was glorious, but not without hard lessons along the way. My climbing buddy and I overcame poor planning, running out of water, sunburns and having to navigate the forest by moonlight after our flashlights died. In life, our day-to-day hope is always out there in front of us, as it should be. Without it we would lack motivation for what’s ahead. And without going forth, we would not grow and learn. But hope is not the endgame.

The faith, hope and charity progression seems tougher as it goes along. Learning to love and to be loved WELL is an inevitable struggle, and one of life’s hardest lessons. A few years later, my Charity (South Sister) experience was equal in its struggle, and its payoff. What started out to be a misty and cold hike through Charity’s lower reaches became a wickedly windy and wet slog up its southern ridge. Four of our seven-person team had turned around earlier, my father included. He was not happy, but trusted my judgement. The three of us who remained continued on, not at all sure how it would end.

But a glimmer in my imagination urged me on, as I sensed a unique mountain-top experience ahead. My fellow climbers had a similar expectation. We were a band of brothers, and we bonded in our struggle. Then it happened. Blue sky finally peeked out between the swirling curtain of clouds. As we reached Charity’s top under clear cobalt blue skies, we gazed out in astonishment across a flat cloud floor below us. It was almost 360 degrees of brilliant white, with all the Cascade peaks jutting up and out, North to South. I was on top of the world, and it was a sight and experience I will never forget.

Learning to love God and people is similar. It starts with youthful naiveté, then comes struggles with people that challenge our self-esteem, and hard events that can shake us to the core. But if we hang together and press ahead, and stay open and committed and humble, our love is purified and enhanced. True love (God's love) is indeed breathtaking. Personally, I believe I've just scratched the surface.

Let’s continue the climb, with courageous faith, with constant hope and with relentless love.

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Seeing the Other | Back Pain (and Our Brains)

This title is a play on words, but appropriate here. Circumstantial change is a constant in our lives, but at least for me, growth in the Lord frequently seems hard, stuttered, and full of re-learning (sigh, another lap around the mountain, Lord). We encounter pain – emotional pain that produces behavior so ingrained, that like backyard blackberries, it’s so hard to eradicate - even over a lifetime. It’s past pain that affects our present.

Recently I came across a science special on PBS that dealt with memory. They said that brain scientists are expanding their traditional idea of our brains simply being a library full of memories. We go in, walk down an aisle, open up a book and remember.

Now they understand it’s not just our memories, but MEMORY in general. It’s EVERYTHING we have ever encountered through any of our senses, and the resulting feelings felt and thoughts thought. It’s the vast and complex sum total of it all – the behaviors learned that affect us today. Regardless if we can’t recall the origins (we know that trauma victims can absolutely block out memories).

Also beyond the library analogy, our brains are in a continual state of organic flux - constantly growing new cells, neurons and pathways today, as we access and merge both past memories and new information (age and non-use can also diminish the brain’s physiology, as us old guys can attest).

Yes, behavioral change can be so hard for us. It’s not like we’re erasing a memory from a hard drive and simply replacing it with something else. Old memories and behaviors die hard because they are learned, practiced, and ingrained with our present-day encounters.  We literally have to relearn HOW to change. And we have to be truly convinced that our new way will be a less painful route to take.

I just LOVED the recent comments by Britni D’Eliso on shame (versus guilt). Shame is so much more dangerous because beyond behavior, it’s identity based – more intricately woven into the fabric of who we perceive we are (or who we are LIED to and led to believe we are). It’s “You Are” versus “You Did”.

We are all so much social creatures, and relationships are where we encounter most of our pain – with the resulting cues on how to act in self-defense. It seems to me that if we are to truly change our destructive behaviors and re-map our brains, it will only come as we participate, with kindness and compassion, in an emotional environment where we feel secure and safe.

And I am not just thinking about the church body here, but everyone else we touch “out there”. To me, compassion to everyone I don’t understand, like or agree with is an essential skill because it allows me to extend grace to first myself, then others when I encounter my pain.

2 Corinthians 5:17 (The Message)
“Now we look inside, and what we see is that anyone united with the Messiah gets a fresh start, is created new. The old life is gone, a new life burgeons! Look at it!”

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About the Author

Terry Sheldon is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

New Creations | The Side Door

Escape rooms seem to be “a thing” right now. You get with some friends, pay your money, then are locked in a room with only your collective wits and an hour to escape. That may sound claustrophobic for some, but for me the strategy, challenge and group interaction seems appealing (I haven’t done one yet).

Fictional games are one thing because we know we have an out. But wiggling around in our real-life tight spaces is another story. We believers are indeed new creations, and all things do become new. But much of this change doesn’t just happen - easily or quickly. It needs to be worked out.

The mystery and a frustrated effort in a hard life circumstance can make us feel helpless and alone, caught in a whirlpool of fear, anxiety and even depression. Not knowing what to do is hard, and reaching out for help - perhaps even harder.

Beyond finding the way out, we typically also want to know the WHY of it all. There are always lessons to be learned - a revelation tailor-made just for us, but seldom within our best time frame, right?

Recently, in the midst of an “escape room” situation (though not the fun and games kind), I heard the Lord whisper to me in my frustration and despair. He said, “You won’t find the way out right now, but I will give you a side door”.

“What?”

He continued: “I am not asking you to solve all this by yourself, but I do need a response to my direction. Your side door is your point of response - something to DO as an act of obedience”. Even though he wasn’t offering “an escape” from my problems, I said yes.

I realized that my Lord and I are a team, but there is plenty that I just can’t handle, let alone have the vision and understanding for. He does the very difficult, and I respond by helping and not getting in between Him and the ultimate solution. Specific actions right now, and “ah ha” moments of understanding will follow.

So let’s look for His side door for us. It’s not a way out, but a way through!

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About the Author

Terry Sheldon is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

“Creation Contrasts”

Devotional originally posted December 28, 2016

On my long backpacking trip in the Wallowa Wilderness last summer, I was struck by the contrasting extremes of the natural world surrounding me. The terrain was either harsh or beautiful, life-sustainingly useful or life-threatening - and frequently both, side by side. The extremes were not just noticeable, they seemed at times contradictory. Really Lord, mosquitoes in this drop-dead gorgeous lake valley?

Abrasive and unyielding granite rocks next to delicate and colorful wildflowers. Freezing cold ice and snow draining into refreshing, gurgling streams, which of course sustain wildflowers, animals and humans. High and steep mountain barriers that make passage extremely hard, dotted with delicate fir trees to enrich our oxygen, provide shade and campfire fuel.

Then the absolute delicious feeling of living life in its euphoric fullness, walking in lock-step with a realization of possible physical peril. Would my next step be misplaced, casting me down a rocky cliff? Would my stomach violently reject all the lightweight but inhumane freeze-dried food I was consuming? Would I encounter a bear at the worst time by surprising her with cubs nearby?

Yes, the wilderness was extreme, but also for me, a photo-collage metaphor of everyday life back in Comfortville. There are plenty of emotional contrasts in our 9 to 5 as well. We say we take the good with the bad, but do we handle both well? We crave security, love and comfort, but we also get insecurity, heartache, and anxiety.

Success and failure, to borrow that word pair, are complete opposites, right? But are they really? Does failure amount to a terrible and permanent ending? And does success equal happiness and contentment, as some sort of moral achievement? Or are there hidden components of each for us to get to know, aspects more useful or dangerous than we might assume?

Success can satisfy and reward us for our efforts, but it can also produce arrogance and buffer us from Godly compassion. Failure can plunge us deep into self-absorbed despair, or it can make us rich, deep-pool people who find a way to “win” in a more subtle and rewarding way. Am I suggesting failure is the better result? Not necessarily, but perhaps with both contrasts, it's important to experience each in its mature fullness, and that we treat both with much care.

The Art of Deception

We all encounter the enemy of our souls and his coercive attempts on our lives. We get cues from scripture about “powers and principalities” and “fiery darts”. It's powerful language but I have to admit it sometimes seems grandiose and hard to process. Quoting scripture at the enemy is certainly a worthy tool, and we are shown how to put on the full Armor of God. I am not always good at dressing myself, but lately because of some interpersonal challenges, I have been understanding all of this in a more specific way.

We all know the devil is a liar and it occurred to me that lies are most effective when they are not shouted, but instead whispered in a moment of weakness. And they are not simply random and incorrect, “sterile” theological statements (we typically fear being wrong, don’t we?), but rather they come at us in cleverly strategic moments - wrapped in relational context.

More to the point - because we are such social creatures, these malicious mistruths hit us the hardest when we are in conflict with people. Sad to say, but the devil’s exaggerations get inadvertently delivered to us by those we are closest to, and when we feel the most vulnerable. Yep, he's the jerk starting the fire, then watching us burn.

Now please don’t get me wrong here, I am not about casting relational blame, because most of the time our good-intentioned loved ones are just perhaps being a bit clumsy. Plus we're all inherently out for our own self-interest, right? I think the enemy loves hijacking a less than perfect situation and using others as unintentional pawns, to twist and to inflame. The delivery vehicle is our inherent weakness to quickly agree with fear, and apply personal shame.

Whether it’s a friendship going sour, a stressful job relationship, or a marriage in crisis, we all too often blame others instead of focusing on what the Lord might really be saying to us, and about us. He carries an alternative message that is life enriching, with important personal course correction. He then circles around and helps us better deal with these difficult situations next time.

When the quiet personal attacks come, they are powerful, because our perception is powerful. So how do we deal with them? For me, I’ve learned that things are seldom what they seem in the heat of the moment. Lies are mixed with truth and often I get too emotionally lazy and fearful to really talk things through with the person I am in conflict with. Or the other extreme - I mouth off and make things worse. Arrogance and ignorance are two lethal extremes to avoid.

I have always loved Dusty’s phrase: “Practice generous assumptions.” A wise person once said that in the absence of genuine communication, the void is filled with false assumptions. That means lies! Sounds like a perfect toxic breeding ground for the enemy’s weeds. Yuck!

I have found that God's course correction for me means:

1. Take a deep breath
2. View things with His broad perspective
3. Stay humble
4. Talk openly with people
5. Realize empathy towards others (generous assumptions!)
6. Practice self-acceptance (no shame)

“Not Good Enough” by Terry Sheldon

We all know the feeling, right? You do your best. You pour your heart and efforts into something, and there seems to be an elephant in the room. It’s that dreaded feeling that follows you – close, but not close enough. I’ve noticed this even when I’m getting good feedback from others, be they authorities or my friends, family or workmates. Why in the world are we so sabotaged this way? Sometimes the harder we try, the worse it seems to get.

We are all conditioned by our experiences and, as Brené Brown alludes to, our past shame. And I believe the biggest thing that trips us up is the evil we don’t talk about – comparison. You may be doing a good job, but here come those thoughts, “Just look at them. I will NEVER be as gifted or creative.” We make those awful assumptions, but we don’t see their failures or the hidden back stories. And, the irony is, they are probably secretly making the same assumptions about you. Yes, others are likely admiring YOU for your talents and efforts. They just haven’t told you yet.

I look at the members of CitySalt Church, and I see an amazing group of people. I greatly admire all of you for what you bring to us City Saltines. By just being the way you are, you teach us all so many things – how to be compassionate, to hold back our snap judgements, to focus on people first, and issues second. And how to love. So many unique points of view, so many ways of showing us God.

Please, let’s practice being the body of Christ that God needs us to be, each with our own amazing gifts to share. If the Enneagram has taught me anything, it’s that every one of us has our own perfect and unique value. Do not let the enemy lie to you about your identity and your efforts. You are not merely good enough, you are personally stellar.

Let’s all take stock in what we bring, exhale and move about comfortably in that. It would be such a shame to withhold our gifts.

"Creation Contrasts" by Terry Sheldon

On my long backpacking trip in the Wallowa Wilderness last summer, I was struck by the contrasting extremes of the natural world surrounding me. The terrain was either harsh or beautiful, life-sustaining useful or life-threatening - and frequently both, side by side. The extremes were not just noticeable, they seemed at times contradictory. Really Lord, mosquitoes in this drop-dead gorgeous lake valley?

Abrasive and unyielding granite rocks next to delicate and colorful wildflowers. Freezing cold ice and snow draining into refreshing, gurgling streams, which of course sustain wildflowers, animals and humans. High and steep mountain barriers that make passage extremely hard, dotted with delicate fir trees to enrich our oxygen, provide shade and campfire fuel.

Then the absolute delicious feeling of living life in its euphoric fullness, walking in lock-step with a realization of possible physical peril. Would my next step be misplaced, casting me down a rocky cliff? Would my stomach violently reject all the lightweight but inhumane freeze-dried food I was consuming? Would I encounter a bear at the worst time by surprising her with cubs nearby?

Yes the wilderness was extreme, but also for me, a photo-collage metaphor of everyday life back in Comfortville. There are plenty of emotional contrasts in our 9 to 5 as well. We say we take the good with the bad, but do we handle both well? We crave security, love and comfort, but we also get insecurity, heartache, and anxiety.

Success and failure, to borrow that word pair, are complete opposites, right? But are they really? Does failure amount to a terrible and permanent ending? And does success equal happiness and contentment, as some sort of moral achievement? Or are there hidden components of each for us to get to know, aspects more useful or dangerous than we might assume?

Success can satisfy and reward us for our efforts, but it can also produce arrogance and buffer us from Godly compassion. Failure can plunge us deep into self-absorbed despair, or it can make us rich, deep-pool people who find a way to "win" in a more subtle and rewarding way. Am I suggesting failure is the better result? Not necessarily, but perhaps with both contrasts, it's important to experience each in its mature fullness, and that we treat both with much care.

"God Our Dad" by Terry Sheldon

I recently had a conversation with my Dad. No, my Heavenly Dad. Does that wording sound strange? Did it take you by surprise? Interesting, isn't it?

Ok maybe you are perfectly comfortable thinking and talking about our God in that way, with that language, but I have to admit I'm not so much. With me, "Heavenly Father" is as close as I get. Maybe it's simply about respect. But I suspect for me, it's more than that.

This all started on my Wallowa Mountains backpacking trip in July. On this particular day I was by myself exploring the other side of a lake. I set my tired body down, and my stuff. I removed my glasses to relax my eyes. I noticed an amazing creek across the way with abundant wildflowers and went to investigate. It was so beautiful and I was quickly lost in my typical wilderness rapture. And you know, when the emotions are in hyper drive, the brain sometimes shuts off. I went back to retrieve my belongings, but left my glasses behind.

Later I returned to get them but they were not where I thought I left them! These were not only my close-up reading glasses, but my sunglasses as well. It was TWO big problems I didn't need with 20 more miles to go on our bright and sunny trip, not to mention an expense upon my return home.

So I reacted in typical fashion - I yelled for God. I perceived Him near because I was in crisis and went LOOKING for Him (just like teenagers, huh?). "God can you PLEASE help me find my glasses?!" No response. Then comes "the pact", right? (I won't tell you what was promised). Still nothing. Then I distinctly heard Him answer "I'm your Dad. I care about you." Soon I found my glasses, but I have not forgotten about the interaction.

As I have since processed this, I've noticed that in all our worship, the emphasis is all towards God (as it should be). But how often do we really feel Him "worship" us back? Ok, likely too strong a word, but can't it sometimes be a bit too easy to avoid intimacy with someone we look up to, by focusing all on them? Or we too easily put ourselves down and diminish our good points? Is it possible that there could be some "false humility" here, by staying on a "formal name basis" with our Heavenly Dad? I'm just poking here, but it has me thinking.

Certainly we have all heard that God is relational, and relational is always a two-way street. I remember the father of the prodigal son running out to not only greet, but hug and kiss his son. Then came the big bash. This is the same son who squandered his father's money, took him for granted, even distain, and attempted to ruin his life and the family name. Money, ego, and social status could have easily come between them both, but the father made sure that didn't happen. He was still Dad, and his son was still his son.

What a powerful picture, and the scriptures are full of so many more.