A Word to the 'Persecuted': Jesus and Bakers

With the story in the news of the Christian bakers losing their business over refusing to bake a cake for a gay wedding, and the subsequent wave of cries of 'persecution!' from much of the Christian right, I thought we could all stand to remember a few words of Jesus...

"But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either. Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. And as you wish that others would do to do you, do so to them.

"If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount. But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful."  Luke 6:27-36

It is very American to worry about the protection of our rights and freedoms, but perhaps it isn't very Christian. Perhaps the Christian response shouldn't be outrage on social media and a shrill demanding of rights.... but maybe love? Prayer? Blessing?  When Jesus was stripped of everything in the face of jealousy and false accusations, he didn't yell "that's not fair!" He cried "Father, forgive them."

I'm not making a statement on whether or not they should have baked the cake or whether or not they deserved the lawsuit, but if you think you're being persecuted for your Christianity and your response isn't Christ-like - maybe a little reflection is necessary.

Doorway of the Deep



I read this book a while back about free diving and ocean research. It was fascinating. Free diving is when (after LOTS of training) you take to the ocean with no scuba gear, no oxygen, and dive as deep as you can for as long as you can.  Apparently at about 40 feet down you reach what divers call 'the doorway of the deep' - a depth at which the pressure of the water overcomes the natural buoyancy of your body and instead of having to kick yourself down you become completely still and the ocean begins to draw you in. The author likened the experience to a giant hand enveloping you and drawing you deeper.


I found that description to be a beautiful analogy of worship. We come to God with our efforts and strengths, but they can only take us so far. At some point we become still, surrendering ourselves, and find that we are being enveloped and drawn deeper into God.


These musings became a song, but since the voice of a songbird is not one of my giftings, I'll spare you any recordings, and just share the lyrics. May we all be drawn deeper into the vast and ultimate reality.


Take me to the doorway of the deep
Further than my strength can carry me -
Where I feel the ocean of your love enveloping
and drawing me deeper... deeper.



How shallowly we've plumbed your mysteries
Believing all there is is what we see.
But you are vast and terrifying
And You're calling us deeper... deeper.



Deeper than our understanding
Deeper than our fears.
Deeper than our strengths and failures
Deeper than our tears.

Deeper... come deeper.



Stripped of all we use to make believe
Awaken us to Your reality.
For surrendered to Your Spirit we are free
Free to go deeper... Deeper.


Deeper than our understanding
Deeper than our fears.
Deeper than our strengths and failures
Deeper than our tears.

Deeper... come deeper.

House of Mourning





A young man my husband works with passed away recently, his candle extinguished by a swift wind of cancer. As my husband and some co workers headed to his funeral, an ancient proverb kept coming to my mind:

"It is better to go to a house of mourning than to a house of feasting,

 for death is the destiny of every man;

the living should take this to heart."

 Ecclesiastes 7:2  

We humans spend a lot of our time trying not to think about death. There is nothing more certain in our lives than the fact that they'll end, but sitting and contemplating it is uncomfortable at its best and terrifying at its worst.  We might glance at it briefly from the corner of our eye, or give it a quick nod of acknowledgement, but sitting and staring into its eyes is not on many of our to do lists.  Because lets face it. Death is scary.

But we are all going to die.  Why is it important to take that to heart? Why not push it aside and press on with our lives with some degree of happy denial? Well there's the "carpe diem" approach, popularized in the Dead Poet's Society. "Make your lives extraordinary".  Seize today. Make every moment count.  I'm not dismissing the carpe diem philosophers, but the fact is that life is necessarily full of lots of mundane.  If I really wanted to seize today I would not do laundry.  I could proclaim to myself, "life is too short to do laundry!" but at some point I would need clean clothes. And so would my kids.  We can't avoid spending some of the precious currency of our lives on minutia.

We need to sit down with ourselves and seriously consider our mortality.  We are so busy with our day to day tasks and obligations, and when we finally reach the end of our day, we don't sit and contemplate, we distract and entertain ourselves. We fill any potentially revealing silence with music and stories and drowning out thoughts that could make us uncomfortable.

I can't think of anything more important than really contemplating and searching and deciding what you believe about this life, because what you believe in your core affects how you live.  How you prioritize. If you decide you believe there is a God, don't keep distracting yourself from asking what that means. What that means for your life, for how you should live, for how you should respond.  Because you are going to die.  Think about the immensity of what God must be to be real. What if the ultimate Reality, the Answer to all our questions and the Fulfillment of all our deepest longings said, "I'm here. But you'll only know that if you're willing to look for me." And what if our response was, meh. What's on tv?

You are going to die. Ask the big questions. Really ask them, don't just muse over them in passing. What is this life about?? Survival? Pleasure? God? Nothing? Ask and keep asking, search and keep searching, knock and keep knocking.

The world has successful, beautiful people who seized the day and made their lives extraordinary, but were still met with depression and despair. As a wise woman at my church has said, It is not enough to seize the day. You have to seize the right thing.

You are going to die. Find out what that is.

A Woman Named Anet

In my life I have been blessed to have two incredible female role models- my mother and my paternal grandmother. I have much to say about my beautiful mother, but this one is for my grandma, who is waltzing right into her 80s this month. Or maybe she's doing the fox trot... Either way.

As a child my grandma, Anet, lost her own mother to a dislodged blood clot after the birth of her little sister.  In the wake of her death and other past tragedies, her father found himself unable to
love her and her siblings in any meaningful way beyond providing for their basic needs of food,
clothing, and shelter. A stepmom later showed some initial promise for motherly love, but grew cold and disinterested in her stepchildren when her own first child was born. This void of parental affection was filled in part by my grandma'a grandfather, Alexander - a man of character, compassion, and unusual generosity. Alexander kept my grandmother's father from putting her and her siblings up for adoption and then helped to take care of them after their mother's death.

Grandma used to tell us a story about Alexander from the time shortly following Pearl Harbor. A dark side of American history during this time was the rounding up of Japanese citizens to take to holding camps, where they would spending several years and then emerge with nothing.  Alexander had Japanese neighbors, and upon discovering a bus had come for them firmly planted himself in front of the bus, appealing to anyone who would listen. No one did, and he was dragged away by his own humiliated son. My grandma, however, had never been so proud.  I imagine this man is where she got her spirit.


Grandma Anet would meet her future husband of 50 plus years and counting in University. One of their stories involves a Sadie Hawkins dance where the girl has to catch the boy she wants to take to the dance.  Grandma chased grandpa and he climbed up a flagpole and wouldn't come down. Perhaps he thought he was being playful and charming.  Or maybe he thought she'd punch him out for being so hard to get like he saw her punch out some guy heckling her and the other cheerleaders at a game. At any rate, she caught him eventually in one sense or another and they later got married.

My grandma was a committed Christian however, and my grandpa anything but. Though he was,
she says, the most moral man she knew - being determined not to follow in the footsteps of his
abusive and immoral father and well intending but troubled mother.  Despite his hostility towards Christianity, my grandfather later converted - completely and dramatically. His encounter with Christ turned him inside out, erasing over night long and deeply held fear, hatred, and prejudice, giving him a new freedom, a new identity, and a new purpose in life.

My grandma was thrilled with his conversion, something she had been hoping and praying for all along. However, she soon found that he was being a bit more extreme in his new found faith than she was comfortable with. He was ready to test and try everything taught by Christ and his apostles and see what happened. The most poignant story that captures this is a story about milk.  It was the end of the month and the little they had left of my grandpas paycheck was just enough to buy milk for their small children.  They were on their way to church, and feeling a little concerned about Grandpa's new propensity to give away their money in the offering plate, Grandma made sure to mention several times that they needed to buy milk on the way home. Grandpa muttered something noncommittal which only unsettled her more. Sure enough, the offering plate was passed, and she witnessed with a sinking stomach and surging anger the last of their money pass by with the rest of the offering.

At home Grandma let him have it.  How could he? They didn't even have milk for the kids! Their fridge was empty! With a flare of drama she threw open the fridge door for effect. But instead of revealing an empty fridge that proved her point, she found a fridge stocked from top to bottom with school sized cartons of milk.  A milkman they hardly knew had randomly driven through their neighborhood while they were at church and on whim unloaded the surplus cartons of milk in their fridge when he saw they weren't home. Grandma was speechless, Grandpa was ecstatic. From that time on, my grandma told me, she knew she could trust God.

And trust Him she has.  My grandparent's adventures in faith would take them to hippie communes to Hopi reservations to the founding of a little ministry that has become a big ministry called Faith Comes By Hearing.  My grandma raised four kids, three of whom were rowdy and rambunctious boys who would later join them in ministry.  When her time raising kids was done, she put her heart into whatever task God put before her.  In her 50s she began traveling internationally, setting up recording studios sometimes out in the bush of Africa, helping record the Word of God in the native languages of people all over the world. She slept in tents in Botswana, travelled independently around Egypt and spoke often about Russia. Through her courage and independence, her willingness and dedication to the God she could trust, my grandma has made her mark on this world. And she's not done yet. 

A while back Grandma sent me an email that included the line, " Get your running shoes on, there's a race to run". 8 decades into her life and Anet is still running. And I imagine she'll go right on running across the finish line, being greeted on the other side by cheers and high fives from the great cloud of witnesses. Or maybe she'll do the fox trot. Either way.

Worthy

What would it feel like to live life without feeling the need to prove your significance? Because don't we all feel it? That nagging need to feel important, to have our value affirmed by the people around us... Isn't that where comparison and jealousy and pride come from?  If my value is based on my appearance or my abilities and there is someone nearby that surpasses me or that I feel I surpass, they become a measuring stick of my realitive worth.Without even realizing it, so much of what we do is at some deep level motivated by our need to feel like we matter. We all chase it in different ways. Maybe if we are beautiful we feel valuable, maybe wealth or status make us feel important, maybe our work, maybe romance, maybe our art, maybe our causes, maybe even crime.

I'll be honest here. The primary way I've chased significance in my own life is altruism and religion. If I can do a lot of good, maybe that means I matter. If I give away my money, if I volunteer with the homeless, if I take care of the sick and help save peoples lives, if I volunteer at church, etc etc.... Maybe just maybe I matter.

But what if.  What if instead of pursuing significance through who we are and what we do- what if discovering the actuality of our value instead released us to be who we are and do what we love without comparison, without jealousy, without pride. Doesn't that sound like freedom? I don't have to become worthwhile, I am worthwhile and in that knowledge I can run unfettered.

Now this is where worldview matters. Because whether or not I am intrinsically valuable is dependent on my origin. If I am a product of chance and nature alone, my value comes from being valued by other people or by what I have to offer. Gold is only "valuable" because we value it, because we have a use for it or because we want it. It can't really be different for people. If there is no Intention behind the universe, than I have no choice but to pursue my worth through my relationships, looks, or talents. I will never be free, and if any of these fail me- if my husband leaves, or my friends get worn out, if my body gets crippled and I can no longer contribute, than my relative worth will be pulled out from under me like a rug.

Love, I believe, is the ultimate conveyer of significance. Nothing makes us feel like we matter more than having someone who's opinion we value love us completely.  If there is a God, which I'm convinced there is, and if that God loves you- than you are completely and intrinsically valuable. If the ultimate Opinion has deemed me worthwhile no matter what, then I am. And instead of chasing this allusive sense of meaning and importance, I can rest. I can rest in my set identity. And instead of chasing people's opinions and affirmations or even my own, that unchanging and steadfast love can set me free to serve out of love alone and not just a quest for importance. I can live a meaningful life not to earn significance but because I am significant. And this is the beauty of the Christian story.  Here there is no place for pride and no place for low self esteem, and if you really believe it, it will change your life. The Truth of God's steadfast love for you will set you free.

To Err Is Human

Medical error leads to thousands of deaths every year.  That's a scary statistic, no matter which side of the gurney you find yourself.  And it's one that has poked uneasily at the back of my mind since my earliest days of nursing.  The majority of people who enter the field of healthcare do so because they want to help people, to do their part to ease the suffering of this broken world. Imagine how devastating to instead end up hurting someone because you make a mistake. I remember a nurse who unintentionally caused the death of a 16 year old saying in court in a voice heavy with grief, that she would be serving a life sentence of shame and remorse. A seasoned, competent nurse in my corner of the country committed suicide not too long ago in the wake of a fatal error. It's a fear that plagues every one of us who has the potential to cause harm when we've devoted our lives to doing good.

It's one of those moments that is seared in my memory. I was in my early years of emergency nursing and I'd just given a handful of different medications to one of my patients. As I sat down to chart the medications, suddenly I noticed something I'd overlooked. In the middle of the list of IV medications one was subcutaneous - to be given under the skin as opposed to in the vein. But I had just given them all IV. I could feel the heat spread up from my chest, making my face burn and my legs start to feel weak as I realized my mistake. I had just made a medication error.  Was it serious? Would it hurt her? I did a quick shakey google search to check if the med could be safely given other routes.  I knew I had to tell the doctor. I didn't want to tell the doctor. She'd think I was an idiot. All that hard earned respect, the proof of my competence, I didn't want to risk losing it! The strength of my desire for self preservation surprised me. In the end my concern for the patient and my conscience won out, and the doctor responded by swinging her head back and dropping the Fbomb before trotting away to talk with the pharmacist.  In the end it turned out the medication could be safely administered IV. No harm no foul. But that feeling never left me. The shock of how quickly and easily an oversight could result in harm. How a seemingly ordinary shift could suddenly alter lives. The potential for error went from hypothetical to terrifyingly real.

In the end I was thankful for that close call. Because I think one of the best safeguards to error is a healthy sense of fear. I don't mean anxiety, but an ever mindful respect for the potential for catastrophe that keeps you a little more alert, a little more attentive, a little less auto pilot.  When I first learned to drive I remember being acutely aware of the amount of power and speed a vehicle has and how easily a mistake could result in harm or death.  But the longer you drive you start to lose that sense. You get comfortable. You stop paying as close attention, your mind wanders,  you shoot off a couple of texts at 65 mph. And most the time, this doesn't result in harm - adding to your false sense of security until it's too late.  As healthcare workers I think a little bit of fear is our friend. Fear alerts you to danger and makes you pay attention. People's lives are in our hands, and there will always be danger. Ours can never be 'just another day at the office', the stakes are just too high.

How Primary Doctors Set ERs Up For Failure

I know they don't mean to. I know they are trying to do their best by their patient and can't understand how it feels on our side- but here is a way that people's primary doctors set ERs up for failure, and it can basically be summed up in this phrase: "I'll call the ER and let them know you're coming."

Every day, several times a day, those of us working the front desk will hear these words, strong and filled with confidence of the power they surely contain, "My doctor sent me. He called, you should be expecting me." No other explanation should surely be needed, open wide the gates and let me pass! Usher me past all these poor waiting souls who were not likewise sent by their doctor. How disappointing when the poor chap at the desk has to say, I'm sure they did, but you'll have to get in line. Because you see, it's all good and well for your doctor to send you to the ER if they have concerns that can't be addressed in the office, and if they want to call us about it that's fine too, but very rarely will it change anything about the ER process. You will still have to be triaged, and you will still be sorted according to the actual urgency of your condition.

But when people hear 'go to the ER we'll let them know you're coming', they hear "you need immediate treatment and you will get that as soon as you walk in the doors". But that is a faulty perception, because lots of people get sent by their doctors offices, few of them need some immediate treatment or testing, and rarely will their doctors call "bump them ahead" in line if there's a wait. But since before entering our doors they have that expectation, any form of waiting or perceived lack of urgency on our part will mostly be interpreted as negligence.  People seem much more likely to be angry or indignant at waiting if they were sent by a doctor who 'called ahead'.

 There is also the perception that since their doctor called, as soon as they state their name we should know their story.  "Oh Mr Jones, yes! We hear you may have a kidney stone! Come this way please, excuse me everyone! The doctor is waiting for you..." I can't tell you how many times someone comes to the front desk and states their name confidently, pauses awkwardly as they await recognition, then state a little perplexed- "My doctor should have called..."  Immediately set up for disappointment.   I can understand its a good customer service move on the PMD end of things as no one wants to hear they should go to the emergency room, and no one wants to hear they may end up waiting a couple of hours once they get there, so an offer to call ahead seems caring. But the problem is that it rarely makes any actual difference on our end, it just creates an expectation that too often can't be met, and a faulty perception that leaves the ER looking like the bad guys.

So there ends my rant. Just remember that if your doctor sends you to the ER, you should go. But if they really think that you need treatment that cannot wait, they will call you an ambulance. If they do not call you an ambulance and the ER is busy, you may still have to wait.