Faceless on Facebook

I recently joined up Facebook. A friend invited me to join and I figured that if he joined then I should join. I had no interest up to that point. In fact, I will admit to you that I deliberately resisted joining Facebook because I just felt a little uneasy about it. I also resisted joining MySpace until my kids told me to sign up and I held for sometime. But I finally broke down. I haven't been back to MySpace in months. I got bored with it.

My problem with Facebook and MySpace, and other services like them, is that they seem so impersonal to me. In most cases you are able to see the person whose "site" you have been accepted to but not always. Sometimes you see things that you would rather not see - scary, frightful visions of these people you thought you knew. You read things that surprises you - words, phrases and statements that make you wonder just who this person really is and why are they posting such things.

Sometimes I have been a little stunned, no, shocked, at seeing more than I really want to, or should, see. I can't help wonder if they have any clue what kind of impression they are leaving. And then I realize, they don't care.

The problem with these "connection" sites is that you really don't know if you are "seeing" the real person. It's very different, very shallow, compared to being able to talk on the phone or sit across from each other and have a conversation. I mean, a real conversation with eye contact, voice inflections, body language. "Conversing" over the Internet is like talking to someone about a picture you are looking at and having them draw it simply from your description while not being able to look at the same picture. You usually get some pretty crazy pictures.

Case in point: my daughter Haley was having a conversation with her mom via texting. Mom was out of town and daughter was having some "pain" issues. Mom was texting something about being sorry about not being here to comfort her and daughter texted back and wrote, "I know but your not mom." Now, there ensued a slight misunderstanding about what daughter had wrote, since punctuation has gone out the window with texting, and Mom felt like daughter was saying that she wasn't a mom because she wasn't there to care for her daughter.

Got that?

Now, maybe I'm just being "old fashioned" and unwilling to accept the changes coming our way in the 21st century. Possibly, though I think I keep up pretty well. My problem is that texting and connecting via the Internet has taken the place of warm blooded, personal, exposing myself just a little with you, conversation. It's harder to determine what's real in a relationship through the computer or simply words on a small phone screen. (By the way, if I have anything to say beyond two or three words when I text, I call.)

I had someone invite me to be their friend the other day. I didn't know who they were. I wrote to them and said so. They wrote back and said we had a connection with a mutual friend. When I checked their "friends," they had over 3000 friends. I decided that the invitation to be their friend was more in hopes of me joining the ever growing statistics of friends they were accumulating and not out of a sincere desire to "reconnect" with an old friend. So I declined.

On the other hand, since joining Facebook, I have in fact reconnected with some old high school and college friends that I had lost contact with over the years due to time, distance, and moves. It's been rather exciting to "chat" and slowly catch up, even more exciting to actually call each other and talk, hearing their voice, laughing together, sharing joys and disappointments. All that was missing was a fireplace and a beverage.

All I am saying is that I really wonder just how interested people are about what I might be doing just at this moment (Jim is....fill in the bland for the moment). Though I know I am interested in knowing what my friends and family are up to in life, what they like to read, what jobs the have, where they are and how their families have grown, I'm wondering if we aren't bordering of narcissism when we chart our every moment on the web for people to see. Are we really connecting? We have a generation or two that have become so engulfed in this technology that their interpersonal skill have developed at a snails pace. They crave intimacy but don't know how to develop healthy relationships. As one character states in the movie He's Just Not That Into You, "I had this guy leave me a voicemail at home so I called him at work, he emailed me to my Blackberry, so I texted to his cell, and now you have to just go around checking all these portals just to get rejected by 7 different technologies. It's exhausting."

I do find all these new ways of "connecting" exhausting at times. And often so impersonal. But I do it anyway. Go figure.

"Jim is.... finished writing this post."

A Preacher's Sense of Freedom

We had a really good service last Sunday. The attendance was very strong, had several visitors come back and stay for the fellowship meal, and the worship was full of feeling and a sense of expectation. Singing was strong and the sharing was heartfelt. It was one of those services where you just know that you need to get out of the way lest you run the risk of stifling the Holy Spirit. The last several services have felt that way, and I haven't been the only one feeing it.

But something else has been happening and it has had to do with me and my preaching. I have been experiencing, for about the last month or so, a real sense of freedom while I preach. The sermon preparation hasn't necessarily been easy, sometimes it has but not always, the "anxiety" about what I'm to preach about still is there, even up to the moment that I stand to preach at times, but once I start, it almost feels like I internally/spiritually step back and the Holy Spirit steps in. It's a very strange and amazing feeling.

Here's the problem, or maybe I should say, here's my worry. I normally preach about 25 minutes. I usually have a manuscript that I preach from but I don't "read" it. But lately, as this process has been unfolding over the last several Sunday's, I've had to force myself to stop preaching, even not finishing the message a time or two, because 35 to 40 minutes have passed. It doesn't feel that long to me, and I don't sense it from the people when I'm preaching, who all seem engaged, taking notes, and responding in someway to what I am saying. I've even had a few "scold" me for ending before I felt that I was finished. I've had others who, jokingly, make a comment about my long sermons but then say, "I don't realize how long you've been preaching until you stop and then I check my watch. It doesn't seem that long at all." I sure hope most feel that way!

I think it was my Granddad who used to say that if you haven't hit oil in the first 15 minutes, stop drilling. And certainly I have had those times, when I have preached some messages, when I felt that I was really not connecting with the people, when I felt that I and/or the message was way out of sink, and I wrapped it up quickly. There have been a time or two when I even admitted as much to the congregation - how I felt. But when you feel that you are "hitting oil" and that people are engaged and that you are being led in a certain direction or led to go deeper than you planned, should I say to the Lord, "Lord, these people really do want to beat the Baptist to the restaurant so I can't go past 11:30"? I wonder what all my Course of Study teachers would say to a sermon going 30 to 40 minutes long, especially when they expect us to do a sermon in 10 minutes in class.

Since I have come back to the pastoral ministry (Jan. 2004), I have become a very different pastor/preacher than I was the first time around (1980-1990). My approach to ministry is very different, my understanding of church is very different (and not always shared by some church folk), and my preaching has evolved in a way I never imagined. And there have been times when, for lack of a better description, I have felt this "groove" unfold where I have this awareness that God's Spirit is untying the tethers that have often kept me earthbound when it has come to preaching and worship. I suppose as long as most of the congregation is soaring with me, I'm OK.

Please understand, I am in no way boasting or saying that I am some great preacher. I don't see myself in that way at all. In fact, I am very uncomfortable in this role - who am I to stand before God's people and break open His Word to them? And yet, here I am, and in those moments I am greatly humbled and honored to be entrusted with such treasures as God's Truths. I listen to "my preachers," the ones who break open God's Word to me, and I am amazed with their style, their knowledge, their sense of freedom, their ability to bring understanding to so many areas of my life, and I want to be like them. Well, not "like" them but I think you know what I mean. But God doesn't work that way and instead He chooses to use me, with my weaknesses and failures and struggles and doubts and whatever else I bring to the table. To this day I don't know why He called me into the ministry but I will tell you this - every week I find myself enjoying what I do, every week I find my hope growing a little broader, every week I am amazed at what God is doing where I am currently pastoring, and every week I can't wait until the next week to see what and how He is going to use this church, and me, in bringing glory to Himself and reaching out to others.

But I realize that preaching for 45 minutes will probably push the limits too far, even for me. And when I come to church some Sunday and notice a large clock in the back of the sanctuary, I'll know that maybe I've been soaring a little too high for a little too long!

Won't You Pray for Snow?

Last night, as Heather and I were crawling into bed, Heather turned to me and asked, "Would it be wrong to pray for snow? Will God answer my selfish prayers?" I laughed and sort of brushed off the question until, a few minutes later, she asked me again. "I really would like to see snow tomorrow. If I asked God to let it snow tonight do you think He would mind?" I turned to her and said something like, "Honey, God wants us to come to Him with our desires, though I'm not sure asking Him to let it snow would be a high priority for Him." I didn't pray for snow, though I prayed about a few other things, with one or two being a little selfish on my own part. I have no doubt Heather prayed for snow. Funny how my selfish prayer didn't get answered but when I woke up there was 2-3 inches of snow on the ground. No school for Haley and no work for Heather!

They were happy. So was I. And we had a great day today. We went out and played in the snow; I had a snowball fight with some kids down the street - accidentally hitting one in the face and I had to apologize for having such a bad aim; we watched our dog prance around trying not to get her feet wet, finally giving up and then scooping the snow with her nose. When we got back from our walk I soaked in the tub while I read a book and watched the snowflakes fall to the ground from the window by the tub. Then Heather and I watched the inauguration, talked about our hopes for the future and our hopes for the new president. Then the three of us went to see the movie, "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button," and then came home and got ready for Wednesday.

A good day.

I really like good days. With our busy schedules, work and school demands, long days - and nights, it's hard to get really "good days" very frequently. Usually, by the time we get home, we're tired, hungry, still have work to do, and just plain out of energy, so when I can spend a day with my wife and daughter, when we can be laid back, be engaged in conversation about other things besides work related issues, and be a couple/family, it's really a good day.

So Lord, thanks for answering my wife and daughter's prayer for snow!

Saved by Saving Money

On Thursday I was at the church, doing some work, when I received a call from my Dad asking when my wife, Heather, was coming back from New York City. She had gone up there as part of her job, a trip she takes every month. My Dad had called home and, having stirred my daughter from her afternoon nap, asked when her mother was coming home. "Sometime later this afternoon." "Thanks hon," and he hung up and called me. He told me that a US Air plane had crashed in the Hudson River on takeoff. Our conversation went something like this:

"Was Heather on that flight?"

"No Dad, she came home last night but this flight is the usual flight she takes when she comes home on Thursday's. However, in an attempt to save money, the company had some of their people (buyers) come home a day earlier. She's at work here in town today."

"Praise the Lord! When I talked to your daughter and she said Heather was coming home later this afternoon, my heart sank."

I called my wife to check on her - sort of making sure that she did in fact come home the night before - and to see what she was hearing at work about the crash. There were several fellow co-workers on that flight but what she was hearing was that everyone was OK but really shaken. She said one lady was going to retire next year but had called and said that this was it, she was retiring now. I can't blame her, I guess. Heather and I chatted a bit, thanking God that a money saving maneuver had spared her the trauma of the crash, if not her life. We joked that she would have probably been the only fatality because she would have died from just thinking about getting into the cold water and freezing air.

I received several other calls, from family and church people, even got a couple of emails from friends, asking about Heather's safety. She said that her phone was ringing off the hook from her vendors in NYC, seeing if she had in fact come home early. It all seemed a little surreal to us, getting the phone calls and then watching the news and video of the crash, seeing people that she knew being pulled off the plane and onto the boats. But it must be even more surreal for those who, in 5 minutes, went from take off to crashing in the water and then being surrounded by boats, pulling them to safety. As one guy said, "I still can't believe that I'm alive. It was a miracle, simply a miracle." And it was, with no one seriously injured; it just amazes me that they all walked away.

It makes me wonder though, how many of those people, in those few horrifying minutes, turned their minds to heaven and prayed to God, asking for help and safety? How many of them, up to that moment, had put God pretty much outside of their day to day lives, not giving Him much of a thought? And now that they are on land, some already at home with their families and friends, does God still hold the same significance He held for them in those few moments of uncertainty when they were praying to Him?

We'll never know but it does make me think about my own life, and how, for a day or so, we were reminded that we have no clue what will happen tomorrow but we do know that God holds it firmly in His hands. Even more importantly, He holds us in His hands and that, no matter what may happen, I hope this will constantly serve as a reminder to my family that God is not just a God you turn to when things go crashing around you but He is, must be, our God whom we give ourselves to on a daily, moment by moment, basis.

There's also another lesson to take away from this: Saving money could possibly save your life!

I'm Going to Somewhere in My Mind

I just got back from a trip to Naples this morning. It was a great trip. I was able to check out Mt. Vesuvius and Pompeii while I was there. What an amazing place. I arrived there right after my trip to Burgundy, France. Burgundy makes some pretty great wine and the towns there are so quaint and have such ambiance. The boat trip down one of their major canals was pretty fun. Yesterday I was up in Alaska and checking out one of the glaciers there that is slowly closing off a major river. Then I went snowmobiling with one of the state troopers, checking out a hunting party and one of the state residents who lives about 31 miles from their nearest neighbor. It looked pretty cold out there.

I've also been taking weekly trips to Ireland, exploring the country and meeting the people, many from Ireland but a number of them new residents to the Green Isle but who consider themselves part of the Irish clan.

Now, I bet some of you think I have lost my mind but rest assured, I have not, though certainly my mind was very much involved. The cool thing was, I never left my house. My butt never left my couch. I went there through the miracle of TV travel shows and travelogue books. I am addicted to these travel shows and books. I'm currently traveling throughout Ireland with Pete McCarthy ("MCarthy's Bar) and I have traveled with Bill Bryson, hiking the Appalachian Trail ("A Walk in the Woods"), exploring Australia ("In a Sunburned Country") , checking our Europe ("Neither Here or There") and several other places, all through their books. I record travel shows, some I keep. I rent videos, some I keep.

And I dream about these places that I would love to visit. There's a really good chance I'll never get to these places. Money, schedules, and the lack of money, seem to have a lot to do with it but it doesn't prevent me from going there in my mind. It was James Taylor who sang, "I'm going to Carolina in my mind," and since I'm already in "Carolina", I'll just go somewhere else in my mind instead. The mind is a terrible thing to waste, they say, so why not imagine hiking in the mountains, riding a train in the valleys of Alaska, biking in Naples, camping out on the beaches of Southern California, or rafting down the Colorado River?

I get itchy feet sometimes, meaning, when I feel really stressed out, or depressed, or bored, or just needing a break, I imagine my wife and I packing up and taking a trip. We don't get to actually do much "traveling" because our schedules are different - she works during the week and has off the weekends; I can take a couple of days to get away during the week but I have to be back at "work" on Sunday (being that I am a preacher and I only work on Sundays, Wednesdays and when someone is sick or in the hospital... so I have been told by some....), so it's hard for us to get our schedules in sink. Add to that a teenage daughter that is developing her own life and, well, staying around home is more often norm.

Anyway, there are times I want to get away, go for a scenic drive, take a couple of days and head to the mountains or the beach. That's one of the nice things about where I live, 3 hours from Myrtle Beach and Charleston and 2 plus hours from the mountains. But when I can't do that, a good book about traveling somewhere or a travel show, especially in high def, will tide me over.

I've found this really great spot near my church where I go and hang out for a few hours each week. It is a park that is on the lake. It is really pretty and calming. This last fall was especially beautiful. I've been blessed with such places at the churches I have pastored over the last number of years. I need places like that. It helps me step out of my ministerial role, out of my world, and reconnect with myself, my thoughts, my soul, and more importantly, my God. It's funny, and troubling, how quickly I can get disconnected and distracted. And when I do, it can take me several hours or even a couple of days to get back into that place of sacred space, holy peace, and spiritual calm. My wife doesn't always understand but she is usually patient and gives me the time I need. I know that I am a strange beast but she loves me anyway!

It has been two months since my last blog entry. It's hard to believe how fast time has gone and how busy and distracted I have been. My mind has been racing and filled with many things, like working out sermon ideas, ministry ideas and goals, worry and anxiety (something that ministers are not to be dealing with because we are God's ministers and shouldn't be struggling with such things, right?), busy schedules and so on. In other words, life. But for brief moments, I have been able to take a trip, dive into the crystal water of a stream in New Zealand, hike up the mountain that St. Patrick spent time on praying for the people of Ireland, explore a village in Vietnam, and, in real life on that rare occasion, sit in a hot tub on top of a mountain with my son and brother and shoot the cold rapids of the Nantahala with the Elder guys.(My brother David is in the back, then my brother Bruce in yellow, then my Dad on the left and me on the right, then my nephew Chris, David's son, on the front left, my son Jonathan, and just behind him is my nephew Jake, Bruce's son)

Of course, I always have the arms of my loving wife to fall into. And I have God's Holy Mountain to hide on and His amazing kingdom to explore.

God is good.