Cheers

In the 1980's, if you said, "You want to go where everybody knows your name," most television watchers knew you were talking about a tavern in Boston called "Cheers." Every Thursday night on NBC a motley group of broken people gathered at Cheers for a half hour of laughs.

"Cheers" was well scripted and acted for its time. It was unique in style, and more than a little edgy for the day. I think the real appeal of Cheers, however, was the concept of actually having a place where everybody knew your name. Each week the character played by George Wendt would enter the bar and everyone would call his name in unison - "Norm!!" Sam Malone, or Coach, or Diane, or Carla, or Woody, or Rebecca or somebody at the bar would ask Norm an innocent question, and Norm would fire back a witty response. All this would happen while Norm headed to the bar stool that was clearly his. And for at least a little while, this perpetually out-of-work barfly with no discernible goals or direction in life would be somewhere where people recognized him, where they called him by name, and where he belonged.

Most people seek that. Some find it in bars, I guess. Some, though probably not many, experience it on the job. The fortunate ones find it in family. Some find it in activities or shared interests. Some find it in ways that are not healthy or even destructive. Sadly, some never find it at all.

Cheers didn't last. Not much in this world does. For Jesus-followers, I suggest that people aren't necessarily seeking great preaching, glitzy presentations, engaging programs, or even just purposeful involvement. In their heart-of-hearts they just want a place where everyone smiles and shouts "Norm!" when they enter; where everybody knows your name.

An 8-0 Team

Sorry I've been erratic in posting. My wife and I have both been battling some upper respiratory illness off and on for a couple of weeks.

Tonight our local high school football team is playing the most important game of their season. They are 8-0 for the first time in decades, and they've travelled 50 miles west to play their toughest opposition to date. The result of tonight's game will likely decide our district's champion.

School was out today, so a few folks at our church offered to feed the team in our facility before they headed out. I went there just to hang out for a bit, and I think I know why the team is successful. True, they are talented and deep, and their conditioning and weight training has been stellar. Beyond that, though, I sensed a major intangible element. Looking over the coaches and the players, I just had an awareness of a great deal of focus and unity. Everybody knows the objective, and each one seems to understand and accept his role, from the starters to the third stringers on the bench. The team exudes an atmosphere in which everyone is valued and everyone contributes and everyone matters.

Due to lingering illness, I won't be at the game, which is underway now. (It's 7:07 p.m., CST.) But this team has already won, in that which will last. Focus...unity...common objective...everyone contributes...everyone matters...not unlike Jesus' vision for the Church.

I'll see you around the next bend in the river.

I Want to Be Like You

A Jesus-follower once told me he wanted to be like me. It was one of the most disarming things I've ever had said to me. My instinctive response was to say, "You need to set your sights way higher!" If he only knew the mess that is really me. Sure, on the outside I can project a pretty good image of faith and level-headedness. Inside I am a quagmire of mixed motivations, selfishness masquerading as righteousness, uncertainties, and competing loyalties. Sometimes it's as though I hold on to faith in Jesus by a thread. In fact, I hold on to it by the grace of God only.

Thomas Merton says we have a false self and a true self. The false self is the image we work hard to present to those around us. It is a person that is the product of tireless effort to shape and project. The real self, he says, is that which we fear the most - one that is utterly nothing except for the image of God lovingly infused in us, and the one that is completely without hope were it not for the infusion of an incarnational God. Health and salvation, Merton asserts, is facing and accepting the real self, and thereby being open to the complete embrace of God.

If that's what another person sees and seeks in me, that's good. I don't want people to see me; I want them to see Christ in me. The only way that happens is for people to recognize that my only hope is in Jesus. I'll see you around the next bend in the river.

Would You Die For This?

For what or who would you die? That's a disarming question. I recently read of a business expert serving as a consultant for a company. He helped them to come up with a mission statement and a vision for fulfilling that mission. (Mission and vision statements have been the rage in business for some time. Churches are kind of johnny-come-latelies in utilizing them.) The consultant led the company through a retreat-type experience in which they examined the company's core values and common aims. They brainstormed, word-smithed, trail-ballooned and did all the things that groups do to create mission and vision. Finally they had a mission statement and vision that created a fair amount of collective enthusiasm. In the midst of mutual congratulations over the achievement, the consultant looked at the final product and asked the disarming question.

"Would you die for this?" Stunned silence followed. Work for it, promote it, support it...but die for it?!?

It's one thing to get excited about mission and vision. It's a whole other matter to pay a price for it. Two millenia ago a small group of people embraced a vision of making Jesus-followers of themselves and all people. They didn't just rally around something with popularity and momentum. They saw their mission as something for which to die, and thousands of them did. And, in spite of all sociological, economic, and politic indicators otherwise, their movement would not die.

For what would you and I die? Not a pleasant thought, perhaps...but maybe a centrally needed thought. I'll see you around the next bend in the river.

Connecting

I'm an off-the-chart introvert. That doesn't mean that I don't like people; I really do. It just means that I tend to draw life energy from within rather than from folks around me. I can be perfectly content with my own company. (When I lived in the Kansas City area I had an extroverted associate who was stunned that I'd get up at 4 a.m., drive three hours south and east to a state trout impoundment by myself, fish alone for three hours, and drive three hours back, and be happy as a clam!)

In spite of this, however, I have a basic need to connect. Two recent events in my life accentuated this truth. During my wife's extended illness late last year I came home night after night to an empty house. I really wanted other people around. I spent two months this summer apart from the congregation in which I served. I missed them, and I felt lonely away from them. Even the most introverted among us have a fundamental need to connect.

How do you think we're doing at connecting? I remember when personal computers first hit the market in businesses and homes. We were told that a cyber world would streamline our work lives and we would have more and more leisure time to enjoy each other's company. I think it's gone the other way. We're 24/7 busy and barely have time to say "hello" to one another. We say that cyber-communicating, Facebook, texting, Twittering and all the rest have expanded our capability to communicate in an exponential way. Maybe it's helped us to move data and images without limits, but is it helping us to connect? Are we any better at sharing time and space in the physical presence of another human being?

Jesus followers believe that we are wired for connection. They say that the God in whose image we are made is relational, and we are created for relationship with the God and with each other. Without that we are creatures failing to live the purpose for which we are made, they say.

Are we made that way? How are we doing at connecting? I'll see you around the next bend in the river.