Why I go to church

 

PeopleCrossOn the way to church last Sunday, I saw that a friend of mine had checked in on Facebook at a Buddhist temple near her home. She had not shared a status remark, only choosing an icon that indicated she was “feeling peaceful”.

This person was not raised Buddhist. In fact, she was raised in a Christian culture but had left religion some time ago. I wondered… was she looking for God again and just happened to end up in that temple? Or did she intentionally go there seeking the peace about which she posted?  I looked forward to our visit next month so we could talk about it over a meal.

But I couldn’t get it out of my mind as I pulled in to the parking lot of my own beloved place of worship.

I arrived a little late. The music had already started as I settled in to my seat and soon, the pastor began to speak. He’s an excellent teacher and normally, I don’t want to miss a word, a nuance, a pearl.

But I was distracted as I thought again about my friend who was sitting in that Buddhist temple at precisely that same moment. I wanted to understand how our experiences might be similar or how they might be different.  I started asking myself why do I go to church on Sunday mornings? Was I there, like my friend, to feel peaceful? or was there something else?

(As an aside, while peace is often found at church, sometimes it just isn’t because well, there are people there. If feeling peaceful is the main reason I go, perhaps I could spare myself the effort and just go chill on the bluff over the ocean near my house by myself. Now THAT would be peaceful.  A friend of mine once joked “church would be so great if it weren’t for all those people”.  While we might laugh at that, if we were totally honest, we might agree. People at church sometimes just bug! Sometimes they might even snub us.  And those in leadership might even fail us.  We can get hurt and jaded and as a result, we might stop going.  I’ve sure had my share of experiences along these lines and understand the initial emotions. But I digress.)

church1

SO… why DO I go to church?

I know I don’t go because I think I have to or because it suddenly makes me more spiritual or because I believe it is the only place where God is found. I don’t go because I think I’m better than you; in fact, I go to church because I’m a mess, because I can sometimes lose my way and forget who I am.

I go to listen to a guy I trust share from the Bible about Christ’s character and His plan and how I get to participate in it despite how flawed I am.

I go because I need community.  My grandfather used to say “if you want to become a better tennis player, than play with someone who is better than you.” I need to regularly sharpen and deepen my faith by regularly rubbing up against others who live in the way I claim to believe because frankly, sometimes my blade just gets dull.

I go to church to expose myself to even more opportunities to serve. To serve when it doesn’t fit into the schedule or when it’s unglamorous or when it’s awkward or when it costs something is service like none other. I can get pretty insular which can sometimes lead to depression and when I give or serve, I swear, it snaps me right out of it. I can serve in many places in my city and I can send a check to an NGO I trust, but to serve where you will see those people again and again… well, it’s like a shot of Vitamin B.

I go to be reminded that I’m a daughter of royalty and don’t need to be afraid of terrorism or any other earthly insecurity.

But mostly, I go to church because I’m grateful.  I can’t explain to you, but even after all these years, the idea that God would still want to hang out with broken and flawed me still surprises me.  So I go.

I go to join my spiritual family in showing appreciation for, honor and reverence and homage to Jesus… the One I love, trust, and to Whom I owe my life.

And oh yeah… we SING!

 

“As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”

Proverbs 27:17

“Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God.”

Colossians 3:16

Bullhorns and Bob Dylan

I love Facebook.  Blogs. Instagram. Twitter.  All of it.

I look forward to seeing Tracey’s latest ocean adventure or chew on the profundity of Donald Miller or hear myself say “awww” each morning as I read Jen’s quotes posted to encourage all who stop by.  I love Catherine‘s Biblical wisdom and Mackenzie’s scientific brilliant wit.  I could swear I smelled the garlic as I read Brian‘s descriptive account of his and the fam’s adventures at their Tuscany cooking school and I was so happy to fete my sister when I saw she received award at work recognizing her accomplishments.  My nephew’s adventures as he settles in to his first apartment in LA would very possibly have not made its way on to my radar if not for social media, and without it, I might not have known to pray for Allie in the early days of her cancer.  And to miss my daily belly laugh, courtesy of Seth, or the hilarity that comes through Deanna’s or Junko‘s mommy musings … are you kidding me?  Quelle horreur.

It’s like having my own pleasant little neighborhood coffee shop where everyone knows my name and where I can poke my head in when I have a minute to sip a cup of joe as I hear quick updates from folks I wouldn’t otherwise see.  Call me Pollyanna, but it often feels like my own little Mayberry.  In that place, people often make statements about their truth, whatever that might be and although I may not always agree with their position, I appreciate hearing it as I see it as an opportunity to gain a little more insight into who they are.

But in an instant, that lovely atmosphere can get poisoned.  You know what I’m talking about: those times when it is as if someone walks into that corner meeting place with a bullhorn in hand and publicly blasts that person’s truth, and all of us on the sidelines are forced to witness the verbal carnage in front of us.  All it takes is a couple of acerbic volleys between two opposing points of view and bam,  we all just want to head for the door or at the very least, select “unfriend”.

Really, what could possibly be accomplished when we bash Kirk Cameron or the POTUS on our newsfeed?  Do we actually believe we’re going to change a person’s opinion about DOMA by blasting our viewpoint, or do we really think Christians are going to suddenly kick their God to the curb because someone bullies them on Facebook for their beliefs?

I just don’t think that clubbing someone over the head with a quote by Jon Stewart or Huck or the Huffington Post or even the Bible as a means to win an argument serves any purpose except to unnecessarily cause division. Sure, we need to stand for truth when the time is right and yes, we live in the land of free speech… but in that setting?  Just because we can… should we?

When I look at the whole counsel of Scripture, I see that no matter who He encountered in public, Jesus hit the core of everyone He met with love and in fact, said that love wins.

Every time.

My mother has always said “You can always say more, but you can never say less.”  Good advice, mom.

As I was chewing on all this the other day an old protest song came to my mind and before I knew it, I’d penned my own satirical rewrite as my own little protest.  I hope Bob doesn’t mind.

 

(Listen to Bob Dylan sing “The Times, They Are A Changin”)
 
Come gather ’round people wherever you roam
And see that the whole world around us has thrown
Us a curve ball that no one could guess would be shown
So many around us are hating
What if we looked inward to see how we’re prone
For the times, they are a changin’
 
Come right wings and liberals
Who shake hard your fists
And keep up the rancor and how you insist
That your bents and opinions are all catalysts
For the changes you think should be raging
For whoever wins now will be later to lose
And your ground, it’s slowly fading
 
Come family and old friends throughout the land
Do criticize what you can’t understand
And pound down your fist but the flame will be fanned
Insist the opposer’s worth blamin’
Though red or though blue, all opinions remand
And your cause, no one is listening
 
And God, what thinks You as this tumult abounds?
You must feel so saddened as Your kids expound
On their theories and slants as their prejudice unbounds
The twists on Your truth they are making
Straight on at a mirror we all need to gaze
At ourselves, we all need changing.

And in closing, some great advice from the best selling Book of all time:

“’I have the right to do anything,’ you say—but not everything is beneficial. ‘I have the right to do anything’—but not everything is constructive. No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.'”
1 Corinthians 10:22
 
 “One of them, an expert in the law, tested Him with this question: ‘Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?’ Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’  This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.’
Matthew 22:35-40

Sylvia Lange is a Christian women’s speaker who lives in Southern California.

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In the soup

After 49 years, I found my thing.

Growing up and living at the ocean, I have body surfed, skin dived, kayaked, sailed, and just about any and everything else having to do with the big blue.  But it wasn’t until 4 years ago that I and that great expanse became one and since then, it’s all been about the board.

The great thing about stand-up paddle boarding is your vantage point.  As you glide high above the surface of the water you are afforded great views of what’s under the surface as well as what’s out in front of you.  I’ve paddled on my Takayama Ali’i II Wolf bought for me on Mission Bay, Trinity Lake, Tahoe,  and all over the Sea of Cortez.  But it doesn’t matter where I’m paddling; as long as I’m on the water, I’m a happy girl.  I’ve seen sharks beneath me, have been followed by sea lions, and have chased dolphins.  Lola loves it too and in carrying her extra 90 pounds, my overall balance has gotten strong.

I started paddling with my pal Holly off the Lawrence Street beach on the backside of Shelter Island.  Like me, she’s fearless, doesn’t care if it’s raining or sunny, and is just as happy going out on a windy day when there’s chop as she is to go out on morning glass.  We even like it when a big wake from a boat hits us because it forces us to get creative in how we’re going to stay upright as we know from experience that even the smallest stirring of the water can throw you in if you’re not on the alert.  As we’ve raced and challenged each other, our power has increased and our balance has gotten rock solid and now, we rarely even get wet.  Secretly, I think we’re a little puffed up about that.

Not long ago though, Holly and I were paddling hard out in the harbor and a speedboat came up from behind, passing us way over to the right.  We accounted for his wake, waved and kept on paddling and talking.  The boat quickly went out of view but a few minutes later, remnants of its wake touched us from behind and bam, I was suddenly overboard.  It was the smallest of ripples but it knocked me over with the strength of a cresting wave.  Major bummer too, as I was fully clothed.

As I pulled my soaking wet, red-faced self back on to my board it occurred to me that in that moment, I was a living metaphor.  I was struck that it’s not the big stuff that most typically tosses me on my butt; no, it’s the little things that throw me off balance and put me into the soup.

Funny how we can flip out when we forget our wallet, lose our keys, or hear we’ve been criticized by a coworker we barely know.  We practically alert the media when our cell phone company messes up our account, we ding our fresh pedicure, a friend cancels at the last minute, our flight’s been delayed, or discover that our bank account is overdrawn.  I’m convinced it’s not the elephants in the living room that typically get us… it’s the ants in the kitchen!

I need to not be a drama mama over little things that ultimately don’t matter.  As Richard Carlson so aptly puts it in his book title of the same name, Don’t sweat the small stuff and (by the way)– it’s all small stuff.  For God’s sake, there are way bigger things to be concerned about.  I want to be consistent and surrendered to the Power that is greater than I, even in little matters.  If I am going to call myself a Christian, then for crying out loud, I’d better live more like I believe it… even with small things.   People watch how we handle what life doles out, large or small, and we shouldn’t allow ourselves to be derailed, uprooted, or thrown overboard by things we’ll forget about by Tuesday.  I, for one, want to handle life with more consistency and grace, aided by the power of my faith and the strength of my tribe, no matter the tiny little ripples that might hit from behind.

“Whoever can be trusted with small things can also be trusted with big things.”
Luke 16:10a ETRV

 

 

Sylvia Lange is a Christian women’s speaker from Southern California.

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Keep your eye on the gate

There is so much to say today, yet I struggle to find the words.  Odd, really, because first of all, I am rarely at a loss for words and besides, there are so many questions and thoughts and feelings swirling inside of me, refusing to be buttoned up in a tidy place.  But here I sit.

Today a close group of us are thinking  about how a special someone- a living, breathing soul, who once had children and house plants and a brother and friendships, a devoted husband, hobbies and favorite songs- can be here one minute, with opinions and agendas and things to say, with life and blood pulsing through her body… and then in the next minute while the rest of us are fighting traffic, blow-drying our hair, standing in line or watching Seinfeld, be just plain gone from this earth. Oh sure, we are certain my beautiful aunt’s new home is with God because of choices she made while she was here but man, we will  miss her while we are all still here fighting traffic, blow drying our hair, standing in line and watching Seinfeld.

After sitting with her the other day, just hours before she moved from earth and then getting the text from my cousin later that evening that she had left, I recounted all the things that made this sassy, edgy woman iconic in my mind. How she poured her 50-year-old body into a bikini to catch some waves, not caring what anyone thought.  How my grandmother died with no bedsores on her body because my aunt painstakingly cared for her in her last days in a hospital bed in the middle of her living room.  How this beach girl took on New York later in life as she managed the life and career of a Broadway songwriting icon.  And how she taught me that, like the words of a song I recorded on my first album, when it’s all said and done, grace is what mattered to determine my destiny, not works.

Her passing this week emphasized this as I pondered the story she’d lived.  Like most, hers was a day in and day out culmination of tasks, some big and important, but most, mundane, uneventful and quotidian.  But the more I think about it, those small things just may matter at least as much, if not more than the big stuff because those seemingly insignificant tasks add up- unseen, mostly- but I believe our everyday choices bleed together and before we know it, our story has been written.

When the day comes when those I love lay my body to rest, I want my story to have mattered.  I want the people in my life and those who might’ve been watching it to be able to say like the brilliant Shelley Pimentel did “… to be glad they existed on the page with me. (I want them) To feel loved. Fully. Leaps and bounds above even the kind of love we pay boatloads of money to find on the big screen. I want people to feel invested in and cared for and known and like their stories matter, matter a lot, to me too. And I want people, through my story, to somehow see God. To see Him moving and breathing and re-creating inside me. And to be drawn to experience the same.”

And so Auntie, as we say farewell to you today just above the beach you loved so much, I want you to know you mattered.  A whole lot.

And keep your eye on the gate… we’ll be there soon.

 

 

God Himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” And the One sitting on the throne said, “Look, I am making everything new!”

Revelation 21:3b-5a NLT

 

 

Sylvia Lange is a Christian women’s speaker who lives in Southern California.

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Pancakes, cows, and Mom

My mother is a recovering Southern Belle.  She would still be Emily Post’s only begotten child if not for having her dignified roots collide with my father’s California surfer casualness in the 60s. Years after moving away from the daily influence of her refined Northerner mother and bonafide Southern gentleman father, she too became more and more casual with time. But even though Daddy has successfully loosened her up over the years, she has never lost her connection to her Memphis upbringing.

You see it everywhere in her life in some hilarious but mostly thoughtful ways. One would never pour ketchup straight out of the bottle in her house; of course not, it’s ladled from a silver bowl.  She would never think of drinking coffee out of anything other than a porcelain teacup.  Thank you notes are in the outgoing mail by nightfall, usually penned on engraved monogrammed note cards. She would never show up to a wedding without having sent a gift weeks ahead, wouldn’t dream of letting her living room be devoid of fresh flowers at any time, and never, no never would she arrive at your home for dinner without a case of your favorite fruit, an exotic round of cheese, or an orchid in tow. As a child, I drank root beer floats out of a crystal goblet, never wore pants on public transportation, and owned two pair of gloves by the time I was 6.

However, it is in her speech where her “Southernness” is especially apparent.  Her Tennessean drawl is still alive and well after over 50 years on the west coast and she isn’t afraid to use it to get what she wants… and she always does. No lie, that archetype shows up when you least expect it. She can get total strangers to do the most unbelievable things by simply purring “Oh my, I’m in a terrible jam and I just know you’d love to help me”.  (Admit it: you’re reading this with an accent, aren’t you?)

Further, she uses all kinds of colorful expressions that people from that corner of the world are known for.   Though I adore them today, we would often cringe as kids and struggle with “calling her blessed”.  No kidding, there wasn’t a situation I’d face for which she didn’t have an expression at the ready. If I was tempted to telephone the latest heartthrob who didn’t even know I existed, she’d be quick to tell me “Darlin’, don’t you know a good cow sells tied in her stall?” If I complained about someone who had wronged me, she’d say “Sweetie, just remember that no pancake is so thin that it doesn’t have two sides.” When I’d criticize a boss or a politician, Mom would empathetically spew “Oh honey, he doesn’t know if he’s a foot or on horseback.” Oh yah, I’ve got a million of ’em.

But it’s the expressions she’d say in my darker moments that stick with me the most. When my fiancée cheated on me when I was 26, she scooped me up and defiantly stated “Sweetheart, let him pound sand because he doesn’t deserve someone as amazing as you”. When I was going through a phase of joblessness, she’d continually hurrumph “Sugar, something is going to happen any day now because there is no one as capable as you”.  When I thought I’d lost my faith, she whispered “God’s still got you, sweetie.” And when I came to the end of the asphalt 14 years ago and was finally ready to transform the way I was living, Mom’s unhesitant response was her usual “I am soooo proud of you”, which quite simply helped to change my life.

The way she has mothered me has also taught me what to look for in other mom influences in my life.  I’m not sure I would’ve recognized the powerful impact my spiritual mom Gail would have on me at first if Mom hadn’t not only encouraged the relationship in its early days, but in fact, strongly urged it.  Even now when I’m struggling with something, she’ll ask “have you talked to Gail about it?”

Here’s the thing.  She’s not technically my mother.  But then again, I guess that depends on what definition of the word you use. She got me and my two older siblings in the deal when she married my father and endured all kinds of drama that sometimes goes along with being a stepmother. She went on to have a child of her own who shares her DNA.  I don’t. I don’t have her nose. I don’t have her body type. She’s short and I’m tall.  But she is my mother.  And in more ways than not I’m proud to say I’m just like her.  She knows me better than many biological moms know their daughters and has taught me that you don’t necessarily have to give birth to be a real mom, something I’ve needed as I co-mom my own stepdaughter.

I may not have my mother’s blood in my veins but that matters bupkes to me.  I may not have her hair or her eyes or her ample bustline, but I have her heart, her values… and maybe even a few of her Southern ways.

So, the next time you ask me what I think about something you want to do and I respond with “Honey, you need to do that like a fish needs a bicycle”… you’ll understand.

Her children stand and bless her.

Proverbs 31:28

 

Sylvia Lange is a Christian women’s speaker who lives in Southern California.

Read Sylvia’s other posts, and LIKE her on Facebook!

A special kind of downpour

Guest post by Dave P.  

A special post for friends of recovery

 

Angels pass through our lives, often unnoticed.  Whether we are aware of their presence or not, we are changed because of them and in many cases, our emotional lives are saved because they stopped to touch us.  I’ve had a few such whisk through my life to show me the way and wanted to introduce you to two of them.

I’m quite certain that if you look up “loving” in the dictionary it will say “see Dave and Polly P.”  There aren’t two people alive who understand what it means to love “on” people quite like these two.  There are souls in scores of countries who owe their very lives to this duo as they share their experience, strength, and hope the world over, and give as if the well will never run dry.  They share Who God is in a language few can deny and all can understand… the language of love.  These two shower a deluge of encouragement over anyone who falls in their path and I dare anyone who has gotten soaked by them to say so here. If you want to see that kind of God in action, watch Him work in Dave and Polly as they demonstrate how to truly live the “abundant life” in the service of others.

I’ve been one of the fortunates who have experienced this catalytic force up close and personal.  I knew Polly over 30 years ago as I watched her guide many a lost soul to wellness in the world of recovery from alcoholism. I had long since lost track of her but the day I reached the end of my asphalt 14 years ago, I remembered her, found her, and asked her for help.  As usual, her dance card was filled up as she was already helping a passel of women, but she made time for me, and for nearly five months she and Dave held my hand on a daily basis as I learned how to walk, feel, and pee again as a different person.

Although they now live on the other side of the country, these two still bless my life.  Not long ago when soaking up Dave’s special kind of downpour, I saw some of his writing and asked him to be a guest blogger someday.  He agreed, and I decided today is that day.  So close your eyes (as it were), feel the scenes he describes, and though this is just a taste… folks, meet the unique and wonderful DAVE.

It was another morning in Birch Bay where the weather kept us guessing. In my past, I had never liked changes in weather all that much. After having grown up in Texas, I went on to spend the majority of my life in Southern California where one could expect warm, clear skies 95% of the time. But sunshine relentlessly showered down on everything as a steady diet can slowly become tedious. Each day was the same: sun, sun, and more sun with not even a stray cloud now and then to intrude on the yellowish brown smog-smeared blue – only sun. Those in the earlier seasons of their lives might consider it heavenly, but then again, maybe that’s because hormones are raging and the desire for a slim, tanned body is insurmountable. The beach, the surf, the bikini, the sand… it’s intoxicating. But when we moved up to that blessed community on Washington’s extreme northwest coast, complete with its rain and clouds, I thought I’d found heaven.

We had WEATHER.In the early part of the day, I stood on my deck and drew in a great lungful of clear, clean air in the fifty degree coolness. At first, the sun flirted with a mess of cumulus clouds. The gulls out over the bay were doing what they always do — circling, squawking, diving. In front of me were four spruce trees near the deck. One was a dead snag that was unabashedly naked. Great bald eagles would sit in those trees in the spring and summer when the salmon were running.  I once saw a splendid regal goshawk admiring his world while sitting on the end of a large bare branch. He didn’t seem to mind that I watched him in awe for over an hour and then without notice, he dropped off the branch, soared out over the bay, caught a fish, and brought it back to the limb where he fastidiously dined to my heart’s content.

As the day wore on, the sky began to darken and wet stuff started to fall from the sky. I zipped my jacket up around my neck and remembered how I used to dislike such inclement weather.  In the past, if the weather was going to be bad, I would just stay home. But here I was, excited over the looming darkness.  I guess when I moved to the Northwest, my perspective on all that changed. While there I lived in a veritable rain forest which was merely glorious, with greens that saturated my eyes and were spiritually soothing. But for a guy like me to even be able to notice that kind of beauty, there has to be a lot of rain.

Why do I tell you all this?

I never had this perspective before.  I always sought comfort at all costs. I never heard life, felt life, or cared about life quite like I do now as I walk in the sunlight light of the Spirit. So what happened? Well, one stormy day, my life took a turn when I realized I had been wasting it in the “comfort” of “low living”. I had been settling… SETTLING for a shallow meaningless existence. I hadn’t noticed that my life was passing me by and worse yet, I was powerless to change it’s direction. I could come up with only one thing to do: I humbly asked God to come in and fill my eyes, my ears, my mind and my heart with new things and over time, I started to understand that a rain forest must have foul weather if it is to flourish.

Eventually, I got it. The question was really: “Dave, do you want to be just a spectator in God’s world or do you want to be a participant?”

I thought of my Texas roots in considering my answer. I remembered a mantra I had heard in my youth: “Pull your hat on tight, take a deep seat, get a faraway look in your eyes, give that bucking strap an extra yank, and yell ‘turn him out!’” Perhaps nurtured by my advancing age and whatever wisdom I may have accumulated along the way (with maybe a dash of the courage that comes from a deep belief in God thrown in), I remembered those words as I faced the years I have left and decided to give that strap a strong tug.

If you’re facing foul weather, don’t be afraid of the fierce downpour that may lie ahead. Maybe you could decide to be a participant in your own destiny. Live the life that wants to live you. “Don’t be afraid”, a voice in my head said.. I asked myself: how close to God do I want to be? I decided I want to climb right up there in His lap. Don’t you? Sure. So why not go for it… what have you got to lose? It may be pouring outside but you know what? There’s a break in the clouds right up here in His lap… come on up into the sunshine.

 For information on Alcoholics Anonymous, please visit aa.org.

 

Sylvia Lange is a Christian women’s speaker who lives in Southern California.

The Most Interesting Man In The World

I always dreamed I’d marry someone like my father. He was exciting, daring, curious, charismatic, and not afraid of anything. I was convinced he walked on water and was pretty sure there was no one out there who could hold a candle to him.

And then came Wolf.

One evening early in our marriage on a flight home from Atlanta I woke up from a nap midway through the trip and noticed him hard at work on a yellow pad. I leaned over to see what he was doing and he hunched over the page, shielding it from my eyes. Now, too intrigued even to respect the privacy of my new husband I begged to see what he was doing. After repeated attempts to peel his fingers off the pad, he finally relented and bashfully showed me what he’d been working on.

Before continuing, it’s probably only fair to tell you that I married “The Most Interesting Man in the World”. No, I mean THE GUY. Both sides of this guy’s brain fire on all cylinders as he goes through life as a business owner, a competitive athlete, chef, adventurer, sculptor, and so many other things. Our daughter says he’s the kind of guy you want to be with when you’re in a real jam because he will just simply get you out of it.

His appetite for adventure and travel were two things that particularly attracted me from the gate. Like my dad, there seemed to be no end to what he’d done or would do. Before we met, this Indiana Jones had experienced a lot of unusual things, exposing himself to a side of life most only see on a beer commercial or read about in a magazine. He had stared down the barrel of an Afghani nomad’s rifle in Band-e-Amir over a fifty cent dispute on his horse. He had paddled with a pod of dolphins a thousand strong while kayaking off Espiritu Santu. He photographed rhinos in the Brahmaputra from the back of an elephant. He once circumvented the entire shoreline of the largest lake in Bali, water skiing so long his fingers couldn’t hold a pen the next day to sign his name. Out of respect for the atoll’s custom, he once ate the heart of a tuna given to him by a Tuamotoan woman while it was still beating. He made mango crepes while 30-foot waves crashed over the bow of the sailboat on which he and his buddies crossed the Atlantic Ocean. He had eaten thousand year old eggs in China, crickets in India, and salamanders in Hong Kong.

But I digress. Back to the yellow pad.

At the top he had written “Things To Do Before I Die”. It started off with
1. Explore Patagonia.
2. Kayak around the islands on the Sea of Cortez.

Okay. Sounds like him. He continued:

3. Sleep on the crater floor at Uhuru Peak.
4. Take Sylvia down the Baja peninsula in the van.
5. Be a greeter at my church.

Wait… what?

The list went on:
6. Enter the Molokai Challenge.
7. Build a house for someone who doesn’t have one.

Whoa, whoa… what was that last thing?

Buried in a list of things typically featured in outdoor magazines were two little pearls. Easy to miss, but oh, so telling. Those two pedestrian items were placed right alongside things on which adventure movies are made but they told me more about the soul of this man than anything I read that night.

Since that day some of these things have been done (I highly recommend the drive down Baja, by the way; EPIC).

The economy has tightened though and we are using our scarce dollars in other ways, suspending his quest to finish the list for now.  But his unquenchable zest to live life to the fullest hasn’t been snuffed out and besides, he’s begun to make a new list:

1. Start every morning in the Word.
2. Adopt an older adult with no kids of her own.
3. Pray my daughter will want nothing more or less than what God wants for her life.

Although initially attracted to his daring spirit, it is now his gentleness, generous heart, and commitment to God that draws me to him the most. Today, I think he’s way more interesting than ‘The Most Interesting Man In the World”!

So what’s the point of going on and on about Wolf? None really. I just like to talk about him.

But I do think we all need our very own bucket list. Life’s so short, why not dream BIG and commit ink to goals that will supercharge the few years we have on this planet? Our lists shouldn’t only include things that require money we don’t have or personality traits we don’t possess. What would happen if our list reflected a change in the definition of what interesting is? What if our list demonstrated a focused effort to pour into the lives of others? Bob Goff says it simply: “Love does“. To be the mom who raises kids who know they are loved, the teen who spends free time with seniors who have no one else, the business professional who pushes a competitor forward, the family who makes room for a foster child, the secretary who buys a bag of groceries for the co-worker who is struggling, the unemployed person who sponsors a 3rd world child, the busy dad who takes an 15 extra minutes to mow the difficult neighbor’s lawn, the single guy who volunteers a Sunday a month in the nursery… these are the places where character lives.

So do tell… what’s on your bucket list?

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
Galatians 5:22-23

 

 

Sylvia Lange is a Christian women’s speaker who lives in Southern California.

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Hang a right

When you look at this image, what do you see? One person might say it’s a silhouette of a woman while the next sees a man playing a sax.

So which is it?

A singer on a stage will hear something vastly different when staring down the throat of the speaker’s horn than what she hears upon taking just two steps to the right. The dark image up ahead the hiker is sure is a bear ends up being a rock when he advances just 20 feet. The neighbor who bugs the snot out of you today ends up being a treasure after you find out she’s the one who called the police when an intruder broke in your house. A prolonged period of great financial uncertainty becomes the very thing that confirms deep in your spirit that you can’t only depend on your own ability.

When circumstances suck, many of us get stuck. But even a tiny step in either direction can make that which we initially viewed or heard or felt one way suddenly look, feel, and sound completely different.

When I came face to face with my alcoholism 13 years ago, life seemed to be over. It was as if I’d been bathing in emotional cement which had hardened when I wasn’t looking and I couldn’t see my way out of the mess I’d created. I’d failed everyone I loved and everything I attempted and felt nothing but shame about who I’d become. I was stuck and wanted to die.

But then.

After walking block after block down the depressing road that was my life, out of nowhere I took a right and found myself on a new path. Here, nothing looked familiar but man-oh-man, the light felt good. On this road, there were trees and empty lots where kids played basketball, and all that would come out of my mouth was “thank You”. With the help of good people, a solid program, and a new understanding of a great God, the reflection I’d see in the windows as I passed revealed that indeed, I was beginning to look like a new creature. Over time, the feeling of shame that had choked out all semblance of living within me was replaced with the overwhelming awareness that it had all been a gift.

My friend Ann showed us how it’s done recently after a long and devastating battle with cancer. As she began to take the turn on to heaven’s road, she chose not to feel sorry for herself but rather to thank God through it all. She continued to thank Him, even up to the time she gracefully moved from her current location to her celestial zip code last week, inspiring all who watched her go through the fire.

Perspective.

When one of my girls was hit with breast cancer this Spring at the age of 30, she decided to articulate gratitude instead of swimming in fear as she went through a double mastectomy. Though still dealing with it, Erin has come through this ordeal a vibrant and catalytic believer, profoundly influencing the spiritual lives of all she touches.

Perspective.

Is that really all it takes? Yah, pretty much. That, and a belief that a Power greater than ourselves can restore us to a place of wholeness. Things we thought were insurmountable become small mounds when we give it up, make it a practice to turn it over to God on a daily basis, and watch the Spirit do mind-blowing things inside of us.

I believe this stuff, I really do, and everything has changed as a result. Is my life all sewn up? Not even close. In fact, at this writing I’m going through one of the scariest things I’ve ever faced. I’m anxious and I’m scared– but I’m not derailed. In fact, I see my connection to God deepening and the size of my own agenda decreasing as my eyes are glued to His. When life is going well there is a tendency to give Him a fleeting glance but I thank Him for this trial because through it, I’m getting more in the “habit of Him” as I hang on to Him more than ever before. I also know I need people who want the same things I do. I need caring souls to refresh my memory that I’m God’s very favorite child or I’ll get caught in the cement again. I need folks with a sunny outlook and a great faith to remind me that God is nuts about me and doesn’t want me to stay stuck. Perspective shift? You bet. In fact, the way I see it these days is that I have the extraordinary life I have today all because once upon a time I drank too much. No matter what your issue is, we have Power available to us to squash our flaws, foibles, failures, and fears– we only need to seize it… and live like we believe it.

Maybe the skyscrapers on the road you’re on are so tall they’re blocking out the light. It seems no one notices your feet are dragging. But up ahead is an intersection; you can keep walking down this street or you can make a turn up in the next block. You may be unemployed, on the verge of divorce, ill, bankrupt, or just plain lonely. Take a different path. Hang a right. Get out from in front of your computer, have someone move your bed, bring the phone closer to you… whatever you’re doing or wherever you are, call or go talk to someone. Now. One of my favorite passages from James says “Tell your stuff to another person”; the words on the page actually say “confess your sins one to another” but what it’s telling us is open your mouth and tell another human being the exact nature of what you’re up against. Why? “So you may be healed”. Healed. Trite? Maybe. But pinky swear, this stuff works.

It takes guts, but come on… you can do it. Hang a right.

“I sought the Lord and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to Him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. This poor (wo)man called and the Lord heard him; He saved him out of all his troubles.” Psalm 34:4-6

 

Sylvia is a singer and Christian women’s speaker, and lives in Southern California.

Read Sylvia’s other posts, and LIKE her on Facebook!

We cry… God cries with us

Most of us have searched in vain for words in response to the horrific massacre at Sandy Hook yesterday that capped off a year of senseless shootings in the US.  What evil could possibly provoke this young man to so viciously destroy the lives of innocent teachers and aides, and brutally steal the futures of pure, unblemished children?  The heartbreak and devastation that gushes out of a tragedy like this is simply unthinkable.

Last night and this morning I searched for answers in the pages of the Bible and all I could find were verses describing how much God loves those school staff members.  How much he treasures those precious young children.  How much His heart breaks for the families of those whose lives were rubbed out.

But I must admit, I still don’t get it.

But based on all I know about God and His love for His kids, I trust that despite all the pain and loss, He still understands… He still loves… and He still has a plan for a future and a hope for those who love Him.

Unable to find my own words to describe the feelings that wash over me this day, I am grateful for the words of my friend Stefanie Kelly and, with her permission, I have posted a poignant, tender song below that she wrote.  This beautiful piece of poetry was written years ago in the face of a tragedy in her own family and as a result of writing it, great comfort has been brought to many who have gone through their own personal crises.  As you listen, I pray you too will draw comfort in these sensitive, sweet words (lyrics reprinted below).

CLICK ON IMAGE

I KNOW HE KNOWS

I don’t know why the flowers bloom and then they fade
I don’t know when the winds will change
I don’t know why the love of many will wax cold
But I know He knows

I don’t know when the sun will shine or when it hides
I don’t know when the waves will subside
I don’t know why it takes a storm to make me grow
But I know He knows

And though my heart may never know the reason for the pain
And my eyes may only see the rain
The answers why may never come, but hope still floods my soul
I don’t know why but I know He knows

I don’t know why the heavens open wide and cry
I don’t know why the well, oh it runs dry
I don’t know how He turns a heart of stone to gold
But I know He knows

And though my heart may never know the reason for the pain
And my eyes, they may only see the rain
The answers why may never come, but hope still floods my soul
I don’t know why…

And though my heart may never know the reason for the pain
And my eyes, they may only see the rain
The answers why may never come, but hope still floods my soul
I don’t know why butI don’t know why

I don’t know why Messiah died for one like me
I’ll never understand His grace
I’ll never comprehend such love in Him alone
But I know He knows

Copyright 2003 Stefanie Kelly
Used and posted by permission.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Psalm 34:18

 

Sylvia is a singer and Christian women’s speaker, and lives in Southern California.

Read Sylvia’s other posts, and LIKE her on Facebook!

Christmas isn’t Christmas without…

 MUSIC!   

Every year, right after Thanksgiving, we hoist down the Christmas box out of the attic, and before locating the Santa Baby doll that was bought the year I was born, before unwrapping the delicate blown glass ornament my mother gave us when we were married, even before locating the fragile and precious paper ornament Mariah made when she was 5… I find the red leather portfolio that holds the Christmas music.

As I load the CD player with my love worn favorites, it doesn’t take but a second for the memories of Christmases gone by to wash over me.  Even though the Southern California sun may be burning brightly,  I am immediately transported to visions of a white Christmas as in my mind I slide down the hill in the snow on my red disk sled at Grandma’s mountain cabin.

Music does that.  It has magic qualities more powerful than any drug.  In fact, it can be one of the most effective therapies to completely change your frame of mind.  Just try to fight it.

If you’re happy, feel yourself slide into unbridled mirth after listening to Leonard Patton’s “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer (don’t miss it… it’ll make your day).   Experience the wonder of God’s gift to the world as you listen to Billye’s killer version of “Mary Did You Know?.  If you’re feeling blue, don’t even attempt to battle the change of heart a little Burl Ives’ “Holly Jolly Christmas” will cause within.  Feel the love flood over you as Bing Crosby sings “White Christmas“.  Taste the frisky as Natalie Cole and James Taylor purr “Baby, It’s Cold Outside”.   And  I dare you to withstand the weight of melancholy one second longer after listening to Chris Tomlin rock “Joy To The World“.

What are some of your favorites?     (Keep reading… contest details coming up…)

Below are some of mine.  For me, Christmas just isn’t Christmas without these in the rotation.  They’re all available on iTunes but just in case you’d like the physical CD or vinyl version, I’ve made it easy for you; all you have to do is click on the album cover image.   

 

All that’s ever required for me to truly exhale is a little sweet baby James.  How it took so long for this hero of mine to put out a Christmas CD is anyone’s guess, but a few years ago, it appeared… and it did not disappoint.  Let his version of Joni’s “River” wash over you and just say “ahhh…” .

I couldn’t squander this opportunity to shamelessly plug my own Christmas album, featuring a mix of jazz, Celtic, and traditional renderings of some classics.  I must admit though, I really do love this record and hope you will order a copy right now while it’s on sale for just $8!  Don’t miss “Uncle” Hugh’s “Have Yourself A Blessed Little Christmas”, with new sacred lyrics that describe the real Reason for the season. 

Staci Frenes is a fellow World Vision artist and an accomplished singer-songwriter with several records under her belt you won’t want to miss.  This holiday album is a favorite of mine… fresh and pure, and her song “Wise Men and Angels” will tear your heart out as you worship the Object of her affection.

Not only is my friend Mike Schmid a poet, keyboardist, arranger, producer, and father, but he also plays keyboards and sings with the likes of Miley Cyrus and many others.  His own Christmas EP is a favorite of mine and I know you’ll agree when you hear the beauty of his writing/arranging. Pay special attention to his original “Full House” and be transported to those raucous, fun, family Christmases full of your own family’s usual suspects.

What would Christmas be without a little “tender Tennessee Christmas”?  I never tire of this record by the sweet Amy Grant.  Click the image above and be taken to a site where you can get both this classic album along with her “Christmas to Remember”.

Need a lift?   A little Take 6 and you won’t be able to wipe the smile off your face.

Sara Groves is, hands down,  Wolf’s and my favorite Christian artist any time of year, but her Christmas offering is our favorite.  There isn’t anything this child of God writes, sings, or subscribes to that we don’t adore.

 What’s not to love about Michael McDonald?  When “Through The Many Winters” first came out a few years ago it was only available in Hallmark shops but now you can get it here. Click on the album cover image to pick one up for dirt cheap, and don’t waste a minute when it arrives!

 

Sylvia is a singer and Christian women’s speaker, and lives in Southern California.

Read Sylvia’s other posts, and LIKE her on Facebook!

I once had a rich uncle

 

Before he died at the age of 96 last year, “Uncle Hugh” was one of the world’s wealthiest men, with a treasure trove that exceeded anything I’d ever heard of.  He was overwhelmingly generous with his riches, dispensing every bit of the love and joy and encouragement he owned to everyone he knew.

The world knew him best as the composer of many Broadway hits from the 40s and 50s, with his biggest hit being “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”, written for Judy Garland in 1944 for the musical “Meet Me In St. Louis”.  That lovely piece of music has rung out in shopping malls, elevators, and car radios ever since and does a great job of heralding in the Christmas season like no other.  You may have heard the recording he and I made of the new version of that song whereby he had rewritten the words, top to bottom, reflecting what he now knew to be the real Reason for the season.

I’ll tell you more about Uncle Hugh and his famous Christmas song in a future post.

But today is Thanksgiving, and what most people don’t know is that Uncle Hugh also wrote a Thanksgiving song (how many of THOSE do you know?).   In 2008, this indefatigable creative genius penned a short but very sweet holiday song in the same poetic style of yesteryear’s Broadway heyday.  He never lived long enough to see his song professionally recorded, but I had the great fortune to record a demo of it with him at the keys at San Diego’s Studio West that same year when he was 94 years of age.   As you will hear in the YouTube clip,  Uncle Hugh never lost his magical musical touch, gracing every word and every note all the way up to the very end.

I know that today will be a lush, rich and fun time of family celebration for many of you… be thankful!  For for others, maybe not so much, but… be thankful!  Being thankful might be the very last thing you might think you are capable of as you might be despairing over any number of things.  I know this feeling; I have sometimes had days where all I could do was whimper as I lacked the strength even to find words.  It was in those days I had no choice but to rely on the promises of God that He is in this thing with me.  Concentrating on that made all the difference in the world.  And you know what?  Expressing my thanks- most of the time right out loud – has changed my perspective completely.  God is using the challenges to remind me I can’t do it on my own, and I am indeed, THANKFUL!

But back to my rich uncle.

On this day where it is good to give thanks, let Uncle Hugh’s song (and my Father’s words) lift your spirits.

Thanksgiving Should Be Every Day  (Hugh Martin ©2008)

Holiday time again! It comes and goes so fast!  But there’s a reason this lovely season should last and last…

Let’s make every day Thanksgiving Day, full of courage and comfort and cheer.  Let your voices ring loud and clear three hundred and sixty-five days of the year!  Every day should be a jubilee and each worry will scurry away…  So always remember it’s not just a day in November;  Thanksgiving should be every day!

Have an attitude of gratitude, never ceasing to worship and pray.  For just to be living is reason enough for Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving should be every day!

Beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body; and be thankful. Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts.   Colossians 3:14-16

 

 

Sylvia is a singer and Christian women’s speaker, and lives in Southern California.

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It’s too stinking hard

In the first few weeks of my new life a young woman asked me to coach her through a similar struggle as I’d experienced, saying she “wanted what I had”.  She told me the courage she saw in me motivated her.  She said my commitment to doing what it takes to have a changed life inspired her and the steps I was taking to have an authentic experience with my Higher Power made her want to know more about Who He was. I felt insecure about helping her since it was all so new to me but upon the advice of my own sponsor Susan, I decided to give it a try and gingerly accepted her invitation.  I told her if she wanted what I had she would need to do what I did and she agreed.  For weeks and often for hours on end I met with her one-on-one,  patiently listening to her pain and offering the same tools I’d been given.  I took her to meetings, dried her eyes, prayed with her, and generally stopped at nothing as I poured into her life.

After a short while, she started drinking again.  Further, she gave the middle finger to the investment I was making in her and all the progress she’d made and never looked back.  I was floored.  What had I done wrong?  Did my enthusiasm to help her have the opposite effect and chase her away?  Or was I too soft?  What happened??

When I shared my dismay with Susan, she told me something I didn’t expect to hear.  She said it didn’t have anything to do with me, but said the reality is- most people don’t want it.  What?  How could that be?  How could anyone NOT want to sleep soundly knowing they’d been truthful in everything?  How could anyone NOT want the peace that begins to flow into relationships as one by one we make things right with those we have hurt?  How could anyone NOT want to stop looking into life’s rearview mirror as each new mile traveled is honest now?  How could anyone NOT want the freedom that comes with being naked before God and feel no shame?  How could anyone NOT want to stop arm wrestling with what they knew to be good and right and true?  I had drunk the KoolAid, saw how amazingly improved my life could be, and just assumed everyone wanted it too.

Over time I began to understand what Susan meant as I watched many I loved or admired seemingly satisfied with “close enough”.  I watched churches split over power struggles, single Christians get impatient, and the need to be right destroy relationships on all levels.  I watched drinking get out of control in the life of influencers, anger go unchecked, and the perceived “right to happiness” blow marriages apart.  Earlier in my life, I had done a lot of the same kind of stuff; professing faith in God but then making choices that would belie such belief if I thought it’d suit me. It’s one thing to say “I believe”, but to live it?  Ouch.  I couldn’t help but wonder how different it might’ve been if someone had just grabbed me by the shoulders in those days and asked “what are you DOING?”

So… what is it with us?  Why aren’t we willing to do what it takes to have a rich life on every level?  Why do we allow low-living to steal from us what God has to offer?

You know what I think?  Sorry to be blunt, but when it really comes down to it, it’s just too stinking hard.  That’s right.  It takes a lot to swallow our pride as we listen to counsel and apply it to our life.  It takes GUTS to shut up, share the credit, be tolerant with others, tell the truth, stop whining, return the money, admit we’re wrong, serve with no recognition, say we’re sorry, and really make things right.  It costs us a whole lot and too often, we just don’t want to pay up.

I don’t know what you believe, but I believe the reason Jesus went through all the drama of coming to this earth as He did was because He wanted us to have it all.  Think about it: He lived as a man, was criticized and tortured and ultimately killed by a passel of religious leaders who were ticked that He’d pulled focus from their legalism. He then rose up from the dead (He was also still God, you know) and a month or so later returned to heaven where He tells us He’s preparing our eternal home for our arrival.  The whole point was that He came to give us a shot at a life that is marked by great plenty1, no matter how much or how little we have.

So what stops us from jumping in the deep end… from biting into the juiciest part of the apple… from living and being all God made us to be, even if it costs us a boatload to do it?   What would it take for us to muster up the GUTS to, as my buddy Danna says, do the right thing for the right reason, and trust God with the outcome?

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; but I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”  John 10:10 NASB

 

Sylvia is a singer and Christian women’s speaker, and lives in Southern California.

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1“Abundant”: www.Merriam-Webster.com