“I want to be an adult!”

The graduation season has just ended, and there’s a comment (sometimes implied, but sometimes stated) that I’ve heard from a lot of graduates and those who are close to graduation.

“I want to be an adult!”

Just what does that mean? Probably not what those who are saying that phrase think that it means!

Often it seems to mean that somebody just simply doesn’t want anyone else to be telling them what to do. Or they want to be able to do what they want without worrying about consequences….or they want to be out on their own…

But being an adult is much more than that.

One of the big things about being an adult is taking responsibility for yourself–and the consequences of your decisions. When you are child, your parents are able to protect you from those consequences sometimes, although good parents don’t shield you from all of them. But when you are an adult, you are responsible…for both good choices and less than good ones, along with the responsibilities coming from them.

It means figuring out how to pay for many of the things that were provided for you when you were at home…food, shelter, clothing, utilities, health care, car expenses…

That requires a job. And finding a good job–and by that, I mean a job with a future–means getting some training, whether that’s through college, an internship, an apprenticeship…

It also means making wise choices about how to deal with your sexuality. For some, that means coming to terms with sexual identity and/or gender identity. For most, it means figuring out wise decisions about when/whether to have sex–and the potential consequences of that! An unexpected child can throw a significant monkey wrench into your plans…as can sexually transmitted diseases.

It means listening to that little voice inside that suggests when something may not be wise…or when the “friend” may not be the best person to hang out with.

Not everything has to be learned the hard way. There are older adults who are willing to mentor you–if you will let them. Sometimes they want you to learn from their mistakes so you don’t have to go through what they did. Sometimes they are simply people who care for you.

Don’t be in a hurry…listen…try…fail–and learn from your failures…fall–and get up again…and trust. Trust that there are people who want only the best for (and from) you. Trust that there are people who love you. Trust that there are people who will walk with you.

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Which way is up??

A couple of weeks ago I had one of the most frightening times of my life. We were taking a couple days vacation at a beautiful resort with an indoor/outdoor swimming pool. At one side of the indoor pool there was a large water slide, which ended in a shallow (3′) section of the pool.

We’d been watching a couple of young girls go down the slide, having a great time…and we decided to try it ourselves before we went back to our room. We climbed the steps to the top…and my slight queasiness should have been a red flag for me. But I ignored it, deciding that I wasn’t going to let my timidity hold me back.

While there wasn’t anything to hold onto while getting yourself in place, it wasn’t that hard to get ready to go down. My last thought before letting go was that it might be fun to keep my eyes open until just going in–to see what was going on.

But…

As soon as I let go and started down the slide, I felt completely out of control! I know I screamed most of the way down…banging into the sides and going much faster than I had ever anticipated.

I did manage to close my mouth before landing in the water, although I did get some water forced up my nose–not unexpected.

What I didn’t expect was the complete disorientation I felt. I did not know which way was up.

The water wasn’t that deep, so it should not have been difficult to stand up. But it was. I kept kicking, but never felt bottom…couldn’t tell if I was going up or down. I finally hit my head–fortunately lightly–on the edge of the pool, so was able to grasp that edge and stand up…choking and gasping.

Some folks sitting at the edge of the pool had been about ready to come in after me because they sensed that I was flailing…not in fun.

I have never been so scared in my life…so disoriented…so unsure of where I was.

While that was a physical disorientation and scare, I’m finding it also a good metaphor for what I am feeling in other ways. As I read the news…as I see posts on Facebook…I wonder which way is up? I hear and see words being used that I thought we (as a country) had left behind years ago. I hear and see comments about those who are “different” that marginalize them and indicate that they are somehow not of as much worth. I hear casual talk about bombs…about going to war…and I fear.

Which way is up??

It’s that time of year again…

So…it’s that time of year again. Time to put away the winter clothes and pull out the summer ones. But not completely.

The weather forecast is calling for a chilly night again tonight (about 39 degrees), although it’s supposed to warm up again–at least somewhat–next week.

I’ve almost done this several times, but every time I was about ready to, the forecast called for a return to more winter-like weather.

But I decided that today it was the right time of year.

I put away almost all of my winter clothes…just kept out a few items that can work for either cool spring days or winter. I kept out a few jackets as well that will work just about any season. So hopefully I’m ready for the next few days.

For many of us, we’ve also just recently celebrated a time of putting away the old and entering into the new. Last week was Easter–a time that acknowledges death and yet rejoices in the power of life over death. In some ways that sounds so easy…after all, we see it happen every spring as trees and other plants bud out again and the grass turns from its seeming death into green.

But it’s not.

For life to triumph over death, something has to die. Our old way of seeing…our old expectations and hopes…sometimes even loved ones.

It’s not easy to let go of all that.

But every time I seasonally change my closet, I’m reminded that there are things I have to let go of…they no longer fit…I no longer like them…I don’t need them. And the same is true of my life.

It’s that time of year again. Time to let go…and time to be reborn!

Sunday’s coming…

I don’t know anyone who hasn’t gone through some difficult times in their lives. For some that’s caught up in the loss of a loved one…for others loss of a job…or a faith crisis…or anyone of a myriad of things that can send one into dark places.

About 2000 years ago, there was a community that went through another difficult time. The one they had followed…the one who challenged the status quo on behalf of the poor, the dispossessed, the “other”…this one who came in unconditional love had been taken by the authorities…beaten…crucified…and buried. His followers didn’t know what the future held–for themselves but also for what he believed and taught. Was this the end?

We know the story. We know that his death was not the end–but the middle of the story. We live the end of the story by the way we live. It is our responsibility to keep his teachings and actions alive…to stand with and for the poor, the dispossessed, the “other”…those the status quo would call “less than.”

We know that when they laid him in the tomb…and they went through the dark days of mourning…we know that Sunday was coming…the day of resurrection!

And so, for all who are in dark places…for those who wonder if the church is dying…if there is hope for the future, I would simply say this:

This is not the end. Sometimes we have to go through a time of death in order to come out on the other side into the new life that is beyond anything we can currently imagine. This isn’t to say that it’s easy. It’s not. But Sunday’s coming…!

 

Welcome the stranger…

Last night I sat in on a wonderful evening of story-telling from members of (and about) my faith tradition. Some of the stories were funny…some were more somber.

My faith tradition was birthed in the United States, but it did not have an easy birth or childhood. We were “different”…we challenged the status quo…and we became refugees. We were driven from place to place, and our founder was ultimately murdered. In many ways, it’s a wonder that we survived.

But the story that caught my attention last night was of one of those times of wandering. We were forcibly driven out of our homes in winter. We lost most of our earthly possessions–and many families did not know where their fathers were…or even if they were still alive. The journey was a difficult one. Sometimes we were able to find shelter–even if it was dirty and smelly; sometimes we were denied even that. Ultimately we found people who cared…people who saw us not as “other” but as human beings in need. We found a city of 1500 who were willing to take in 5000 refugees who had nothing. We found a temporary home while we regrouped so that we could go on.

As I listened to that story, I thought about the parallels with today…with my parents’ generation and my own.

In the 1930s there were people fleeing and looking for a place of shelter. They were people who had lost everything and who were afraid for their lives–and the lives of their children. Some found shelter, but many did not and perished.

Credit Lynsey Addario for The New York Times

Today there are many fleeing and looking for safe places for themselves and their children. Some have found shelter–but many are still looking.

Yes, they are “other”…they are different.

But I am part of a country that has grown from the contributions of immigrants and refugees. I am part of a faith tradition that was welcomed as refugees. I am also part of a bigger faith tradition whose story includes both being welcomed as a stranger–and then being challenged to do the same to others. My people were welcomed…and I grew up believing this poem by Emma Lazarus:

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

(AP Photo/Petros Giannakouris)

A place at the table?

A few days ago I had an exchange with a friend that made me do some thinking.

One of my favorite new hymns has the words “For everyone born, a place at the table…” This exchange made me think about how I’ve responded–and how/do if I make others feel that there is a place at the table for them.

Over the last year the political situation in the United States has been very difficult and divisive, and it has caused my friend to feel that there has not been a place at the table for those who have disagreed politically. She has felt uncomfortable at times…felt judged and not welcome.

I deeply regret that.

When I sing “For everyone born, a place at the table,” the hymn talks about male/female, young/old, the just/unjust… Do I also mean that there’s a place for those whose political opinions differ from mine?

I would hope so.

My friend has some deep and valid concerns. They are not necessarily ones I agree with–but as I have listened to her talk, I understand them better.

And I think that’s part of the secret of finding a place for the table for everyone. While I think it’s essential to find ways to protect those who are vulnerable, I also believe that we have to be willing to listen to each other…even–perhaps especially when–it’s uncomfortable.

Only through listening can we find ways to work together to solve problems. And then…

…God will delight when we are creators
of justice and joy, compassion and peace:
yes, God will delight when we are creators
of justice, justice and joy!

 

…of one heart and mind…

There’s a phrase in the scriptures of my faith tradition that I’ve always loved: “And the Lord called his people Zion, because they were of one heart and one mind, and dwelt in righteousness; and there was no poor among them.”

The words could be interpreted a number of different ways–and have been in the various faith groups that call these words scripture. Even in my own, understanding them has been a growing process.

I like the words because of what they say about community.

“Zion” is another name for the kingdom of God as lived out on earth–the kind of community that I believe the early followers of Jesus experienced.

The challenge is found in the words “were of one heart and one mind.” Sometimes that’s been interpreted to mean that the members of the community all believed the same things. But I don’t think that’s what it means at all. In fact, I don’t really have any interest in living in a community where everyone believes the exact same thing…lives in lockstep, as it were. I like diversity!

So what do I think those words mean? As I’ve been thinking about it recently, I think it can be interpreted in light of what Jesus called the two great commandments–to love God with all our being and to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. If that is our focus, then we will be of one heart and one mind, even if the way in which we express and live out those beliefs vary.

If we do that, then we would be living in righteousness–living rightly…in accordance with high ethical principles.

And if we do all of that, then there would not be any poor among us, because we would be willing to share with each other. We wouldn’t be so worried about accumulating “stuff.”

Is this way of living even possible? I believe so–but it asks us to be vulnerable to each other…to be willing to live in understanding that none of us has all knowledge or all truth…to learn to see each other through the eyes of the One who created us…

Is this way of living possible? I believe it is–and not only possible, but absolutely essential.