Advent 2008

by Stephen W. Smith

Is this feeling deep inside
the winter of advent?
The bewilderment of more
questions than epiphanies or answers?

A mother has forever lost her son.
A truly good man has lost his job.
A child will lose their sacred innocence.
Is this loss so necessary in the wait? Is this advent?

The tree loses its leaves.
A dreamer loses the dream
An old, crippled widow loses her sight.
So much loss. So long to wait.

This waiting often seems so long
as the cold captures the air
and will not let go its clinging grip.
This waiting which feels like a slow, coming death.

The star that releases its light
burns with the waiting for someone to see.
The star burns and just burns and waits
for someone out there to see the Light.

O Promised Star;
Thou who art Daybreak to my darkness,
Come quickly and flood my barren soul
with shimmers; rays of glorious light.

Waiting: A Poem on Thanksgiving Eve

Waiting

by Stephen W. Smith

on Thanksgiving Eve Morning 2008

__________________________

Sitting in the hush of darkness,

alone star in the western sky.

Silhouetted horizon awaits,

the pulling up of the thanksgiving morn.

Waiting. Yes, waiting.

for the first ray of morning's glory.

Now darkness, soon glory.

Squeezed in the in-between.

How old Lazarus must have stirred

when the light of that day first crept in.

No waiting for him.

Now, I am in his place.

That you would come for me,

stills my soul in breathless wonder.

Yet, it is still dark now.

And I am waiting, waiting, yes waiting still.

_____________________________

Copyright 2008. Stephen W. Smith

The Mirror

"even things about yourself that you most deeply want to change first must be accepted even embraced.... Until we are willing to accept the unpleasant truths of our existence, we rationalize or deny responsibility for our behavior." --David Benner in "The Gift of Being Yourself"

Few of us stop long enough to look in the mirror. Oh, we do when we take the razor to the whiskers or for women--I think they take a longer look. The mirror reveals, "things are they are." Wrinkles, frown marks, stress lines--the freckle we wish was not there and that ugly mole. Should I have it removed?

No transformation is possible without the mirror. Until we face the realities of what we will see, we will remain the same--remain in the tomb--remain with the graveclothes on! Here's what I'm finding is needed for me to take a long, disconcerting look in the mirror and view my true self.

1. Courage. Without courage to face certain realities I will live in denial. I will continue to live the lie that I don't need to stop--look at the way things are.

2. Risk. Without risk, I can believe what I want. Construct reality in the way I want it to be.

3. Solitude. Without solitude, Nouwen reminds us, "it is vi ritually impossible to live the spiritual life without solitude." Solitude allows us to face the wild animals within. The dragons and cess pools. The ugly gnats that pester us and to hear the monkeys in the banana trees who yell condemning statements towards us. "You're a failure. You're a disgrace. You are nothing and never will amount to anything." I think we stay busy and avoid solitude cause we don't want to hear what the monkeys will say. We don't want to sense the dragons. Thus busyness annihilates the heart and transformation cannot happen.

What do you think?

The Journey to Jesus

I've been thinking that the journey to Jesus sure takes a long time. It is often a long, arduous path that eventually leads to Jesus. But along the way, there are twists, curves and switch-backs that make it often seem like I'll never get there. Sometimes, things--even people--perhaps even church can get in the way of our movement. I'm thinking about that here.

The journey to Jesus can often be confused with other necessary journeys we all have to take to be human. The journey to become a man; the journey to become a good husband; the journey of becoming a gracious and loving father...all of these and more are journeys I'm currently on. I've not fully arrived at any of them. I'm still becoming. I'm still on my way. I'm still in process.

Last week, I wrote on the blog about "churchianity vs. Christianity." That journey has elicited strong responses and even a few "unsubscribes." Let me say a bit more about this. I am not an outsider when it comes to the journey to become the church. I've dedicated most of my working life to help improve the church and make church better for people. But also, I have to admit, I see church through the lens of being a boy born in the south; raised in the Southern Baptist denomination and pastoring several churches. There's so much in church I love--yet so much I struggle with. I love the idea of belonging. Belonging to a group of people on journey together is a powerful vision to remember that reminds me that I am not alone on this journey. I need companions. I also love when we are able to gather and sing; hear powerful messages that inspire and teach us and help people who are truly the "outsiders" move to the inside.

Yet, with my loves comes deep stirrings that remind me to ask deep questions; pick up rocks and look underneath and try to raise the level of thinking about life and church. I'm afraid that we have absorbed a model for our churches that may become like dinosaurs in future generations. All of my four sons--having been raised in the church are questioning it. They are not alone in their questioning. In fact their generation has hard questions to ask of the church.

If church is anything at all, we should seek to become places where our graveclothes can be talked about; unwrapped and we can be set free from them. Defining church as a place of transformation helps me understand it more; value it more and want it more for myself and others. I cannot do this journey alone. I need community. I need the hand of others to help me get free from my own grave clothes. As I journey to Jesus, my call is for companions to walk with me--all of us moving towards Jesus. I don't want church to get in the way of my journey towards Jesus. In fact, as I understand it-- I can't journey well to Jesus without some form of church in my life. Can you?

Churchianity is not Christianity

I just returned from the south--the place of my roots. I was hit in the face with the realities of how big and important church is there. I had many meetings and conversations with both men and women. Here's my take: a lot of talk about church. Little talk about Jesus.

There is a difference you know. It just may be possible that preachers and people might be building the wrong kingdom afterall. The construction of edifices and holy warehouses where people are herded more like cattle than like sacred souls is a challenge for those of us have a prophetic message to the people of God today. It's all about Jesus--not about church.

Churches can be places which become shrines of the ego's of pastors more than places where encounters with God are experienced. The cult of personality and the fight over turf seems to dominate the minds and hearts of people in seeking the kingdom of God today. Which preacher is right? Which way of worship is the most true? How can we be unified when such diversity exists today? Will the church splinter?

Go into any Christian bookstore today and the shelves are filled with books on leadership. Leadership issues seem to be rampant. One author promises we should lead this way and another spoils that view by telling us his way of leadership. Is leadership the answer or are the pastors more of the problem?

Now that I sit more in pews than preach behind wooden carved or plastic pulpits, I see all of this so different. We--the ordinary people who need to be saved now need to be saved from some of t he myths of the church.

As I walked into a huge mega church, this past Sunday which cost $35 million dollars to build twenty years ago...who knows the cost today... I thought to myself, "Is this the Kingdom Jesus had in mind? Building this structure and not building the souls of people." It's a hard question. One that will require a transformed way of looking at what really matters in life today.

To be perfectly honest, I feel as if many churches are being hijacked--pulled off course by being the simple, incarnational presence of Jesus Christ today. What do you think?

The Journey Towards Transformation

The story of Lazarus easily reminds us that the step-by-step journey towards transformation does not happen all at once. I'm vividly reminded of this as a group of people are here at our retreat working on the transformation of our big, red barn. The barn itself is a 5,000 sq. ft. structure once built to house cows and llamas. We've seen so much more potential--perhaps as God views us.

We can't stop in life to sing "just as I am" meaning that we can stop changing, morphing or transforming. There is so much more to what each of us could become.

Soren Kirkegaard, a Danish theologian once prayed, "And now, Lord and with your help, I shall become myself." I often say that prayer as it reminds me of the long journey of transformation. Each word in that prayer is worth pausing with and over allowing the depth of that short prayer to sink in and penetrate.

The big, red barn, like our soul needs a lot of work. The barn needs a foundation dug and poured as it is now simply a pole barn. To house people, we need much more strength and protection from the Colorado weather. So, a group of men and women have been digging soil. Digging and digging and digging. It's required a 3ft depth foundation. That's a lot of soil to be moved.

Like our soul, we need to dig and sometimes lay out new foundations upon which we want to build our lives. I'm reminded of a great verse in Jeremiah when he said, "Let's take a good look at the way we're living and reorder our lives under God." Lam. 3:40, The Message.

Life, soul and barns all need to be re-ordered. It's a step-by-step process just as Lazarus experienced. His steps away from the tomb and into the arms of the awaiting Jesus inspire us today to take our own journey towards transformation.

Let's do it together.

Still Waiting

A dear friend of ours, Jeff Morrison has given you and me a gift. Through his artistic interpretation, Jeff has written a song which is sung by Lazarus and contains the lamentation of Lazarus over the fact that Jesus lingered and did not show up in his moment of deepest need. Jeff's song pulls at the heart--especially when you're reading chapter 2 of The Lazarus Life. Jeff sang the song at the Celebration time and the response was amazing. I'm glad we have it up on the "resource" page of lazaruslife.com

We've added the recommended music for listening--while you're reading/working through the book. 16 songs by various artists make a complete playlist that you can download through iTunes. The link is on the resource page as well.

The Study Guide is also available and we're going to be uploading more and more resources through the summer months as well.

One important thing to share is that we had a Pilot Study of the Guide to The Lazarus Life this past weekend. Small Group pastors and spouses went through the 12 sessions adding and strengthening as well as cutting and trimming "fat" from the workbook. The Guide book will be released in January 2009. It's filled with creative exercises, studies, probing questions and more. There's much to do to get this much needed message out! Pray for me will you?

Entitlement

Doing as much counseling, soul work and spiritual direction as Gwen and I do, we often see people sitting with us and friends that we know--even ourselves that all seems to suffer from what I would call, this morning--"spiritual entitlement issues." It's like a two year old child who seems demanding of his parents. She has become the center of the universe. All the world must revolve around her needs, her wants and her desires. It's sickening to watch. It's awful to experience. It's depressing to encounter.

Yet, I'm sure we all see this from time to time.

• The couple who wants to move into a new home but can't sell their present one and wonders what is up and why God doesn't answer their prayer.
• The man who longs for a new job--musters the courage to quit his old one and then sits in disillusionment because his new 'house-flipping' job isn't quite working given the world economy and the depressed housing market. What's up with his prayers?
• The high school leader in the church youth group who is rejected from their 1st choice of college. They prayed. They are faithful. What's up with this?
• The solider who must return for his 3rd deployment and wants to have a life; wants to settle down but there is no settling with terrorism and with a signed contract that you will faithfully serve your country.
• The patient who is an elder--perhaps even missionary--who has faithfully served God and now is diagnosed with a painful; perhaps even incurable disease. Why, God?
• The woman whose husband is addicted to Internet porn and sits and wonders why her husband would chose 'those women' instead of her. Her heart is broken. Where is God in this?

Can you do a survey of your own faith--your own heart and see where the tenacles of spiritual entitlement may lie in you; in your faith. We, like Mary and Martha in the Lazarus story, all have issues that need to die. It's not just our bodies that die. Some of our faith. Some of our spiritual expectations. Some of our wants and desires must die in that tomb as well. And, what we will "get" when so many illusions die?

Faith. Pure faith that is tried and tested and will be enough for us to really live the life Jesus wants us to live.

Dealing with Disappointment

The journey of Martha and Mary in the story of Lazarus reveals a journey I find myself relating to a lot these days. It's the journey of disappointment. Disappointment in people. Disappoitment in myself and disappointment with God. These three areas make a sort of spiritual "Berumda Triangle"--that dangerous zone where planes crash, people disappear and there are few explainations.

Spiritual disappointment leaves a residue on the heart that makes the heart sick and hope fade. It goes like this: When people let you down, you have to work through feelings and where they came from. Did I expect too much? Were my expectations unrealistic? Were my hopes for what I wanted to happen unfounded and built upon sinking sand?

Writing the Lazarus book, offered me the opportunity to write a section called, "Dealing with Dis-Illusionment." Advance readers commented to me and the publisher that this was one of the most grabbing and compelling parts of the book. With that feedback and with my own illusions, I sought to develop a practical exercise--a sort of work sheet that readers of the book could practically unpackage their feelings of being disappointed in others, themselves and God. It has been an interesting journey because as an author, you have to live with what you are writing about--or else it is more fiction than reality. Lazarus makes my attempts to deal with disappointment more real than fiction; more hard than easy; more real life than a dream.

As I submitted the workbook that will accompany The Lazarus Life to the publisher yesterday, I had great hope that the exercises I offered and wrote in the workbook would all help us realize this one basic fact: No man as friend, woman as love or church as refuge can offer the human soul what Jesus Christ offers. Only Jesus! Only Jesus. Only My friend, Jesus.

The Farewell Letter

My editor asked me to do something. He asked me to write an imaginary letter which my Dad would write to me--now that he is in Heaven. My editor did this as an exercise in grief as he himself had been a pastor for many years. What happened in the writing of the letter has helped. I've found words to put in that letter that needed to be said. I needed to hear them.

In writing the Farewell Letter, my Dad was able to say somethings to set the record straight between us. I had planned on us having a face to face conversation about the book--more than our phone call shortly before his death would allow. That phone call would prove to be the last conversation and I'm still replaying his words to me over and over about his impressions about the book. The fact that my Dad took the initiative with me in the call and his words means more than I can say. Now, in the Farewell letter, there is an attempt to bring to closure what has loomed so large in my 53 year journey on Planet Earth. His journey is done. Mine is not yet over.

I'm glad I'm a life long learner. There is so much to be learned. I'd like to get a few more things down before my time comes. Wouldn't you?

The Funeral

The death of a loved one presents a practical, emotional, physical and theological crisis of sorts. Jarred from the reality of total separation, the ones who continue to live enter a rather bizarre and unchartered journey. I say “unchartered” because this is how I am feeling at present in the loss of my father. (That's my Dad on Jordan's wedding day in December 2007. He and my mom flew to Grand Rapids to enjoy this big day in our family. It was our last time face to face.)

As a pastor for over 25 years, I always found myself in the role where I would give care to others in the wake of their loss. Now, it’s my turn to find my own way. I’m reflecting more about this because of my friendship with Lazarus, the dearly loved friend of Jesus and brother to the famous sisters, Mary and Martha. Over the past two years, Lazarus has taught me much about spiritual transformation. Now, he is again assuming that place of mentor and friend to open my eyes to understand more about grief and loss.

My father’s funeral seemed normal to me. My dad had written out specific instructions about what we should do and what we should not do following his death. We tried to follow his wishes which meant: bury his body before the memorial service, no open casket—he wanted to be remembered as being alive—not dead; an uplifting service with “no sad songs.” My father was a man who loved life and we sought to celebrate his life even though he was dead. I found myself thinking, “Dad would have liked this service.” Of course, he wasn’t anywhere near that church in Charlotte. He was in a much better place with a much desired group of friends and family.

Lazarus would not have known my father’s funeral customs. The Jewish methods of burial and grief are far, far from American practices. I am wishing now, that we could incorporate some of what the family of Lazarus experienced. I actually think it would have helped me more.

The Jewish custom was a full 7 day period of total mourning that was more private than public. The first seven days were days to be withdrawn, not out in public and not available to the urgent and pressing needs of others. When my dad died, I was immediately confronted with my schedule and calendar. How could we afford the instant purchase of airline tickets? How would we get word to our sons in far off places? What about the wedding I was suppose to perform? What about the two retreats where I had committed to help? For the Jews in Jesus’ day—everything stopped and the surviving family entered a place of solitude and seclusion to absorb what had happened and to work through their feelings. The 7 days of inital mourning were followed by 40 more days of mourning where dress, clothes, food and daily routine all focused around mourning the loss; not going on. To be honest, it's precisely here that I'm struggling a bit. I'v cancelled more than I've held in regard to my calendar. I"ve gotten some emails from people wondering how I could cancel counseling sessions when their marriage needs my help. I have not responded to their emails yet. Still pondering just what to tell them. How can I give, what I do not have? That's the most important question, Gwen is forcing me to face each day of my grief journey at present.

This is precisely what we see in the story of Lazarus’ death. Jesus walked in late and the passive aggressive sisters confronted him, “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died.” Both of them asked this in two different times. This is what we call “bargaining.” I’ve done some of that. I wish I could have talked more with my Dad before he died. I assumed we would have a more in-depth conversation about the book I was writing. Instead, I had to settle—no, I will have to settle for a phone call where we processed the book’s content and my father’s and my relationship throughout the book.

I like the fact in Lazarus’ death; people came and joined in the grief. They were physically present. Present to the tomb—the actual place where his body was placed; present to the grieving sisters and present to Jesus when he finally showed up.

To be honest, I’m really processing this sense of being present with someone in their grieving hours. I received a host of emails, voice mails and text messages filled with condolences and expressions of loss. My pastoral care from my church consisted of a voice mail from my pastor expressing his sympathy. I think I wanted something more. I think I needed something more. For me, there’s nothing that can replace a hug. When some one drops what they are doing; decides that your loss is more important than their gain of errands, work or other priorities; decides that a person who has lost a father, friend, child or spouse needs nothing more than just an act of showing up…that to me seems like the Gospel that Jesus intended and love in Jesus’ name.

At my father’s funeral, I stood beside my sister to give a remembrance of our father. But as I looked out upon the folks who had gathered, my eyes locked on a friend who drove 3 hours to just show up. He had barely met my Dad. But he knew me well. He knew what love would look like and he left his wife and small children and drove that journey to just show up. I will never, ever forget that kind, gracious, lavish act of love. I stood there looking at him, and then searched for words to try to say. I was one of the moments of being sincerely “choked up” and as I reflect back on my Dad’s funeral, about all I see is this friend’s face. This has made me wonder if I showed up for my friends who lost someone important or if I was more caught in my world than theirs. Lord, please forgive me.

The Unwanted Companion

Grief comes like an unwanted and unvited companion. . . like a distant cousin you really don't like but have to tolerate. Of all the emotions, we dislike the most, grief surely tops the list. Who, after all, wants to cry and lament? Who wants to be paralized inside? Who wants to feel the convergence of anger and passion in such messy ways?

My grief is complicated because I not only have lost my father--the most influential man in my life but my siblings are having to deal with my Mom who is feeble and frail at 87. I escorted her to see my father at the funeral home and heard her private sobs and moans of having to accept the inevitability of losing her companion of 67 years of marriage. My grief in losing my own dad seems like it has had to be on hold until I can return home to Colorado. Every waking moment of this past week has been filled with details and clutter of lists of what has to be done. There's been very little--if any time to allow what has happened to sink in.

Time will be needed and Gwen is coaching me about how not to negate time in this journey. She's pulling up memories of losing her Mom 8 years ago. It's all helpful to remember. I've cancelled so much I fear what people will think but it seems right to have done.

I'm glad to turn yet again to Lazarus. I need his help now. It's helpful for me to remember that even his name, Lazarus means, "God helps us." Lazarus has been a steady friend and mentor to me and now in my grief I sense him calling to me yet again that there are still things I must learn in the life of Lazarus that I might have glanced at or felt irrelevant as I was writing the book. Surely, Lazarus, and his two sisters knew much about grief. I want to read that story again today and see what I might see now in light of my own jarring reality.

It seems fitting to really begin the blog on The Lazarus Life about a jarring, uninvited incident that has happened in my life. I need to turn somewhere to process my feelings and why not here--to this blog to allow others to coach, help and cheer me on. Let the BLog begin. Let Grief do what only grief can do...transform me.

Looks Can Be Deceiving

Recently, I led a retreat with a group of 21st century looking Lazarus types. I divided the 100 men in attendance into small groups of 5 men to do the deeper digging at their hearts—that place where transformation really happens.

I randomly assigned myself to a group of fine looking men, none of which I had ever met before. As I gave the plenary talk to the entire group, I spoke about our need for transformation. I said, “Transformation is at the jugular vein of our desires. Each of us is desperate for it and miserable because of our lack of experiencing it.” In the groups, I asked the men to process that statement I just wrote above.. I was not prepared for their responses.

One of the men, a doctor spoke of his struggle with pornography and how this had nearly ruined his marriage. Another man in his mid-30’s began to share of his addiction to meth and his imprisonment because of it. He said he had lost everything including five years of his life in prison. The man to my right began to say how much he needed transformation because he was in the "transformation business." When I asked him what he meant, he shared that he was a female impersonator and trying to change his old ways. He cried a lot and we had to get extra Kleenex for our group. We went deep—way beyond the surface of the icebergs each of us was bearing in our hearts. The tears seemed to come from the depths of a place where only tears of transformation can come from—the heart.

I sat stunned realizing yet again that appearances can be deceiving. Our little band of men set out into deep water that weekend; talking about what each of us needed most and how shame had seemed to seize our hearts and starve our souls. This was a “high-cotton” church as my father-in-law says. By that he means that the church is probably made up of wealthy folk—people whose lives are cushioned by their wealth and worldly importance.

I guess, I should not be surprised anymore at the stories I hear. I’ve heard enough of them to make me sometimes think there is nothing new under the sun. But as I walked with the meth addict and the female impersonator throughout the weekend I sensed their dire thirst for Jesus Christ. I wanted the change for them. I wanted transformation badly for them. I wanted them to see Jesus doing for them, what they could not do for themselves.

Lazarus teaches us the way. I’m convinced of it.

Steve

Do you see that hand?

Scroll back up and take a look at the facinating art that Giotto painted for us. Focus on the man standing to the right of the mummified body of Lazarus emerging from the tomb. Look closely. Do you see that one hand stretched out gently grabbing a piece of the gravecloth of Lazarus? It's an important part of this wonderful art. Giotto was telling us visually what Jesus said in words. Lazarus could not free himself of the graveclothes. We cannot free ourselves of our own graveclothes. It's going to take a hand--a hand that is different from the ones you've got.

I often wonder about this in my life. Who is it that seems to care enough about me to reach out and grab something in life to really help me free myself from it. This kind of effort, does not just happen. It doesn't happen just because you attend a church. It only happens when love, intentionality and saftey are present.

Oh...for a hand to help us get free. God, send the people into my life...into our lives who can help free us to move forward to Jesus.

The Lazarus Life begins...

Dear Friends,

What follows is the beginning of a journey that I am inviting you to join me on. This is a journey that I am calling, "The Lazarus Life." It's a jouney full of ups and downs, hard encounters, disappointments and disillusionments. But it's also a journey of encounter with God and ourself.

The painting that you are looking at is one done by Giotto de Bondone, an Italian pre-renassiance painter who spear-headed all of art to transform. Giotto gave expression, emotion and meaning to scenes that he painted and this painting will serve as the backdrop to the blog and the forth-coming book.

Speaking of the book, The Lazarus Life: Spiritual Transformation for Ordinary People is being published this June and will be available in bookstores soon. In fact, soon, a brand new web site is being devoted to this journey and it too will be launched soon. I hope this site and blog will become a place for us to exchange stories, hunches, experiences and encounters along the way.

The journey I am calling the Lazarus life is based on John's account of an ordinary man named Lazarus who lived in the time of Jesus. His story will become our story. His life can become a life where we are mentored by a person who knew what it was like to be truly transformed. Lazarus experienced many of the same things that you and I experience and he has much to say to us today.

Transformation--the experience of truly changing is something must of us need to know more about. Many it seems are skeptical as to whether people can really change at all. The change that Lazarus experienced is something for us to learn by and something we need to share. Your story and my story of our efforts to change things we don't like about ourselves, the church and even God are worth sharing. Some of us have tasted change. Some have died for it. Others are suspicious of it but all of us want it.

I hope you'll come back from time to time; add your comments and share your feelings. As the book is released and you learn more about this man Lazarus, I believe he will become one of the most important people in your life. He has become huge for me. I look forward to the journey with you.

You can go ahead and check out the new web page. Nothing much up there but we'll be adding resources, small group ideas, talk outlines and a gallery for you to use with resources for music and media about experiencing the Lazarus kind of life. http://www.lazaruslife.com

Blessings on the Journey Ahead,

Stephen W. Smith