The focus of this blog has always been to find the divine in each person so that when we approach a stranger or someone we don't particularly like, we will not be afraid or angered because we know that they too possess the same image of God as me or you. In my quest, I am often so focused on the task that I forget to look at the obvious. God is there looking back at me.
Today, in my personal meditation, the prompt asked, “How do you feel about God regarding you?” In other words, how does it make me feel to know that God is looking at me through the eyes of Jesús or all the other people I pass by on a daily basis? How does God see me? How does God see you? And how might that affect the way you interact with the world around you? The point isn't so much to impress God or others. But how you live in harmony with both. Kindness can beget kindness. Joy can beget joy. And a smile can beget a smile. This is what I want God, and others to see in me. And whenever I fail, I hope both will show me how it's done.
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Gary is that guy. You know the guy who you meet and you feel like you’ve known forever. A few years older than me, and one less kid, Gary and I made small talk at the Apple Store. We were both looking at the new iPads. And we were both trying to convince ourselves that we really needed one even though our laptops worked perfectly fine. Like I said, Gary is that guy who you know. The kind of guy your sister marries or moves next door and lets you borrow his power tools when you need them. He’s the guy you want to have a beer with, or better yet you hope to be invited to his BBQ. I didn’t ask, but he seems like the kind of guy who might know something about grilling.
I did not intend to make Gary number 12 of 30 people I would randomly meet. I genuinely was interested in his take on technology, because (and this is why we need to meet people) he just seemed like the kind of guy who would know something. He didn’t. In fact, he was the one asking me the questions. That’s when I told him about the challenge. In talking to him, I learned that he is a native of Southern California, has worked in the movie business close to four decades, and is a proud member of the Teamster’s Union. He has two kids. And is finally divorced after 14 years of separation. “We made it work out,” he told me. And I was not surprised one bit. He seemed just like the kind hearted person who, when given the situation, would go above and beyond to make that happen for his family. One thing that was completely obvious (but only after he told me) was his alopecia, a disease that causes all your hair to fall out. Gary is completely bald. There is not one hair anywhere on him. What used to embarrass him is now the very thing that “gets dates.” He used to have long hair, and it was his thing. When the first signs appeared his ego got kicked pretty hard. But the one of the many positive things that grew out of coming to terms with losing his hair was gaining a stronger sense of his self. And that was pretty obvious without him having to tell me. A day does not go by when Gary isn’t reminding someone who is worrying about the importance of staying grounded and focused on the good things that life has to offer. His advice is simple, “Don’t lose you hair over it.” This seems fitting considering he wants the world to know: “I try to be a good human to everyone and everything.” And after spending more time than he ever spent “talking to a total stranger about personal stuff,” I can honestly say Gary is doing a pretty good job. Because he’s that kind of guy.
I can honestly say both Avery and Gwyneth impressed me when I first met them – full of life and hope and promise. The world is theirs for the taking, and nothing is going to get in their way. Maybe that’s why Avery wants you to know this about him: “I am not as bad as you think. And not as good as I think.” That's a pretty good lesson on it's own.
When I met Gwyneth Paltrow I had no idea who she was. I too was confident. But maybe not so astute. Yes, I told Gwyneth things like, “Good luck, you seem like a nice kid.” And yes I gave her career advice like, “Don’t let it get to you, it’s just the way the industry works” Had I known better, I might have noticed the puzzled look on her face as I walked away like a wise old sage who just "nailed it." I was almost 30 after all. In my defense, there were no Google or IMDB back then. And unless you were in the “industry” you probably wouldn’t have know that her movie Seven (staring Brad Pitt) was going to be released in a few days away from being released. Nor would you know her parents were famous. It wasn’t until I walked past a newsstand a few days later that I saw her face plastered on the cover of nearly every magazine. I don’t know when, or if, I will see Avery’s face on Rolling Stone or Ebony, but he was right. We must learn from past experiences and to pay a little more attention to the person in front of you. Be present, and mindful to those you meet – where they are no matter who they are. This is good to practice every day, with everyone, because you never what will become of them. A true offering is much more than an act of giving; it’s an act of being present...with God and for God.
As any great coach can attest, champions aren’t born. They are made. To be the best you have to be willing to give it your all. This is true in sports, politics, business, and of course, faith. Today Mark offers us a story about someone who did just that. It’s a story about widow. We don’t know her name, but we do know she showed up to the Temple and literally gave it her all; a sacrifice so great that we still talk about it today. Read Mark 12:41-44 Here
Funny enough, the only one who notices what she does is The One who does not look at outward appearances but instead he looks at the heart. Jesus tells his disciples, “this poor widow has given all she had to live on.” In the Greek, Mark uses the word bios, the root of biology, the study of life. In other words, this poor widow put in her bios, her entire life, into God’s care. And this gets Jesus’ attention. Her story is important because she is the perfect example of what it means to live the gospel. She trusts God so completely that nothing else matters. She gives without fear or worry, trusting instead on her faith. She gives God her all, believing and knowing God will do the same.
We are the coins, the real offering God wants. In the eyes of the rich and powerful, we might not be worth much. But in the eyes of God, we are priceless. God does not look at the size of your wallet, God looks at the size of your heart. A true offering is much more than an act of giving; it’s an act of being present with God and for God. This leads us to the third character in Mark’s story, Jesus. He knows a little something about being with and for God. And like the widow, he certainly know what it means to give all that he has.
The Bible tells us that out of great love for the world, God gave us Jesus, who in turn gave his life, all of it, for you and me. His ego, his heart, his time, his blood, sweat, and tears – Jesus gave us his bios, his entire being, so we could be redeem and return to our rightful place as God’s beloved children. Jesus gave up all that he had so that we can live fully and faithfully with and for God’s grace. This is hard to do, if you don’t trust God like this nameless widow. Her trust in God is aligned with Jesus’ trust. And together their stories reveal the true cost of discipleship – the giving over of one’s self to God so completely and faithfully that there’s nothing left but the Divine image that has been imprinted each one of our hearts. The giving of the self for God and others is central to Jesus’ vision of discipleship. By giving God everything, the good and bad, the worthy or unworthy, we let go of things that keep us from truly becoming one with Jesus – and with one another. Hidden in this story is a reminder that the kingdom of heaven is not something we bet on, but something we are able to live right now if we just give it all over to God. Mark doesn’t tell us how the widow’s story ends. We don’t know if the disciples took money out of their own purse to help her, or if she entered the temple for the last time, to offer her final prayer. However, what we do know is this: She is a child of God. And like her, we are worth more to God than money or anything else we can imagine or put value on. Her place in the world isn’t based on material wealth or status. It’s grounded in the faithfulness of God’s promise. She is able to take a leap of faith because she knows in her heart that God has a deep concern for the care and wellbeing of the widows and orphans, and the most vulnerable in our societies. She’s also putting her trust in us, a faith community who desires to be like Jesus who taught, “Whoever wants to be first must be last, and must a servant of all.” In being a living example of God’s pure love, Jesus shows us the many ways we can give all we have to help and care for those who have nothing to give in return. In the telling of her story, Mark reminds us that everything we have is God’s already. I can’t give God anything other than myself. I can be present with God in all aspects of my life and be the offering God desires the most. And I can be here for God, without holding anything back for others. I can do this because I trust and believe in my heart that God’s words are faithful and true. God calls us to a gospel life: a life of love, grace, forgiveness and peace. A life where we can have it all, and a life we can give it all away for the sake of God’s kingdom. As a beloved Child of an all-loving, ever faithful God, you are the gift. My challenge to you this week is simple; Go out and be the gift of God’s sacrificial love; the gift that keeps on giving. Put your entire self into action – doing small things with great love. For you never know who’s watching you do it.
I will also admit, it was hard to pay attention to what Cruz was saying. Not because it was boring or uninteresting and in fact it was just the opposite. I had trouble because as you can see from his picture there we plenty of beautiful distractions adorning the floor and walls.
However, I did learn that Cruz moved from a small desert town in New Mexico to the sprawling metropolis of Los Angeles when he was 13 - around the time he began playing guitar. Before the move he played drums, but once the novelty of big city living wore off and the reality of being a bored 13 year old set in. And without a place to make a lot of loud noise, he picked up a new instrument and began a new chapter in his life. Like me, he likes to make noise. He too has been in bands but now prefers to make music on his own. “I like drum machines,” he confessed. “So do I,” I admitted before declaring “They don’t talk back.” This snarky little comment that only people who have had to put up with drummers would get caused Cruz to laugh. And through his chuckles he added a bit of his own snark. “And they don’t have girlfriends. Or get drunk.” That was some solid truth. Even though he looks more like Tom Petty, when I listened to Cruz I couldn't help but thing, “Is this what it’s like talking to me?” We shared many favorite bands, guitars, and artist. We like similar genres of music. And we both live and work in the neighborhood. The only real differences were the obvious ones: he had hair, he was much younger, and was missing the extra weight that comes with carrying the burdens of fatherhood, priesthood, and living in this hood. He wanted me to let you all know that, “I do what I can.” With a name like Cruz, which in Spanish means “cross,” I wonder exactly what he can do. I suspect that it's more than he was willing to admit in front of his boss. My boss on the other hand, who knew a thing or two about crosses, already knows everything there is to know about me. So I guess I’ll just do what I can too.
She’s works as a salesperson for a floral company who supplies the big supermarkets and funeral homes in the area. She was surprised to know that I too worked in the same industry (FTD delivery driver) while I was trying to figure out my life. Floral arrangements is her life. And has been since 1989. She confessed that she hates her job, “I’m bored and tired with it.” I could tell.
Receptive as she was for participating in the challenge, Yael used just the right amount of words need to answer my questions. But if you knew her you might say eyes and facial expressions did most of the talking. Unlike the others who share our alley, Yael is not someone who needs to bend your ear. Quiet, yet kind. That’s who she is. Having just had a weird experience on “Craig’s List” (a community website where weird happens) Yael didn’t want me to take her picture. But she did want you to know that she is “always honest.” That is a quality I like in a person, especially my neighbors. Honesty is the best policy for a new friendship. It doesn't take a lot of words to be true and real. But it does take two to help spread this wondrous virtue down the alley, through the neighborhood, and into the world.
“I’m an orphan,” she said as her eyes began to tear. “Like the parents who lost their babies today (referring to the mass murder of 12 people by Ian David Long in Thousand Oaks, CA). We shared a moment of pain, grief, loss, and life together. This was not the America she came to in 1974 as a young girl with a small child. Like her father she raised her daughter Linda on her own.
“I was a stranger,” she said about growing up an Armenian Apostolic Christian in a Muslim world. She was also an immigrant living in a foreign country (she moved to Richmond, VA which she joked was both foreign and country). “But God loves me. He watches out for me. When will the world realize that God loves everyone?” I held onto her words as I walked home underneath the evening sky as the blues moved from blood red to darkness. A once in a lifetime painting created by the heavenly imagination of a God who loves immigrants, orphans, and strangers…like Alice. And me. WARNING: Hollister's story contains some lightly crude content that might offend some people who are overly politically correct.
I met Hollister while crossing the street. He had an enamel pin attached to the strap of his sling-bag that caught my eye. It was a completely inappropriate, brightly colored work of art that was screaming to be noticed. I couldn’t resist. I had to inquire. “Is that a topless Marge Simpson?” That’s when I was first introduced to this young man's smile. It was as big as him. “Yes, it is. Good eye.” Rather proudly, he shifted his bag over his shoulder to show me a topless Jessica Rabbit (from the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit). As he did, he began to giggle like a teenage schoolboy who just got away with something naughty. It seemed only appropriate that I share the story about my son, which will go down in family lore for many generations. It was a crisp, fall afternoon in San Francisco. My brother-in-law and I were walking my kids home from Golden Gate park. My son, who was 3 or 4 years old at the time, was on my shoulders shouting to the world, “I like boobies!” This brought the giggles back to Hollister. But the real gut busting laugh came when I told him about the woman who was waiting to cross the street with us. She gave my son “the look.” Without missing a beat he looked dow at her and said in the sweetest of little boy voices (and I swear this is true), “What? I like rocket ships, too!” That’s when she shot me “the look” and walked away in a huff. We on the other hand took our time walking home as we listened to my son sing, “I like boobies and rocket ships!” After sharing my story with Hollister, I thought it would be good to get his. He was from Compton but moved out to go to college in Ohio to study pre-med. Then, nursing. And now, back in Los Angeles, he's changed his major again to audio and sound design. However, he still holds onto the idea of being a nurse. When I asked him where he was going, he quickly said, “Therapy.” Not something you tell a stranger. For a brief moment I tried to figure out what could be wrong with this young, outgoing man. He measured in around 6’3’’ and no more than 150 pounds but muscular. He had small, tight dreadlocks and a smile as bright as a full moon that sliced across his dark skin. If he had a care in the world it couldn’t have been any bigger than bag that hung over his shoulder – the one with the boobie pins. I would come to learn that he was going to physical therapy for a small tight knot that formed in his neck. Before I could get a picture or tell him about what I am doing, he had the green light to his appointment and took it. As he was crossing the street he yelled back, “Thanks for the laugh. I loved that story about boobies and rocketships.” This, no doubt, garnered "the look" from a few female commuters waiting for the light to change. Little did that know that it would take a set of cartoon boobies to bring two strangers together.
I liked the fact that Ray had a way of making me listen and hang onto his words. Yet, as the cars roaring by muffled out his strained voice, I quickly learned that Ray and I had absolutely nothing in common. For example, he believes a perfect burger does not have lettuce, pickles or mustard on it. I beg to differ. He likes mayo and lots of mayo. I hate mayo, even the smallest amount. He still thinks President Obama was born in Kenya, event though that has been disprove time and time again.
The one thing we both agreed on was how funny life is when two people with completely different opinions on nearly everything could still laugh together. We shared a similar sense of humor; one not many got. By the time we got to Burger King, Ray began to share more personal, family stories. It felt like spending some time with an old friend. I have a feeling that Ray didn’t really have anyone to talk to, and so he shared himself with any stranger. I would eventually learn that he was from Merchantville, NJ. Most of his life he was an introvert, and at one point in time he was the president of his bowling club. He worked for the county of Lost Angeles, and is now living on social security. He eats at McDonald's and Burger King a lot. And in case you were wondering, Ray hates pickles on his hamburgers because, “The juice gets deep into the meat and takes over the flavor.” But for me, that's what makes getting to know someone like Ray worthwhile; allowing his story to seep deep within my heart and change the flavor of my day. |
Ian MacdonaldAn ex-copywriter turned punk rock pastor and peacemaker who dedicates his life to making the world a better place for all humanity. "that they all might be one" ~John 17:21“Prius vita quam doctrina.”
~ St. Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) * “Life is more important than doctrine.”
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