The Bridge: Reflections

“To give a person an opinion one must first judge well whether that person is of the disposition to receive it or not.”

–The Book of Samurai

 

I couldn’t really say that I maintain a strong grasp on the pulse of my homeland right now. Like every country the beat of a nation rises and falls. Nor could I say that the politics of the moment and feelings of the day are within my grasp of knowledge either. Common sense has taught us all that news from social media is nowhere close to inherent. That being said, it appears there are some strong emotions mixed with unhealthy doses of fear permeating the atmosphere. While I generally steer clear from jumping into the arena with the big dogs to weigh in about my own opinions and thoughts on current events, this time I feel the need to share a few things I’ve recently reread.

1 John 4:18 “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.”

1 John 4:20 says, “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen.”

1 John 2:9 says “Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness.”

“Our culture has accepted two huge lies: The first is that if you disagree with someone’s lifestyle, you must fear them or hate them. The second is that to love someone means you agree with everything they believe or do. Both are nonsense. You don’t have to compromise convictions to be compassionate.” –Rick Warrren

I realize that not everyone may agree with my opinion on different matters, however, the majority I think will find that we’re entering a season where mutual respect regardless of differences has traditionally been upheld. We can get into semantics later, but I think we can also agree that fear and respect are not the same. Christmas was the beginning of the bridge. It was built so that we might experience life without fear. A life that takes us out of darkness and revolves around a lasting love. A way of redemption shown to us not because we are deserving or without blame, but rather shown to us by the only God who has come to us and desires to restore a relationship that has been broken. Restoring honor where there was once shame. That to me is certainly a bridge worth pursuing and sharing.

“We love because He first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)

The Bridge

From straw to wood . . . cloth to nails . . . frail to power . . . infancy to eternity

The bridge to the cross.

From a silent night to the only one raised to save.

“Joy! Unspeakable joy! . . . Rises in my soul, never lets me go.”

–Chris Tomlin

The Bridge: A Prelude

 

Origins of traditions can be hard to pinpoint sometimes. Other times the initial event that began it all can only be disputed by the blind. For some there seems no rhyme or reason as to why things occur as they do, you just know you should continue along. Christmas traditions have a clear beginning with our family. Mainly because the boys were so young to remember or be active in anything prior to Africa, our traditions began when we arrived in Kenya. Prior to knowing how a calendar worked our boys knew Christmas was coming by visiting the annual Christmas Fair in Nairobi. An amazing event with great food, fun and support of local and regional organizations intent on making the world a better place.

After the fair we would look for Creepy Saxophone Santa in front of Nakumatt and see how close we could get before being completely creeped out. The “Santa”, and I use this term loosely, would be still and then all of a sudden jump to life playing a weird version of some Christmas song. Then without notice he would cease moving until the next random spastic movement began. Like I said, creepy. Once this was accomplished my wife and I would pressure the boys to sit on Indian Santa’s lap for a photo. I could never really wrap my mind around why it was such an odd site to see a Santa from India in Kenya (yes I understand history). I guess my brain is still clinging to ingrained North American traditions. Regardless this was our prelude to the Christmas season.

This year it seems Creepy Saxophone Santa has been replaced with Blue Nakumatt Santa. Other than obvious marketing reasons, I’m not really sure why the Blue Santa is here. I tried to ask him but he wasn’t at liberty to say. What I do know is that the Kenyan guy in the blue felt suit was drenched with perspiration and still creeping out little kids. The tradition continues.

Certainly some traditions are just for fun while others, like Indian Santa begin purely by opportunity. However, other traditions, like setting up the Veggie Tales nativity, are rooted in an uncompromising and unchanging gift that bridged all time. A prelude to a second birth.

 

Don’t Wake The Monster

After being told repeatedly that his behavior was not something desired, the mother said in a stern voice, “Benjamin. What am I going to say to you?” The almost six year old sat pensively for a moment, cocked his head, and with all seriousness uttered “Bleh.”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed out loud from where I was standing in the kitchen. Immediately two sets of eyes flashed their way to meet mine. One pair with a gleam of approval and a touch of playful mischief. The other pair had the look that you get from someone who says they love you yet nothing in their look is loving. Parenting is such a delicate balance. On one hand you get to enjoy the moments of randomness and discovery, encouraging them to go further than they ever thought possible. Enjoying the messiness of life and laughter of love. While on the other hand instructing that sometimes what is thought as creativity is not really creativity at all.

We have one son who thinks that streaking through the house is hysterical. He’s dramatic about it too. No mere naked running for the little dude. Oh no, he needs to make enough noise to draw attention to his marathon. Occasionally he wears a hat but usually that’s just an after thought. So where is the line drawn? When is it ok to laugh and let it go and when do you turn it into a teachable moment giving instruction on acceptable behavior? Maybe I should just let it all go and wait for Grandma to deal with it the next time she visits.

Sometimes a parent or teacher can feel like a monster squashing creativity for conformity. Sacrificing aspects of independence and pride for integrity and humility. It seems that even the clothes the boys have tells us to let it go and just be friends. However, truth be told, my sons are not my friends. They are my sons. Knowing right from wrong and acceptable behaviors are not something for me to ignore teaching. Having high expectations and holding them and myself accountable is not something to be inconsistent about. The real loveless monster would be to ignore such instruction in their lives. What they learn now will be the foundation they stand on later in life.

I will continue to enjoy every moment of my current world. A world where plastic dinosaurs high-five each other and the bad guys say “excuse me” and “sorry” after doing a most heinous crime, such as laughing loudly in an evil villain way. “Mwa-ha ha.” But deep within me I know that the monster of self entitlement and complacency waits for all of us just around the corner.