There is a mystery to belonging.

I’m usually reminded of this early on Sunday mornings. I bought one of those clock alarms with a CD player so you can wake up to the music of your choice rather than some annoying radio station or a loud buzzer.

We usually have a mix of tunes that begin our morning with a heart of worship, giving glory to God, which certainly helps our attitude as we start the day. The first one that comes on is an all-time favorite, Easter Song by Keith Green, celebrating the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

My wife, Zolla, and I always enjoy hearing this song as we awaken, but on Sunday mornings, it means a bit more. It begins a time together that is just our own, with no job to worry about, no dogs or cats to take care of, no television, no ESPN or SportsCenter, no friends, no family, no phone calls, no Facebook or internet–just my wife and I waking up together, talking and enjoying each other without distraction.

There’s a visceral sense of peace and belonging between us that no one else knows in the exact same way as we do during that time. And most often, it doesn’t matter if we had a big argument the night before. It doesn’t matter if I was an insensitive jerk or if she was critical or anxious.

When we hear Keith’s piano bursting through the web of our fitful dreams, we remember a mercy that comes renewed with the morning, and we remember that in our own little world when it’s just the two of us alone together, we get to experience the truest sense of unconditional acceptance and intimacy. It’s probably the time, more than any other, when I feel the most “married.”

But then, a few songs later, we hear the nuns of the Salzburg Abbey from the musical, The Sound of Music, invoking a glorious welcome to the industry and tasks of the day, and this is our reminder that it’s time for us to get out of bed if we’re going to make it to church on time. And so, we both groan for having to get up, but also for the loss of those fleeting moments.

Sure, we could set the alarm to go off earlier, which we have. Sure, I in particular could create more moments of quiet and intimacy, which I do and am working to get better at doing more. But for now, this has simply been our pattern, and because it’s this temporary moment of grace, it feels all the more precious to both of us.

My wife and I have been working with married couples for a number of years, and next week, I’ll be starting a new class on marriage at our local church. It was just an arbitrary matter of scheduling, but the class will begin the day after Easter, and so during this Holy Week I’m preparing for the class and have marriage on my mind as much as I have the suffering and resurrection of Christ.

But I wonder whether that’s really a coincidence. Marriage is perhaps my best daily example of the suffering and resurrection that Jesus experienced for our sakes. Paul said of him:

“I want to know Christ—to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead.” – Philippians 3:10-11

We sometimes make jokes about the archaic phrasing in the Bible where Adam “knowing” his wife is simply a polite euphemism for sexual relations. And while it is perhaps just that, I think it also means a great deal more. Biblical knowing certainly goes beyond the cognitive knowledge of someone, and this is represented by the physical intimacy of marital sex, where the two become one in a mysterious one-flesh relationship.

But, anyone knows that there’s a lot more to a happy marriage than just sex. There’s intimacy in the realm of the intellect, of the emotions, and ultimately, in the realm of the spiritual. And, that, like marriage, is related to the way we can know Christ–a knowing, a communion, that can last for eternity.

Knowing Christ and this eternal sense of belonging, however, can only be reached through a crucifixion. In other words, the power of his Easter resurrection must be preceded by a participation in his suffering and death.

And so it is with marriage. When you get married, you can’t hide your selfishness any longer. It shows up in spades after you say your vows. And so the only way to truly have a lifelong marriage of happiness and true belonging, to truly know that other person physically, emotionally, spiritually and become one-flesh, you must die to that selfish desire to always go your own way.

My wife and I have felt this suffering, this not wanting to let go of our way of doing things, many times in our marriage. It hurts to let go of what I want. It feels like a death. I’ve spent ample time in mourning for the loss of my own way. But, no matter how justified I’ve felt in standing up for the conviction that I’m right, if it means that she and I end up not speaking to each other and living separately under the same roof, then all I ultimately feel in being right is dead right. Without her, I have no life that’s worth living. And so to know this type of resurrection life, I have to give myself up:

“Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her…’For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.’ This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church.” Ephesians 5:25,31-32

We all want to be accepted. We all want to belong. But most often, there is a price that must be paid for that acceptance. Christ paid that price 2,000 years ago so we as his church could know and belong to God, and through his power and guidance, my wife and I have the surreal opportunity to engage in this mystery of belonging in our marriage as well. In spite of all our weaknesses, she accepts me and I accept her.

So, it’s probably no accident that some of the most precious times in my marriage are heralded by a song about new life and the Easter resurrection. Not so coincidentally, it’s early on a Sunday morning when this mutual mercy is renewed with the dawn and I’m reminded of the price that was paid for my acceptance: both the price that is paid when my wife and I make the choice to put the needs of each other’s life above our own, and the price paid when Jesus placed the needs of the world above his right to life itself.

I don’t think there is a coincidence. There is a connection between marriage and the implications of Holy Week, except perhaps in their duration. With me and my wife, the celebration of our mutual acceptance so often occurs between Keith and the nuns, and it will last so long as we both shall live. With Christ and the church, the marriage celebration will never end.

(If you live near Statesville, North Carolina and would like to attend my marriage class, it begins next Monday, April 25th. Feel free to contact me or click HERE for more info.)

Previously, I wrote about our pursuit of the American Dream, its pros and cons, and how most view it as improving yourself economically, owning your own home, building a retirement nest-egg, etc. But, perhaps the most compelling symbol for those who’ve achieved the American Dream is embodied in just two letters: RV.

Many people want to pay off their mortgage or have a nice retirement so they can do one thing: have the freedom to purchase a Recreational Vehicle and hit the road. My parents did just this a while back, spending five years traveling the country, working at different camps, enjoying the good life. My wife and I have often whispered of selling all we own, buying an RV, and heading out into the unknown.

RV life is an adventure. You get to trade your ordinary, predictable world for a life of scenic beauty and imagination. The road is always before you. There is newness and variety to the people you meet, the places you see, the potential to start anew with each new day. The very word recreational speaks of a life of refreshment and joy; you just need a vehicle to get you there.

It occurs to me that you and I are recreational vehicles. Or at least we can be if we change our focus a bit and see ourselves with different eyes.

Did you realize that God’s conspicuous activity throughout most of temporal, human history hasn’t been so much creative as it has been re-creational? In other words, of the hundreds of chapters in the biblical story, only the first few pages directly narrate God’s activity as Creator (despite retrospective allusions elsewhere).

From the time He “formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life,” the rest of God’s story, and ours, largely involves recreation–transforming ordinary, profane, fallen “material” into something sanctified and glorious.

My own story is certainly a microcosm of this recreational endeavor. Through God’s breath into my dusty form, strength and reconciliation have arisen from a life of weakness and brokenness; relational passion, intimacy, and purity have been recreated from a past of rejection, distance, and misplaced desire. He continues my metamorphosis still and will continue it for his own glory.

I often tell people who bemoan the fact that they have never experienced the miracles of old–the parting of the Red Sea, sight to the blind, the dead rising from the grave–that they are ignoring the miracles that occur every day right under our noses:

Have you ever witnessed someone’s character transformed from a life of selfishness into a life of service to others? Perhaps a sexually-abused girl who now brings spiritual healing to those with a similar past? Have you ever seen a lifeless marriage that somehow rediscovers love, forgiveness, and intimacy? If you claim these kind of events aren’t miracles, you must be living in denial.

It is wise to note, however, that most miracles only appear supernatural to us. Really, they simply involve the Creator, transforming, recreating that which already exists though it is at first unseen by our human eyes. Abraham was given the ability to have a child decades beyond what was considered natural because he trusted in the God who “gives life to the dead and calls the things that are not, the things that are.”

Do you spend your days in drudgery and meaninglessness, pining away for a future when you might have the freedom to enjoy what is good? Do you see only how ordinary, how profane, how fallen you are, only a world of darkness, suffering, and brokenness? It is naive to deny that such realities exist. But, if you simply change your direction and your focus, there is a light that can transform who you are and what you see.

To be a recreational vehicle is about focusing on the unseen road before you, always driving yourself toward this faithful Creator who knows the end from the beginning, this God who can give you a new heart and a new spirit, who calls the things we believe are not, the things that are.

Don’t wait for retirement to step out on such a glorious adventure. You have only to turn around to leave the darkness behind you. The sunrise awaits.

The precious possession of a man is diligence. — Proverbs 12:27

Do you like what you do? According to recent surveys, most Americans don’t. Most of us are unhappy and wishing we were somewhere else. Some of us are lazy. Others are unchallenged. Some can’t get along with our co-workers. Others have a mean boss or feel under-appreciated for all they do.

In truth, understanding our relationship to work is a fundamental life-question, and if we’re not happy with what we do, this might be a red-flag for some self-examination. Why? Because work, or what we do, encapsulates much more than what we do for a paycheck and therefore speaks more about who we are as human beings than just who we are as employees.

Sure, most of us go to work to earn a living. But, It’s also work to get out of bed, it’s work to exercise, to eat right and keep ourselves fit. It’s work to keep a house clean, to care for infants and teenagers, to love our husband or wife, it’s work to come up with fresh ideas, to keep up with our studies, to go to church, to pray, to volunteer in our community, and so on.

Understanding our relationship to work runs as deep as understanding our relationship to God, to our spouse, our children, or others who matter to us. Because, just like marriage, childbirth, etc., work is seated deep within our psyche and our history. The concept of work is sewn within the fabric of life’s purpose and meaning.

In the Bible, the first thing we read about God doing is work. When he speaks, he does so with a view towards productivity. Through his creative energy, he produces for us light, the earth, the sea, plants, animals, humans–all with a similar reproductive or utilitarian end. They’re meant to work for something. The first commission he gives to man is to work, to cultivate and maintain Eden, his home. Everything has its purpose, and our purpose is typically exercised through work.

The Bible has a lot to say about our relationship to work:

Are you one of those who feels unappreciated at your job (outside or inside the home), like no one understands your value or properly rewards you for what you do? There are lots of passages where God defends equal work for equal pay. And, God does care about justice in the workplace. But, he also cares about your attitude and your sense of duty. God says that it’s better to be a nobody with a job than to be unemployed with no one around to challenge your superiority (1). And, he says that, ultimately, he’s the one you should be working for; he’s the one you should seek your rewards and recognition from (2).

Work produces. Idleness, believe it or not, destroys (3). Idleness is rampant in our culture of electronic self-worship and passivity. When we have nothing to do for an extended period, our love turns inward and our judgment turns outward (4). When we aren’t producing anything, we’re more apt to tear down and, worse-case scenario, to even lose the life and gifts God meant for us to put to good use in the first place (5).

You’ve heard all the stories of people who win the lottery only to end up in bankruptcy, broken relationships, and even death? God says that “the precious possession of a man is his diligence” (6). There needs to be an appreciation between what we have and how much work was done to produce it. Otherwise, we disintegrate into selfishness, and what we do have has no meaning; we incessantly crave and desire and are left with nothing (7).

Now some of you Bible scholars are shouting at your screen, trying to remind me that God gives us our most precious possession, our eternal relationship with Him, through his grace and not our own work. This is indeed true. But, God’s grace, while given freely, is the result of the finished work of his son, and we’ll have no true job satisfaction in life without–in appreciation of the cost that was paid for this free gift–following the same work-ethic Jesus did while on earth.

Essentially, when we accept the rewards of Christ’s work, we do so by signing a new job application. God becomes our new boss. He has already paid us the highest of salaries, and promises to energize us to do so many things we could never do on our own (8). But, ultimately, he expects us, through his power and guidance, to be productive–to help him reproduce in others what he has produced in us.

If you’re feeling disgruntled with your job, with the effort you produce, with your place in life, ask yourself this question: What are you working for? Is it to produce a living, a regular paycheck, food on the table, shoes for the kids? This is right to do. But, you shouldn’t work just to produce a living, but to produce a life–not just for yourself or your own sense of purpose, but for the lives of those around you. That’s really what you were created for.

God says that by working hard, we should remember those in need, whether, physical, or spiritual (9). He says that a person should “labor, performing with his own hands what is good, so that he will have something to share with one who has need” (10).

Our relationship to work, then, has everything to do with how we work on our relationships. What if we applied the following as a work ethic, both on the job, and in life itself?

“Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle. Don’t burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don’t quit in hard times; pray all the harder. Help needy Christians; be inventive in hospitality. Bless your enemies; no cursing under your breath. Laugh with your happy friends when they’re happy; share tears when they’re down. Get along with each other; don’t be stuck-up. Make friends with nobodies; don’t be the great somebody. Don’t hit back; discover beauty in everyone. If you’ve got it in you, get along with everybody” (11).

Tell me that the work described above wouldn’t produce a reward that is miles beyond your measly expectations of a fair paycheck and proper recognition in your career or vocation. It would both exhaust you and help you sleep more soundly at night. It would produce in you and others a life of purpose and meaning.

Whether you’ve noticed it or not, God’s sign has been placed in the window of your life all this time:

“Help Wanted.”

What are you ready to do for him?

(1).   Proverbs 12:9
(2).   Ephesians 6:5-8; Hebrews 6:10-12
(3).   Proverbs 18:9
(4).   I Timothy 5:13-18; Proverbs 26:16
(5).   Luke 19:20-26
(6).   Proverbs 12:27
(7).   Proverbs 13:4; 21:25-26
(8).   Philippians 2:12-13
(9).   Acts 20:35
(10). Ephesians 4:28
(11). Romans 12:9-18

I’ve always loved the old Spaghetti Westerns. Clint Eastwood rides into some frontier town covered with dust, mystery, and rawhide testosterone.

The Old West town he surveys is riddled with the oddest mix of characters: the snake-oil salesman bellows to anyone within shouting distance that he can cure all their ills; the preacher across the street shouts a solution to a different ailment–an eternity suffering in hellfire and brimstone; buxom prostitutes lean against brothel doors, selling their wares without uttering a single word; sentimental ladies stroll the boardwalk with modest dress and parasol, exchanging niceties; gold prospectors do a jig in praise of new-found riches; crowds in saloons are there for entertainment and the thrill of the game.

Now…imagine through some absurd use of creative license that Eastwood is transported through time and space to our present day and is given the knowledge to go on the internet and join such social networking sites as MySpace, Facebook and Twitter.

Our slant-eyed cowboy saunters into these virtual frontier communities, and what does he find? Well, not snake-oil salesmen exactly, but he is immediately pitched with the restorative properties of the acai berry and the potency of Cialis. No gold prospectors, but he is quickly approached about the millions that are just waiting for him with investments in online marketing, real estate ventures, or bank exchanges with Nigerian-hired barristers.

Sure, Clint may not find some old-school preacher speaking of doom-and-gloom, but he is riddled with bible-thumping status updates and invitations to blogs where he can pause and reflect on his spiritual well-being. And even rawhide Eastwood blushes at photos and video advertisements that make those old-time prostitutes look tame by comparison.

Instead of the enticements of saloon gambling, he is barraged with games like Farmville and Mafia Wars. Poor Clint even finds his profile buried in virtual flowers and teddy bears offered by sentimental ladies. And finally, our befuddled cowboy quickly learns the acronym “TMI” as he’s inundated with some of the most inane daily-life updates by the ordinary folks in this online town along with hundreds of photos of babies, pets, and weekend barbecues from people he’s barely heard of.

After experiencing such a futuristic horror our hardened gunslinger runs screaming from his computer and hides under the nearest pillow, dreaming of the relative safety of that Old West frontier.

*******

If you think about it, as dangerous as were the environmental hazards of living in the Old West, what seems more of a miracle is that anyone could survive the chaos of living with all those townfolk and their diverse interests and agendas. And while the online world of social networking is virtual, it’s also a wonder that we don’t all kill each outright or at least run screaming for safety–so many people with so many different expectations and pursuits trying to co-exist in the same virtual, frontier town.

Whether we realize it or not, most of us go online with inherent interests and pursuits, a pre-existing personality and makeup, and we subconsciously expect all those we interact with to basically fall in line. The fact that they don’t, or worse, that they expect us to be like them or want to enroll us in whatever program they’re into, comes as quite a shock. How dare they impose their Farmville, pet photos, or that get-rich sales pitch on us!

I’m sure I’ve tested some folks’ better angels with my blog advertisements or numerous status updates (including my unsolicited notice to my Facebook friends about today’s post!). No one’s complained, really, but I suspect I’ve been filtered or blocked by more than a few. I can be as guilty of this as anyone. News Flash: communities are full of imperfect people. So, probably all of us have, despite our best intentions, been insensitive to others’ expectations or spent too much time fuming over someone else’s infringements.

Just like living in any community, there are pros and cons to being part of these social networks. On the positive side, I have gained a great deal being online. I have made so many new friends, reunited with old ones, made new professional contacts, learned so many new things, and engaged in areas of dialogue I could never have found in the “real world.” Despite the things I find irritating, the good, for me, far outweighs the bad.

So, what’s the answer? I think the answer to behaving appropriately in the world of social networking is similar to the way we behave well in any real-world society. It’s simply by practicing The Golden Rule–to treat others as we’d want to be treated.

The Golden Rule is so simple and so easy. Why? Because I apply it by first focusing on my favorite subject-me! God really threw us a bone in the sense that the starting place for our love and compassion for others actually begins with our selfishness. It’s self-referential. I ask, ‘how would I want to be treated in this instance?’ Then the translation is simple. I treat others the same way.

So, for example: I personally don’t want someone to befriend me online and immediately start trying to sell me something, so I’m trying to get better at not inviting folks to my blog the minute after I befriend them (I am learning this one as I go). As another example, I don’t personally play Farmville, other games, or send gifts, but because I so often want people to listen when I reach out in ways they could find irritating, I typically accept all those flowers and teddy bears, and don’t block folks who constantly guilt me into helping them find their lost sheep.

It’s also helpful to remember that people most often do what they do because of need. People headed into the Old West frontier because they needed something. Freedom. Adventure. Spirituality. Commercial opportunity. Riches. Community. Here online, some just want entertainment, some want community, some want action, some want to make their first million, some want to just lurk quietly and be left alone.

Despite our diversity, one thing we certainly have in common is that we all have needs, and whether they’re casual or deeply felt, we’re all on here in hope that those needs might somehow get met. The Golden Rule is our path to this goal. But it says that we get our deepest needs met by first meeting the needs of others, or at least by being sensitive to those needs as we follow our own pursuits.

I’m not saying we aren’t right to use common-sense boundaries while online, whether it’s to protect our privacy, our safety, or simply our right to not be constantly hounded by spam, the latest sales pitch or some activity we find too frivolous for words. But, the boundaries we set should at least be equal to the respect we show for the boundaries of others when we ask them to accept whatever it is that we’re “selling.”

Part of the adventure of entering into a new frontier is that the future is bursting with possibility and opportunity. Imagine the possibilities that could come from reaching out to others online with grace and peace, especially when they least expect it…or deserve it. At the very least, it might bring a bit more civility to this wild, wild frontier town we’ve all come to live in.

Jesus said: “Whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” (Matthew 16:25)

Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others. (Philippians 2:3-4)

No need to tell you where I was, but it was wonderful.

It was high summer and I was on vacation, visiting a location I had been many times before. The sun was setting, I was alone, standing on a quiet country road at the head of an expansive bean field. The crop was low and plush, and you could see all the way to the end. The fading sunlight had been replaced by a host of fireflies, pulsing their glow over the entire field with a soft, glorious caress. I could barely catch my breath for the reverence of the moment. It was a pocket of earth that had the strongest sense of peace, of innocence, a place where you could smell the organic fruit of pure and unadulterated life. For me, there was no other place like it on earth.

Now, there are many sunsets, bean fields, and fireflies to experience, so why was this place so special? It was because there was more there for me than just the physical environment. It wasn’t just a place. In my past history there, it was where I’d found a sense of place. it was also where I, long ago, had my first glimpse of true purpose in the world. And too, it was where I found a community of people who have changed who I am today. In that high summer evening, I was awed by the effect of more than just some natural environment. A sense of Place. People. Purpose. That’s what made it special.

This experience reminded me that, while we’re told to mind our Ps & Qs (an old idiom that calls us to always be on our best manners), perhaps our decorum would be better informed by spending time just on our Ps: Our sense of people, place, and purpose. Our Qs, whatever those may be, can come later.

Very often we get to enjoy just one or two of these Ps at any one time, and we float adrift through life, wondering what’s missing. Have you ever had a strong sense of people or community–i.e., a great marriage, kids, church, friends, etc.–but hated the place where you lived? Have you ever had a strong sense of people, maybe even loved where you lived, but then had no sense of purpose in life? We can go through all the combinations, but you get the picture. Life is at its best when we experience all three.

However, one obvious question is, if you can’t find all three, what do you do? Just live in discontent and anguish? Well, I think there are different ways to approach this:

A sense of people, place, and purpose can exist objectively for us. I.e., we could “stumble” upon it in our journey as I did once in the instance above. But, I had to visit the place on vacation to be reminded of it. I think very few of us experience all three Ps throughout our whole lives.

I do believe they can be pursued. You can search for a people who fit you, a place you adore, you can discover and refine your sense of purpose. Some of us may be missing them simply because we haven’t searched hard enough. But the search for all three, too, may be fleeting, always just around the corner, and we’re missing the life we were intended to live while on this endless search.

It’s possible sometimes to realize that they have in some sense been there all along, and we simply need to shift our perspective to see it. For instance, at the time of this writing, while I’m fairly happy, I’m a little disgruntled about living out my life’s purpose and wondering if I’m in the right place. But then I remember that I love my wife and she loves me. Our marriage is the most important sense of “people” or community I could ever have. Wherever we are, she always gives me a strong sense of place. In many ways, living with and loving her is my best sense of purpose. I’m sure those of you with kids, grandchildren, or good friends could say the same thing. So often we pursue the three Ps outside of those who love us, and we’re emptier for it.

In light of that, I think the most important place I need to focus my search and perspective concerning the three Ps is on God. I love God and he loves me. No matter where I hang my hat, he is with me. The three Ps aren’t fleeting with him. They are sustained first and foremost in my relationship with him. He is my truest sense of place. My dependence on him and his community of followers gives me a sense of people no matter where I am or what I’m doing. Serving him and those in need should always be my most enduring purpose. I can often lose focus of this and try to mind my Ps apart from God. But then, life makes no sense.

And, I know I need to infuse his divine nature into the people, place, and purpose of this world. Ultimately, that’s what made the three Ps I experienced above so special for me. Long ago, it was amidst that place of twilight, bean fields, and fireflies where I first had a sense that God was inviting me to be part of his people, where he’d called me to a spiritual purpose that was beyond my nearsighted view of life. It was there where his touch on creation was an overwhelming reminder of his security and significance over my life. There, like no other place on earth, I felt truly at home and had a glimpse of my eternal home.

Where are you? Who are you with? Why are you here? I hope you are on a journey to answering these questions with some sense of satisfaction. If not, start your search for all three. Pursue them. Pray for them. Step back and look for the ways they may have been there all along. Adjust your perspective. Pursue the most organic source of your people, place, and purpose in God, and in Jesus, his Son.

Are you minding your Ps? It’s not just about good manners. Life doesn’t mean much without them.