25 Prayers of Christmas, Day 4

It's so easy for us to exaggerate and dramatize every little disaster in our lives. It's like we never grew out of those tantrums we threw as three-year-olds.

• The batteries ran out in my wireless keyboard and we don't have any double As in the house. Now I have to go the store. I'll NEVER get my work done.
• I planned the perfect dinner for my spouse but I forgot to buy tomatoes. Dinner is RUINED. 
• EVERYONE is out enjoying the beautiful weather today but I'm ALWAYS stuck inside with the laundry. 

Today, let us pray that we would keep things in their proper perspective. One mistake, one inconvenience, one setback, is NOT the end of the world!

#FacebookFail

I started the day with a text message from one of my best friends: "OMG... I just saw Facebook. Are you okay???"

I did a mental check. Wondered if I had posted something the night before when I was tired that could be misconstrued. We had gotten ourselves into a precarious situation the day before when hiking, but I was pretty sure I'd kept that bit of information to myself. Finally I opened Facebook and saw the culprit.

It wasn't something I had posted, but something someone else had posted on my wall. It was the worst of all possible things someone could have posted. And even though I didn't believe it for a second, it still took my breath away:

"Wanted to send support to you over the loss of your mother."

It had been a week since I'd talked to my parents, but there was no possible way I would find out something so devastating as this on Facebook of all places. Yes, my father would be wrecked, but he would still find it in himself to make that horrible phone call.

My gut reaction was to reply to the comment and ask if he'd meant my GRANDmother who passed away in early summer. And then to say that this is how rumors are started and you need to get your facts straight. But that tiny seed of fear had been planted. And I had to call to be sure.

Of course no one answered the home phone. And that tiny seed began to take root. But when I called my mom's cell she picked up right away. "I just called to make sure you are alive," I said. "Yep, I'm alive," she answered cheerfully. And I breathed a sigh of relief.

While my situation turned out to be a misunderstanding, there are people who have learned devastating news about loved ones in equally impersonal and public ways. I didn't confront the person who made this post, knowing that it wasn't malicious, but it did make me pause and think about how we use social media and how we can use it better.

First of all, it would be wise to let the family make the first mention of the loss. Once that person has made the information public, then feel free to offer condolences in the comment section. Second, make sure you have your facts straight, including what this person's relationship was to the deceased. Third, make use of Facebook Messenger to send a private message. If you are making a public statement just so everyone else can see it, then your motives are wrong.

And finally, if you have a way of contacting your friend/loved one outside of social media, do it. One of Randy's best friends from high school passed away this week and he's been on the phone ever since. Not checking Facebook for updates, but making actual phone calls to family and friends. Offering condolences and breaking the news in a more personal way than a text or a post.

Facebook is a wonderful service when it is used to keep in contact with family and friends, but we are responsible for using it wisely.

The Temptation to Disconnect

I admittedly have a love-hate relationship with social media. A former co-worker reminded me, as I was sharing the daily work that I do on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, that when I left the office 3 years ago I said, “I can’t wait to disconnect.”

Part of that was my natural inclination to compartmentalize my life. To keep work separate from family separate from school separate from my personal life. And social media is the exact opposite of a compartmentalized life.

But the other piece to that was my frustration at the negativity that pervades our tweets and posts and links. I find it so disheartening that I can tend to dwell there. In that negativity. Wondering why I even bother opening my Facebook app, day after day after day. (Twitter is a bit safer for me, as I mostly follow people I don’t know. I follow them for inspiration, and if they stop inspiring, because I don’t know them, they are far easier to delete.)

I want to shout at the negativity: WHO DOES THIS SERVE?

Who does it serve for us to publicly judge one another? Celebrities? The church?

Who does it serve for us to condemn another’s beliefs in defense of our own?

Who does it serve for us to “share” the “train wrecks” all around us?

My disenchantment is not just with the negativity, however. It’s also with the frivolity of it all. The seemingly futile. What is the point of sharing my heart and getting two likes when I can share a photo of my dinner and get 20 times that many? Do we even care any more about the heart?

But I suppose the real question here is: do I have anything worthwhile to say?

People tell me all the time that I should write a book. Sometimes they even tell me what it should be about. But I’m of that generation that doesn’t want to just do something; I want to do MY thing, and I want it to make a difference.

But even as I ask the question: Who does it serve for me to write this blog or that post or this tweet, I also have to ask the question: who does it serve if I don’t? And I already know the answer to that one: an unwritten word will always go unnoticed, an unwritten book will never change the world. So keep writing. Keep posting. Keep blogging and tweeting and posing for selfies. Because it has a better chance of changing the world than disconnecting. 

La Cruz de Ferro

Day 4 of walking: Rabanal del Camino to el Acebo, 17 km

Today we visited the Iron Cross, la Cruz de Ferro, where pilgrims from all over the world bring stones from home to place at the foot of the cross.

Last year some were disappointed that I didn't bring anything from Ohio to place at the cross. But I carried with me instead the stones that Randy had brought with him. And because of time constraints wasn't able to take them to the cross himself. (Read last year's blog post here.)

This year, however, Rand had the idea to bring something special to the cross: an Ohio buckeye. I had given him one last year for his birthday as part of his "get to know Ohio" gift. And he thought it would be fitting to bring it to the cross. Together.

We also brought with us a bracelet that read "Team Jeremiah" and "Fight Against Leukemia" for a very special 9-year-old boy in Ohio. He is not only facing something more difficult and painful than I can even imagine, but he is doing it with a positive attitude and a learning mind. It is this kind of child-like faith and curiosity that will lead to a cure.

Bringing something from home to this place is a way to symbolize our collective journey, as well as what we individually bring to the table. Perhaps last year I wasn't convinced that I had something worthwhile to contribute. Maybe it took Randy and the faith of a little boy to show me otherwise. Because this I know to be true: we all matter.

If you are here every week, you aren't doing it right

I've been thinking today about the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10.

Most of us know the story. A man is attacked, beaten, and left half dead on the side of the road. Along comes a priest who sees the man and keeps walking. Next comes a Levite (the tribe of Levi were set apart by God for priestly duties) who also sees the man and keeps walking. It isn't until a Samaritan comes by that anyone stops to help the beaten man. A Samaritan of all people! (The Jews, whom Jesus was preaching to, despised the Samaritans.)

Jesus tells this parable after "an expert in the law" wants to know how to inherit eternal life. He tells Jesus that the law says to serve God first, and to love your neighbor. But he wants to know who his neighbor is.

I started thinking about this parable during our Super-Bowl-at-Church experience Sunday. (Yes, I sometimes daydream about Luke while the pastor is preaching on Daniel!)

As the media team turned off the Super Bowl and turned on the worship band, and as we all reflected on worshiping God not football, I reminded myself not to fall into legalism. Not to be the "expert in the law" who sees everything as black-and-white.

Because sometimes serving God will mean being there for church at 7 p.m. on the dot, with my phone left in the car and my hands raised high. And sometimes it will mean saying no to everything else in order to have my 5 minutes of prayer or Bible reading.

BUT.

I once heard someone preaching on this parable say that the priest and the Levite who didn't stop for the injured man were on their way to church. They couldn't stop and help someone in need because they didn't want to be late for church!

I don't want to be that girl. The one who refuses to see her neighbor in need because she HAS to read her Bible RIGHT NOW or HAS to be at church RIGHT NOW or HAS to pray RIGHT NOW.

That isn't serving God. That is serving the law.

Imagine if a homeless man on the street had stopped me outside the church and asked if I knew the score of the game. Would it be more God-honoring for me to say, "I can't talk right now. I can't be late for church." Or would God prefer I see the man, really see him, pull out my phone and watch with him the last two minutes of the game, and miss the opening worship song in order to celebrate (or mourn) with my "neighbor"?

At another church we regularly attend, the pastor is famous for saying, "If you are here every week, you aren't doing it right." He has tapped in to our tendency toward legalism and knows our need to be reminded that the church isn't "in here", it is "out there".

Whatever is true, honorable, right, pure, and lovely...

We rented a movie last night. One we had seen previewed on pretty much every movie we have seen in the last two weeks.

The previews didn't tell us much about what to expect, other than it involved parents navigating appropriate boundaries for their teenagers when it came to things like texting, social media, the Internet and video games.

Which sounds like a movie that could be helpful for just about anyone. Whether you have kids or not. Since many of us adults are as addicted to technology as teenagers.

The movie started out interesting, showing the extremes of how families deal. From obsessively monitoring teenagers phones and computers, to encouraging them to promote themselves online, to feeling completely helpless.

But it soon spiraled into something else entirely. Graphic indiscretion after indiscretion. Mostly on the part of the adults.

This isn't anything new. Nothing we haven't seen in the media before. But I sensed in my spirit that it wasn't something I wanted to watch any longer.

Philippians 4:8 says, 

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.

There was nothing lovely or admirable about the lies and infidelities and addictions in this movie. And even though it was just a movie, I didn't want any of those things anywhere near my relationship, my thoughts, or my heart.

At the same time, I think this is a personal choice. I don't think there is a one-size-fits-all list of what is true, noble, and right. Some people can handle more than I can without being affected by it. And some can handle less. We simply need to be attentive to that feeling in our gut which tells us when it is okay to finish watching the movie, and when we need to turn it off.