Ought to be the most spiritual person in a local congregation—and also the most down-to-earth. The most heavenly and also the most earthy.

The spiritual and physical aspects of reality are not distinct and opposed. They are both, together, the fully connected and whole reality of the universe. 

The temptation for the local pastor is to swing to one extreme or the other. The pressure comes both from within and without. Some pastors are more wired for being overly spiritual; others are wired for being overly earthy. Some congregations press their pastors to be more like gurus; others press their pastors to be more like CEOS. 

Are different things. Cognates of the heart, but more like cousins in action. 

We wait for hopes. We work towards dreams. 

We inhale hopes. We exhale dreams. 

Hopes depend on something outside of ourselves, given to us like precious gifts. Dreams bubble up from the secret places of our souls and spill out into the world. 

Because wandering is a waste of time and energy and resources. 

Everyone is on a pathway to somewhere, and without someone who has traveled a similar path before, the going is slower and harder and more fraught with danger. 

Your journey is utterly unique. No one has traveled your exact path before. No one has ever lived your life. No one has ever lived in your time, in your geography, among your people, engaged in your activities, with your skills and experience, chasing after your dreams. No one has ever experienced this once-in-all-of-time opportunity.

No one. Ever. 

Is a really good sign that you need to just have that conversation. Stop thinking; start talking.

The number of times you have rehearsed a conversation in your mind is an indicator for how high the stakes are for either having or not having the real conversation. The length of time you have been avoiding the conversation is the same length of time that slow-but-steady damage has been done by the silence.
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All-seeing God, You have searched me, though I am often afraid to look within myself.

All-knowing God, You know me intimately, though I often do not know myself.

You know when I sit and when I rise, though I often cannot tell which way is up or down.

You perceive my thoughts from afar, though I often cannot keep my thoughts straight.

You discern my going out and my lying down, though I am often unsure of where I am coming from or where I am going.

You are familiar with all my ways, though I am often unclear on what I am doing or why.

Before a word is on my tongue, You know what I am going to say, though I often speak without thinking.

Is necessary for any real personal growth, maturity, or progress. 

It can get quite comfortable on this road. Between these lines. Trusting these guardrails. But anyone who has driven long distances—or even short distances on a familiar highway—can tell you that such security can lull you into a trance. You snap too a few minutes later surprised at where you are now. No visual memory of having come so far. No recollection of the sights you passed. 

From as far back in the Bible as Leviticus 1-3, it’s obvious: The work of the priest is the messy and unglamorous work of helping people restore themselves to right and loving relationship with God.

In Leviticus it’s a lot of literal guts and blood and other bodily fluids and smells. It’s not for the faint of heart, or those with a strong gag reflex. It’s not quite so literally messy in our day, but the metaphor is a solid one.

Because I brought so much to the party. Because I had some talent and intellect. Because I was kinda winsome and had some leadership skills. Because I was creative and didn’t adhere to the status quo. Because I was a dreamy visionary. Because I was a passionate go-getter. Because I took my faith so much more seriously than most. Because—let’s face it—if he really wanted to get anything done in the world, he’d go farther faster with me on board.

Because. Because. Because. Because.

The metaphors we use are important. All language is basically metaphor, and all metaphors, in the end, breakdown. Insufficient to fully describe the reality they point to. Which is why we need multiple metaphors—even contradictory, or seemingly incompatible metaphors—to describe the indescribable. Truly great things can never be described head-on, in plain terms. 

I can describe the sky as blue, and vast, and beautiful, but richer and more poetic language is needed to truly convey a sense of majesty and awe. 

So it is with God. God must always be describe obliquely. And with multiple metaphors. 

According to Jesus. Those who others speak ill of. The slandered, the maligned, the publicly shamed. Especially—according to Jesus, it’s worth clarifying—those who are cursed for doing what it right.

We have a problem in our culture. It seems that one of our favorite national pass-times has become calling people out. Particularly anyone who might have any sort of public influence. There are few things we Americans love more than raising someone up on a pedestal only to cheer as we knock them back to the ground.

Beware the spotlight.