Don’t be profound all the time. (It’s boring.)
Don’t be razzle-dazzle all the time. (It’s cheap.)
Don’t be worried about anything all the time. (It’s only a chase after the wind.)
But be profound sometimes. (It’s life-giving.)
Be razzle-dazzle sometimes. (It makes life worth giving.)
Be worried about important things sometimes. (Lest you find you no longer have anything worth worrying over.)

Life is a contradiction in balance.

-Source unknown

Being a pastor/preacher/teacher comes with a great share of criticism. And as I finish my 12th year in ministry I’m continually reminded that it is completely impossible to please everyone. Every time I try and make everyone happy, to make everyone like me, I only end up laying awake at night in a sweat pondering why it’s so impossible to make that simple thing happen. For the past couple of months I’ve been wrestling with and thinking through this statement by Matt Chandler:

“The first thing I started doing was figuring out my motivation in ministry. I love God. I care about his gospel. I could care less if you like me or not. I’m not going to spend hours of my life worrying about that stuff. When I am fearless in the proclamation of God’s Word, good things happen. Sometimes I don’t know the motivation in my heart. If it’s not the cross, the life of Jesus imparted into me, or his resurrection then I don’t stand a chance. I have no hope apart from these things.”

That’s a pretty hard statement for me to accept 100%, especially considering I still care some if people like me or not… perhaps it’s a personality flaw of some sort… I mean, I try not to care, but it doesn’t seem to work out so well. And then, just a few days later, I came across this little gem from Seth Godin on People Pleasing. He entitles it “A motto for those doing work that matters” (I think being a pastor/preacher/teacher actually matters… a lot… so I think this was written for me too.)

“We can’t please everyone, in fact, we’re not even going to try.”

Or perhaps:
“Pleasing everyone with our work is impossible. It wastes the time of our best customers and annoys our staff. Forgive us for focusing on those we’re trying to delight.”

The math here is simple. As soon as you work hard to please everyone, you have no choice but to sand off the edges, pleasing some people less in order to please others a bit more. And it drives you crazy at the same time.

I could stand for a little less crazy in my life.

A month ago I walked the indoor prayer labyrinth at Grace Cathedral and wrestled with my external critics as well as my internal critic (which is always worse than the external ones… he’s pretty harsh.) As I made my way into the center of the circle meditating and praying, I found myself wound up and frustrated beyond belief. It was on the way out, the time of listening and hearing from God that I heard these words loud and clear: “Aaron, you are my beloved son. With you I am well pleased.”

Immediately I was reduced to tears.

No matter what the critics say, no matter how harsh my inner critic gets and no matter how terribly I think I’ve failed, God continues to tell me, “You are my beloved son. With you I am well pleased.” God appreciates my effort, regardless of how much I think I’ve failed… and God expects me to rest in his love and trust that He’ll take it from where I left off.

I suppose Matt Chandler is actually right. It’s probably past time to stop spending hours of my life, hours of my sleep worrying about these things and instead spend that time resting in God’s love and praying for Him to do exponentially greater things with the offering of my work than I could ever possibly hope for… Perhaps I should heed the phrase of Mother Teresa: “I’m not called to be successful; I’m called to be faithful.”

(To Be Continued?)

The normal rhythms of life that I have come to rely on and need in order to keep my sanity have been thrown into the abyss of chaos. The past couple of weeks I have begun the work of taking stock of just how out of rhythm life has become. And my conclusion: the picture isn’t pretty.

I’m not really sure how it got to this point, (I’m not sure we ever do), but one thing is for sure it’s affected a lot more than I would care to admit.

As I began to assess the full the picture of my life I’ve noticed how this unsustainable rhythm has negatively affected a great deal of my relationships… and our community. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time that I was fully present, fully engaged with the person I was with. Often times it was because I was too tired to function properly. Whereas other times I was already concentrating on the next meeting/appointment: how I was getting there and what we were supposed to be talking about, etc. The more I lived this way, the more ridiculously “normal” it became. At one point the realization came to me: “The unsustainable rhythms you are trying to keep are doing nothing but hurting yourself, your marriage, your community, and your friends… to keep this up is not only silly stupid at its best, but sinful at its worst.”

So, I woke up to the realization that to continue was simply a sinful mess.

This is no way to live.

Two weeks ago I began to put into practice some simple boundaries for my life that would ease my schedule, give me rest, build some margin and create a sustainable rhythm for life. This hasn’t been easy–I’m trying to break a year long rhythm of un-sustainability–but it’s making a huge difference.

The first step was to simply “Reclaim the morning”. I sit down with a cup of coffee, Bible, and my journal and have re instituted what I call “Breakfast with Jesus.” It’s a quiet time of prayer, of meditation, of simply being still and hearing from God.

The second step has been to get my butt in gear and begin physical activity that has been sorely lacking. Running. I like to run. It clears my mind, reduces stress and anxiety and gives me a generally calm disposition.

The third step is to limit my schedule so that I can accomplish what needs to be accomplished. As a result I’m only taking on a maximum of 10 meetings per week. This is between 10-15 hours of my week instead of the 30 that it had become. I’m finding the space to get things done which has greatly reduced my stress… and is freeing up more time for me to spend with Tracy (the wife). This is extremely important to me.

And the fourth step, is re instituting date night with Tracy.

This will be a long process for myself, but one that will not only be extremely valuable for my sanity, but allow me to listen to and hear more from God and be a better husband, friend, and pastor.

I’ve created a twitter hashtag: #lifeinorder if you’d like to follow along with this journey or if you yourself would like to participate in getting your life back in order. I’d love the company!

I absolutely love watching this guy do his thing. It’s amazing, beautiful, brillaint and poetic. I wish I could do that… but I’m too much of a chicken to give it a try.

This video makes me wonder about passion. MacAskill devotes so much time and energy to this, his passion, and it shows. I wonder what is truly my passion… what it is that I devote the majority of my time and energy to? For some reason it’s not as clear cut as I would hope or expect. For the past several months my life has gone out of order. It has spiralled into a margin-less mess of doing to do and as a result I have missed out on the importance of being present, truly present with people.

So, I’m working on that… I’m working to put things back in order. Re-engage on rhythms that have been lost and set aside and abstaining from rhythms that have created this mess in the first place. I long for the re-order. I long for the margin. And I long to be truly present once again with people, giving them the very best that I have to offer… not my meager left-overs.

So, I’ve created a hashtag on twitter #lifeinorder for you to follow along on my journey or even to use for yourself if you find that your life has become tremendously out of order and long for the margin and space once again. I’m looking forward to this journey, to seeing and remembering what a life in order is about, and what possibilities can come from it.

This is the Eulogy I prepared and gave at my Grandma’s funeral last week…

Dorothy Mae Abel Shockley passed away at 11:20am Tuesday, September 7 2010 at the age of 90 with her family by her side.

Family was important to Grandma and it’s fitting that as she left this world her family was there by her side. Grandma grew up in a large family with 8 brothers and sisters and spent her teenage years living through the Great Depression before meeting and marrying Grandpa Abel on February 10, 1941.

Grandma was a devoted wife, mother and homemaker raising 4 wonderful daughters in a 2-bedroom house without air conditioning, without a microwave, and without a dishwasher. She was resourceful—she had to be. She became a tremendous cook on a tight budget. Living in the city, somehow she would get a couple of live chickens (we think from Aunt Cleo’s farm), wring their necks in the driveway—in full view of the neighbors (don’t mess with Grandma!)—lop off their heads and hang them from the clothes line in the yard as she plucked the feathers clean and cook up the best fried chicken you’ve ever had. She was such a good cook that she figured out ways to get her daughters to eat liver and onions, ham hocks, and pig brains—and before they figured out what they were actually eating, they loved it!

As her daughters grew up and had kids of their own Grandma was never far away. As Mary toiled away as a single mom, grandma was there to watch Billie. In fact, she watched us all… she was always there. When my dad lost his job and mom had to go back to work… grandma was there to watch me and make things a little easier. Grandma was always there to help out wherever she could. She wanted to make things easier for her daughters and did whatever she could to show her love and support.

I loved spending time with Grandma, she made the best hot dogs in the world. I swear she did something to the water she’d boil them in… And for 15 years I’ve been trying hopelessly to figure out what she did to make those stupid hot dogs so good. She’d pull them from the magical water, slice them down the middle and serve em up on a bun. Delectable! Every day after school, and even on the days I faked being sick, Grandma would make me those magical hot dogs to make everything better.

Grandma loved to take us out, she’d take us to the Surf Club, to the park, she’d take us fishing—and whatever we caught, she could turn into a mean fish stick! And whenever we’d get hungry—no way was she going to take us to a concession stand; she had a perfectly prepared bologna and ketchup sandwich close at hand!

Grandma was always there, and she passed on her love and value of family to each of us. But that’s not all she passed on… grandma had an insatiable love for the Cubs. It’s hard to believe that in her 90 years of life they never won her a championship—stupid Cubs—but she never waned. Just a few days ago, on her last good day in the hospital the Cubs game was on, and her eyes lit up as she saw the score—the Cubs were actually winning. I remember sitting with her every day in the summers watching the Cubs, eating a big bowl of chocolate ice cream. Wow, Grandma had a sweet tooth… and each and every Christmas she worked to pass that sweet tooth on to each of us with 2 ½ pounds of Zachary Chocolates!

A few short years after Grandpa Abel died, Grandma reconnected with her high school sweetheart, Loyd. And after a short re-courtship decided to get married. It was only a few years after Grandpa Abel had passed and each one of her daughters thought Grandma was moving way to fast. They sat her down and told her to slow down and take her time.

Grandma’s response? “Slow down? I’m 70. I don’t have time to slow down!”

And marrying Loyd was one of the best things she could’ve done. I still remember the ceremony, Grandma wearing the dress she’s in today exchanging their vows in Elwin, in the living room of the preachers home. There was no time to waste!

Grandma and Loyd were quite the pair, and they spent 13 wonderful years together, traveling the country and collecting all the state magnets they could. They proudly displayed each and every state they visited on their fridge. One Halloween night, a few years after getting married, they dressed up and went to Aunt Anna’s house, “Trick or Treat!”

She didn’t even recognize them! Grandma sure knew how to have a good time with Loyd… they seemed to be absolutely perfect together.

I’ll never forget one afternoon in high school as I was walking through the mall with some friends. Just a few steps in front of me was an old couple holding hands. I thought to myself, “that’s strange, I didn’t know old people held hands.” As I got closer, right in front of the Hallmark store… you’ve probably guessed by now… it was Grandma and Loyd. I’ll never forget their example and display of love.

But perhaps more than anything, I’ll remember Grandma’s swing on the porch. I loved that thing and I’d go out there and make it go as high as I could, the chains making a wretched sound—almost as if I was gonna bring the whole porch down! Grandma would come outside, not say a thing and just sit down with me on the swing. We’d swing there for a while just sitting and enjoying the day. She was always able to calm me down with the greatest of ease. I don’t remember any of the conversations we had on that swing—I don’t even remember if we said two words, but in those moments I just knew she was and would always be there for me.

I love you Grandma, and I’ll miss you.

Who am I?

I am…
I am thirty years old. I am married to a beautiful woman whom sometimes I wonder if I truly deserve. I am a child of two parents who sacrificed much and worked hard to give me a future because they believed in me more than I believed in myself.

I am the grandson of a city bus driver, World War II infantry veteran, Cubs fan, nurturer and hard worker who have taught me the importance of family and a CPA and a law clerk who’s belief and service to God has changed my life—I’ll never forget the day my grandfather stopped me and looked deep into my eyes to say, “Aaron, I pray for you every single day… I just want you to know that.” … I am scared. I am scared of the day that he passes away and I am scared as to whether or not someone else will pick up that banner of faithful prayer for my life like he has.

I am an older brother to someone who has far more talent and creativity in his left pinky than I have in my entire being; who has modeled to me the posture of silence and humility and who continually teaches me what loyalty and faithfulness look like.

I am…
I am in love with children, yet I am terrified of failing as a father. I am too selfish and too impatient to slow down long enough to see the beauty that surrounds my life, let alone share that with a life that I am entrusted to teach and to love… to care for and show the world to.

I am…
I am defined by a lot of different adjectives that seem to capture bits and pieces of my personality and inner being from time to time, but I lack the consistency to truly be called humble, intelligent, fun-loving, courageous, loving, and whatever other designations have been bestowed. I am wrought with pride and a healthy sense of ego; which causes a downfall of intelligence and short circuits fun. I am all too often filled with fear; which makes me feel more like a little boy than anything courageous. I am consistent at being inconsistent.

I am…
I am a crier. I find tears welling up in my eyes as music comes to a crescendo with a happy ending or a touching scene… I hate that I am a crier… and I hate that I hate that I am a crier.

I am a pastor to my friends who are scattered around the country and uncertain where the inner strength comes from to walk through the valleys of tragedy and relational dissolution that have become all to common. I am a pastor to a new community here in this beautiful city that challenges me and pushes me and stretches me to look deeper in, further out, and higher up.

I am…
I am scared of failure. I am scared of failing my friends, of disappointing my family, of failing you… and although this fear keeps me up nights, I am mostly scared of failing God… of gazing upon His face only to be met with his disappointment at what could have been. And perhaps that’s because I am a dreamer.

I am a person who has big dreams for what is possible and what could be. I am an eternal optimist, a person who always sees the glass as ¾ full and I am hard pressed to see the challenges in any situation as insurmountable.

I am… but really, who am I?

I’ve heard it said that mankind is really a composition of cells that regenerate over and over again… that their rate of regeneration changes the entire physical makeup of who you are every moment… that the person that stands here today is not the same as the twelve year old boy from 1991. All of those cells have been flushed in favor of brand new ones. My physical makeup is ever changing… and every three months the body generates a brand new skeleton…

I’ve heard it said, “I think therefore I am.” And although my existence has never come into question I do wonder who it is that inhabits this existence. I wonder who I am at the most profoundly human level and I am curious about this identity that I supposedly carry around, yet am unable to discover succinctly enough to truly understand myself.

This question of identity is at the base of all philosophical discourse, for to grasp it, to hold it tightly, to truly understand of our identity would allow for us to walk through every situation on this playground of life with the utmost grace as we see the bigger picture on full display. Perhaps that’s why Jesus is so attractive. His was a life that is fully connected to his humanity, to the very core of his being… It’s no wonder that when we are faced with disappointment at a job loss, a failure in a relationship, a grandiose mistake caused by our own carelessness, or are shaken to the core with grief… this question rushes to the forefront of our being. Who am I? Who am I, really?

It is when we are faced with these, the moments of the catastrophic, that we find out who we are on the most profoundly human level.

It was the 5th century philosopher Augustine that remarked, “I am a mystery to myself.” Perhaps it is time for us to explore that mystery and find out who we really are.

I’m sure that somewhere in the past I’ve posted this or linked to this video but I can’t help it. I have never been moved by poetry more, I have never been forced into longer moments of reflection and found myself more comfortable in the silence that follows than after listening to this piece….