Be a Goat

The Kentucky Derby is, of course, the most famous horse race in the world. Attendees don elegant hats and bowties for the occasion. Even among those who otherwise wouldn’t pay any attention to horse racing it’s a coveted experience.

What you may not know is that the racing horses can be a bit nervous. They’re intelligent animals and they can sense when the stakes are high.

Enter the goats.

Churchill Downs not only houses horses – it houses goats.

When a racehorse is showing signs of distress, the caretakers will place a goat in the pen. The goats have nothing riding on the day and so their non-anxious presence calms the horses.

Churchill Downs has one particular goat – Roxanne – who seems to have a knack for finding the most anxious horses. She’ll join them in their pen and simply be there. She doesn’t do much but sit. But inevitably her steadying presence proves calming on the horses.

I found this absolutely fascinating.

It made me think about my presence.

Am I calming? Does my presence in relationship serve to alleviate anxieties or does it exasperate them?

I don’t often have the right words. I can’t often “fix” it.

But I can be there. I can listen. I can be still.

There’s a time to push, of course. There’s a time to challenge. There’s a time to confront.

There’s also a time to just be silent. There’s a time to listen. There’s a time where the best you can say is, “I’m so sorry” – and nothing more. There’s a time to suppress your opinions.

That’s hard for a lot of us.

But if a goat can do it, how much more are we called to do it?

I’ve tried to “fix” a lot of problems when all that was needed was compassion. I’ve tried to be an adviser when all that was needed was a friend.

Odds are, you’ve done the same. You spoke when there should have been silence. You’ve given an opinion when there should have been an “I’m so sorry – that is so hard.”

Here’s how I want to challenge you – and myself.

Be a Churchill Downs goat.

Before you speak, before you challenge, before you offer advice, just be there. All of that other stuff is easy. It’s our natural tendency. Listening – trying to understand – is hard.

But do the hard.

You wouldn’t want others to speak into your situation if you didn’t trust that they were listening to you, trying to understand you, and seeking to love you, right?

Right.

Neither do they.

Start by being there.

Be a friend first.

Chapter One

Three weeks ago, I sat across from two of my oldest and dearest friends at my parents’ kitchen island. We hugged and laughed and caught up after months apart.

Dick told me that he missed my writing. He said that he hoped I would pick it back up again. I promised I would when life slowed down. I promised I would when I had more time.

Dick went home to be with the Lord last Friday.

I’m writing again.

Because life isn’t slowing down.

Because I’ll never have more time.

Because my friend encouraged me to write.

I’m writing again, but, today, words feel so inadequate. This morning, we gathered to celebrate this sweet man. His family and friends shared their memories and we sang “Happy Trails” in his honor.

I have so many memories of my own.

Dick donned a toga and waved a palm leaf in honor of the “king” at my father’s 60th birthday.

He asked me to be his partner the last time we were at a Barn Dance together – and he didn’t mind at all that I wasn’t very good.

He made me the first Manhattan I ever tried.

He gave the best hugs.

He could always make me laugh.

And he taught me so much.

He taught me the proper way to chop wood.

He taught me to savor friendship.

He taught me that when you love someone, you tell them - a lesson I wish I had learned so much earlier.

He was more family than friend.

I loved him so much.

I'm rambling, I know. But, I am trying to find words worthy of this man and I'm coming up short.

C.S. Lewis closed The Chronicles of Narnia with the most beautiful – and, perhaps, the most comforting – words for a Christian faced with the loss of a brother. Dick was well-acquainted with my love for C.S. Lewis, so I don't doubt that he would patiently indulge me.

“And for us, this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read; which goes on forever; in which every chapter is better than the one before.”

I hold to the promise that, one day, we’ll step into that greatest of adventures alongside you. But, until then, my dear friend, we will miss you. And we will love you always.

Partings

Kermit the Frog once said, “Life is made up of meetings and partings. That is the way of it.”

I’ve been thinking a lot about partings.

Partings are always hard, but not always for the same reasons.

Some partings are hard because they go badly. They leave hurt and disappointment in their wake. They leave broken trust and damaged relationships behind.

Others are hard because they go well.

I’ve had my share of partings. You probably have, too.

I’m in the midst of one and it has been wholly unlike any other I’ve ever experienced.

I had a pastor (and boss) prayed for and with me as I wrestled with the decision to transition out of a role I have loved for four years. He challenged and supported me throughout the entire process.

I had friends come through in the most incredible ways. They, too, prayed for and with me. They have been selfless in their encouragement. They have loved me.

I hope you get to experience a good parting.

They are, in many ways, harder than a bad parting. But, I hope you get to experience a good one, nonetheless.

The Joy of Gratitude

I sat down to write a profound reflection on gratitude. I intended to compose beautiful words about what it means to give thanks. I tried to focus on finding the right way to describe what this day is to be about.

But, Annie just wanted me to play with her.

My six-month-old niece was scooting around at my feet. She let out a delighted squeal as she gripped my pant leg and tried to pull herself up. She looked at me with her big blue eyes and gave me a heart-melting, dimpled smile.

I put away my writing and got down on the floor.

Thanksgiving is about, well, giving thanks for all that God has done for us.

Gratitude, though, is more than what we say – it’s how we live.

Gratitude is about thanking God for Annie and then getting down on the floor and enjoying the blessing of her little life.

Gratitude is about thanking God for your family and then savoring the laughter shared around the dinner table.

Gratitude is about thanking God for your friends and then treasuring the conversations over a cup of coffee.

It is expression and enjoyment.

Words of gratitude without a life of gratitude are empty.

Let’s express our gratitude today, but let’s not forget to enjoy what God has given.

Standing Together

I love historical fiction. I especially love anything by Conn Iggulden. A couple of years ago, a friend introduced me to his series on Genghis Khan. It was spectacular. So, I recently picked up his series on Julius Caesar. It, too, is spectacular.

During one escapade to wreak vengeance on a pirate sea craft early in his career, Julius lies awake, worrying that his legion will not prove up to the task. They are a relatively ragtag band of soldiers, with only a handful of professionally trained men. The rest were nothing more than enthusiastic peasants picked up at local port towns.

As Julius considers the battle to come, he comforts himself with the knowledge that his men will stand firm. They had, after all, developed a strong comradery through their other adventures.

“A man standing next to his friends cannot run for shame,” thinks Julius.

While I certainly don’t condone wreaking vengeance on pirate ships, I think Julius (well, Iggulden) had a point.

Standing next to friends can bring a confidence and courage unmatched by individual resolution. Perhaps that is, at least in part, why the Bible places such an emphasis on community.

God has given me the most remarkable friends over the years. They have stood next to me through difficult seasons, major decisions, and change – lots of change. They have challenged me to stand firm in my faith when it would be easier to desert. They have loved me at my worst and see all that I could be – all that God intends for me to be. They don’t let me run for shame.

I pray you have friends like that. If you don’t, I pray you find them.

I pray you are that friend – for someone.

Loneliness Imagined

In 1978, Jim Davis debuted one of the most beloved cartoons of all time – Garfield. Garfield is the original “Grumpy Cat.” When he’s not eating lasagna, he is sleeping, complaining, or pulling practical jokes on Odie, a fun-loving, but gullible, dog.  Both Garfield and Odie belong to Jon Arbuckle, an awkward bachelor, who spends more time talking to his pets than he does to other humans.

For the most part, the three live together in a mundane, though relatively peaceful, existence. However, in October of 1989, Davis decided to press-pause on the light-hearted themes of Garfield to write a Halloween series that dealt with fear. Davis conducted an informal survey to find out what people are afraid of. The most common response was loneliness.

So, Davis crafted a comic in which Garfield wakes up to find that both Jon and Odie have deserted him. He is cold, hungry and utterly alone. He can’t believe they are gone. He begins to panic and finally, in his desperation, cries out, “I don’t want to be alone!”

The next frame cuts to Jon and Odie, breaking Garfield out of his daze by offering him breakfast. It had all been in his mind. Garfield, overcome with relief, throws himself on Jon and says, “Who needs it? I need you!”

The final frame is haunting. Davis writes, “An imagination is a powerful tool. It can tint memories of the past, shape perceptions of the present, or paint a future so vivid that it can entice… or terrify, all depending upon how we conduct ourselves today…”

Davis was onto something.

I wonder how often we feel – or imagine – we are alone, when, all along, there were people ready and waiting to know and love us. If only we would open our eyes and break from our daze.

I wonder how often we, who have been brought back into a relationship with God by the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, forget that we are never alone. He has promised to be with us always – and God keeps His promises.

If you feel alone, know that you are not or, at least, you don't have to be. There is a God ready and waiting to know and love you, if only you would open your eyes and break from your daze.

And remember, an imagination is a powerful tool…

You can read the whole comic here.

Spiritual Hoarding

In recent years, the world of hoarding has captured the attention of millions, as evidenced by more than a couple of shows dedicated to the phenomenon. The camera pans over piles of half-eaten pizzas, empty shampoo bottles, broken electronics, and newspaper coupons from 1967.

The home of a hoarder is anything but inviting. There is no room for company. It is not conducive to relationship. The home of a hoarder is, to put it bluntly, disgusting.

In the course of a one hour episode, the chaos that is the life of a hoarder is transformed. As the mountains of trash are disassembled, a new space emerges. Space for friendship. Space for productive work and peaceful rest. Space for life to begin again.

While hoarding might make for interesting, though somewhat debasing, television, there is nothing compelling about spiritual hoarding.

It's hoarding of a different sort. It's what happens when we accumulate information, but fail to experience transformation, when we collect knowledge, but fail to apply it to our lives, when we amass heads full of facts and data, but fail to cultivate hearts full of love and grace.

It's what makes for great Bible trivia contestants, but lousy Christians.

If left unchecked, the life of a spiritual hoarder will eventually become cluttered with pride, piled with judgmentalism, and coated with a thick layer of self-righteousness.

The heart of a spiritual hoarder is anything but inviting. There is no room for company. It is not conducive to relationship. The heart of a spiritual hoarder is, to put it bluntly, disgusting.

Hoarders of any sort are usually unaware of the problem and wouldn’t know where to begin if they were. Hoarders need an intervention and help.

Consider this an intervention – of your heart and mine.

Help is available through the grace of God and the support and encouragement of godly friends, if we only will would ask for and accept it.

It will take more than an hour to disassemble the build-up of spiritual hoarding. It will take more sweat and tears than we anticipate to break through the accumulation of narcissism caked on our hearts. But, over time, a new space will emerge. 

Space for friendship.

Space for productive work and peaceful rest.

Space for life - the life God intended for us - to begin again.