Linguistic Fingerprints

There is a fluidity to language.

Sure, there are linguistic rules that provide structure and proper grammar and all that, but the truth is that we each use language a little differently.

Scholars call this "linguistic fingerprinting."

My particular use of language is unique to me and yours is unique to you.

For example, I lived In the South for a while and picked up “y’all.” I still say it - even though I now live in the Midwest where no one says y’all. I also have a slight St. Louis accent which means I pronounce “both” with an “l” - as in “bolth.” It’s an odd combination.

Linguistic fingerprinting is usually done by computer, as the subtle variances in language are nearly impossible to detect in daily conversation. But that linguistic fingerprint still leaves a mark.

Chances are, no one will pick up on your linguistic fingerprint. They won’t notice your use of pronouns versus proper nouns. And no one will notice how often you end a sentence with a preposition on any given day. They may notice how you pronounce that one word a little differently (as in my example - “bolth” of which have been pointed out to me), but that’s about it.

They will, however, remember how your words made them feel.

They will remember the tone with which you spoke.

They will remember if you communicated with love and grace or criticism and callousness.

"Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person,” wrote the Apostle Paul.

Your linguistic fingerprints are left on every conversation, every encounter, you have.

What kind of a mark are you leaving?

Red Carpet

Tom Haverford is a low-level government employee in the fictional town of Pawnee, Indiana – in the brilliant and hilarious Parks and Recreation series.

But Tom has big dreams. He imagines for himself a glamorous future. He dresses audaciously.

In one episode, he’s tasked with preparing a press event for Leslie Knope – a candidate for city council. He insists on getting her a red carpet for her grand entrance for her speech at a local ice rink. Unfortunately, his budget doesn’t allow for a carpet that will actually reach all the way to the podium and, of course, disaster ensues.

That’s not the point.

The point in that Tom justifies his decision by explaining that everyone should get to make an entrance. There is nothing that says “I matter” like a red carpet (I’m paraphrasing).

Then, he holds up his shoe to reveal custom inserts made from – you guessed it – red carpet.

“Everywhere I go,” he says, “I’m walking on red carpet.”

That struck me.

You may not have custom inserts made out of red carpet (though if you do, I would love to see them and high-five you).

But when I come into your presence, I come into the presence of someone that might as well be walking on red carpet.

I come into the presence of someone that matters.

I come into the presences of someone made in the image of God.

I come into the presence of someone purposefully created – to be amazing and glorious.

I come into the presence of someone formed and fashioned with inherent worth.

How would it change the way we treated people if we thought of them as walking on red carpet?

You may not be impressed by celebrity – I’m not either.

But what if we were impressed by God? What if we were impressed by what He’s done – by who He has made? What if we were impressed that though we’re all made in Him image we all bear that image differently?

What if we treated one another as the most important person in the room?

I’m not talking about stroking egos or coddling pride.

It’s nothing we’ve done, nothing we’ve accomplished, nothing we’ve achieved.

I’m talking about showing deference and dignity.

I’m talking about stripping our love of conditions.

I’m talking about loving people simply because they’re worth loving.

Always Take the Cookies

I’ve had the privilege of spending a good bit of time in the Middle East.

I’ve learned a lot about the people and the culture and, let me tell you, there is no hospitality like Middle Eastern hospitality (and I’ve lived in the South).

I was in Jordan a handful of years ago under the leadership of an incredible guide named Muhanned (yes, I spelled that correctly). We stopped about midway through a long drive from the southern to the northern part of the country.

Muhanned graciously bought our entire group (about sixty people) barazek – Jordanian cookies made primarily of honey and sesame seeds.

I was a couple rows back on the bus. As Muhanned handed out the cookies, the girl in front of me, quite loudly, refused to take one. “Oh gross!” she said. “Are those sesame seeds on cookies? Ummm… no. Pass.”

I saw Muhanned deflate a little. He wanted to serve us. He wanted to give us – literally – a taste of his country.

I’ll be honest. I don’t really love barazek. I’m not a huge fan of honey or sesame seeds.

But I always take the cookies. I always accept the hospitality.

Now, before you think I’m simply being polite in conforming to the cultural norms, that’s not exactly it.

It’s that I don’t really love barazek – and I also don’t really love being served.

I’ve been independent for a long time. I’ve gotten used to doing just about everything for myself. I am terrible at letting people serve me because it challenges my prideful notion that I can do it all on my own.

Taking the cookies reminds me – in a small way – to embrace the love and service of others. It reminds me that there are people that want to serve and care for me. I don’t have to do it all. I’m not supposed to do it all.

I’m called to be hospitable. I’m also called to accept hospitality.

We, as Christians, talk a lot about the humility of serving others – as we should. Jesus came to serve – not to be served.

But we rarely talk about the humility of being served.

Being served takes humility. It means admitting that our time, our resources, our capacity is limited. It means acknowledging that we need one another.

If we can’t accept our need for others, how on earth will we ever accept our need for Jesus?

Serve.

But learn to be served.

Always take the cookies.

Hey Patrick, It's Grandpa...

I don’t answer phone calls from numbers I don’t recognize. I figure if it’s important they’ll leave a message, and I can return it as soon as I’m able.

The last couple of weeks I’ve gotten a series of calls from Branson, Missouri. I don’t know anyone in Branson, so I didn’t answer. I assumed it was a telemarketer.

But the other night, the caller left a message.

“Hey Patrick. It’s Grandpa. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I miss you. Call me when you can. I love you. Bye.”

 I called back.

The same sweet voice that left the message on my phone answered my call.

I explained who I was and told him that, unfortunately, this was not Patrick’s number.

“Oh, thank you so much for calling, sweetie,” he said. “I was so worried that he was just too busy to talk to me anymore.”

That broke my heart.

And it convicted me.

I’ve lost most of my grandparents. But I still have parents. Siblings. Nieces and nephews. Aunts and uncles. Cousins. Friends.

I’m ashamed to admit I’ve often been “too busy” for the relationships that I say matter most to me.

I don’t want the people I love to ever feel like I’m too busy to talk to them.

No, I won’t always be able to shoot the breeze. No, I can’t always interrupt my day just to chat.

I have to have boundaries in order to do what God has called me to do. I’m not suggesting you welcome every interruption to your day. I know I can’t.

But I want to be available for relationship. I want to know how the people I love are doing. I want to be there when they need me.

Patrick didn’t know his Grandpa was trying to call.

But don’t be too busy to take that call when you get it.

And - I’m speaking more to myself than anyone here - don’t be too busy to pick up the phone and call the people you love.

Make Us One

Do you ever think about the last words you’ll ever say?

I think about it, every once in a while. I think about who I’d be with if I knew time was short. I think about what I’d say – what I’d want them to know.

If you knew time was short, you’d focus on what mattered most, right?

Well, that’s what Jesus did.

He knew He was going to die. He came to die.

So, He spent His last night with those closest to Him. Wouldn’t you love to know what He said?

Fortunately, John, one of only twelve who were present, recorded it for us. He preserved the last prayer Jesus prayed with and for His followers.

I will remain in the world no longer, but they are still in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name, the name you gave me, so that they may be one as we are one…

My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.  have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one – I in them and you in me – so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. (John 17:11, 20-23, NIV)

Jesus used His last night to talk about unity.

That may be more significant – and more relevant – than we realize.

See, Israel was under Roman occupation. They weren’t a free people. Matthew – one of Jesus’ followers – was a tax collector for Rome. He was literally employed by their oppressors. Simon – another of Jesus’ followers – was a member of a group that resisted Rome. He literally killed their oppressors.

And Jesus says to them, “I want you to be one. I want you to be united. Yes, you disagree on the best political course but because you follow Me, you’re a part of something much, much bigger than your current government. You are citizens of a different Kingdom. And that is what unites you.”

Friends, I don’t know where you stand politically. Unless you happen to be particularly close to me, you don’t know where I stand.

But if you follow Jesus, you and I are a part of the same Kingdom.

We may vote differently tomorrow.

But let’s be one.

Let’s be united in our love for one another.

Let’s not tear one another down – in person or on social media. Let’s not make snap judgments about anyone’s character based on how they decided to vote. Let’s stop setting up caricatures and start seeing individuals. Let’s have conversations – loving and gracious conversations – about our differences.

But let’s be one.

And, whoever wins, let’s commit to praying for our president.

Let’s commit to praying for wisdom and discernment.

Let’s commit to praying for compassion and grace.

Let’s commit to praying for decisiveness and strength.

Look to the Cross

The disciples were shocked and terrified when Jesus was arrested. But they shouldn’t have been. Jesus had told them exactly what was going to happen.

“Listen,” he said, “we’re going up to Jerusalem, where the Son of Man will be betrayed to the leading priests and the teachers of religious law. They will sentence him to die. Then they will hand him over to the Romans to be mocked, flogged with a whip, and crucified. But on the third day he will be raised from the dead.” (Matthew 20:17-19, NLT)

Judas had betrayed Jesus.

Pilate had sentenced Jesus to death.

But Rome was known for brutality. They made their executions as long and painful as possible.

Pontius Pilate ordered that Jesus be flogged before His crucifixion with a lead-tipped whip.

This type of whip, often used in Roman torture and execution, was braided with metal balls and pieces of jagged glass.

It tore the flesh to ribbons – from the shoulders all the way down to the back of the legs. The merciless flogging cut down to the bone and even exposed the organs.

When the flogging was finished, the soldiers threw a purple robe over Jesus’ raw back. They pounded a crown of sharp thorns into His skull. They struck His already bleeding head with a reed stick they had used as a royal scepter in their mockery. They bowed down before Him in feigned worship. “Hail! King of the Jews!”

When they finally tired of their barbarous game, they lifted the heavy crossbeam onto Jesus’ bloodied shoulders and led Him through the busy streets of Jerusalem to be crucified.

The Romans were crucifying five hundred or more Jews every day, so it was more efficient to leave the vertical beam in the ground and force their victims to carry the horizontal crossbeam.

The flogging depleted Jesus’ strength. Every step felt heavier than the last. Every slight stumble along the way sent shooting pain through His beaten body.

The Roman soldiers called to a passerby – a man named Simon of Cyrene – and demanded that he carry the cross the rest of the way.

Then the soldiers nailed him to the cross. They divided his clothes and threw dice to decide who would get each piece. (Mark 15:24, NLT)

The nails were driven between the bones in His wrists and through His feet. His arms were stretched just far enough to dislocate His shoulders. As His body weakened and the pain intensified, He could no longer lift His body up to draw in air.

It was excruciating.

We often imagine that Jesus was crucified on a distant hill far from the bustle of the city.

On the contrary, the Romans were fond of crucifying their victims right outside the city gates, along the road, at eye level. It was humiliating.

See, crucifixion wasn’t just a method of execution. It was a message.

Don’t mess with Rome.

A sign was fastened above Jesus’ head, announcing the charge against him. It read: “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.” (Matthew 27:37, NLT)

The sign was intended to mock Jesus’ wild claims. But they got it right.

He is, indeed, the King.

He is the King who stepped down from His throne to take up the cross for His subjects.

If you ever wonder if you matter to God, look to the cross.

If you ever wonder if you are even seen by God, look to the cross.

If you ever feel insecure, inadequate, worthless, abandoned, hopeless, isolated, alone, disappointed, disregarded, or marginalized, look to the cross.

If you are ever in doubt about the love of God, look to the cross.

Read Matthew 27:27-44 and reflect on what Jesus did on the cross. Review this passage whenever you are doubting His care for you.

The Fifth Cup

The Passover meal was built around four cups of wine – one for each of the four promises God made to the nation of Israel.

Jesus instituted what we call the Lord’s Supper with the third cup – the Cup of Redemption.

In the book of Matthew, Jesus says, “Mark my words—I will not drink wine again until the day I drink it new with you in my Father’s Kingdom.” (Matthew 26:29, NLT)

Jesus was referring here to the fourth cup – the Cup of Restoration.

So, Jesus and His disciples finish their meal and leave for the Mount of Olives. His disciples, tired by the late hour and relaxed by the wine, drift off to sleep. Jesus, though, was wide awake with the anguish of what lay before Him.

“[Jesus] went on a little farther and fell to the ground. He prayed that, if it were possible, the awful hour awaiting him might pass him by. “Abba, Father,” he cried out, “everything is possible for you. Please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.” (Mark 14:35-36, NLT)

The Passover meal is over. The four cups have already been taken.

So, what cup is Jesus referring to?

Listen to what the prophet Jeremiah wrote:

This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, said to me: “Take from my hand this cup filled to the brim with my anger, and make all the nations to whom I send you drink from it. When they drink from it, they will stagger, crazed by the warfare I will send against them.” (Jeremiah 25:15-16, NLT)

The Jewish people of Jesus’ day would pour a fifth cup at Passover – but they wouldn’t drink from it.

This is the Cup of God’s Wrath.

Remember, Jesus didn’t drink from the fourth cup of Passover. That cup, the Cup of Restoration, is also known by another name. It is the Cup of Protection.

In other words, Jesus is readying Himself to drink from the Cup of God’s Wrath without having taken the Cup of Protection.

This fifth cup is the cup Jesus prays will pass.

He is already beginning to experience the torment of the cross ahead – the physical and spiritual anguish – and He begs His Father to let this cup pass.

“Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”

The first four cups are cups we don’t deserve. The fifth is the cup we certainly do.

The wrath of God is not irrational fury or reckless anger.

God is a just God. His wrath is an outworking of His justice.

But it is also an expression of His love.

A loving God could not possibly let the sin that has wreaked havoc on our world go unpunished.

The problem is that we, the objects of His love, have also become the objects of His wrath through our sin.

The love of God and the justice of God meet on the cross. Jesus takes the cup we deserve and offers us the four cups that we don’t.

On the cross, after six excruciating hours of drinking from the Cup of God’s Wrath, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” (John 19:28, NLT)

In this moment Jesus asks, “Is there anything else I need to drink, God?”

A jar of sour wine was sitting there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put it on a hyssop branch, and held it up to his lips. When Jesus had tasted it, he said, “It is finished!” Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. (John 19:29:30, NLT)

It is finished.

He drank it all.

Every. Last. Drop.

Take time to read Matthew 26:36-44 and reflect on what Jesus did in drinking the Cup of God’s Wrath on your behalf.

The (Unexpected) Guest of Honor

The Jewish calendar was built around seven festivals.

What we know as the Last Supper was actually shared on the first of those festivals –Passover.

As Jesus celebrated Passover with His disciples, an argument broke out.

Then they began to argue among themselves about who would be the greatest among them. (Luke 22:24, NLT)

This certainly wasn’t the first time the disciples had jockeyed for a position of honor. But why now? Why here?

See, at this time, the host would seat people according to their rank and status. Everyone knew what each seat meant.

Here’s what it would have looked like:

Jesus, as the host, would have chosen who sat where. The Bible doesn’t explicitly say how the disciples were arranged, but it does offer us a couple of clues.

One of his disciples, whom Jesus loved, was reclining at the table at Jesus' side, so Simon Peter motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. So that disciple, leaning back against Jesus, said to him, “Lord, who is it?” (John 13:23-24, ESV).

We know the disciple spoken of here – the one whom Jesus loved – is John. John refers to himself this way all throughout his book.

Since they reclined at the table on their left arm, in order to lean back on Jesus, John had to be in front of Him – in the place of His right-hand man.

What about the guest of honor?

And as they were eating, he said, “Truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” And they were very sorrowful and began to say to him one after another, “Is it I, Lord?” He answered, “He who has dipped his hand in the dish with me will betray me.” (Matthew 26:20-23, NLT)

Three people would share a dish. So, if John is in the right-hand man’s seat and Jesus is in the host’s seat…

Judas was the guest of honor.

Judas has already taken a bribe from the chief priests.

Judas plans to betray Jesus.

Judas intends to instigate His arrest.

And Jesus knows it.

So, why on earth would Jesus give Judas the seat of honor?

Because this is what it means to love your enemies. This is what it means to do good to those that mean you harm. This is what it means to extend mercy and grace.

This is how Jesus has loved us.

God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners. (Romans 5:8, NLT)

We are His betrayers. We are accomplices to His arrest.

Yet while we were still sinners – while we were still enemies – He went to the cross for us.

If this is how Jesus treats His enemies, how then shall we treat ours?

How Jesus Prioritizes

Every person that came trying to trick Jesus into incriminating Himself was silenced. The best and the brightest minds, the most powerful of the political elite, the rich and the famous, were all confounded by His answers to their seemingly unanswerable questions.

The book of Mark tells us that one of the “teachers of religious law” had been listening to the debate and was impressed by how Jesus had responded. So, he asks a question of his own.

“Of all the commandments, which is the most important?” (Mark 12:28, NLT)

The rabbis often debated how to prioritize the law of God. It mattered because if one was unable to keep two laws at the same time, a decision had to be made.

For example, what if your ox fell into a pit on the Sabbath? Were you allowed to pull it out? Which law took priority – caring for your ox or refraining from work on the day of rest?

It was a legitimate debate.

However, everyone agreed on the greatest commandment, including Jesus.

Jesus replied, “The most important commandment is this: ‘Listen, O Israel! The Lord our God is the one and only Lord. And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength.’” (Mark 12:29-30, NLT)

This is exactly what the expected Jesus to say. The question, then, was really not so much about the greatest commandment as the second greatest commandment.

See, there were two schools of thought. One school followed the teaching of a rabbi named Shammai. Shammai taught that the second greatest commandment was to keep the Sabbath. The other school followed the teaching of a rabbi named Hillel. Hillel taught that the second greatest commandment was to love your neighbor.

So, this teacher of the law was asking Jesus to weigh in on the debate – and Jesus sides with Hillel.

The second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ No other commandment is greater than these.” (Mark 12:31, NLT)

Now it may bother you that Jesus is not offering a new perspective so much as aligning Himself with an already existing perspective. But does that make His answer any less profound? Does the command carry any less weight? I think not.

By the way, this debate was at the heart of many of Jesus’ conflicts with the Pharisees surrounding the Sabbath. Pharisees from the school of Shammai opposed Him healing on the Sabbath. Pharisees from the school of Hillel did not.

Here’s the point.

We prioritize, too. We make decisions based on what we most value. We choose according to what we have deemed more or less important.

Jesus tells us what our priorities should be.

The uniqueness of Jesus’ answer is not in which commandments He prioritizes, but that He makes the second equal to the first.

If you keep the first, you will keep the second. If you break the second, you are breaking the first.

Our love for God is to overflow into our love for people. Our love for people is evidence of our love for God.

What are your priorities?

Or, better yet, what would others say are your priorities based on the choices you make?

Loving others may look a little different right now.

Loving others means reaching out with a phone call or a handwritten note. Loving others means spending time with and serving those in your own home. Loving others means praying for our leaders and first responders. Loving others means honoring the restrictions our government has put in place in order to protect the vulnerable.

Loving other, as it always has, mean self-forgetfulness and self-sacrifice.

After all, that’s how God has loved us.

Read Mark 12:28-34 and think of more ways you can love others in this difficult – and different – time.

The Aim of Faithfulness

When I stepped up to take my first shot, I noticed that the target was kind of, well, blurry. I hadn't picked up a bow and arrow in years, but I didn't remember the concentric circles having fuzzy edges.

As it turns out, I had forgotten to put in my contacts. This happens more often than it should. How I didn't notice they were missing before that moment is beyond me.

I didn’t hit the target once.

I hit the floor a few times, almost took out a ceiling light, and I’m pretty sure I got a piece of the target next to mine.

But where I was supposed to be aiming? No such luck.

After this series of failed attempts to land an arrow anywhere near the target, I went out to my car to see if I had a backup pair of glasses. I did.

They changed everything.

I could see the crisp lines of the target clearly. I knew right where I was aiming. Even with my glasses on, it still took a while to get the hang of it. But, as time when on, as I kept trying, assessing my shot, and correcting my aim, I got better.

By the end, I was certainly no Robin Hood, but I had managed to hit the mark with far more consistency and precision than when I began.

I wonder if that’s how we sometimes approach faithfulness to God.

The target is blurry. We’re not entirely sure where we’re aiming, so we end up hurling arrows in the general direction we think they’re supposed to be heading. But, day after day, month after month, year after year, we’re not getting any closer to the mark.

But, what if we were to look through the lens of Scripture?

What if we allowed God to correct our blurry vision?

The crisp lines of the target would start to come into focus. We'd find that the aim of faithfulness to God is made clear.

Jesus was once asked, "Which commandment is the most important of all?" In other words, "Jesus, what is the aim of a faithful life? What is the target of obedience?"

“The most important is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one,'" He said. "' And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”

Love God.

Love people.

That is the aim of faithfulness to God.

The question is whether or not we will land closer to the target today than we did yesterday.

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.

S.E.P.s

I don’t read a lot of science fiction, but I love Douglas Adams. If you haven’t read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series, I would highly recommend it. It’s fantastic.

The story begins with a man named Ford Prefect rescuing his friend, Arthur Dent, from a doomed Earth. As it turns out, the Vogons, a rather unpleasant race of aliens, intended to demolish it to make way for an intergalactic bypass. Ford and Arthur are picked up by a spaceship called the Heart of God. They go on to have myriad adventures as they explore the galaxy.

On one such adventure, Ford and Arthur mistakenly go too far back in time and find themselves, once again, on Earth (before it was destroyed) at a cricket match. Arthur is beside himself with joy at being back on his home planet and Ford, who wasn’t actually from the Earth, is behaving quite oddly.

“He was waving his hands in sharp movements across his face, ducking down behind some people, leaping up behind others, then standing still and blinking a lot…

’Something’s on your mind, isn’t it?’ said Arthur.

’I think,’ said Ford… ‘that there’s an S.E.P. over there.’

He pointed. Curiously enough, the direction he pointed in was not the one in which he was looking.”

Arthur inquires as to what, exactly, an S.E.P is.

“’Somebody Else’s Problem,’ said Ford… ‘An S.E.P… is something that we can’t see, or don’t see, or our brain doesn’t let us see, because we think that it’s somebody else’s problem… The brain just edits it out; it’s like a blind spot. If you look at it directly you won’t see it unless you know precisely what it is. Your only hope is to catch it by surprise out of the corner of your eye.’”

The S.E.P. turns out to be a spaceship belonging to a man named Slartibartfast, but, if you want to know who he is and why he landed his spaceship at a cricket match, you’ll just have to get the book and read it for yourself.

It is the concept of an S.E.P. that I find so fascinating.

Ford, at least, understood that his brain was editing out the S.E.P.s and, so, knew to look for them. Arthur, on the other hand, had no clue that there might be more to the world than what his brain was processing.

I’m, too often, more like Arthur than I am Ford.

I’m unaware that I’m unaware. I miss so much that is right before me because I’m not looking for it. I miss opportunities to listen, to serve, to give, to love.

Those opportunities are just "somebody else’s problem."

Here’s the problem with S.E.P.s. If we are all editing them out, then “somebody else’s problem” becomes “nobody’s problem.”

It doesn’t take jumping around and waving our arms and blinking a lot to see our S.E.P.s.

It just takes paying attention to what’s right in front of us.

Let’s pay attention.

When Love is At Stake

It's crazy what people will do when love is at stake.

In 2007, former astronaut Lisa Nowak got caught up in a dramatic love triangle. She was in love with a man who was in love with another woman. So, overcome with anger, she donned an adult diaper and set out on a cross-country road trip to confront her rival. The media, of course, had a field day with the story. It didn't help that she was armed with a BB gun and a black wig.

Commenting on this woman's absurd behavior, cartoonist Tim Kreider quipped, "When love is at stake, you do not waste time on rest stops."

Nowak, it seems, was not so much driven by love as by jealousy and it would be hard to defend her behavior, given that there is reason to believe she intended to attack her ex-boyfriend’s new love interest.

As I thought about the foolish love of this woman, I thought about a greater love that, to so many, looks equally foolish.

"The message of the cross," wrote the apostle Paul, "is foolish to those who are headed for destruction." And I can see why.

On the cross, a man who claimed to be God hung naked and bloody. The media, of course, had a field day with the story. They humiliated and ridiculed him, laughed at him and mocked him as he slowly suffocated. Why in the world would anyone willingly submit themselves to something as scandalous as the cross?

Love.

Love compelled the God of the universe to step down from His throne and don human skin. Love compelled Him to befriend the lowest of the low, to engage the outcasts, to dine with prostitutes and tax collectors. Love is what compelled Him to sacrifice His life for the very ones who murdered Him.

It's crazy what people will do when love is at stake.