Serving the Scale

I've been thinking a lot about what success looks like. Success depends on what it is that you are trying to accomplish. A professional athlete measures success by the games they win, Fortune 500 companies measure success by their bottom line, and those trying to get into shape measure success by how many pounds they loose.

It is easy to get focused on the "scale"; trying to be successful. What happens when we've worked out and eaten properly yet the scale tells us that we've actually gained weight? Does that mean we are in worse shape? Of course not; most of us know that muscle weighs more than fat, so "the scale" is not always an indicator of fitness or success.

I want to build muscle, things that will endure, things that will last. I realize then, that means that I cannot live to serve the scale. There will be seasons in this forming church plant that the "numbers" are thin, but that is not always an indicator that muscle is not being formed.

This week I got word of some people within the Renovate community who organized the delivery of meals to a couple who just had twins. What is so great about this is that I did not organize it or implement it...in fact I was the last to find out. This was truly a work of the people.

These are the types of things that will go to build a church community that will endure. And these are the types of stories that the scale can't always measure.

Lilly's Hair

My four-and-a-half-year-old daughter has beautiful blond hair. It is full, wavy, and shines in the sunlight. I love my little girl and her braids, pigtails, and any other hair creation her mommy comes up with. Little Lilly's hair is an expression of her: bouncy, free, and soft.

Lilly had a hair cut this week. She has had them before...no big deal. This time however it was a big deal (at least to her daddy). 10 inches of golden locks were cut off. Lilly didn't seem to mind, in fact she was quite excited. She looks as beautiful as ever and now, even more grown up. That's where the story seemed to stop for me, however Lilly told me more.

Lilly said, "I gave my hair to Wigs for Kids Daddy!"

I found out that my daughter was able to give her hair to an organization that makes custom wigs for children who have endured hair loss. These wigs help bring confidence and strength back to kids who've had to endure ridicule and embarrassment. My Lilly's gift is able to bring hope and joy.

I deeply believe that is our call as human beings on this earth. To bring strength, confidence, and hope to others, especially the ridiculed, the tired, and the down trodden. This is not what it means to be Christian, but rather what it means to be fully human. That we would have capacity beyond ourselves to bring refreshment to those around us.

Nature has it that Lilly's hair will continue to grow; just as beautiful as the hair given. And as it does, I pray, her heart for others grows along with it.

Hello Deli

I just sent Rupert an email. Yeah, you know Rupert. Rupert Jee. He's the owner of "Hello Deli" on 53rd street in Manhattan. He may look familiar to you because he's a "regular" on the Late Show with David Letterman. Rupert is on from time to time doing silly skits, most of which make people ticked off...all the same, those skits are super funny.

On Monday Misty, "little brother" Dave Nagel, and I were in New York City (a story I'll have to tell you about some time). And stopped by the Hello Deli to say, well, "Hello". As we approached the green awning of the famous sub shop Misty spotted Rupert taking a break outside and ran up to him yelling, "Rupert, Rupert, can I get a picture?". Before Rupert could reply (or hide), Misty had her arm around him with a big-ole-smile as little brother Nagel took the picture. And me?...yeah, I was capturing it all on video. We were a bit of a spectacle as these out-of-towners got a chance to get up close to a real "celebrity". After we clicked all of the snap shots this paparazzi team felt necessary, we gave Rupert a "thank you" and went on about our way.

I wonder if Rupert ever gets tired of crazy people from Michigan bothering him. If so, he didn't let on to it...he was extremely gracious and kind (so I emailed him to say "thank you"). I think there is a lesson we can take from Rupert: "Be nice to people when they greet you...even if they don't buy anything from your deli".

James Taylor is good....

I just got home from work; my wife is in bed cause she has to work early tomorrow morning at 5am; and since I don't have to go in until 1pm, I'm up watching this PBS special on James Taylor.

There's probaby other things I could be doing before I go to bed (I am a big to-do list kind of guy), but I just can't stop watching. In fact, the only reason why you're reading this right now is because they've taken a break to ask for my money.
So why am I so drawn to this artist? Why does his music connect with my emotions? Asking this though means that I need to find out why I like white chocolate so much, and catchup only, and earth-tone clothes, and my car.
I suppose you could say it's because of the influence of peer-pressure or pop-culture. But there could probably be good arguments made against that simply based on my odd selections.

Then I think about my daughter. She's half way through her second year on this planet, and already she has strong opinions: no Jay-Z but Usher is good; no lion king but little mermaid makes her smile; sleep is almost always a "no"; elmo is almost always a "yes". Did I somehow teach her these things? Am I somehow to blame for modeling these distinct preferences?

The answer has to be no, but then, that means that we all must have this awesome extra ingredient. It's this piece of us that is inherently us; beyond our shape or form, smile or nationality. It's the reason why people like me get mezmorized by a PBS special, and also the same reason why James Taylor just flipped off the crowd after his 3rd encore.

So here's to getting beyond surface stuff with people, and getting to know what flavor razzle's they like best...................and listening to more James Taylor (minus his middle finger of course).