Newstart

Uninvited, my guest was waiting for me when I finally opened my eyes at 7 am. My wife and I celebrated the arrival of the New Year with some friends, so I knew I would sleep a little late. And I knew it was possible for my usual New Year’s Day guest to arrive, but I had pushed the very thought out of my mind, saying, to myself, “Not this year.”

I shuffled into the kitchen for my morning ritual of grinding beans and starting the addictive I.V.-drip of coffee. From the bay window came sufficient light, filtered by the pine trees, to keep me from having to flip on the recessed spots overhead. Then I glanced around, half-smiled to myself, and thought, “Well, you showed up anyway.” Smugly, but lightly dancing on the morning rays was the little sprite Newstart, which before I could blink, leapt and raced along my optic nerve, slipping defiantly into my frontal lobe.

Logically, there’s no reason a change of calendars should elicit resolves to improve or initiate changes. The package of responsibilities, habits, and necessary tasks you set down on December 31 is the exact same load waiting to be shouldered the next morning. And yet, barefooted and unshaven in the kitchen, I actually felt something different. I felt a Newstart within me, and before I could clobber my thoughts with cynicism, I was entertaining a list of goals for the new year. The most disgusting aspect of it all was my reluctant admission that the feeling, full of possibility and hope, had “rightness” written all over it.

With the bitter warmth of the coffee finally pushing me into alertness, I began looking for some compromise. I was determined not to be lured by the tradition list of resolutions, those tramps that smile seductively promising to be your savior right before they morph into spectral stalkers. But something was needed. Newstart had dug in, pinging my synapses with that fresh feeling I could not, and honestly would not, shake off.

So I have resolved that my resolution this year will be to keep Newstart with me. I’m not sure how I will accomplish this, but I plan to greet Newstart in my daily morning rituals. This morning Newstart was my uninvited gift, but I know most mornings, perhaps even tomorrow’s, I’ll have to hunt for her. I have a sense of the places to look, readings and reflections, prayers and perspectives, yoga and yogurt, to name a few. The important thing I suppose, is to own the search. And with practice, maybe I can prompt others to find her as well.

Fitting In

My wife and I went to a banquet last night, a nice affair. She looked great, and I was dressed in my nicest black suit. But when we got to the door, I immediately knew I was under-dressed. All the men I could see were wearing tuxedos, but nothing on the invitation said, “Formal.” Oh well.

We checked in and Cynthia knew I was uncomfortable. She said she’d be OK while I ran home and changed if I wanted to. And I did. Twenty minutes later I was back - in my penguin suit like everyone else. Yea, I’d have been alright in my suit, but I did feel better in the tux. Just another confirmation of the old saying, “You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy!”

The incident reminded me of a dinner a few years ago in Jerusalem. Our traveling group was to have a nice formal meal at the hotel before flying home the next day. When you’re touring sites in Palestine, formal means a tie, and, if you have one with you, a jacket. But one guy showed up in a tux. I immediately thought how he’d had to haul that tux with him over the past ten days of touring. And then I thought how awkward he must feel being so overdressed. I felt awkward for him. But maybe he was one of those guys who doesn’t care what others think. Maybe, but who really is like that?

I’ve wondered what it is that makes us want to “fit in.” It’s not just peer pressure or social cohesion. Nope, for me it’s more primal than that – I simply don’t want to look stupid, especially in public. By blending in we lower the risk of being noticed, questioned, and having our deficiencies pointed out. However, if you don’t know what’s expected, if you don’t know the unwritten rules, or if you haven’t ‘been there before,’ you either have to have a lot of chutzpa, or like me, be ready to make a quick change.

Think about this when you invite someone to church. Often visitors are concerned about appropriate dress, as well as what will be expected of them. They want to “fit in.” However, what if the goal of worship is not to make everyone “fit into” a uniform expectation, but to stretch us so we fit in with God’s diversity?

Worship Lurking

A woman who's visited our church recently told me I may see her slip into our worship now and then. She is active in local church of another flavor so I told her to make herself at home with us as much as she desires. She told me that for a period of time she would leave her church after the "song service," drive to a nearby park, and finish worship by listening to our service on the radio. I wasn't sure what to do with that bit of information.

Instant Companions

As you would expect, this morning the NBC Today show had survivors of the Jan 15 US Airways flight 1549 crash to interview. This was the plane Capt "Sully" Sullenberger landed in the Hudson River after birds shut down both engines right after take-off.

One of the survivors, Denise Lockie, said she was in seat 2C, right beside a flight attendant. When Capt Sully said over the intercom, "Brace for impact." she looked at the attendant and asked/stated, "We're going to crash?" The attendant nodded.

Then she looked at the man seated to her left, a man she did not know. Immediately they held hands, readied themselves for the impact, and began to pray together.

Why? Why did two perfect strangers join hands and pray? Maybe because instinctively people know we are not to face this world alone. Yet it takes a crisis to shatter the barriers that isolate us from one another.

With death such a real possibility, they needed one another. Just like you and me, as we go through whatever fills our days.