(I wanna) Be Like Daryl

When I was 12, a family moved in a few houses away. I met Michelle first. She was my first big-time crush. I walked away from our first conversation across that chain-link fence convinced I was in love and going to marry her. (Oh, the whims of a 12 year old boy!)

Gradually I came to know Michelle's family. Her dad was in ministry. They joined our church. Her older brother, Mike, became my best friend, and was the best man in my wedding. There weren't many days between the fall of '78 and '83 that I wasn't at their house or they were at mine.

The mom and dad (Peggy and Wally) became my "other parents." Daryl, Yvonne, Mike and Michelle were my other siblings. I'm sure my memories are a bit idyllic, but honestly? Not much. They were, as Michelle said recently "our family, and we were theirs."

Daryl became best friends with my oldest brother, Rusty. When I was a senior in high school, they became interim youth co-pastors at our church. They were both involved in the music ministry. They sang in the Easter musical, playing the roles of Jesus (Daryl) and Peter (Rusty) in Joy Comes in the Morning. There's a scene near the end of that epic 80s cantata where the resurrected Jesus and ashamed Peter lock eyes and are reunited with a giant hug. I'll never forget seeing them become the characters and give all of us hope that we, too, can be fully reconciled with Jesus. Even after our sin.

As I wrote in a Facebook post yesterday, I learned what friendship could be watching my brother and his best friend. I imagine the epic Biblical friendship between David and Jonathan was a foreshadowing of their relationship.

Daryl was taking out the trash a few days ago, had a heart-attack, and died suddenly. He was 64.

It has called to my memory a bunch of things that might encourage us all toward Christ-likeness. You see, Daryl didn't just play Jesus in a play at church, he modeled (imperfectly, of course) our Savior in the every daily-ness of his life.

Daryl knew I needed help with how to talk to girls, how to say things kindly, and and how to be okay with myself. Daryl was probably the first person who could correct me in a way that made me want to be corrected. When I was feeling like I was a loser, he would speak hope into my soul. And when I didn't see any way out of a hard spot, he gave me perspective. I know now he was teaching me against binary thinking, to look for a third option.

In other words, Daryl was generous with encouragement and hope. He spoke wise correction into the life of this (temporarily) fatherless teenager. And he helped me see the big picture when I was lost in the weeds. I really want to be like Daryl.

Finally, Daryl was a song writer. In fact, he wrote a song our youth group fell in love with called "Ribbons and Bows." When I did my first recording project in a basement in Cincinnati Ohio, I asked him if I could include that song. Not only did he say yes, he played guitar for the cassette recording. (Man, I'm old!) But he didn't just play. He taught me how to behave in a setting that was new to me.

He did what he always did. He helped me think, feel, and act like Jesus.

In the ways Daryl was so generous with others, I wonder if Jesus may be calling you and me to be more that way.

For my songwriting friends, here's a bit of Daryl's much loved song, inspired by his ministry with teenage girls, about his future daughter(s):

Ribbons and bows, diapers and dolls,
That's my baby girl.
She's my whole world.
Growin' up fast,
This childhood won't last.
Who'll watch over her
When she's not my baby girl?

Will I love her enough to show her
That he cried for her,
Even died for her?
When the pain of life
Gets too tough for her
He'll comfort her, 
Oh the comforter.

High school prom queen,
T-shirt and blue jeans.
We shared some tears
Through those teenage years.
Kids of her own, my how time has flown.
She's a woman now;
She survived somehow.

'Cause I loved her enough to show her
That he cried for her,
Even died for her.
And she can share 
That Truth with her own son;
She can share the love
Of the Perfect One.

Do it Anyway!

I live with the fallacy that I should only do things where I excel. In fact, I'd say I'm the poster-boy for this! If I can't figure it out in 15 minutes, I give up. But if it comes easily, I'll stay at it forever!

This is not good for me. Not for my development anyway.

And I dare say, it may not be good for you either. (Forgive me for being so blunt?)

Where is all of this coming from, and what it has to do with worship, with Christian living?

Oh, I am SO glad you asked!

I was thinking about the people who tell me they don't sing in worship because they aren't good singers. And then I got to thinking about whether or not they would use that rationale with other parts of the gathering.

I'm not good at giving, so I'm just going to keep my tithe.
I'm not good at praying, so I'll just sit quietly.
I'm not good at listening, so I'll just play a game on my phone during the sermon.

I can't imagine those excuses would be nearly as embraced by our church-goers as, "I'm not good at singing, so I just listen."

After all, we are commanded in scripture to give, to pray, to listen, but none of those as often as to sing!

Friend, we need your voice. We need you. So if you aren't good at singing, sing anyway!

Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord;
    let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation.
Let us come before him with thanksgiving
    and extol him with music and song.
        --Psalm 95:1-2

But Do They BELIEVE You Love Them?

I find emotions a fascinating part of being human.

• The love of an infant for her mother.
• The delight of a toddler with his grandfather.
• The infatuation of a teenager for her classmate.
• The young love of newlyweds.
• The sense of uncertainty when marriage struggles.
• The deeper-than-friendship devotion of those married half a century.

Some of those feelings, I'm sure you can remember; the others you can imagine. But very few of them can you see.

And that's just one of the things that interests me about emotion. It can be forest-fire-hot on the inside, and frosty-ice-cold on the outside. At the same time.

+ + + + +

I love the folks in my ministry. I really do. I hurt when they hurt. I dance on the inside when they get good news. Joy resonates in my heart when a major life event goes well--salvation, marriage, first child, and more.

But I've learned something powerful. What I feel does nothing for them. What they see, what they receive, does everything for them.

So if I'm feeling frustration but communicate pleasure, I have essentially lied to them and damaged our relationship. If I'm feeling agape love but don't do anything, I have cheated us of the spiritual intimacy God intends for His people.

I think of David Johnson. David was a dear friend in ministry. We had a deepening friendship that lasted about 15 years. He had been to my church and I'd been to his. We shared lunches. More than that, we shared life.

David got sick a while back. Suddenly sick. And then he got better. And then he got really, really sick. And word came that he might not live. He was barely 60. Too young.

I walked into the hospital room in Nashville, after the 75 minute car ride. I had a really good visit with David and his wife, Pam. I prayed with them, I looked David in the eye and said--tears stinging my eyes--"I love you, my brother."

I'll never forget his response. I'd never experienced this before, but it was the catalyst for this blog post. With his characteristically soft smile and a weak voice he said, "I believe it."

I believe it.

How did my friend--and brother--know I loved him?

Because I showed him. I demonstrated my love.

Brothers and Sisters, so does Jesus. And so must we all.

"... God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5:8)

Let's be more like Jesus.

Body Worship

Body Worship?

No, I don’t mean we should worship our bodies. I mean that the Body, the one Paul talks about in Romans 12 and 1 Corinthians 12, worships.

You may have heard the worship gathering referred to as “corporate worship.” And that word—corporate—may stir images of the corporate ladder, or corporate lawyers or corporations. But get this: our English word comes from the Latin “corpus,” which actually means… body.

That’s how we worship together…as a body

I remember vividly my time in East Africa just over a decade ago. One of the many striking things about the worship gatherings I attended was the interconnectedness of everything. The children and youth I saw lead in worship did so as groups, looking more like extended family than neighbors. The preaching was as conversational as any black preacher I’ve been around. And the singing… everybody sang from the gut. Everybody. Together. 

It was like seeing this passage lived out:

The human body has many parts,

but the many parts make up one whole body.

So it is with the body of Christ.

Yes, the body has many different parts, not just one part.

If the foot says, “I am not a part of the body because I am not a hand,”

that does not make it any less a part of the body.

And if the ear says, “I am not part of the body because I am not an eye,”

would that make it any less a part of the body?

If the whole body were an eye, how would you hear?

Or if your whole body were an ear, how would you smell anything?

Yes, there are many parts, but only one body.

The eye can never say to the hand, “I don’t need you.”

The head can’t say to the feet, “I don’t need you.”

...So God has put the body together such that extra honor and care

are given to those parts that have less dignity.

This makes for harmony among the members,

so that all the members care for each other.

If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it,

and if one part is honored, all the parts are glad.

All of you together are Christ’s body, and each of you is a part of it.

Which brings me to one of the dangers I see in worship in our day, at least in the US. I hear it often. “I just want to close my eyes and imagine that I’m the only one in the room.” OR “I want the room to be dark so I don’t have to worry about people seeing me.” OR “I’m afraid of what other people will think if I show on the outside what I’m feeling on the inside.”

And so in our fear, we defy the images of 1 Corinthians 12 and withhold ourselves from each other. 

Lord, have mercy.

A priority of the faith community described throughout the New Testament is spiritual intimacy. When we close ourselves off from others we, well… close ourselves off from others. We forsake intimacy.

It’s like the eye is saying, I don’t need you. And like the the ear is saying, you don’t need me.

But God made us to need one another. 

I need you to worship on the outside like you feel on the inside. I want to see your joy. Your lament. I want to see you.

And I want you to see my delight. My sorrow. I want to be seen.

So let’s keep out eyes open. Let’s keep the lights on. And let’s worship like the body we are.