Intersections: July 2020

Monday, July 27, 2020

Getting Unstuck with Dr. Seuss: Fear

Dr. Seuss Sermon Series

July 26, 2020

Matthew 26:36-39

“What Was I Scared Of?: Fear and the Christian Life

This Dr. Seuss story always reminds me of an encounter I had almost 20 years ago when I lived in Philadelphia. I lived at 36^th Street and during the summer that I was there started taking a two-mile walk in the evening down Walnut Street to 23^rd Street and looping back over to Chestnut Street to come back. One time, as I was coming along 23^rd Street, this guy came out of a building and turned right in front of me. At that time in my life, I was a notoriously fast walker. I think it was a safety mechanism: I wasn’t going to let fear keep me from walking in the city by myself, but I was going to move and stay alert and stay safe. I also don’t like people walking right in front of me, so when this guy came out right in front of me, I started walking faster. I caught up to him at the next intersection and as we both stepped off the curb at the same time, he turned to me and said, (a cleaned-up version), “Shoot, you walk faster than me. Both of us scared of each other and so we’re trying to walk our butts off. Have a good one, man.” I smiled and laughed and we went our separate ways. This is almost the same thing as what happened in the story “What Was I Scared Of?”, except for the narrator, it happens multiple times, and neither the narrator nor the Green Pants ever talk to each other until the very end. Instead, they stay in fear of each other through multiple encounters.

Fear is one of our basic human emotions. It has served us well over the centuries, protecting us from harm and keeping us safe. At the same time, though, it can also be a hindrance. When you circle the wagons to keep safe, like the 19^th century settlers did when traveling out west, it protected everyone in the group against an outside danger. However, at some point, they had to un-circle the wagons in order to continue their journey westward. Sometimes, though, we circle our wagons and we keep them circled. It protects us, but it also means we’re stuck in that one place. We can’t move on until we un-circle. Fear protects us and it limits our potential and our capabilities until we’re willing to overcome it. The problem is that we also feel vulnerable when we feel afraid and that can make it hard to look past our fear and move on.

There are many, many Scriptures verses that address fear. “Do not be afraid” is a common refrain throughout the Bible, spoken by God and by angels. At the beginning of the month, knowing that I was going to preaching on fear in a few weeks, I started paying attention to when fear came up in my daily devotional readings. And you know what? It started popping up all over the place when I was looking for it. I found verses about asking God for the strength to face fears, about God loosing the bonds of fears, being delivered from fear, prayers asking for God to transform fear.

One of the places we find that prayer is in the passage we read this morning from Matthew. This is Thursday night of Holy Week. It’s after the Last Supper and after Jesus has told Peter that he’s going to deny him three times. Jesus goes to Gethsemane to pray and asks Peter, James, and John to come with him. It’s late; they’ve had a big meal. Peter, James, and John fall asleep, causing Jesus to feel even more alone. He knows what’s coming, what’s imminent. There are a variety of adjectives used to describe how he’s feeling, depending on which translation you read. He’s feeling sorrowful, troubled, overwhelmed, distressed, depressed, heavy, anxious, grieved, anguished, sad, despairing, agitated, upset, and crushed. Those adjectives all fall into two basic categories of emotions: sadness and fear. Jesus is feeling sad and he’s feeling fear, thinking about what’s about to happen: betrayal, crucifixion, and death. Being fully God, he knows that’s not the end of the story. Resurrection will come in three days. Being fully human, he’d rather skip straight to it and not go through the cross. Jesus prays, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup of suffering be taken from me. Yet not what I want, but what you want.” Jesus faces his fears head on. He does not run away from Gethsemane or go hide. Jesus does not let his fears keep him from pressing on and following God’s will.

How often, though, do we let our fears keep us back, let our fears keep us with the wagons circled, unwilling to press on? How often do we pray for what we want and not add that what God wants is more important? “Thy will be done,” not mine. Sometimes our fear keeps us from effective Christian ministry. We’re afraid to speak up, lest we be ridiculed. We’re afraid to help out, lest we be rejected. We’re afraid to give, lest we not have enough. During the pandemic, our giving to the church has gone down by 20%. Thankfully, our expenses have also gone down by 20%. You know what’s gone up? Our church giving to other charities and ministries, like food banks and shelters. Our outreach team has stayed busy figuring out how we can help during this time and there has been enough. If our offering were to increase, we would increase how much we give away. Helping others is important and we don’t want to be afraid to help. “We cannot fulfill our calling if we are paralyzed into inactivity by a fear of getting hurt, or making mistakes, or getting involved in messy or complicated situations. That is the path of fear, not the path of faith.”[1]

There’s a saying you may have heard: “Fear knocked on the door. Faith answered. There was no one there.” I would say that’s not entirely accurate. Faith does not make fear go away. Faith gives us “the disciplines, confidence, and courage to move forward in spite of our fears.”[2] It might be better to say: Fear knocked on the door. Faith answered and, with a degree of stubbornness from the Zax, said, I’m going to do this, anyway. I’m not going to let fear stop me. That was Jesus there on Gethsemane, who, shortly after that prayer, was betrayed by Judas with a kiss and arrested.

The only way to overcome your fears is to face them. Name them. Talk about them. If you’re not sure who will listen, call me. Let’s talk out loud about what we’re afraid of. Let’s share advice from lessons learned about previous facings of fears. Let’s transform them and pray that prayer, “Let my fears be cast out; let them be transformed. Let me speak only truth, that I might live with integrity.”[3] Psalm 5:9 says “Not a word from their mouth can be trusted,” and it reminds me of my favorite line from the movie Frozen II. Elsa learns about the history between her kingdom and the people of Northuldra. She hears the memory of her grandfather, King Runeard when he said, “The Northuldra follow magic, which means we can never trust them…Magic makes people feel too powerful, too entitled. It makes them think they can defy the will of a king.” Elsa responds, “That is not what magic does. That's just your fear. Fear is what can't be trusted.” Fear is a feeling and feelings just are. Another line from that movie is when Sven says, “You feel what you feel and your feelings are real.” It’s all about what you do with those feelings and how you act on them.

We live during an extra fearful time because of COVID-19. The pandemic has heightened our sense of fear and people are responding in a variety of ways. Take some time this week to name your fears, especially about the coronavirus, and examine how you’re handling that fear. Is it sucking life out of you? Or are you managing it in healthy, life-giving ways? I saw a meme last week that said, “Fear does not stop death. It stops life. Worrying does not take away tomorrow’s troubles. It takes away today’s peace.” Another way to put it would be to quote Franklin Delano Roosevelt, “The only thing you have to fear is fear itself.” In “What Was I Scared Of?” the narrator tries denying that he’s afraid, he tries lying about it, he tries the circled wagon approach where he stops going his favorite places and doing his favorite things. But once he finally came face to face with those Green Pants, they got to meet each other and get to know each other and found out that they really had a lot in common and they could be friends.

This last prayer is a paraphrase of Psalm 140, “Deliver me, O Giver of Breath and Life, from the fears that beset me. Help me confront the inner shadows that hold me in bondage… that distract me from all I yearn to be, and hinder the awakening of hidden gifts that I long to share with others. For I desire to be a channel of peace; to reflect the beauty of Creation! O, that I might show your love to all whom I meet, and mirror your mercy and justice! Guide me, O Beloved, that I may become spiritually mature; Love me into new life!”[4] Amen.

[1] “The Gospel According to Dr. Seuss” by James W. Kemp, p. 19

[2] Ibid., p. 17

[3] From Psalm 31 in “Psalms for Praying” by Nan C. Merrill

[4] Psalm 140, Ibid.

Getting Unstuck with Dr. Seuss: You Are Enough

Dr. Seuss Sermon Series

July 19, 2020

Psalm 139

Gertrude McFuzz: Accept yourself as God made you: Perfect and Whole and Holy

We continue today with our Dr. Seuss series. Last week we looked at the deadly sin of pride; today we’re going to talk about envy. Gertrude McFuzz had only one feather; “just right for your kind of bird,” her Uncle Doctor tells her. But Lolla-Lee-Lou has two feathers and Gertrude is quite jealous. Her jealousy turns into anger. And anger, as it sometimes does, is used in Gertrude’s case to mask another, more vulnerable, emotion. Sometimes, when we’re feeling insecure or afraid or helpless or anxious, the outward emotion that we show is anger. We’re often more comfortable showing anger than an emotion that shows us as “weaker.” Gertrude, for example, feels that her one tail feather is not enough. She is not enough. She is not good enough. She is not beautiful with only one tail feather. She believes that she is flawed; her creator messed up when he gave her only one feather. This is where Gertrude’s envy has led her, only rather than be vulnerable by admitting that, rather than being brave by saying it out loud, she turns to anger instead and demands her Uncle Doctor tell her where the pill-berry vine is located.

Psalm 25 begins and ends by saying, “In you, O God, I put my trust; do not let me be put to shame. Guard my life and rescue me; do not let me be put to shame.” That’s the literal translation from the Hebrew. I read a paraphrase this past week (in “Psalms for Praying: An Invitation to Wholeness” by Nan Merrill) where instead of “Do not let me be put to shame,” it said “Let me not feel unworthy,” and “Let me not live as unworthy.” Gertrude started to feel unworthy, when she realized Lolla-Lee-Lou had more feathers than she did. Then Gertrude started to live as unworthy, when she demanded her way and ate all the berries off the pill-berry vine. How often do we do this, too? We believe and live as if we’re not enough, as if we’re unworthy. In our brokenness, we think, and are made to believe, that we’re not enough, that we cannot be beautiful because of our flaws. Churches and other organizations can have this mentality, too. We’re not like them. They have more, therefore, we’re inferior. And it doesn’t matter what that more is, it’s an unhelpful, unhealthy comparison. Because you are enough. Because you are worthy. Because God made you the way you are, warts and all, and you are beautiful.

Too often we do not feel enough: good enough, whole enough, healthy enough, beautiful enough. We got caught in this deficit thinking. And, let’s be honest, we hear it from the world around us. We hear it in commercials and advertising. We hear it from other people, who may or may not be well-meaning, pointing out our flaws, or suggesting ways we can fix or hide them. Sometimes we put on a tough exterior like anger. Sometimes we find some method to elevate us to where we think we should be, like plastic surgery, which is comparable to what Gertrude did. Sometimes the suggestions and interventions are helpful. I went to speech therapy as a kid. I sounded like Elmer Fudd saying, “Wascally wabbit.” It feels ironic that I’m a preacher now. Speech therapy to enunciate my R’s was good and needed. Yet I’ve also been told as a preacher that my voice is too high-pitched to be understood. I’ve been told I’m too quiet. Yes, I’m female and I have a quiet personality. Those are beautiful things about me and the solution isn’t to make myself more male or louder but to have a better sound system set for a soprano voice.

This past week I listened to the latest podcast from “Everything Happens with Kate Bowler.” She interviewed an author named Heather Lanier who had recently written a memoir on raising her daughter called “Raising a Rare Girl.” Her daughter, Fiona, has an extremely rare syndrome called Wolf-Hirschhorn, which means she’s missing noticeable amount of genetic material on the 4^th chromosome. It turns out we all are missing various amount of genetic material; it’s just that for most of us it’s not noticeable. Many medical professionals at the hospital where Fiona was born said this baby is wrong and her body is bad. Heather had to figure out how to love and mother a child who others considered to be bad, and it took a while and it took finding the right help. Many therapists came and checked off everything that Fiona wasn’t doing, all the milestones she wasn’t reaching and it wasn’t helpful. It was hurtful and harmful. It’s that deficit thinking of not enough. You know, we all want our children to be in the middle or high end of any bell curve, but Fiona wasn’t going to fit any bell curve or developmental chart, and that was okay. It was when a therapist came and asked what is Fiona doing, that they finally started to make some progress, at Fiona’s pace, based on what she was already doing. This is actually the same thing I was taught in my training to become an English as a Second Language teacher. It’s not the deficit that the student doesn’t know English or American culture. They already know a lot, so start there and build on that. I had one student who loved math and was great at it. So I had him do complex math problems, which he could solve, and then I had him explain it to me in English. There’s a lot more to this podcast, if it interests you, I encourage you to listen to all of it[1], but the one more thing I want to mention is how often Heather repeated that her daughter is good, whole, and holy, just how she is. Fiona is not bad, her body is not broken or cursed. She’s not normal, she’s not going to match other kids’ growth charts, and she is still good, whole, and holy.

This is what we hear in Psalm 139 as well. We are fearfully and wonderfully, marvelously, amazingly and miraculously made, created by God, who knows the number of hairs on our head, every bone and every muscle of our body, our limits, yes, but also our potential. And sometimes, as the cells reproduce to keep our body going, they misfire, and you get cancer. Sometimes we abuse our body, and we get a limp. Our bodies are so intricately and amazingly made, lovingly fashioned by our loving God, who knows us and loves us completely and is with us wherever we may go, even doctor’s offices and hospitals when our body malfunctions. We were each perfectly and lovingly made. The world may not always see that. You may not always see that about yourself. You were made good and whole and holy.

Gertrude McFuzz had to learn that the hard and painful way. She was so focused on her goal of becoming beautiful that she didn’t stop to think about the consequences. Once she had all those feathers, she couldn’t fly. She couldn’t even walk. She had lots of pretty feathers, but she couldn’t move. She was stuck, just like the Zax last week. However, unlike the Zax, there were birds willing to help Gertrude get unstuck. Her Uncle Doctor came to her rescue and brought other birds who were willing to help. Gertrude needed help to get back on right path. This is similar to recovery groups like AA or NA and to the community of faith. That’s why we’re here. So that no matter what happens during the week, no matter what you hear the world tell you, no matter what lie you’ve started believing about yourself, we can come re-orient ourselves back to God and remember who we are and whose we are. We are enough. We are beautiful and good and whole and holy. You don’t need more feathers, or whatever it is for you, to be complete. We are here to build each other up, and any suggestion that you’re not enough is not from God. Brush it off right now. Who you are is good. Same goes for your neighbor. And your family. And the person across the aisle from you. Take a moment and tell someone near you, “You are good. You are beautiful. You are enough.” If you’re watching this or reading this and no one’s around, look in the camera or in the mirror and say it. “You are whole and you are holy. You are perfect, just as God made you.” Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, including yourself.

A couple years ago a new movie version of “A Wrinkle in Time” by Madeline L’Engle came out. The main character, Meg, has trouble learning to tesser, the word used for traveling through the universe and she tells Mrs. Which (spelled w-h-i-c-h and played by Oprah Winfrey), “I don’t see or feel anything when we tesser.” Mrs. Which replies, “And you won’t, until you become one with the universe and yourself. As it is, it seems like you don’t even want to return as yourself.” Meg asks, “Well, is there any way I could return as somebody else, that I might like?” And Mrs. Which gently answers with another question, “Do you realize how many events and choices that had to occur, since the birth of the universe, leading to the making of you, just exactly the way you are?” Meg says, “I guess I never really thought about it.” “Maybe now’s the time to start thinking about it,” responds Mrs. Which. You are by design. You are not an accident or a mistake, no matter what your parents thought or may have told you. In the children’s book, “When God Made You” by Matthew Paul Turner, there’s a line that says, “When you dance alone, spinning like a cyclone, being whoever, whatever, in a world all your own, God smiles and here’s why – in the spark of your eye, a familiar reflection shines bright from inside.” That familiar reflection is the image of God, which is the image each of us is made in, lovingly and painstakingly created to be just who you are. There are times we try to put conditions on it, like I’m beautiful as long as I’m wearing my make-up or as long as I’m within a certain weight range. Unh-unh. You are inherently beautiful and good and whole and holy. And Gertrude learns that lessons, too. At the end, she is content to be just who she is, as God (or Dr. Seuss) made her. “Now she is smarter” and knows that she is enough. And so are you. Thanks be to God for God’s wonderful works!

[1] https://katebowler.com/podcasts/heather-lanier-whole-and-holy/

Getting Unstuck with Dr. Seuss: Pride and Forgiveness

July 12, 2020

Luke 15:11-31

The Zax: Perseverance, Pride, and Forgiveness

Today we are continuing our Dr. Seuss sermon series. This is week two exploring how Dr. Seuss stories illuminate lessons from the Bible and our own daily life. The parable of the prodigal son that we just read is familiar to most of us. However, I don’t know that Dr. Seuss’s story of “The Zax” is as familiar. It’s found in his collection of short stories called “The Sneetches and Other Stories” and it involves two Zax making tracks in the prairie of Prax.

One Zax is a North-Going Zax and the other Zax is a South-Going Zax, and as you might imagine, the prairie of Prax isn’t big enough for the both of them. As one goes north and one goes south, they bump into each other, foot to foot and face to face.

The North-Going Zax says, “Look here, now! I say! You are blocking my path. You are right in my way. I’m a North-Going Zax and I always go north. Get out of my way, now, and let me go forth!”

“Who’s in whose way?” snaps the South-Going Zax. “I always go south, making south-going tracks. So you’re in MY way! And I ask you to move and let me go south in south-going groove.”

Then the North-Going Zax puffs his chest up with pride. “I never take a step to one side. And I’ll prove to you that I won’t change my ways if I have to keep standing here fifty-nine days!”

The South-Going Zax yells back, “I’ll prove to YOU that I can stand here in the prairie of Prax tor fifty-nine years! For I live by a rule that I learned as a boy back in South-Going School. Never budge! That’s my rule. Never budge in the least! Not an inch to the west! Not an inch to the east! I’ll stay here, not budging! I can and I will if it makes you and me and the whole world stand still!”^{^[1]}

How stubborn do you consider yourself, on a scale of 1-10? Anyone on the low end, 1, 2, or 3; you’ve never been described as stubborn? How about in the middle, 4, 5, or 6; you’re kinda stubborn, or stubborn about some things but not others? As we go up the scale, how about 7 or 8; pretty stubborn? And how about 9 or 10; who is very stubborn? This is where we get into some of those animal analogies, like bull-headed or stubborn as a mule. Has anyone ever been called pig-headed? Me too. On the one hand, this is how stuff gets done. We don’t give up. We see it through. Perseverance is a good thing, and it’s encouraged throughout the bible. It’s one of the characteristics of love in 1 Corinthians 13, “Love always perseveres” (verse 7). In Hebrews 12:1-2, we’re encouraged to “run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.” But have you ever heard that explanation between strengths and weaknesses that says a weakness is a strength abused? Perseverance is a strength. When it is carried too far, however, is when it becomes a problem. It needs to be tempered by discernment, perhaps best described in that Kenny Rogers song, “The Gambler”: “You've got to know when to hold ‘em. Know when to fold ‘em. Know when to walk away. And know when to run.” Both Zax decided to hold their cards and not budge.

Neither Zax was willing to give in, willing to take just one step to the side so that they could continue their tracks. They were each too proud, too stuck in their ways to even consider a compromise. We are called to persevere and hold tight to our beliefs, but we must be willing to consider new ways to live out those beliefs. Would stepping to one side, or each taking half a step so they could pass each other, have been a betrayal to their rules? Yes, taking pride in your work, in your family, and in your church is a good thing. But when pride makes you inflexible, it’s a problem. When pride makes you think you don’t need anyone else, as in the case of the prodigal son, it’s a problem. You see, the prodigal son, or, let’s call him the younger brother, he thought he didn’t need anyone else to make his own way in the world. He thought he could do it by himself, as long as he had his daddy’s money. But he didn’t need his daddy, or any other member of his family. His pride, in himself, turned into egotism and so he rudely demanded his half of the inheritance. To do so in that culture meant that you considered your father dead to you. And he not only acted as if his father were dead, but wanted his share NOW. His pride had turned into ugly stubbornness. It had to be his way and his timing. And so, his dad acquiesces, even though it hurts. When you’re confronted with someone and it’s their way or the highway, you’re not left with many choices. I guess the dad figured he was losing his son either way, so at least this way, the son had some money to help him get by. Ultimatums aren’t pretty because they force someone to act a certain way and love never forces. That’s why although we persevere in the race set out before us and we hold tight to our beliefs, we remain open to new ways to faithfully live out those beliefs. There’s more than one way of doing things well and change can be a good thing. Worshiping outdoors this summer is one example. We’ve done it at Jennings Chapel before, but not here, and not regularly. Yet it’s the way we can worship in person and still guard each other’s health. There is more than one way to persevere and be faithful.

The next lesson to learn from the Zax is that competition can bring out the best in us or the worst in us. Healthy competition can bring out the best, it makes you work harder, study harder, strive to do better. I remember a math class in high school where the teacher passed the tests back by row, so you took yours off the top and saw the grade of the person sitting behind you. Chris always did better than me. I studied more and would ace the test, and then I’d see his grade as I passed his paper back to him and he’d gotten the extra credit. I don’t think I ever got a higher grade than him in that class. But it made me study more. Unfortunately, in the case of the Zax, I think it’s safe to say that this competition brought out the worst in them. It’s like the staring contest, neither one is willing to blink first. Or, how about sibling rivalry? Can anyone relate to that? It’s what we hear from the older brother after his younger brother returns: “IT’S NOT FAIR! Dad, how dare you accept your son back and not only that but throw him a party! He’s thrown away the money you gave him and you welcome him home with a party?!?! I’ve spent my whole life working for you, I’ve never disobeyed you or disowned you, like this other son of yours. And you welcome him back?!” Anyone remember telling your parents it’s not fair over something your sibling did? Or hearing it from your own kids? I identify very well with the older brother in this story; I get him and where he’s coming from. Any other obedient oldest siblings out there, you do everything you’re asked and are perfectly obedient? And yet your parents still love your younger siblings, too [sigh]. I was in my early 20s before I ever began to understand either the youngest son or the father and see a different point of view in this parable besides the older brother’s. Friendly rivalry is one thing; fanaticism, and extreme partisanship where the two sides can’t even talk to each other, is totally different. We read “The Zax” today, and it’s impossible not to read our political climate in it. How many stalemates, filibusters, gerrymandering, and deadlocks have we seen over the past few years?! In the weeks leading up to the 2016 election, I preached on it. We were all thinking about it. It was an elephant in the room if it didn’t get addressed. And I was careful to say universally true things. I said both candidates were made in God’s image. I said both candidates were in need of our prayers. And I said our country needed prayer. After the election, I preached on how it felt like we had post-traumatic stress syndrome from the election. Our political parties feel like the South-going Zax and the North-going Zax stopped in their tracks, refusing to budge… while the rest of the world goes on around them. How do we get unstuck? I don’t know, other than it starts with prayer. If you’re not already, start praying for our election this fall. Pray for the candidates. Pray for our country. Pray that we can again start to have conversations across party lines, for the sake of our country. Extreme fanaticism brings out the worst, and we do not need any more of that. We need our best. Healthy competition is more like the proverb of how iron sharpens iron (Proverbs 27:17), making both better, rather than wanting to obliterate your opponent. I’m a lifelong baseball fan, and I’d always rather watch a game that’s closer matched and the teams are back and forth on who’s winning, instead of watching a blowout. Somehow our society has become more about the blowouts, rather than working to make each team work better and harder. Let competition and rivalry bring out the best, not the worst in you.

Unlike most Dr. Seuss stories, “The Zax” has an unhappy ending. Neither Zax budges, and, of course, the world doesn’t stand still and wait for them. The last picture in the story is of how the new highway was built right over those two stubborn Zax and civilization was built around them. The Zax stay un-budged in their tracks, their conflict unresolved. Similarly, Jesus doesn’t give a resolution to the parable of this family. We don’t know what the older son decides to do, whether to join the party or to stay mad out in the fields. What we do know is the father’s response to his sons. His younger son he immediately welcomes, accepts, and forgives. There is no hesitation. The father, of course, represents God in this story, and God is always ready to forgive and welcome back, no matter how far we have wandered. God waits with open arms to receive us back, and is willing to let the past be the past. This is what’s not fair and what the older brother complains about. To him, the father responds very graciously: “Son, you don't understand. You're with me all the time, and everything that is mine is yours – but this is a wonderful time, and we had to celebrate. This brother of yours was dead, and he's alive! He was lost, and he's found! I have two sons!” The father wants to include both his sons in this celebration. Those of us who have been Christians all our lives don’t need to be jealous of new Christians. Those of us who have been church members since we were in utero don’t need to feel threatened by newcomers. There is enough room here for everybody. God wants to include everybody and is willing to forgive everything. God’s the example of extreme forgiveness and radical hospitality and it’s not ugly. It’s a risk, yeah. It may mean getting told “I told you so.” It may mean discovering the long-forgotten cause of a rift from decades ago. God forgives you and wants you to forgive others, just as you have been forgiven. God wants you here and your brother across the aisle here as well. We don’t know if the older brother forgives his younger brother and is willing to extend hospitality to him. He may stay stuck in his stubbornness and hold a grudge. I pray that any grudges you are holding you might begin to let go of today, that you might forgive those who need your forgiveness. You don’t have any control over how the other person acts, whether they accept your forgiveness or not, whether they’re ready to let bygones be bygones or not. You have control over you. And whatever relationship you’re stuck in, whatever Zax you’re toe-to-toe with, reach out and offer a conversation. Don’t assume anything. Assuming gets us in trouble and it does not help us connect. We’re seeking connection. That’s part of why we’re gathered here in person. So, don’t assume you know. Come with humility and a desire to understand. Persevere and seek after those things that build us all up, “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23). What a different world it would be! And it would look a lot more like God’s kingdom, which is what we’re told to seek first (Matthew 6:33). Be stubborn about that.

[1] “The Zax” in The Sneetches and Other Stories by Dr. Seuss, 1961.