Our Christmas Letter 2015

                                                                                                                                December 2015

Dear Friends,

            Do you feel what I have been feeling lately?  When will the bad news end!?! If it’s not an ISIS execution, it’s a mass shooting in our own country.   On Facebook, I see images of refugees flooding Europe and ostentatious politicians talking about building a wall.  Racial tensions in America are high to say the least. 

            Unfortunately, bad news doesn’t stay on the headlines.  Linda’s family has had a rough year.  The news of her youngest sister, Laurie’s, advanced cancer hit us hard.  Then her mom had another cancer scare from a spot on her leg.  This is her third bout with this disease.  As I write, the cancer battles are over for now, but in an awkward accident Linda’s mother now broke both her arms.

            Then I think of the many crises too personal to write about in a public letter like this.  I think you know the kind I am talking about.  Perhaps you are living one right now.  I am talking about those crises that couple pain with shame.  These are especially painful because they involve real choices and complex levels of participation by us all.  We, along with our friends and family, are experiencing such crises this year -- and I know many of you reading this letter can identify.  

            And it’s not just the bad news, there is also sad news.  We said good-bye to more friends when Josh and Tonya Good left our city, the third couple with kids the age of ours who have left the area recently. We miss all three couples dearly.  

            Doesn’t it seem like there could be some good news instead?  I bravely intended to run a half marathon this year in honor of my mother.  It was her birthday, 20 years after her passing, but my run turned out to be more of a hobble.  I finished “gloriously” with all the power walking elderly ladies.

            Linda bravely launched into homeschooling this year.  There is joy in it to be sure, but some days we wonder about our decision. 

            Then there are the thorns and thistles promised in Genesis.  For me they come in the form of collapsing sewer pipes and crumbling chimneys.  It has been a month without heat.  Electric heaters help except that they blow the breakers! Thank God for gracious tenants on the first floor and basement.

            So what is going on?

            And how can we celebrate the season in the middle of such realities? 

            I am comforted with this, the One who is above all of this entered this.  He became a refugee in Egypt.  His birth prompted a massacre.  ISIS is not new, mass killings are not a rarity in human history. Racism has existed for a long time.  Suffering is not uncommon. It is what this world is made of. 

            When the Herschberger family gathered for a bitter-sweet time of dispersing dad’s things this summer, I found a well-read book on dad’s shelf, The Gospel According to Job.   The message is refreshingly real.  The miserable comforters still exist today.  They like to tally up who has been naughty and nice, but there is a cry coming from the ash heap, “I know that my redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand on the earth” (Job 19:25).   In his amazing, pre-religious faith, Job knew what he needed.  He needed a Redeemer.  Fortunately, for us, He has come.

          - Lowell (for the Herschbergers)

Can you remind me again what success is -- exactly?

Can you go a day without hearing a new sound bite from Donald Trump?

I have been scratching my head ever since I saw him climb to the front of the race for the Republican nomination, and today it struck me. There is a big part of this world that rewards that sort of leadership. We want someone to be large and in charge. Someone who says it like it is and is willing to take on our enemies. Like the iconic businessman, Lee Iacocca, said, "Decisiveness is the one word that makes a good manager." We want someone who will get it done -- now!

I am thinking this run's deep in our European psyche dating all the way back to the Ceasars, medieval Kings, and military generals that we used to worship.

And like most absurdities, there is a piece of this mindset that I find in my own heart.

At least 5 times I have had dreams in the last month about a situation at work that isn't going so well. It mercilessly eats away at me when I am ranked lower than others across the city.

And I have been thinking about my career. Next week, I will have been at Cypress Hills Local Development Corporation for 12 years, and I am starting to feel like an oddity. Few people in this field stay in the same role for that long. 

Today, a great friend from up in Harlem hands me his card. I couldn't miss the label under his name, "Executive Director." "Oh, congratulations, Anthony," I said. A big smile crept across his face. I had no idea he had left his post helping young people on 125th St.

At the same event, I met another acquaintance from a decade ago, "Director of Programs" it says on her card.  That's my supervisor's title. "Uh . . . congratulations," I say, "I'm so happy for you."

The odd thing is that I know what Executive Directors and Directors of Programs do, and it is not that fun, yet when I see that "success" something inside of me pulls a bit and in wistful moments I wonder if I could accomplish more.   

There is a story I used to listen to as a child.  It went something like this.  Once there was a wise old king who had no children to pass on his kingdom to, so he called in his three most noble knights.  He gave them each an empty gunny sack with no orders except to return in three months.  The first went out and used his sack to start a shipping business.  He was so successful that he made quite a profit, enough to fill his bag with gold to return to his king after 3 months.  The second was also successful  -- even more so.  When he left the presence of the king, he immediately thought that a kingly thing to do would be to gather some friends and make raids on the enemies of his king. He was quite good at it and managed to inflict quite a few casualties.  After three months he brought the spoils of war to his king.  In fact, the original sack was not even big enough to carry all the jewels, diamonds and foreign treasures that he spilled out before the king.  Finally, the third knight returned. "I am sorry, Oh King.  As I left the palace three months ago, I heard the wailing of beggars just outside the gate.  I rode on my horse to a neighboring town and bought bread to fill my sack.  I returned and fed the beggars.  The next day as I proceeded on my knightly quest, it happened again.  I was distracted by shouting and wailing. I learned that a plague was causing great suffering and death in the poor part of town.  I raced on my horse to the coastal town where new medicine had just arrived.  I filled my sack to the breaking point, and rode as fast as I could back to the dying townspeople.  It happened over and over again.  I kept getting distracted on my way to fulfill your assignment, and now my time is up and I still have not filled your sack with treasure.  Here is your gunny sack, worn and empty. Sorry."

As a tear trickled down his wrinkled face, the king descended from his throne and lifted his crown from his own head and placed it on the startled head of the third knight with the empty gunny sack.  "Arise, my son, you are the new King."

Could it be that success is not measured by the size of your company, the number of people you supervise, or whether you met your annual performance goals?  While the world cheers the billionaire, Lord, remind me to bring my empty gunny sack to lay at your feet 'cause all I really want is to hear the words, "Well done, thy good and faithful servant."

What is "playing the victim" exactly?

I noticed that when I make comments about racial issues or poverty or trauma and healing, one of the responses I get is that I am enabling a victim mindset.  "The're just playing the victim."  No one likes a whiner. This victim mindset is deeply abhorrent to basic American sensibilities.  

 

But it got me asking myself a question.  What is a victim mindset exactly and what is the alternative that I am actually striving for within my own heart?

 

The victim sees the world as a competition for compassion. Either my pain is legitimate and worthy of compassion or yours is legitimate and worthy of compassion.
The sufferer sees both the uniqueness and the commonality of pain.  For the sufferer, pain becomes a unifier.  They know that compassion is a renewable resource.

 

The victim finds it difficult to hear the stories of others with different pain.
The sufferer listens well because they know what it is like to feel pain.

 

Victimhood leads to paralysis.
Suffering leads to stillness.

 

Victims want an eye for an eye.
Sufferers are settled in their hope for justice and long for the day when it will come.  They know that it will be more severe than an eye for an eye.

 

Victims want restitution now.
Sufferers know that the struggle for justice is a long battle.

 

Victims see themselves as entirely unique.
Sufferers have had an entirely unique journey, but they delight in the commonalities and find solidarity in other's stories.

 

Victims stay in a state of unfocused anger.
Sufferers have a clear focus and vision for the future.

 

Victims feel powerless.
Sufferers know that they are both weak and powerful beyond words.

 

Victims are waiting for the abuser to make the next move.  Nothing can happen until there is at least an apology.

Sufferers move in strength with or without apologies.

 

Victims live in terror of further pain.
Sufferers know that they are stronger than any pain that could come. 

 

Victims require clarity. 
Sufferers live in the midst of many unanswered questions.

 

Victims focus on "me" and "mine."
Sufferers focus on justice and mercy and what is real.

 

Victims unconsciously carry pain from one situation into the next.
Sufferers are well aware of all of their pain.  They have cried through it all.

 

Victims minimize their pain in moments of pleasure.  Pleasure is an escape from their pain.
Sufferers bear their pain constantly, but they know that joy can coexist with pain, so they laugh a lot.

 

Victims unconsciously wish they were the abuser instead of the victim.
Sufferers know that the curse on the abuser is automatic, multi-faceted and thorough and is ultimately worse than anything they would ever want.

 

Victims feel smaller than their suffering.
Sufferers know that they are bigger than their victimization.

 

Victims are constantly trying to prove that their pain is legitimate.
Sufferers know their pain is legitimate and grieve that other's just don't get it.

 

Other times victims try to hide their own pain and delegitimize it.
Sufferers are never scared of their grief and shame. They are free to talk about it.

 

Victims tend to see others as victims.
Sufferers see others as sufferers. 

 

Victims obsess with "logical" arguments.
Sufferers know that the greatest truths in the world are like the wind - powerful, uncontrollable, inevitable.

 

Victims have difficulty finding effective solutions.
Sufferers are a mighty force for social justice and mercy that cannot be stopped.  Their tears are a mighty river that washes through the barren desert of self-protection, power, control, religiosity, and manipulation. 

 

You may want to be a sufferer, but be careful.  Throughout history they tend to get killed.

What is happening exactly? Is this story going anywhere?

There are days when the toilet clogs and my neighbors on the first floor get a rain shower in their kitchen, and then there are days when the sun shines brightly.

There are days when the city calls me at work to say that there is an i on line 23 of chapter 46 that is not dotted.  Then there are days when folks talk about giving us millions because we are doing such great work.

There are days when folks pray and life seems good.  Then there are days that seem like a New York pot hole.

Folks experience God, then people get angry and run away.

Life is full of incongruences and detours.  Ups and downs are the norm.

What is the cohesive narrative?  Where is the forward progress? 

Are we going to the promised land or just wondering in the desert?  Are we just sitting on an ash heap with a potsherd? I wonder if Daniel knew how many nights he would spend in the Lion's Den?

These are the questions I wonder about sometimes.

Wouldn't it be nice if there was a beginning, ending, and you could see the progress in the middle?

In Eastern philosophies, I am told there is more of cyclical view of time.  We Westerners tend to expect things to be linear.  Nature certainly seems cyclical, so maybe the Eastern folks were on to something, but the Bible does tell a story about time.  The story has an author, a beginning, and ending.  Some of the chapters are just pretty long and confusing. 

"Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith" (Hebrews 12:2)

What's the problem with leadership?

Theoretically, there is a desire in every man to be "the man."  We all want to be the "top dog," the "Big Kahuna," large and in charge, but why is there such a dearth of good leadership nowadays?

From presidential candidates, to cell group leaders, to program directors at work, leaders are hard to find.  I used to read leadership books by folks like John Maxwell or Steven Covey, but now that I have had a taste of leadership I fantasize about a cabin in Montana.

What's wrong with leadership?  Why is something that seems like an honor turn out to be such a burden instead?  Everyone who doesn't have it wants it, but many who have tasted it, ache.

Something dawned on me the other day.  Leadership involves a painful paradox.  You have to have qualities that conflict with each other.

You need to be . . .

Soft and hard both.
Gentle enough to hold the hand of a child and strong enough to take a bullet for him.
Sympathetic toward everyone, yet not swayed by anyone.  
Focused on a goal but not preoccupied.
Think strategically with an eye to the future, but be present in the moment.
Be relaxed, but vigilant.
Have fun, but don't be foolhardy.
Show your feelings, but none of the petty ones.
Show your emotion, but none of the bitter ones.
Show your desires, but not the perverted ones.

Enjoy the people you are leading while dying on a cross in front of them.

No wonder it is hard to find a leader.

"And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself." (John 12:32)

What happens when I am not successful?

When I decided to run a half marathon, the response was almost universally positive.  It was really quite encouraging.  People said things like, "Wow, I could never do that" or with a whimsical tone, "oh really, maybe I should do that some day."  The affirmation propelled me to start training, something that was really good for my body as well as my heart and spirit.

Yesterday was race day.  I could barely contain my excitement.  I felt good, the park was gorgeous, the energy at the starting line was hard to contain.

Unfortunately, at about mile 4 a recurring issue with my left knee flared up.  As much as I tried to ignore it, the pain turned my carefully developed stride into an awkward limping gait. My first priority was to finish the race, so I decided to slow down even walk if necessary to try to nurse the pain into a functional pace.  I stopped for a little medical advice and pressed on.  I would walk for a minute or two then jog for 40 seconds and repeat.  The walking periods gradually got longer and the jogging moments got shorter.

Lots of people started passing me.  I had no problem when the young men passed me.  I had mentally prepared for that because the trainers say to be sure to stick to your planned pace regardless of what others do. 

At the mile 5 marker, a loud speaker came on, "stay to the right, leader coming through."  I turned around to see a truck behind me.  I stayed to the right to let the truck pass and a bit behind him was this nice young man cruising along at maybe a 6 minute mile pace.  Since the route loops around a lake twice, I knew that for him, the spot was mile 10.  He had "lapped" me.  Behind him were others cruising along in the sunshine.

But that was to be expected.  I am no Olympian.

Soon bigger, older people started passing me, and I started getting frustrated.  The race started lagging on.  I had all the energy in my heart and lungs, but I was weighed down with a knee that wouldn't cooperate.  It was as if I had a ball and chain tied around my left ankle. It really got to me when a power-walking lady who looked 60-something caught up to me.

I started thinking about success and how much the world values "success" and how hard it is to feel weak and unsuccessful.  When I talked with folks about the half marathon, I got affirmation and respect.  Just the notion that I am going to do it, garners a sense of assumed success and status.  We earthlings like things like marathons.  Sacrifice, discipline, desire, determination, hard work that all adds up to success -- that's the storyline we love. 

But there I was hobbling along as if I hadn't trained at all, looking mostly like an idiot.

As I hobbled down the trail, its as if an ancient master was taking me for a little walk to tell me something -- not so much like a race.  "Let me tell you something about the world," He said, "the world likes success.  You like success.  You like success because then you can be over someone (like that power-walking lady and all those people who "shouldn't" have passed you), but there is a different way.  Look at this sunshine I made for you.  Look at the way it sparkles on the fresh snow.  Talk to the special people walking beside you.  You have such a hard time not feeling "successful," but that feeling is itself the test.  Are you willing to press on even with that feeling, even with the reality that you are towards the back of the line? Let me challenge your notions of who exactly is the first. The greatest should be like the least, the master should be the servant, the first should be last."  (Luke 22: 25-27 with a lot of poetic license).

P.S. Now it occurs to me.  This race was for mom, and nothing was more like her -- acknowledging  brokenness, finding beauty in the change in plans, communing with the Creator.  Maybe it was a success after all.

Why do snow flakes fall?

It seems a little odd, really.  Billions of snow flakes gently falling on this city, and each one is being cursed at.

Yes, it is March.  Yes, the sloppy, icy, dirty, remains of winter are driving us all crazy.

But the snow flakes keep coming down gently, each one exquisitely made.  Outside of world-famous museums, numberless masterpieces all being destroyed without ever being really seen.  Seems a bit ironic.

We have no shortage of artwork.  We have a shortage of viewers.

Yet God keeps gently painting, one stroke after another, while we scurry and fret the "treacherous" conditions of the sidewalks.  We fume because we have to shovel yet again when it is exercise we all desperately need and otherwise would pay good money to Richie's Gym in order to get.

God just keeps sprinkling his fragile artwork all around knowing we will trample it in a huf.

What does this say about God?  What does it say about us?

"Consider the lilies" Jesus said.

Does love win?

Its been over 20 years, but I still remember my profesor at Bible Institute asking the class, "Which is the most essential attribute of God -- love, truth, or holiness?"

 

Being quick witted and a bit cocky, I said, "Truth, because even the existence of God's love is itself a truth."

 

I thought my logic was solid, but the question has revisited me over the years. If I was so right, why then are the greatest and second greatest commandments -- indeed all the law and prophets -- summarized by the command to love (Matthew 22:37). Why does love remain after faith and hope have reached their limits (I Corinthians 13:13)? Does love really win?

 

In my work as a Non-Profit Administrator, love doesn't seem to win state contracts.  Efficiency, data management, and tight procedures do that.

 

Love doesn't really help the bottom line of any budget.

 

Love doesn't really add up to "success."

 

Love doesn't win the arguments.

 

Love doesn't set the record straight or garner you the respect you deserve.

 

In fact love is mostly thankless.

 

Why does God say love is the most important?  

 

Maybe because it slices deeper.

 

Love requires that I stay soft on the inside when every part of me wants to grit my teeth and survive.
 

Love requires vulnerability. Many virtues -- self-discipline, holiness, purity -- can be demonstrated without vulnerability but not love.  To love you have to let your guard down. Its unsafe.  It requires vulnerability.

Love makes me feel powerless.  Sometimes I must admit my inability to do anything, to have any real power, to make things better, to fix things, to really even be what I want to be.
 

Love requires the possibility of pain -- no, in this life, it guarantees pain.  To love is to hurt.

 

Essentially, love forces us to cut down the plastic idol of control, the illusion of our self-efficacy and safety. 

To love we must assassinate our inner monarch, and embarrassingly allow the inner child to stumble out instead.  It requires total transformation.

 

Love does win, if you are willing to die that is.