Welcome to another Monday—for many folks in the U.S. it’s a day off; if that’s you, I hope you’re enjoying some relaxation. Monday’s word-of-the-week day, and this week’s word is a strange one …

JAZZ

I don’t know much about jazz except that I usually like it, especially live. I’m thinking that our lives might be a little richer if they were a little more like jazz.

Jazz music is sort of unscripted. Each song has a basic melody and sometimes words, but the performance is spontaneous. Real jazz isn’t rehearsed like a lot of other music—it’s more of a live interaction between the musicians. They practice and develop their individual skills, but the music happens when they play off one another.

Jazz is like life—you never quite know what you’re going to get until it happens, and when something magical occurs you’re not exactly sure why. And when you try to repeat the magic and turn it into a formula, something’s missing. I think that’s why the best jazz is live.

I think we tend to approach life like a symphony. We want every note rehearsed and predictable, each person to play their part precisely according to the score. So we plan and practice and scheme, but it never quite happens like we expect.

Jazz is self-expression. Two players might perform the same song with the same instrument, but each will produce something unique because part of themselves gets expressed.

I once heard an aspiring pianist lament that she could play the notes, but somehow she could never make the music. That’s how jazz seems to me—many of the songs are simple, and most any musician can play the notes. Great jazz seems to happen when special folks collaborate to turn the notes into music. And they really can’t explain the process, because it’s something that comes from their souls.

Maybe we could learn something from jazz. What if we stopped looking for the right answers and trying to make it happen according to a pre-arranged script? What if we listened carefully to others and added to their contribution, let what’s happening right now tell us what should happen next? What if we didn’t try to reduce relationships to formulas and programs?

As I’m writing this, it occurs to me that God might just care more about the music than the notes.

Does this make sense to you? How could you make your life a bit more like jazz?

 If one falls down, his friend can help him up.
But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!

Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
But how can one keep warm alone?

Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken. [Ecclesiastes 4:10-12]

Writing can create the illusion that you’re involved in a mostly solitary endeavor.

I always try to visualize a group of four or five people as the audience—enough for a discussion, not so many that they become faceless. I imagine that I’m listening to their voices and reactions as I edit. But in the end it’s still just me and the keyboard, and frankly I’ll be worried if those imaginary audience voices become a bit too real.

I actually like solitude, working at home with nobody but the dog to talk to. I prefer to cycle alone because it’s some of my best thinking time. I think I’m wired to spend a lot of time by myself.

I think it’s important to be comfortable with only yourself for company. I haven’t always been able to spend time alone. For much of my first thirty-five years I filled my time with people—any people—simply to avoid having to spend time with my own thoughts and failures and guilt.

Seems like the culture tells us that it’s all about socializing, networking, and connecting with as many folks as possible. And if we are alone, there’s the Internet to provide those virtual relationships. We’ll take any company, even bad, boring, or dangerous company, to avoid being alone.

But while a good relationship with yourself is important, it’s not enough. I need to guard against the tendency to become excessively solitary.

When Genesis states that we were created in God’s image, I think it’s telling us that we are creatures of relationship. God has lived forever in the relationship of the Trinity, and I think that’s the model for us. To be healthy and whole, we require intimacy with ourselves, with others, and with God—a cord of three strands.

I’m not sure if that what the writer of Ecclesiastes meant, but it’s a pretty good analogy that makes sense to me. One cord—myself—won’t withstand much strain. Two cords—myself and others—that’s better, because we can help each other.

But three—myself, others, and God—I believe that’s how we’re all at our best.

Some folks think they can do Christianity by themselves, but I think they’re missing an important part of the message. “Just me and Jesus” isn’t the model. In fact, perhaps my favorite part of Relentless Grace uses an analogy called The River to explain a powerful encounter with this notion.

Relationships with other people are messy and frustrating. Church families can be dysfunctional and often downright hurtful. It’s easy to imagine that it might be better to just go off with my dog and my bible (and my computer, of course) and leave the difficult people behind.

But those “difficult people” are precisely the ones Jesus told us to love. In Colossians 3:13 Paul writes, “Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”

It’s pretty hard to “bear with” and “forgive” others unless I’m willing to engage with them. Following Jesus isn’t a solitary endeavor. We’re meant to travel the path with others.

I guess I’d better back away from the keyboard and talk to someone besides my imaginary friends and the dog.

Did you enjoy this article? I encourage you to leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net.

Receive free updates via email:

Subscribe in a reader

Related articles:

What’s Your Theology?

The River (Relentless Grace excerpt #11)

Where’s Jesus?

How should you offer unsolicited advice? You shouldn’t.

This morning I rode a bike trail that includes an underpass and a particularly steep ramp. It’s one of my favorite routes, but for me that ramp is a killer. No matter how hard I try I can never get quite enough momentum to crank to the crest. I always stall just before reaching the top, so I have to just hold myself steady, make sure I don’t roll backward, and inch my way the final three or four feet.

So this morning I was maintaining my stalled position and creeping forward when a guy rolled past. He called over his shoulder, “You should shift to a lower gear before climbing a hill.”

Wow. If only I’d known…

I confess—my thoughts at that moment weren’t something like, “Hosanna, the Lord hath provided. Praise God for sending such a wise and generous man.”

I wondered if he really thought I didn’t know about shifting gears. If he’d taken a moment to understand the situation he’d have seen that I was indeed in the lowest possible gear. I would have assured him that I had tried a number of strategies, but my lack of dexterity and strength hasn’t allowed me to conquer this particular challenge yet.

But he didn’t bother to even slow down. He simply tossed out what felt like a dismissive, condescending nugget of drive-by advice. I wonder what he intended, what he was thinking—or if he was thinking.

Did he imagine that his pearl of information would help me reach the top of the ramp? Not likely, since you can’t change gears while stopped on a steep incline.

Was he concerned for my immediate safety? If so, perhaps he might have slowed down to ask if I needed help.

Some advice is a shortcut that demonstrates a lack of genuine concern. Providing helpful feedback requires time and patience and the commitment to engage in authentic relationship. It’s much quicker to provide a quick “If I were you”—even though you’re not—and then move on.

Sometimes advice generates a false sense of superiority. Since I’m clearly not as smart as you, I’ll never be able to figure this out on my own. The only way for me to avoid a mistake is for you to tell me what I should do.

Advice is often a simple quest for short-term results. I don’t really care whether you learn principles that might enhance your ultimate independence or problem-solving capability. I just want the answer or the sale or the immediate gratification. We’ll worry about that other stuff later.

When I speak to groups of kids about disability issues, they’re often concerned about how to help without offending. “What should I do if I see someone who appears to need help?”

My answer is to ask if there’s something you can do to help. This doesn’t guarantee that the person won’t be offended, because some folks look for excuses to be offended. Whenever someone asks me that question, I smile and thank them for asking. Usually I’m fine, but occasionally I do need a little help and I always appreciate the concern.

So if you see an old bald guy stalled near the top of a ramp, don’t tell him what he should have done. He’s probably self-conscious enough already.

But don’t just ignore him, either. This might be the day his shoulders are a little fatigued, and maybe he’s about to lose his grip and crash. He might appreciate a little push, or he might thank you and tell you he’ll be okay.

Either way, you’ll know you offered with a heart of service and love.

Are you ever tempted to offer unwanted advice to kids, spouse, or friends? What’s a better response?

It’s not my place to solve your problems. My job is to love you while you solve your problems. Cec Murphy

Did you enjoy this article? I encourage you to leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net.

Receive free updates via email:

Subscribe in a reader

Related articles:

Results Syndrome

Reflecting Jesus

Things You Didn’t Do

We want simple clear and unambiguous bullet points. And God tells us a life. Jon Swanson

Have you ever thought that the bible isn’t a typical theology book?

Humans publish lots of theology books. Entire colleges exist to teach theology. You can study all sorts of theological systems and traditions. Very smart people earn advanced degrees in theology. They memorize key elements, produce highly technical papers, and take difficult, detailed tests.

Theology—knowledge of God—is a demanding academic discipline.

So how did God reveal Himself? He told a story—well, actually two connected stories.

In the Old Testament, He told a twelve-century story of a small band of nomads who became a nation. God told us who He is through the lives of some incredible but incredibly flawed leaders. He might have sat on a mountain and lectured to the attentive students, encouraging them to take notes for the test on Friday. He could have just listed the important points in neatly divided sections with color-coded headings.

Perhaps He knew that wouldn’t be effective. The only time He actually provided a list of ten basic bullet points written in stone with His own finger, people basically ignored them anyway.

So He told us this long, convoluted tale complete with conflicted heroes and evil villains, complex relationships, and compelling subplots. And it turns out that this was just the prologue, context for the central story.

The main character lived only thirty-three years, and we know almost nothing about the first thirty. God’s story centers on a three-year window, much of it spent with a small group of ordinary, uneducated men. All of those thick, scholarly theology books are basically an effort to digest an ancient three-year home video.

And what did that pivotal character do during those three years? He spent time with people. He ate and drank and traveled and talked. He listened. And when He did teach, it was mostly in the context of stories about people. The YouTube clips would display some flashy moments, but mostly they’d show dusty roads and campfires and quiet conversations.

Jesus’ story is about relationships. He lived in relationships, talked about them, and ultimately died for them. He’s been in a relationship for eternity; He left for a brief time, then returned. His entire purpose was for us to join Him there.

Theology—knowledge of God—isn’t found in books and classrooms. We can know about God by reading and studying, but we know God through relationships because that’s who He is.

Relationships—with God, with others, and with self. That’s Jesus’ story. That’s what He wants for our story.

The cool thing about stories is that you can edit them. Don’t like the current plot? Re-write it. Not happy with the central character’s behavior? Transform it. Want a different ending? Create it.

It’s your story. I think God wants you to listen to His story. But I also believe He wants to help you edit yours.

You live out your theology in relationships with God, self, and others. Re-write those relationships, align them a little better with Jesus’ home videos.

That’s how God revealed Himself. That’s how He wants us to know Him.

How do your relationships display your theology—your knowledge of God?

Did you enjoy this article? I encourage you to leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net.

Receive free updates via email:

Subscribe in a reader

Related articles:

Thirty Scriptures That Shape My Theology

Four Questions For Broken People

Ten Things Someone Might Need From You

What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like. Saint Augustine

“I hate feeling like I’m someone else’s project!”

I’d just finished sharing part of my story with the group. I expressed my gratitude for the people who wove the story of Relentless Grace and my belief that God sent this small circle of folks who refused to let me quit on life.

This guy (I’ll call him Don) limped toward me, shook my hand, and thanked me for my willingness to be vulnerable. Don explained his own physical challenges and said he understood my reluctance to accept help (The Hardest Thing).

He related some uncomfortable incidents in which well-meaning people tried to help but he felt like he was their “project.”

Don described feeling like he represented a task to accomplish, an item on their checklist. We chuckled as he compared himself to a household job like a broken pipe that needed repair. He said that some people acted like they had to “fix” him so they could move on to the next entry on the to-do list.

“Does it always feel like that when others help?” He shook his head. “So what’s the difference? What’s missing when accepting help makes you feel like a project?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “I just know that it feels like they’ve decided I’m broken and I need to be fixed.”

After a few minutes of discussion, I proposed this summary: “I wonder if that means that they care more about helping you than they care about you. I wonder if it’s about relationship.”

I have a good friend named Jim who really gets this. Jim loves to do things for people, but even more than that he loves the people. When he does you a favor, you feel like he’s the one being served. He just has a knack for doing a project and never making you feel like a project.

Jim helps others because he loves Jesus—he’s my image of “Jesus in blue jeans.” But those he helps never feel like they’re part of some organized ministry. He sees a need and meets it without losing sight of the person behind the need.

As I think back on the story of Relentless Grace, I see people who cared about me, not about what was wrong with me. Their help wasn’t a project—it was an expression of love.

I wonder about my own efforts to help others. Do I unintentionally treat them like a project? Do I take the time to care for the person, to listen, to genuinely value relationship?

Do my actions reflect gratitude for the opportunity to serve?

Does this distinction between “caring about helping” and “caring about people” make sense? How has either notion played out in your experience?

Speaking of help: I’ve been doing the newsletter/blog in various forms for a couple of years, and it’s time to take a step (or in my case a “roll”) back, do a little assessment, and maybe make a few changes.

I’d appreciate your HELP with some feedback. This link will take you to a short survey. Thanks in advance for taking a few moments to give me a little information and offer any comments or suggestions.

 One of the basic causes for all the trouble in the world today is that people talk too much and think too little. They act impulsively without thinking. I always try to think before I talk.  Margaret Chase Smith

Do you ever do dumb stuff?

I’m a self-taught expert in SPEAKING WITHOUT THINKING. Related skills include REACTING IMPULSIVELY, ARGUING NEEDLESSLY, and HITTING “SEND” TOO QUICKLY. Is this sounding familiar to anyone?

I don’t require any special circumstances to apply these gifts. I just bumble along, doing whatever I’m doing, and—WHAM! I run smack into a conflict I didn’t intend or anticipate.

THE TRAP

This one began innocently enough. I read an interesting article on a blog I’ve been following for a while. The writing prompted an idea to further the conversation, so I added a comment. Simple enough, right? A few minutes later the author responded. His comment surprised me. I thought he was looking at the topic a bit narrowly, and I saw the opportunity for a bit of debate. I quickly formulated a clever, penetrating response.

That’s usually my first clue that I’m heading into trouble, though I rarely heed the warning signs. I enjoy “discussing” (arguing about) ideas, but I tend to get too involved and take the exchange too personally. That’s bad enough, but I also forget that others don’t approach discussions on the same level of intensity.

So, deploying all of the carefully crafted skills listed above, I fired back my witty reply. Do you see where this is headed?

I didn’t intend offense, but I also didn’t consider the impact of my words. Next thing I know the author’s telling me I’m “antagonistic” and refusing to post further discussion. And at least one other commenter agreed that my contribution wasn’t appropriate or helpful to the discussion.

I was, as the kids say, BUSTED!

LESSONS LEARNED (AGAIN)

Words matter. I could have communicated my thoughts more effectively, and kindly, without diluting my meaning. Especially in the online world, intent isn’t sufficient. We have to consider how our words will be received.

Being right isn’t the most important thing. I believe I had a good idea, but it wasn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things. Some hills may be worth dying for, but this wasn’t one of them. Life contains enough conflict on its own. I’d rather lose a debate than a friend.

Relationships matter. In a virtual world it’s easy to forget that you’re communicating with real people that have their own feelings and priorities. It’s awfully easy to type words you’d never say personally into the perceived anonymity of cyberspace.

People aren’t disposable. In both “real” and virtual interactions, it’s not okay to just toss folks carelessly aside. In the final analysis, I sincerely believe that life is about relationships, and they should be nurtured with care.

It’s not about me. Simple enough.

Trust is hard to earn, easy to lose, and nearly impossible to regain once it’s lost. I don’t want to over-dramatize. No verbal or actual punches were exchanged. The author and I subsequently exchanged emails, and I think we’re good. But this isn’t how I want to represent myself.

The entire interaction wasn’t nearly as significant to him as it was to me. I was a minor annoyance, like a mosquito he brushed aside so he could focus on important stuff. I had little impact on his day while I destroyed my own with fussing and fuming.

What I’d do differently

Build relationship first. This guy hardly knows me. We’ve communicated a couple of times, but he contacts hundreds of folks each week. I feel like I know him, but I haven’t invested the time to connect with him. I’m certain he would have reacted differently if my comments had come from a trusted friend.

Serve. You create trust and relationship through service. I jumped onto this guy’s platform and demanded the virtual microphone, and he rightly wondered why he should comply. That’s just not how it works.

You show commitment by serving, not because you expect reciprocation but because it’s the right path. Sometimes you have to actively seek ways to help someone else, and your service may pass un-noticed. But the noticing isn’t the point. I believe that, in the big picture, service is what makes it all work even when we can’t see exactly how.

Drip, drip, drip. Relationships take time. “I want it all, and I want it now” may be good song lyrics, but it’s not the way to connect. People want to know you’re committed for the long term. You fill the bucket of relationship one drop at a time.

IT AIN’T EASY

I write and talk a lot about relationships. That’s not because I’m good at them, it’s because I believe they’re the essence of a substantial life and I still have a lot to learn. Richard Bach once said, “You teach best what you most need to learn.” If that’s true, I qualify for a tenured professorship.

We make it up as we go because, honestly, it’s the only way to make it up. Thankfully, there’s forgiveness, grace, and new beginnings. That’s God’s way, and I’m glad because it’s our only source of hope.

Sincere forgiveness isn’t colored with expectations that the other person apologize or change. Don’t worry whether or not they finally understand you. Love them and release them. Life feeds back truth to people in its own way and time—just like it does for you and me. Sara Paddison

Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net.

Subscribe to receive updates by Email

Related articles:

Follow Me And Be Free

Sticks And Stones

Sheep And The Good Shepherd

The most important ingredient we put into any relationship is not what we say or what we do, but what we are. Stephen R. Covey

Who are you?

It’s not intended as a deep, existential question. This time it’s a simple, “Who are you?”

I’ve been blogging for nearly a year in various forums. It’s been a great experience. I’ve learned a lot, mostly from all of you. Your ideas and feedback challenge and stimulate my thinking, and your kind encouragement supports what is too frequently a fragile self-concept.

This circle is about conversations and relationships, right? You all know a lot about me, but I only know a few of you who comment frequently, re-tweet, and send wonderful emails. I really appreciate those connections.

I’d like to get to know more folks; that’s the whole point. Where do you live, what do you do for a living, what’s happening in your corner of the world, stuff like that. This is simply an invitation to leave a comment or send me an email to help us become a bit better acquainted.

I’d like to visit your blog or website, check out your Twitter or Facebook pages, and put some details together with the words. This isn’t just a virtual circle—it’s a human circle containing real folks with real passions and struggles. Let’s get to know each other.

I’ll do my best to respond to each message.

Don’t be shy. Come and join the conversation. What can you tell me to enhance our connection?

Someone to tell it to is one of the fundamental needs of human beings. Miles Franklin

You might want to check out a new series of excerpts from Relentless Grace. You can read the first one here.

Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net.

Subscribe to receive updates by Email

Related articles:

Important Stuff To Talk About

Why Do I Bother?

First, a bit of news: I’m excited to announce the impending release of a new free e-book titled STICKS AND STONES: Finding freedom in the face of criticism. We’re putting the finishing touches on it, and I hope it’ll be ready within a few days. Keep checking back for updates. Now–to more important stuff …

I learned that it is the weak who are cruel, and that gentleness is to be expected only from the strong. Leo Rosten

This month’s character trait from CharacterFirst! is GENTLENESS: Showing consideration and personal concern for others.

 Have you ever wondered why we seem so fearful of the perception of gentleness?

SCARCITY

Our culture worships those who succeed, but we’re stuck with a scarcity model of success. Success means winning, and that means everyone else has to lose.

This model allows only three options:

• Play and win—you’re a winner
• Play and lose–you’re a loser.
• Refuse to play—you’re a coward, but you pretend the game isn’t important.

Winners are celebrities. Losers are, well, losers. And cowards are worse than losers. There’s not much room for gentleness within a scarcity model.

Winners are tough. They intimidate and control through anger and power. Winners fight and impose their will on losers; they shout, fight, and do whatever it takes.

And winners must insure that everyone knows they’re winners. It’s not enough to be rich or beautiful or smart; you have to publicize your success. You have to make sure the losers know their place.

In the scarcity model, gentle is for sissies. Gentle implies vulnerable, weak, and incapable. Gentle means you can’t stand up for yourself and you get pushed around. Gentle is for the cowards, those who fear the battle.

ABUNDANCE

Despite the preponderance of cultural metaphors, life isn’t a football season in which there’s a single champion. Success isn’t scarce; it’s abundant.

In an abundance model, you don’t need to crush the opposition. There’s plenty of opportunity, and my success doesn’t mean someone else’s failure. There are lots of chances to help each other. The list of options changes.

• Succeed to the level dictated by your talent, creativity, ingenuity, and hard work.
• Build relationships and use your talent, creativity, ingenuity, and hard work to help others succeed—and invite them to do the same for you.

This isn’t a forced-choice situation, either. In fact, it’s likely that those who employ both strategies do best.

An abundance mentality encourages the development of authentic strength and toughness AND gentleness. Each achievement enhances your sense of personal power and self-confidence, so there’s less need to impress others with false bravado. As you build your own inner security, you’re also creating strong relationships that automatically foster mutual consideration and concern.

TOUGH AND GENTLE?

Some would claim that abundance is an impossible utopian fantasy, that competition is inevitable, and that to compete successfully you cannot show mercy to the opposition. Competition requires a certain ruthlessness that automatically precludes gentleness.

I’ve learned that this version of toughness is really a mask, an imitation of authentic strength. Bullies are cruel because they’re fundamentally insecure, and those who flaunt success are compensating for inner fear and loneliness. Only the weak feel the need to continually demonstrate their strength.

Shouting, profanity, and angry rhetoric conceal uncertainty and lack of knowledge or ability. They’re a cheap method of attracting attention. Confident, strong people don’t need manufactured attention, because others naturally gravitate to them.  They don’t need to intimidate, and they don’t need others to validate their accomplishments.

Gentleness is not weakness. Gentleness requires courage, self-assurance, and inner security. I hope you and I find the strength to be truly gentle with ourselves and others.

Gentleness shouldn’t be confused with weakness: cowards are submissive because they lack the resources to be anything else. True gentleness is a quality of the strong, those who could assert themselves but choose not to do so.

Tomorrow we’ll talk about Jesus as a model of gentle toughness and strength.

Anything else? Do you ever struggle to find the strength to be gentle?

Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net.

Subscribe to receive updates by Email

Related articles:

Criticism vs Feedback

Substance Or Style

A Prisoner Of Expectations