MikePaschall.com

Without getting into an exhaustive litany of character flaws hovering around the ancient yet reverenced King David, there are some pretty cool encounters that are definitely worth noting. Even though Jesse’s youngest mostly turned out to be a hot mess, he undoubtedly had some God juice on his life. David’s story begins with a season of innocence that’s quite remarkable. There are notable examples within the text that give some indication of David’s innate ability to connect with other people’s pain and plight. Although he could be a real tool in his adulthood, there are moments of his younger life that are surreal.

Yes, he toppled giants, and tigers, and bears oh no! But, David could also bring the Lord’s presence into deafening pain. The book of Psalms is full of his music, and David’s tabernacle was the lab where most of his finer stuff was birthed, but way back before the glory days there was the soothing of Saul. Talk about a tough audience—holy shamoly! Saul had serious issues and in today’s culture he would have probably been institutionalized, overly medicated, and possibly gained great notoriety on the Jerry Springer show. He would have definitely been a candidate for seasoned psychotherapy. I bring all that up because it was Saul’s personal hell that summoned David to release his ministry. The hidden beast between Saul’s ears couldn’t be quieted any other way. David sang to his God and the effects brought tranquility and peace into Saul’s vacuum of peace.

I bring all of that up only to legitimize something I witness regularly these days. I don’t know how much personal knowledge you have about Alzheimer’s, but if it’s touched your family at any level then you have an understanding about the need for tranquility and peace. I’ve watched my girl minister to her mother over the past couple of years. Patti’s mom is a genuine sweetie and real lover, but that razor sharp mind and life skills functionality is all gone. There isn’t one detail of her life that she can manage alone anymore. So my girl, or her sisters, or Traday, dish out the daily directives that are pretty common with any toddler: “Sit here Mom,” “Yes, this is your house Mom,” “Let me help you with that mom,” “Yes, this is your house,” “Do you need to potty?” “Those are your grandchildren Mom,” “Yes, this is your house Mom,” and it pretty much cycles constantly like that unless she’s napping during the day. Her ability to call names and nouns are quickly diminishing. Yes, it’s brutal as you’re imagining.

There is a look in the eyes of an Alzheimer’s patient that will haunt you. It’s the stare of unfamiliarity. The loss of memory has to be torment. I know my own personal irritation when I can’t remember where I left my car keys. But, I can remember the first time I made love to my wife. I remember the birth of my kids and grandkids. I remember the day I graduated from college and seminary. I remember what I had for dinner last night and breakfast this morning. To lose all of that? Hell on earth.

What is fun to watch is a tactic my girl uses to reel in the mom she used to have. The morning ritual begins in front of a mirror. Although Mom rarely leaves the house anymore, my girl insists that Mom have on her makeup and that her hair be prepared for the day. Mom looks in the mirror and sees a person she no longer recognizes: herself. So that prompts a bit of personal irritation. It’s then that my girl draws out her own David. The choir cranks up,

O victory in Jesus,

My Savior, forever.

He sought me and bought me

With His redeeming blood;

He loved me ere I knew Him

And all my love is due Him,

He plunged me to victory,

Beneath the cleansing flood.

Yes, Mom used to sing in the choir at church—years and years of faithful attendance and dedicated participation. Knowing that, my girl now taps into a litany of songs and stanzas that calms the air and clears that head.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus

There’s just something about that name

Master, Savior, Jesus

Like the fragrance after the rain

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus

Let all heaven and earth proclaim

Kings and kingdoms shall all pass away

But there’s something about that name.

Does Mom just listen? Absolutely not! This is choir baby! She knows and sings every single word and she’s much more concerned with harmonizing her alto than anything else. It’s an amazing phenomenon to witness, and as clear as a bell Mom rings out her truths. It’s like sucking on a piece of ice in the July sun. Refreshment and memory flourish in the ancient hymns of hope. Mom reappears. All is calm. All is bright.

The Lord has promised good to me,
His Word my hope secures;
He will my Shield and Portion be,
As long as life endures.

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.

Let there be choir! Sing it baby! I’m so proud of you. The days of connection are fleeing.

-MDP-

xo

About the time the Market was doing its 1,000 point skydive yesterday morning, I was considering some stuff that Rohr was laying out in one of his devos. I find the parallel and timing sort of weird, but maybe not.

The conversation was centered on the philosophy and lifestyle of St. Francis of Assisi. One of the things that I found humorous in Rohr’s ramblings was the thought that the church in America has a sentimental view of what Francis represents. Rohr calls it (this is brilliant): birdbath Franciscanism. Honestly, that is a pretty funny description of how we are about things. Rarely do we get the real depth and meaning of the images we revere. The suggestion is that no one chooses (especially here in America) to live without our comforts and conveniences. Us, embrace, moderation or inconvenience at any level? No frikk’n way!

Birdbath Franciscanism. Clever.

Rohr’s overall point was that Francis ultimately chose freedom and love—not just blatant poverty. Because he chose love, he was free to empty himself so that others could be full. Obviously Francis did make choices. He did turn his back on affluence. Yeah, that had to be tough at some level. He totally identified with the poor and broken. Again, that put him in a minor category. And, Francis chose to be (his words not mine) the “idiot of God.” Wow. Sign me up coach!

These are radical ideas, but every now and then we probably need to reassess ourselves again. I don’t feel that we have to take some sort of vow of poverty in order to truly flow in the Kingdom river, but, am I, are we, really free to love at the levels that the Spirit might impress upon us? How secure are we because of what we have? Do we have to possess in order to be settled and happy? Listen, I adore comfort as much as anyone (I’m currently sitting in a family member’s house, on a plush couch, as the AC cools my blubbery body), but there isn’t much testing inside our tents of total comfort. It says little about our internals, our values, or our resolve to stay in peace no matter what… or does it? Do I have the stuff inside of me that births pools of grateful rest and contented peace regardless of the world’s volatile economy?

The prophets of our doom are always barking. You can hear them, right? “Be afraid. Yea verily, be very afraid.” Yeah, it’s pretty annoying, but I hope you don’t hear that tone with any of this. Maybe the question isn’t do you embrace minimalism or conservative protection. The greater question is probably, do you embrace God IS love? That is actually deeper than accepting the fact that God loves us. It’s a very different discussion to consider that God IS love. I honestly believe that our paradigms have to shift in our world when we honestly evaluate the thought that: God IS love. Freedom explodes from every direction. Our compulsive attachment to every certitude we possess seems to dissolve on a regular basis. It’s there that we have to submit to how secure we really are—regardless of the free-falls inside of this whacky world we live in. Geronimo!

“Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap; they have no storeroom nor barn, and yet God feeds them; how much more valuable you are than the birds!”   God with skin.

Mike

xo

I realize it’s not always convenient or possible to sit down and view a 45 min video.  I know that we have been conditioned by media to give-way to our spastic attention span, but sometimes we need to absorb a much needed readjustment. Absorption is a process.  It doesn’t happen in an instant.  It takes a little time.

I don’t know what your default reaction is to life’s storms, but I know mine, or at least how I’ve reacted at most things that are scary and uncomfortable.  I have been one to rally the troops for prayer and support when I didn’t like the threat of waves that hovered above the edge of my dingy.  I’ll admit, I’ve hollered and squealed with the best of them.  Looking back at all that, I can see how hopeless and faithless my flesh has reacted to the negs of life. I had forgotten some very solid truths. Yes, I too need adjustment from time to time.

Let me offer a great word to get into your spirit.  It’s not mine, but a friend’s.  Anth Chapman recently spoke a great word in his home church in York, UK.  It is a fabulous reminder about real peace in the midst of real storms. It is something that we all need to take to heart.  I hope you’ll find the time to let this word wash over you. It’s a great adjustment to our soggy boat.

Mike

xo

This Spring I acquired a crucifix. I was looking for one, but it had to be the right one. The moment I saw it in an old warehouse in Fredericksburg, TX, I knew! No, I’m not Catholic and there are no immediate plans to become Catholic at any time, but I really do welcome the image of the Suffering Servant who identifies with what we deal with because we’re humans and we live on this planet. Yeah, yeah, I know all about THE victory(s) that followed the cross. No single moment in the story is more important than the rest. All of it is divine.

Last week, while sitting with my crucifix, coffee, and current devo material, I read a passage that I’ve read hundreds of times. Here is what got my attention:

Colossians 3:12-14: “So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience; bearing with one another, and forgiving each other, whoever has a complaint against anyone; just as the Lord forgave you, so also should you…”

That’s pretty good stuff right there. The new apostle had to be in the zone to pen something this beautiful and true. It really is anointed, mesmerizing, and dripping in Father-juice. If we could just get this into our spirits! Then he adds…

“Beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity.”

That last line is what shook me.

The first time I heard the words “City Church” my heart leapt. Back in the early ‘90s, when the modern Apostolic movement was still licking its birth slime off itself, we started talking about “City Church” and “Apostolic Sending Centers.” Before it was just another network marketing strategy, there was so much prophetic juice on the suggestion, that any young man or woman who had a heart for unity, a passion for diversity, or an excitement for setting the stage for the supernatural, would be sucked into that draft in a heartbeat. I sure was, and I gave my soul to the possibility in that little community where I was a pastor.

In a radical attempt at unity, nine pastors in The City of Churches (the actual motto of that city’s founding fathers), myself included, made a glorious attempt to become one—to become brothers. As long as it stayed mostly casual and primarily relational, the thing had legs. But once we tried to establish a proper order of headship i.e. theocratic pecking order, it turned into just another political cesspool. All eyes (our churches, those we influenced, and interested wilderness outsiders) were looking to see how the adults were going to handle the children’s bread. Honestly, we failed miserably.

Why? Well, there are probably a multitude of reasons. Looking back, I think the key component missing in the whole equation was too vital to ignore and still reach our objective: LOVE.

Unity without real love is not the stuff Paul was talking about. Unity that is put together only by a cause, yet ego and pride are the sexy mechanisms of the machine, are doomed to a certain failure. Real love prefers, covers, and lays down its life for others. Without that kind of spirit at the core of unity’s hope, it’s only an arrangement of personal convenience that feeds selfish ambition. It’s “church business” at its worst.

“…put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity.”

If we’re not feeling the bonds of unity in our spiritual communities, we probably need to go back and examine the love element. Hug me all you want. Kiss me, preach at me, pray for me please. But do you really love me? Telling me you love me doesn’t always quench my need to feel loved by you or anyone else.

This love factor is a bigger challenge that we probably realize. Real unity is out of reach until we’re willing to make some serious heart changes. Just because we’re holding hands doesn’t mean we’re unified. We’re all sons and daughters. Our lives dwindle where there is no evidence of love flowing from us. Sorry, but that is in our spiritual DNA. It’s been that way from the very beginning [see crucifix].

MDP

xo

Honestly, our doorbell doesn’t ring that much. Other than the UPS drivers who seem to be able to ring the doorbell and then evaporate before you answer the door, there isn’t much solicitation in our neighborhood. Giles rings every Monday morning because he wants to mow the backyard. It’s a weed-patch back there and he needs the money, so he mows whether it’s necessary or not. Sometimes he’ll ask for something to eat and a soda. It seems that the Lord has a few of us in our neighborhood that are providing him work so he’s got a reason to put money in his pocket. Ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong. Giles is a trifecta ringer at my house.

Yesterday, as I was leaving to go to the club to workout, the doorbell rang as I simultaneously opened the front door. My hasty exit startled the three strangers standing on my front porch. The bibles and the big pamphlet announced who they were before I asked. I wasn’t in the mood for a big showdown. Before they could get into their pitch, I made sure that they understood that I have a fairly strong belief system and what they were selling wasn’t suitable to my theological palate. I’m sure they got the point rather quickly, but I doubt they felt love in any of my words.

As they moved on to the next house and I drove towards the club, I thought about the difficulty of trying to love people who are on a religious mission to move you to their camp. I’ve got my own problems with religion and regretfully my tolerance for religious dialogue and theological grain splitting is at an all-time low. I didn’t feel great about that encounter on the porch, but I’m also unclear how it could have been better. They were not going to hear one thing I might have said to them. They weren’t there to listen. They weren’t there for a conversation. I was the target of a religious agenda and quite frankly it feels gross.

Once I got to the club there was a guy roaming the parking lot carrying a fairly large box. He spotted me and headed in my direction. It was as if I had rang his doorbell and he was obliged to answer. I was beginning to think that I might be in some kind of weird pizza dream. He said, “Hey buddy, are you a fisherman?” “Well sorta, but whatever you’re selling, I don’t even have my wallet.” (true statement)

This guy was frumpy, unkempt, dirty, and I was fairly certain that whatever was in the box didn’t get there by just cause. He paid no attention to my words, “Look in here. I need to move these plastic worms.” It looked like stuff that had been in an old tackle-box for years. For some unknown reason I responded with, “Dude, I’m a fisher of men. (kind of true, but it’s overtly religious) I don’t get to the lake anymore.” I have no idea where that came from other than maybe I was just trying to get the boy out of my grill. He scratched his head and looked me over and said, “Man, I’d figure you for a fisher of women… not men!” OMG! I couldn’t stop laughing. His toothless grin confirmed that I had been busted and he had totally owned me in that skirmish. I giggled for a few more moments and then I realized that it was all too odd not to pay attention.

I thought about all that weirdness most of the day.

ISN’T IT STRANGE THAT WE ARE WILLING TO COMBAT A RELIGIOUS SPIRIT WHEN IT TRIES TO INVADE OUR RHYTHM, AND THEN WE TURN AROUND AND USE THE NASTY THING WHEN IT BENEFITS US IN SOME WAY?

If I’m not mistaken, that is hypocrisy. Sigh

When I posed the dilemma to the Lord, I sensed a small word about treating everyone with respect regardless of the baggage. We usually see the baggage first and the people second. As life happens all around us it takes a lot of discipline to laser in on the major stuff and not get distracted by the minor things. Unfortunately religious zealousness messes with everyone’s lenses. If you participate with religiousness, it messes with your lens. If you hate religiousness, it messes with your lens. And people usually get bashed in the process no matter where you are in that spectrum. I’ve wondered if it’s remotely fixable in this world.

I’m tempted to offer additional thoughts, but I’d probably only muddy the waters. Besides, someone is ringing the doorbell. Gotta run.

Mike

xo

Journal entry 3/31/15:

Choosing where we attend church is a very personal matter. Church isn’t a team sport. It’s not a place where we root for our team or it’s superstar players. It’s the space where we allow the bindings to unwind from our tired and battered heart. A sacred communion is in process. Heaven meets earth. It requires a lot of faith to believe that any church space truly welcomes that dynamic. Personal indeed! So personal, it’s like underwear: It has to fit me perfectly or it’s more irritation than comfort.

-MDP-

MLK. The man had a dream. He wasn’t the only one that had that dream, but his voice was the catalyst for a shift. What that dream cost him was fatal—expensive. What that dream afforded America was hope and opportunity for change which is never easily accomplished.

I hear and read constantly on social media about dreams. It seems we all have our favorite little saying on the subject. For the most part we think something is wrong if we’re not dreaming. The entitlement of our dreams is off the ledge. I too was once captivated by my dreams, but now looking back I can’t figure out if I had real dreams or selfish ambition or both. The lines between the two are vaporous. Most of the stuff I see on social media is selfish ambition that we’ve cleverly dressed as “my dream.” Be honest. When is the last time you dreamed for something that didn’t include you being at the epicenter? Does your ego require propping up and recognition every day? Can you create without anyone being enticed to notice? It takes a lot of guts to answer those questions honestly.

The brilliance of the MLK dream—he wasn’t at the center. It was for the greater good of something bigger. Sure it would have benefited him, but it has also benefited all of us. Let’s talk about that dream.

-MDP-

In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to the Galilean village of Nazareth to a virgin engaged to be married to a man descended from David. His name was Joseph, and the virgin’s name, Mary. Upon entering, Gabriel greeted her. “Good morning! You’re beautiful with God’s beauty. Beautiful inside and out! God be with you.”

 She was thoroughly shaken, wondering what was behind a greeting like that. But the angel assured her, “Mary, you have nothing to fear. God has a surprise for you: You will become pregnant and give birth to a son and call his name Jesus. He will be great, be called ‘Son of the Highest.’ The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David; He will rule Jacob’s house forever—no end, ever, to his kingdom.”

 Mary said to the angel, “But how? I’ve never slept with a man.”

 The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, the power of the Highest hover over you; Therefore, the child you bring to birth will be called Holy, Son of God” (Luke 1:26-35, MSG).

Surely we’re missing something here? Luke told us everything, and then he told us nothing. How can it be that the one who birthed THE supernatural of all that is supernatural, did so without proper credentials and qualifications? There is nothing in the text that specifies Mary’s morality, credibility, or preparedness. For heaven’s sake! No ministry school of any kind? No training for supernatural ministry—nothing even close to it? How can this be? Honestly, that would not fly in most of our spiritual cultures. We place a high premium on our confidence in being “qualified” to host supernatural activity. Right? See our degrees and certificates? Bring it, God! We’re ready and able!

I wonder which has more weight—Was Mary chosen to be the bearer of the Greatest Gift ever given because she was void of certitudes, or was it because she was more than willing to just say “yes” and stay out of the way of what God ultimately wanted to do? Yeah, it’s probably both.

I’ve thought more about the Baptizer and that young virgin a great deal this Advent season. Pivotal players, to say the least. John (thunder in the desert) knew he was only a voice and somehow he had already embraced his own descent. While most of us clamor for our ascent, John fulfilled his job and reached his destiny by embracing descent. What? When is the last time you encountered that spirit in a religious system? When is the last time you encountered that spirit anywhere?

Then, you have a 13-year-old girl, who stands before the angel of God, and only mumbles her agreement. “Ok. Whatever you think is good with me.” Although she was confused (who wouldn’t be), she demanded nothing. She didn’t shout, she didn’t solicit clarity, nor did she withdraw because she didn’t have enough data. Can you imagine her social complications in that religious environment? Talk about a cluster of problems. Wow!

We’re trained to manage our spiritual lives. That is what we do. It’s so opposite of these people who were helping transition this world to grace, which again is totally supernatural.  It almost too much to consider.

I love this quote by Richard Rohr:

“We tend to manage life more than just live in it. We are all over-stimulated and drowning in options. We are trained to be managers, to organize life, to make things happen. That is what built our culture. It is not all bad, but if you transfer that to the spiritual life, it is pure heresy. It is wrong. It doesn’t work. It is not gospel. Whatever God gives us is always experienced as totally unearned grace and never a salary, a reward or a merit badge of any sort. In fact, if you do experience it that way, it is not from God and will not expand your heart, mind or soul.”

Maybe we need to rethink our approach in trying to facilitate the supernatural, kingdom, or plain ole spiritual health. Maybe we should reconsider our management of God? Who loves and cares for the people on this planet more than He does? Should we wonder more about what He is doing before we crank out another dose of, “I got the answers… so, what’s your question?”

-MDP-

Patti and I are wrapping up the interviews for our new book project – SPOUSE:  Until death do us part.  I can’t even begin to prepare you for the stories in this book that will pretty much liquify your heart.  It has been one of the most amazing seasons that we’ve been privileged to participate in.  There is something for everyone in these stories if you’re willing to absorb the wisdom.  We are pretty stoked about the possibilities.

Jordan & Danielle 2009

Last week, I interviewed Jordan. He lost his first wife in 2011 because of a rare form of cancer.  She was only 28 years old when she died. They had been married for 10 months when she was first diagnosed, and then died 10 months later. The overall story is hard to wrap your mind and heart around. The interview was brutally honest and beautiful, yet it had nightmarish elements. One specific question I asked Jordan centered on his advice for newly engaged couples.  His words are indeed a WORD!  Holy mackerel!  Check out the seasoned thoughts of a guy who has been to hell and back:

“Take all your ideas of marriage that you gathered from romantic comedies, put them in a vita-blender, let it run for 10 minutes, and then throw them all away.  Sprinkle them like the ashes of a burnt corpse. Your spouse will absolutely disappoint you if that is your expectation. Then you’re going to have to make a decision on whether or not you’re going to remain true to the promise of love that you made.”

DAAAMMMNNN!  Yup, he nailed it.  Honey, if you’re supporting a new rock that defines how much that guy really loves you, you might want to pay attention to what Jordan shared.  Dude, if you’re about to purchase that rock… it applies to you too.  I’m telling you, this is spot on!  It’s not going to look like what you think, but it will only be what you two are willing to make it.

This project is full of this kind of insight about the gritty cost of real love and staying at the table no matter what.  I can’t wait for you to meet these people.  They’re really something.

-MDP-

Gasp!  If this is even 50% accurate, it would explain why church people aren’t taken seriously by the world.  Frankly, it’s not even remotely funny.  It’s more along the line of being disgusting and nauseating.  I broke out in a cold sweat while watching this video the first time.  Obviously, it’s to poke fun, but it’s too real to blow off as theatrical.  And, if we just don’t care if we’re taken seriously or not, then we should just continue on with this odd gibberish.

I told the guy who sent me the link, “We did this to our kids.  Somehow our religious nonsense encouraged this kind of religious head speak.”  This is not normal.  Normal people do not talk in that fashion.  We probably need to get a grip.  A serious grip.

I’m sorry for my part.

-MDP-