In Jesus' Name

I goofed again a few days ago. Wrote an email I shouldn't have written.

A call was in order. Not the angry email I sent.

Thankfully, the person receiving my unvarnished thoughts is a very close and very good friend. He was gracious — and we worked things out quite well. All ended well.

During the conversation, however, he dropped a gem out that I know I won't soon forget.

"When I'm writing an email," he commented, "I imagine putting the words In Jesus' Name at the bottom. If I cannot or do not want to include those words at the bottom, it's probably an email I should never have written."

How simple is that? And how many unnnecessary (or worse) emails could I have spared the world from if I had followed this advice?

A simple thought for a simple blog.

And to these words I do not mind signing off...

In Jesus' name.

Gary's Corollary

Gary's Corollary... It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

One of the few chapel messages I still remember from my college days was delivered by a man named Gary Ginter.

I think one of the reasons I reserved some space in my brain to remember that name was the fact that I wanted to "do what he does" when I got out of college. Somehow it's never hard to remember the name of the pretty girl you want to date or the name of the man you'd like to work for. I left college dateless and jobless, however, so my zeal in this regard reaped no short-term benefits.

Seeing as twenty years have now passed and seeing as I am now both happily married and gainfully employed, perhaps it is time to for me to forget Gary's name? Along with the name of a few loves lost? Have you ever tried hard to forget a name you've already committed to memory? Ah well. But I digress.

I took one thought away from Gary's chapel talk that day. In it he suggested a simple strategy for those crossroad moments when we are forced to choose between several equally good (or bad) options.

So you've prayed.

So you've pondered.

And you still don't know just what to do.

There are good reasons to go either way.

What to do?

Gary suggested this: Go with the alternative which requires more faith.

To my mind his suggestion immediately sounded just counter-intuitive to have that ring of authenticity and truth. Occasionally it has helped me to make a decision. Gary's Dictum has stayed with me.

I usually applied Gary's Dictum to decisions which largely impacted me alone. "What is God's will for my life?" kinds of questions. I don't recall whether Gary implied any such restrictions, but that's how worked out in my head in any case.

I am struck, as I write this, by an important aside. I know today (through painful hindsight) that many truly important decisions are best approached in community. Holy Spirit guidance can be a dangerous thing when in isolation I decide what He is saying. But that digression I'll resist for the purposes of this little blog, before it ceases to be little.

But back to Gary's Dictum. A week or two ago I suddenly stumbled upon a corollary to it. I was facing another one of those famous "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situations. As is typically the case, it involved someone else. Conflict. Interpersonal stuff. What to do...

I could respond in fashion A — and it would be good because of X... but bad because of Y.

Or I could respond with B — and that approach would be good because of P... but bad because of Q.

Usually for me, these conundrums have to do with the old Truth vs Love tug-of-war.

Do I speak Love? (And disregard Truth problems in their life?)

Or do I speak Truth? (And in doing so not seem to Love them much?)

What to do.

And in the midst of another one of those moments of indecision, Gary's Dictum rose up from the mist of my mind.

Or should I say Gary's Corollary?

It goes like this: When it's a toss-up... when in doubt... respond in a manner that requires more of the good character trait you possess less of.

That means (for me) that I have to Love them.

I know others who struggle not with Love, but with Truth. For them Gary's Corollary may require a bit of "tough love". Not so for me. In toss-up situations, I must opt for Love.

Thanks to Gary's Corollary, a decision I agonized over for weeks has suddenly become rather simple. Love and Grace must be extended to Snape. Easier said than done? In a Gary's Dictum sort of way, I consider that an encouraging sign.

As is often the case with good insights, once discovered they prove useful elsewhere too. I was in the city a few days ago and drove by a beggar looking for a handout. Did I give him some money? No... but by the time I drove by him, Gary's Corollary had hit me over the head like a two-by-four.

For several decades I have struggled with the beggar's dilemma.

Put money in the cup? (But they will likely drink it away! But...)

Don't put money in the cup? (But God calls us to remember the poor!)

Today I have my answer. For me, Gary's Corollary says I need to put money in the cup more often. And look the beggar in the eye.

Thank you, Gary.

Forgiving Snape

I had a strange dream last night, and I know it can be attributed to my fertile thoughts. But I also believe God spoke to me last night through it.

It is a rare, rare, rare, rare day (night?) when I dream that I am, quite literally, someone else. That is what happened last night. And how fitting, how richly fitting, that I should dream that I was Harry Potter!

For those who know the books well enough, the irony is probably clear. Harry had a habit of dreaming he was someone else — Lord Voldemort. The other fifteen people in this world who haven't seen the movies or read the books will likely find this blog a waste of precious time. (Always a pretty high risk with my blog in any case...)

Dreams are funny things... I know that I was Harry Potter in my dream not because I thought to myself (during the dream), "I'm Harry Potter!" but rather because of who I interacted with and what happened.

I was interacting with Snape. And he hated me. And I hated him.

But what's moving to me about that dream is that something in me caused me to couch my woundedness (hatred is usually a response to hurt) in something less than scathing terms. My words betrayed a hint of weakness and brokenness.... And Snape heard them. He heard something in my tone of voice. And he, in his turn, responded with a hint of acknowledgement that he might have mistreated me. Chinks of light.

And peace was made.

Here's where things get funny again (or maybe just bizarre)... As rapproachment was made, it was made first by words, and then by touch. And after the touch was made with Snape on my left, I turned to the man on my right — who had bleach-blonde hair. Yes, it was Lucius Malfoy.

Ha! What a riot of a dream!

But in any case, I put my hand on his back in a friendly gesture and said, "See, I am not always harsh!" And instantly, the man who had, moments before, been Lucius Malfoy, as sure as the day is long... became a different man. (Potter fans, I must apologize... he didn't become anyone recognizable to me from the Harry Potter series... In fact, the man wasn't even someone I know from real life.)

But he was a gentle and kind man. Lucius Malfoy became a saint. Before my eyes. At the touch of my hand.

And then, as if touch had not already taken significance in this dream, Snape led me by the hand to another room where he gave me a gift of food. In a true-to-life way, there was a point where it was awkward to hold hands as he led me through a doorway. I held on. I didn't want to let go of his hand. I knew the connection was important.

Well, needless to say, this dream has moving implications for me. I won't claim it as a vision from God, but I will say this: I believe God has used it to remind me that it is my calling to dream of the impossible. Forgiving Snape.

There are some Snapes in my life. There are real reasons for this dream to have arrived in my subconscious mind on the night it did. I suspect we all have a Snape or two somewhere. Three? Will I forgive mine? The unwinding of hurts hangs in the balance.

What would the world be like if we were to, each and every one of us, forgive Snape? To touch the untouchable. To love the unlovable. We'll have to be vulnerable. That's the first step. Is it worth the risk?

We won't know exactly what would happen until we try. But I have pretty darned good idea it would be beautiful. I am reminded of Isaiah's vision of God's future kingdom...

Isaiah 11:6
The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling together;
and a little child will lead them.

By hand, I suspect...