carbonated joy

It’s Martin Luther King Jr. Day.
How does someone spend their time today?
If you have the day off you could go to a parade. You could read a letter from Birmingham jail.
But, there are also some things that we could ALL do…
Things that matter, things to honor, things done in a spirit of remembrance, and respect.
Things that cost nothing.
Things that cost everything.
We can dream out loud of a world where greatness is an equal opportunity endeavor for EVERYbody.
We can flex our character muscles by showing bravery and kindness.
We can refuse to judge.
We can refuse to nurse preconceived notions.
We can refuse to be colorblind, Be color celebrant. We appreciate different beautiful hues in flowers, Let’s do the same with each other. celebrate the variety that brings value.
We can listen!! Listen to the stories of our brothers and sisters. Walk in the shoes of another, carry a load that you weren’t born with.
We can let love drive out hate.
We can refuse to stay silent about the things that matter.
We can…

It was August 1975. I was a classic underachiever entering the fifth grade. I was determined this would be the year I finally found my place in the middle school social jungle. I desperately wanted to fit in somewhere.

I had the opportunity to try out for the school band. I was so excited. I just knew music was going to be my thing. Band was an extremely big deal in my hometown, so I figured it would be my ticket to acceptance, approval, and fame.
And besides, it’s a universal truth that chicks dig musicians. So I joined the band.

The first thing we had to do was get our parents to buy us an instrument. Most people went down to the really impressive-looking music store and bought beautiful, shiny new instruments. We went to a garage sale and found a 32-year-old trumpet. We paid seven bucks for it. It wasn’t beautiful, shiny, or new.

The first thing I noticed when I opened the beat-up case was the musty smell. It smelled like a combination of nasty feet, corn chips, and a nursing home. I tried to play it the first time, and foul grayish-green goop seeped out of all the valves. It was 32 years worth of other people’s spit. It wasn’t a super-pleasant experience.

Needless to say, I didn’t feel good about my instrument. Also, I got to confess, I never actually practiced, which I guess is pretty important, and I really didn’t have any musical ability in the first place. So all of these factors combined made me quite possibly the worst student musician in the history of student musicians.

I was so completely mediocre that I ended up in “the training band”. This was the second string band. It was the “developmental” band. We were supposed to practice all week, which again, I actually rarely did; then on Friday afternoon, we went into a small, stuffy closet office with the assistant band director and tried out for the real band. It was like a twisted version of American Idol. We would play a simple musical score, and he would tell us if we were good enough for the big leagues. You were only SUPPOSED to be in training band for a month or two. Most people moved through pretty fast.
Not me…
I was in training band for two long years.
Finally, in the eighth grade, the band teacher kicked me out of the training band.
Yes friends, I am a training band reject.
pretty sad, huh?

Maybe you can relate?

Some of you might feel as if your life has been one long training band. You just never seemto quite measure up. You are an outsider, an underachiever, You’re always just one step behind. Your life is like a candy bar, and on the wrapper it says, “You might already be a winner.” Suddenly, you get a little excited because after all, you might already be a winner. So you carefully tear open the wrapper only to read the words, “Sorry, you are not a winner.”

You feel like your entire life is like that candy bar wrapper. You were optimistic at first. You had hope, you had potential. But as your life has unwrapped, nothing has worked out, and you’re left with the message, “Sorry, you are not a winner.” So you feel like a perpetual loser. Maybe you’ve suffered through a lifetime of losing. If that’s the case, I plead with you: Don’t give up and don’t give in.

If you’re reading this, it isn’t too late for you. The game isn’t over. No matter how old you are and how many times you’ve failed, no matter what your family situation is, there’s still hope for you. The Bible is full of late bloomers. Abraham didn’t realize God designed his destiny of being a daddy until he was 100 years old. Moses was 80 when he ran into a burning bush and found out what he was supposed to do with his life. Even Jesus lived at home until he was 30. So regardless of your past, it’s never too late for a comeback.

If you feel like your life is a series of losses, MAYBE it’s time to redefine the concept of winning. We can have such a distorted view of winning. We think for someone to win, someone else must lose.

But the Bible makes it clear that true winning isn’t about measuring up or beating someone else.
The truth is, winning is all about losing (#irony). Jesus gives us a game plan totally contrary to every self-help book on the shelf. In Luke 17:33, he says, “Whoever tries to keep their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life will preserve it.” So if you want to win, lose. Go ahead—be a loser.

Lose your—

Fears

Shame

Ambitions

Plans

Pride

Prejudice

Failures

Successes

Strengths

Weaknesses

Lose yourself!

We lose ourselves by giving our lives, ambitions, goals, strengths, and weaknesses to God. We decide we aren’t going to live for ourselves any longer. We lose ourselves in the pursuit of knowing and living for something bigger than us. When we do that, something truly awesome happens: God takes our lives and dreams, does an extreme makeover, and gives us bigger, even wilder dreams.

Lose your life in the pursuit of what really matters—the kingdom of God. That’s the only real way to win. That’s really good news to those of us who have spent time in training band or on the bench or staring at losing candy bar wrappers.
Jesus is for losers.

The college football national championship was played last night. Because of that, my brain is a little fuzzy, it feels like my head is full of AstroTurf. The game went late, and I’m up early for a meeting.
It was worth it!
It was a fantastic game.
The Georgia Bulldogs dominated the first half. But then, the Alabama Crimson Tide came back for a pretty exciting overtime win.
I didn’t really have a dog, or dawg, in the fight. I’m a Oklahoma State/East Carolina fan. But, I was rooting for Georgia, because I think their mascot is cool and I love the peach state.
I was a little bummed when the dawgs didn’t pull it off.
It was still really fun to watch.
But, I have to confess, I was a bit distracted…
There was something happening on the sidelines that confused and confounded me…
As the Georgia coach, Kirby Smart, enthusiastically strutted down the sideline he was followed by a large bald man, who occasionally grabbed him by the back of his pants…
WHAAA?!
It was a little awkward to watch.
One man grabbing another man from behind just seems wrong.
The backside grabber’s name is Scott Sinclair. Most of the time, he is in charge of Georgia’s strength and conditioning program. But on game days, Sinclair is in charge of grabbing Kirby Smart’s pants. It’s not glamorous work, but he does it to keep his head coach from incurring a penalty on his team.
There is something familiar about Coach Smart’s situation.
I’ve heard this story before.
A man is so consumed by his passion that he becomes blind to the boundaries.
He has to be held back. He just can’t control himself and he needs outside help.
He is so caught up in the game that he forgets about the lines that he isn’t meant to cross.
It happens…
to all of us.
Coach Smart knows he needs an anchor.
Smart people ask for outside help. (See what I did there?)
We need outside (and inside) help.
Character is all about the inside stuff.
Community is there for the outside help.
We ALL need both!
For the inside stuff, we aren’t alone. We have the chance to have the Holy Spirit as our companion, comforter, and character builder.
The Holy Spirit can be our personal strength and conditioning coach. If we let him, he grabs us when we are blind to the boundaries. He builds character into our lives.
We got to be willing to be reigned in. That usually requires swallowing our pride and asking for help. We have to be more concerned about our character than what people think.
We also need community. We need real friends who are willing to grab us by the back of our pants if necessary. It’s not glamorous work, it requires people brave and bold enough to keep a friend from crossing the line. We need speakers of truth and hope.
Life is a team sport.
There are wins and losses.
There are boundaries and red zones.
We all need help.
We need character, we need community.

Very often life is all about moving stuff.
So we move, we shuffle, we relocate.
But, sometimes we never even touch the things that matter.
Instead of moving mountains, we are throwing rocks.
Very often life is all about moving stuff….
It’s about clearing the path and creating bridges out of boulders.
But sometimes, instead we use the boulders to build immovable walls.
Very often life is all about moving stuff…
Getting rid of the things that don’t fit anymore.
But, sometimes we just move the same old stuff around the closet and call it new…
but it’s not.
It’s just old stuff in a new place, with a little less dust.
Very often life is all about moving stuff…
So drop the rocks, today is your moving day.
Your mountains are waiting, so move them out of the way.

When I was a kid, one of the highlights of my sheltered life was our cousin’s BIG New Year’s Eve bash. All of the parents would drop the cousins off at our grandparent’s small house in east Tulsa, and we would party like eight year olds!
WOO!!
Needless to say, it would get pretty crazy!
We would eat cookies and popcorn. We would build forts from furniture. We would jump up and down for no apparent reason. We would listen to Grandpa’s police scanner. Then, when it was getting late, around 8:30 pm, we would gather in the living room for a talent show.
Grandma was a champion for the creative, and every year she created space for us to shine.
Every year the big bash would culminate in the truly huge New Years Eve talent show.
It was an epic undertaking!
On any given year, you might find a marionette show, a ballet, or a ukulele solo, or some very impressive professional wrestling exhibitions.
I think there was a trained ferret once.
And, me…I always did a magic show.
It seemed I got a magic kit every year for Christmas.
The cool kind with…wait for it…24 actual mystifying magic tricks!!
This gave me a week to master the skills of illusion before the big show.
This usually didn’t work out.
The problem was, it seems, that to master sleight of hand, you really need actual motor skills and discretion. I still can not shuffle a deck of cards, that makes card tricks a little…well…tricky!
But, my obvious lack of skills didn’t stop me.
I was hopeful.
I had big dreams, I was going to be the next Houdini.
I called myself the amazing Languini, because I thought it sounded mysterious and cool.
I did not realize that I was actually calling myself a noodle.
Nothing says mystifying like pasta.
Each New Year’s Eve I would put on my felt top hat and tattered beach towel cape, and then I would put on, quite possibly, the worst magic show ever.
I remember trying to do the trick with the little red plastic vase and rope and never being able to do it right.
The only thing I managed to pull out of my hat was lint.
I destroyed a lot of completely innocent playing cards.
I poked myself in the eye once with my magic wand.
Luckily for my self esteem I had some very supportive cousins.
With each mediocre trick they gave me a second chance…
“That last one was pretty rough, but let’s see what you got now…”

There is great magic in second chances.
There is something so completely hopeful about a new year.
It’s freshly fallen possibility.
It’s untouched, unsmudged, pure potential.
You can pick it up and take it wherever you choose.
Technically, January 1st is just another day, right?
But there is something magical about it.
There is a strange magic in NEW.
The chance to start over…to begin again…a fresh start…a clean slate.
Last year was hard, but hey…you get a fresh start.
“That last one was pretty rough, but let’s see what you got now…”
It’s really good news…it’s the power of potential.
Hit the restart button.
It’s not too late.
It’s like every 365 days we get a Do-over.
It’s a built in time for reflection and renewal.
Hit the pause button and ponder your year.
There is power in pause.
Stop…What did I get right? What did I screw up? What is beyond my control? How can I start all over?
It’s strange magic…How can I make the ugly disappear and pull some new dreams out of my hat?
Maybe our lives got shuffled this year like a deck of cards…
Maybe I lost some precious friends, I will never stop loving them and telling their stories, but I will navigate a new normal now.
I will make new friends and live new stories.
That’s magic.
It’s a tangible opportunity to make offenses disappear through the power of forgiveness.
It’s a chance to forgive others.
It’s a chance to forgive ourselves.
It’s a new start, can you smell it?
I love that new year smell…
Each new year smells like the spirit of do-over. And THAT is downright magical!

I have days….
Insignificant days…
When I feel
Invisible…
Insufficient…
Insignificant.
Maybe you do too?

I have days when I feel I contribute nothing unique to the conversation.
I am just a face in the crowd…
just a number in the book…
just a cog in the big faceless machine.
The art in me goes nowhere…
It is not invited to the table.
And I allow that to keep me from entering the room.
On my insignificant days, I am shaped by reaction and crafted by comparison.
I wait for validation, and I never recognize value.
I wait for permission to be me.
It will never come.

I have days…
Insignificant days.
Maybe you do too?

When will I learn that those insignificant days are truly insignificant.
They don’t tell me who I am.
They are all about feelings, not fact.
Those feelings have nothing to do with truth.

Truth…
I am more than number.
There is uniqueness in me.
There is art that needs to go where it is needed.
Even if I go unnoticed I am always seen.
You are too.
Truth, even when it doesn’t feel true.

I have days…
Days when I need to ignore the insignificant.
Maybe you do too?

When will I learn that those insignificant days are truly insignificant.

Just a small town girl, living in a dark, dark world,
She met an angel who said “don’t fear, favored girl”.
Just a carpenter, thought it pretty odd,
Now, he’s gonna be the stepdad of God.
No vacancy in the hotel rooms.
So in a barn with animal fumes,
Hope was born that unsilent night.
It goes on and on and on and on.

Manger, shepherds consumed by wild devotion,
Their shadows searching in the night.
Find the baby, livin’ with brand new emotion,
Into the darkness, comes the light.
It goes on and on and on and on.

Don’t stop believing…
A virgin suddenly conceiving.
There’s a light, people.
Don’t stop believing,
Hold on to the hope.
There’s a light, people.
Don’t stop believing,
Hold on to the hope.
There’s a light, people.

I was in 7th grade when my life was changed forever!
It was in a funky little one screen movie theater in beautiful downtown Collinsville, Oklahoma, that something truly magical happened…
I saw Star Wars for the first time.
The opening scene took my breath away and captured my imagination.
It was like nothing I had ever seen….the underbelly of a huge star destroyer accompanied by amazing music! I was transported to a place, “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….”
I was hooked! I was destined to be a Star Wars nerd forever.
I collected action figures, trading cards and stickers. I had a R2D2 lunch box. I made homemade light sabers out of old toilet paper rolls and duct tape. I still have toys in my office and I own a rather impressive collection of Star Wars shirts.
Star Wars changed my life. It made me proud of my name…up until that point, I had been the only Luke that I ever knew. It wasn’t a super popular name. I got called Luke the Puke a lot ( yeah, I know, REAL original!!) but, suddenly people were calling me Luke Skywalker (so much cooler than a nickname involving vomit).

Over the years, Star Wars taught me some valuable life lessons.
I narrowed it down to VIII:

I. Sometimes the biggest heroes come in the smallest packages. My two favorite characters in the Star Wars saga are Yoda and R2D2. Both of them are really short, judge them by their size, do you? That wouldn’t be wise. Don’t underestimate because of appearance.

II. Everybody has a part in the story, even Jar Jar Binks. The story is big and there’s room for characters and things that you don’t understand or like. Also, realize that life is all about episodes, some episodes are better than others. Some episodes are all about character development, don’t rush the story.

III. It’s easier to hate enemies who are faceless. There is a reason that stormtroopers wear masks. When you can’t see their eyes it’s easier to blast them. Darth Vader wasn’t nearly as intimidating when the mask came off. Unmask the people that you think are your enemies and you will likely find common.

IV. Most families are flawed. But, there is still good in them. If you look for the good, instead of focus on the flaws, family members might just surprise you.

V. Sometimes when people tell you that these are not the droids you’re looking for, they are messing with you.
Sometimes when people tell you that these are not the dreams you’re looking for, they are messing with you.

VI. You can try to change the past to protect your image, but the fact remains…
Han shot first.
Rogues need redemption, not rewrites.

VII. There is probably a good reason if you have a bad feeling about something.

VIII. Hope is contagious, it can make things new. And, it can be disturbing to live with a lack of faith.

Pour yourself a big cup of warm cocoa and sit down. I have a cautionary Christmas story for you.
Remember the holiday classic “Santa Claus is coming to Town”? It’s a stop-motion animation story of an abandoned baby who is adopted by elves. He becomes part of the Kringle family. They all have rhyming names (Ringle, Dingle, Zingle, Tingle and Wingle) fortunately they decide to name him Kris. When he grows up, Kris hopes to restore the Kringle family as “The First Toymakers to the King”. He has a dream! He wants to bring joy to the world. He wants to make toys for the King and the kids.
He wants to make the world a better place.
Do you know anybody like that?
But wait…
There is a problem. Sometimes when you have a perfectly beautiful dream, someone or something crushes it like a glass Christmas ornament.
Kris encounters a dream killer.
The nemesis of the Kringle family and the villain of this tale was Burgermeister Meisterburger (which incidentally was also the original name of the George Foreman grill).
Burgermeister Meisterburger was the Mayor of a gloomy little town called Sombertown.
You might not guess from the name but Sombertown was not a very happy place.
One fateful day Herr Burgermeister trips on a toy duck (it was a fowl fall!) in front of City Hall. Evidently he breaks his funny bone, because he outlaws toys, No kidding!! Toys are declared illegal, immoral, and unlawful. (My office would get me thrown into the dungeon for life!)
Because of pride, the Burgermeister Meisterburger turns an embarrassing fall into an excuse to hurt others. He builds a prison out of his pain. He mandated his misery and made everybody else miserable. He had forgotten how to play, so he made fun an act of rebellion.
He threw others into a dungeon of his own design.
He made his misery mandatory.
He killed the dreams of those around him.
Do you know anybody like that?
But wait…
Wiggle my ears and tickle my toes,
Here’s some stop-motion truth…
You will eventually cry, you will eventually pout, I’m telling you why…
We all spend time in Sombertown, that’s life.
Bad things happen, we trip, we get hurt. We experience disappointment and heartache. We visit Sombertown, it’s NOT a nice place to visit!
It’s certainly not a nice place to take up permanent residence!
Don’t live in Sombertown.
AND don’t be the one who keeps other people in Sombertown. Don’t make your misery mandatory for the people around you.
Don’t be the Mayor of Sombertown.
But wait…
Wiggle my ears and tickle my toes,
Here’s some stop-motion truth…
Changing from bad to good’s as easy as taking your first step.
Take a step out of Sombertown.
Take a look at what you have instead of what you don’t have. Don’t take yourself so seriously. Build others up.
Realize that pain is temporary, scars become stories, joy is meant to last forever.
And never pass up the opportunity to dream and play and help others do the same!

Take a step out of Sombertown.
I recommend Joyland.
The property taxes are much cheaper.