Seth Lewis's Blog, page 11

An Announcement

It’s been a little over a year since “Dream Small” was released. It still amazes me that I had that opportunity to write at length about a topic I care so deeply about. And now today I get to share news with you about another writing project that I’m excited about.

Last week, I signed a contract with The Good Book Company to write another book. The working title is Everything Speaks. The idea comes from what David wrote in Psalm 19:

“The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.“

You’ve heard that voice, haven’t you? As the day begins or ends in sky-fire, as the waves crash against the boulders, or as the wind moves the forest. We’ve all heard it. The voice of creation may not have words, but it is certainly not silent.

The world is speaking to us. We know it. We feel it. Nature’s voice is deep with meaning, and something deep inside of us responds to it, naturally. And speaking requires a speaker: if there is communication, there must be someone with a message to communicate. If there is proclamation, declaration, and revelation (as David said), there must be something to proclaim, something to declare, someone to reveal.

“The heavens declare the glory of God.”

The language of creation is more than a lovely feeling. It is a real language, with real meaning. Real direction, and intention. It is telling us real things that we really need to hear. But how do we listen? How do we understand a language with no words? How do we respond to the One who is speaking to us through it?

That’s what this book project is about. I can’t wait to share it with you!

Already Unique

I saw an article recently that focused on how three different men had each created their own unique fashion styles. All of them looked quite different from each other, and all of them had managed to combine their clothes in ways that really did stand out from most of the styles on the street. The point of the article was to explore how these men had been able to craft styles that were actually unique, and how you and I could do the same.

Because that’s what we’re supposed to do, isn’t it? Western culture encourages us to stand out from the crowd and be different, to express our individuality and make sure everyone knows how unique we are. But it’s not as easy as it sounds. The three men in the article are not the only ones trying to be unique these days. There are unique styles all over the place—or there would be, if there weren’t so many other people trying to be unique in the same sorts of ways. It’s getting harder and harder to stand out from the crowd with so many in the crowd working so hard to stand out as well. I guess I could wear a scarf in the summer, or put on a cowboy hat in Ireland, and that would certainly stand out, but is it really unique? Garth Brooks already wore a cowboy hat here, and he looked better in it. Do I need to invent my own hat? Wouldn’t that be crossing the line from unique to just plain weird, like Lady Gaga wearing her dress made of meat? Is that what it takes to be truly unique these days?

I don’t think so. Here’s a secret the fashion industry will never tell: even if I’m ordinary and easy to overlook because I blend in with the crowd and wear regular clothes and I don’t draw much attention to myself and my whole life is pretty much just similar to lots of other people’s lives—even then, I’m still unique. Yes! It’s true. It’s true because my individual uniqueness is not something I have to create and prove and perform for others. It’s already there, built in to the very nature of the world and my place in it.

Look closely and you’ll see that everything about this world and our time living in it is unique: the sunset last night was unique, never seen before and never to be repeated. My work is unique, even though it’s the same kind of work lots of other people do—no one else has done it here, today, right when it needed doing for this place and time, for these unique people around me. It doesn’t matter how many other people have done the same job how many times in how many other places, I’m the one who’s here to do it now. This is my unique responsibility. My unique opportunity.

My family is unique as well, even though it’s similar to a lot of other families all over the world. Lots of couples hold hands, but my wife’s fingers between my fingers are unique, and one of her fingers has my ring on it, and one of my fingers has hers. Lots of couples wear rings, but no one else wears our rings. Our children are unique, too. They are uniquely part of our family, which is similar but also different from any other family that has ever existed because no other family has had us in it. And I’m the one who gets to be here, today, to be a husband to my wife, and a father to my children. This is my unique privilege.

I am uniquely created in God’s own image and placed in this time and circumstance by his hand for “such a time as this” (Esther 4:14). I am uniquely placed to do what only I can. Only I can enjoy the world through the eyes God gave specifically to me, respond to God with the heart he made me, and show his love and care for the unique people around me with the unique life he sustains in me right here where he put me, in my own unique little corner of the world as I find it today. As the Apostle Paul said, “we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (Ephesians 2:10). What difference does it make if my clothes, and my life, look familiar and ordinary while I do the unique good works that God specifically designed me for to do today? I don’t need to prove my uniqueness to you, or to anyone. I’ve got more important things to do, like the unique dishes left dirty from a unique breakfast with my unique family on this unique morning that has never, ever happened before.

Looking Out For Number Two

“Look out for Number One” they say, “if you don’t, no one else will.”

Actually, it wasn’t some generic “they” who said this first, it was Arnold “The Brain” Rothstein. He was boss of the Jewish mob in New York City during the Prohibition era, so I guess you could say he lived it out, too. He certainly took care of himself. He probably took care of a lot of other people as well, if you know what I mean.

Maybe the quote is too vague. There are just so many ways of “looking out” for yourself. Thankfully, most people don’t do it by becoming kingpins. But we still take the kingpin’s advice: Look out for number one. Follow your own bliss. Take care of your own self. After all, The Brain’s logic seems bullet-proof: “if you don’t, no one else will.” Isn’t that how the world works?

It’s how the world stopped working, actually, and why it doesn’t work. Our world was never meant to be a place where we all promote our own interests above everything and everyone else. We were never meant to each be our own individual rulers, working to build our own individual kingdoms on top of each other. I know of another Jewish man who gave very different instructions for how our lives should work. The Apostle Paul said,

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.” – Philippians‬ ‭2:3-4‬ ‭

Did Paul not understand that in the real world selfish people will take advantage of you if you let them? That they will forget your needs and push their way past you if you don’t speak up and push back?

No, he didn’t forget. The reason he says we don’t need to worry about looking after our own interests is not because he thought our interests don’t matter. It’s because he knew our interests were are already looked after. Paul knows that in Christ, God’s people already have everything: A home. A family. A kingdom. An inheritance. Love. Security. Hope. Peace. Purpose. Joy. Everything! And yes, along with everything we also have difficulty in this world. Everybody gets that here. But those who are trusting and following Jesus never face that difficulty alone, or without the solid hope of all his promises.

In other words, if you bring Number One to Jesus, then Number One is already looked after, and looked after in far better ways for far longer than you’d ever manage on your own. And when Number One is looked after so well, our attention can be turned a different direction—away from Number One and on to Number Two, and Three, and Forty-Five. We can “value others above ourselves” because ourselves are already valued by God more than we can comprehend. We don’t need to fight to further our own interests. We don’t need to compete. The interests of ourselves are already looked after, completely, when we trust in Christ. You couldn’t look after them better if you tried. Number One is safe with Jesus. How are the other numbers today?

Rivers, Not Lakes

There’s a small lake in our village with a path around it and an island in the middle where a pair of swans make their nest every year. When the cygnets are born, they’re grey and fluffy and clumsy until they grow up and slowly become majestic. Eventually they all fly away and I don’t know where they go. Then every year one couple returns and there’s a new nest and eventually new cygnets.

The cygnets and ducklings and baby coots (cooties?) on the lake make the place a lot nicer to visit, because there are certain times of the year when the water isn’t much of an attraction on its own. It has the typical problem that most small lakes have: it tends to grow green and manky with pondweed and algae and such, especially in the summer. Some summers are worse than others, but even on a good year (like this one) there are still places where the weeds are thick enough that the little cooties can walk around on them instead of swimming.

One day while I was walking there I met a man who told me that the lake weeds wouldn’t grow as well if the water in the lake had a more consistent flow, in and out. He said the conditions in our lake are good for algae and weeds, because once the water comes in it mostly just sits, barely moving at all. Meanwhile, we have streams nearby that flow constantly and stay quite clear.

As I walked home, I thought about what the man said and it reminded me of what Jesus said in John 7:37-38: “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.”

Jesus compared those who believe in him to rivers, not lakes. He said that living water would “flow from within them”, not merely “flow into them”. There is an inflow, of course—“come to me and drink” he says—but the satisfaction of our thirst for life in Jesus is only the beginning. The life Jesus gives is not something we just sip on here and there whenever we’re feeling a bit low, a bit thirsty, a bit unsatisfied. It’s not just some runoff rain that collects in our souls and sits there quietly doing nothing. If we try to live that way, we’ll probably end up with lives that look like the lake looks in the summer—growing over with manky selfish prideweeds.

No thank you. “Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” The life that God gives is not meant to be contained, like a lake. It is not measured out carefully to be just enough to make us comfortable or keep us functioning. It is not measured at all—it is a flow that never stops. Have you seen what a river can do? It can remake a landscape entirely. It can turn a wasteland into a well-watered garden where life grows and thrives. And so it is with the life that Jesus gives to those who believe in him. He remakes the landscape of our hearts entirely as the river flows in—and then the river flows on, always moving outward beyond us, beyond our needs, beyond our boundaries, out to the world and the people around us, always looking for more thirst to quench. We come to Jesus thirsty and dying for life. We come for a drink, and end up becoming “rivers of living water” because you can’t contain this living water in a cup. It’s more than we needed. More than we expected. Much more! And that’s the point—it’s not just for us.

“Freely you have received; freely give.” – Matthew 10:8

Thorn Bush (a poem)

This week I have a short poem for you about a plant in our garden. It’s about more than that, really, but I’ll let it speak for itself:

Thorn Bush

The bush in our garden
Is covered with thorns

Is reaching its prickly
Branches across

The path to the shed
Making me duck my head

And I don’t mind at all—

I don’t call it a thorn bush
Though that’s what it grows

I call it it’s true name:
I call it a rose.

Answering Children

When our children were small, I used to write down some of the things they said because the things they said were so funny and cute. I recorded the most when they were around three and four years old, because that’s the sweet spot when simple logic, creative grammar, and limited vocabulary all come together in fantastically surprising ways. Like the time one of my children asked to see “the belly friend” and I didn’t know who that was but it turned out that the belly friend was the ice cream man—which does make a lot of sense when you think about it. Or when I was asked to pretend that I was real (a question some philosophers would probably love to dig into) or the time one of them asked me to stay with them because they wanted to be alone. Then there was the entrepreneurial child who asked if I’d let him sell our family car for €55 (I didn’t).

Sometimes our children simply didn’t know the right words to use. Sometimes their words highlighted how far they were from understanding themselves or the world around them. Other times their emotions were so strong that they ran out of words entirely, gave up trying, and let their tears do the talking instead.

And I, as their father, listened. I loved our sometimes-convoluted conversations, because I loved them. Yes, of course I wanted to help them learn to express themselves well with correct vocabulary and grammar and understanding of themselves and the world and all of that is important—but I never would have dreamed of loving them less or refusing to listen to them no matter how much they struggled to express themselves.

I’m not the only one who feels this way. Romans 8 tells us a glorious reality about the identity of those who belong to Jesus: “For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God.” Those who trust and follow Christ are God’s adopted children. And how does this identity impact the way we speak to God? Paul says, “…by him we cry, “Abba, Father.”” We can speak to God himself as a child speaks to their father. Not flippantly, or careless about who we are speaking to, but rather confident of his care for those who belong to him. And how does our Father hear us? As a good father hears their child. Paul says, “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” In other words, even when our language is confused and garbled, when our understanding is lacking and our words won’t come out right and we can’t make sense and our logic and grammar and vocabulary are all falling to pieces and we don’t even know what to say even if we could say it right—even when all we have left is tears to talk through—even then, he hears and answers and stoops down to help us to pray. Of course he does.

He’s our Father.

A Personal Update

It’s been a year and a half since I put up a personal update on the blog. That’s a long time, so today I’m sharing some of our recent news:

School is back in session for our children this week, which means summer is officially over. We didn’t get to go to America to visit our families this year, but all four of our parents did get over to visit us (and a niece as well). This was especially significant because both my mother and Jessica’s father had heart surgeries early this year. We are thankful that both have recovered well, and it was wonderful to have them here in Ireland. Our travel this summer was to take a ferry over to England for a Christian conference. It was one we’d never been to, and we barely knew anyone there, but that was soon remedied. It shouldn’t surprise me anymore, but it really is amazing how quickly our connection in Christ can override every area of difference and turn strangers into friends. We left refreshed and encouraged.

While we were on the other side of the Irish Sea, we also fit in a family holiday in Cornwall. It was our first time there, and we can confirm that Cornwall really is a beautiful part of the world with all its cliffs, coves, and clotted cream. The pasties were our favourite, though. Whoever thought of wrapping up meat and veg in a pastry like that, so cheap and warm and delicious, is a great human who deserves a statue more than a lot of humans who have them. I’d like to see that statue. Then again, I’d rather just have another pastie. I’d love to have another ramble in that scenery, as well. It’s inspiring. In fact, it inspired three of my recent blog posts:

One post came from walking on the cliffs:
https://sethlewis.ie/2023/07/26/the-sheep-dont-know/

One post came from playing in the sea:
https://sethlewis.ie/2023/07/19/playing-in-power/

And one poem came from a man and his dog walking by in the campground:
https://sethlewis.ie/2023/07/12/slowly-a-poem/

I probably could have told you before we arrived that I would end up writing something about the cliffs and the sea. The last one was a surprise, though. Honestly, one of the most surprising things about my life right now is the fact that I write poetry at all. I wrote a poem about that:

Surprise

The fact that I write poetry
Surprises me continually

It wasn’t in my plan for me
But I can’t help it—

The world and everything I see
Surprises me continually

In other news, Dream Small has been out for a year now, as of tomorrow. Many thanks to all the great people at The Good Book Company who took on an unknown author like me and worked so hard to make the idea come to life. I’m delighted to announce that a German version of Dream Small has just been released, and a Korean version will follow sometime next year.

Meanwhile, day to day life for our family is the same as always. When I say “the same as always” I mean it feels the same, but in reality it’s always changing, little by little, as the children grow up and life moves forward. That’s how life works, and I’m trying to learn to lean in to it and appreciate every stage, every step. I know that there will always be surprises—like heart surgeries and poetry and who knows what else—but I rest in the knowledge that God’s plan has not been sidetracked. He is never surprised. As the great poet, King David, wrote in Psalm 139:

All my days were written in Your book
and ordained for me
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are Your thoughts, O God,
how vast is their sum!
If I were to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand;
and when I awake,
I am still with You.

Days Like Blackberries

It’s blackberry season in Ireland right now, and our family has a yearly tradition of picking them. They’re not hard to find. The vines are growing in the hedges along the roads, reaching out into the paths in the woods, climbing over the old stone walls in the fields, and all of them covering themselves in juicy, plump, sweet little berries. Like candy, except healthier, and with thornier packaging. And free! They just grow, right out of the ground, in loads of public places where we can pick and eat and keep as many as we want. Last weekend we got almost four pounds on one family walk which are now (thanks to my wife) three jars of delicious homemade jam. Can you believe we live in a world where there are jam-bushes growing wild? 

These treats come every year. But they don’t come all year—if we want to enjoy them, we have to take them while they’re ripe. That’s the way it is with most of the natural gifts God has built in to the world. They come in their own seasons. Every year, we look forward to picking blackberries, and enjoying them. Every year, the blackberries look the same as the year before, but of course they are not the same berries. Last year’s berries are gone, like last year’s apples, like last year’s wildflowers. Speaking of wildflowers—while we were picking the blackberries last weekend I noticed some wildflowers growing in the middle of an old ruin. They were lovely, so I snapped a photo:

It struck me that the people who have come in and out of those ruins throughout the years are a lot like the wildflowers and blackberries growing there now. We bloom and grow with the life God gives us, and then we’re gone. As King David wrote in Psalm 103 :15-16,

“As for man, his days are like grass—
he blooms like a flower of the field;
when the wind passes over, it vanishes,
and its place remembers it no more.”

Many have come before us. Maybe their lives were as delightful and fruitful as the flowers and the berries of years gone by, but they are all gone now and it’s our turn. It’s our season. It’s our time to grow and bear fruit in the world God made for us. This is our opportunity to live well, and this opportunity won’t last. We must take it while it’s ripe. Thankfully, we can take it in the assurance that even when our place in this world is lost and we are forgotten like the blackberries and wildflowers and people who have lived here before us, the One who made us and all of these things has a better memory than we do. He does not forget his children who put their trust in him. Ever. He does not stop giving them his life or the bounty of his good gifts. Ever. As the next verse in Psalm 103 says,

“But from everlasting to everlasting
the loving devotion of the LORD
extends to those who fear Him”

His love is everlasting, but the season we’re in is not. We’re here on his earth, by his design, for a limited time. This is our chance to live well. This is our season.

With Cheerfulness

In Romans 12, the Apostle Paul writes that “the one who does acts of mercy” should do them “with cheerfulness.” There are a lot of other words he could have used in that sentence after the “with”. There are other instructions he could have given to those who seek to give practical help to others. He could have told us to do acts of mercy with diligence or perseverance, with wisdom or self-sacrifice and all of these words would make sense, but Paul doesn’t use them. He tells us to serve “with cheerfulness.”

Really, Paul? Cheerfulness?

Really.

There’s an idea out there that good works hardly even count if you enjoy them. That the enjoyment tarnishes the purity of the deed by bringing an immediate personal benefit to the one who does it. This idea is expressed succinctly in a letter written by one of the great mercy-showers of Cork city, Nano Nagle. Nano gave her life to sacrificially provide education for the children of her community in the 1700’s, but she wrote to her friend that, “I often think my schools will never bring me to heaven, as I only take delight and pleasure in them.”

I’d love to get Nano and Paul in a room together and hear them chat about this. My guess is that Paul would respond by telling Nano that no one has good deeds perfect enough to bring them to heaven (Paul had tried that path himself), but that Jesus has already delighted to graciously provide a place in heaven to those who trust in him—not on the basis of their good, but his (Paul explains this in Romans 3:21-24). But I think he would go further. I think he would tell Nano that she was on the right track in enjoying her work for others. God also delights to show mercy to his people (Micah 7:18). Delight and pleasure are exactly what mercy-showing people ought to feel. Jesus even endured the cross “for the joy set before him” (Hebrews 12:2)—the joy of the salvation he was bringing to his people. When we delight in serving others, we are not tarnishing our service by our enjoyment of it—no!—we are making it shine all the brighter as a reflection of the greater delight of our Maker and Saviour. Delight and pleasure do not detract from our service, they complete it.

Would you rather be helped by someone who is only doing their dour duty, or by someone who genuinely enjoys it? Obviously, the one who enjoys it. That’s because finding joy in giving to others is an expression of love. When someone serves you cheerfully, their delight demonstrates that they value you and care about your good. The same is true in your service for others. In 2 Corinthians 9, Paul writes that “God loves a cheerful giver.” When we give and serve cheerfully, we give and serve like God does. From our heart. From our delight. From our love. So when you do your acts of mercy and good today, don’t forget to enjoy them.

The Weeds (a poem)

You don’t know how bad the weeds are until you try to plant and keep a garden. In a similar way, as C.S. Lewis put it, “no man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good.” These are the things I was thinking about when I wrote this poem:

The Weeds

There are stinging kinds of weeds
In the deepest heart of me
Growing vines in all directions
Choking out my good intentions

When they sting I give a pull
Nice and strong—I aim to kill
But the roots wrap up my heart
—will I tear myself apart?

So instead I get the shears out
And I trim the parts I fear will
Hurt me most, or those I love
(Making sure to wear my gloves)

But now even as I’m cutting
There behind my back is something
Growing new and strong and stinging
Oh! This garden’s overwhelming!

What can stop my stubborn pride?
Kill this selfishness inside?
What can keep my greed from growing?
All my bitter roots are showing!

When you knocked—that’s how it started
And you found me broken-hearted
And you walked in, through the stinging
And yet somehow, you were singing

In the middle of my garden
In the tangled mess you dug, then
Put into my heart a seed—
Among the roots of all my weeds

It was far too small to notice—
You said it would be enormous
And would choke the weeds out slowly
Loose the grip in which they hold me

You said fruit would grow in sweetness
Love and joy and peace and patience
You said life was in that seed

Your own life—growing in me.

“So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

– The Apostle Paul, in Romans 7:21-25