About three and a half years ago, I started this blog as part of my journey into what I called "the real world." Little did I know how long it would take me to get there.
As I look back on the early posts here, I can't help feeling like it was a different person who wrote them. I guess really it was. I can hardly believe all that God has led me through in this past season, and the changes in my life have been both internal and external. My soul and my situation are both so different now.
Not to say there weren't some really good things going on at the time I started all this, but as I look back I see a kid with some big talk and not much substance to back it up with. In this season, God is calling me into manhood. Into hard work. Into courage. (Things about which college graduate me had so very much to learn!)
God has also been providing me with new opportunities to share my thoughts. It's become apparent to me that if I don't have any place to express what God is teaching me, I don't know what to do with myself. That's part of why I started this, really. I had all these ideas and no forum in which to teach them, and I was pretty much boiling over. Now I lead a small group and a worship team, and God has finally given me chances to teach in church again after a long break. I couldn't ask for more opportunity!
Another thing about the time when I started writing on here was just that: the time. I had all kinds of it. Much more than I knew what to do with, in fact, and I wasn't really using it well to be honest. Sadly, those blog posts are one of the only truly productive things I was doing in a large part of that season. Now I have a full-time job in addition to all the teaching opportunities I was just talking about. I certainly don't need to try to find ways to pass the time!
Of course, much more could be written about how I'm in a different place now than I was then. However, another thing God has been teaching me to leave behind is my compulsive desire to say everything I think needs to be said all at once. With that in mind, here are just two of many things I think are important moving forward from here.
First, God owns everything. There's already an appalling number of I's in this post and this blog, and there will be a few more before I get done here. But he owns everything, and the more I realize that, the more I enjoy life. He just isn't that concerned about my agenda. I hold on to my freedom and time in self-employment, and he tells me to get a job. I pray about a girl, and he tells me... to get a job. Seriously, he knows what to do, and my time and effort belong to him, not me. If I'll let him use those things as he sees fit, I believe with everything I am that I'll experience the blessing I've tried (and failed) so long to produce on my own. Not that it's some magic formula-- it's just that where the Spirit of the Lord is there's freedom. That's the ultimate blessing.
That brings me to my other point. I've noticed that my life goes better when it's lived with a healthy dose of just not caring so much. Now, I don't mean to say that life and doing the right thing aren't important. What I mean is that a great deal of what I've cared about has been misplaced. I've cared so much about my own safety and what other people think of me, and that has never produced anything but death. I just don't have the energy to keep caring about that stuff, and I become the person I really am more and more as I let it go. I end up accidentally walking into the freedom I thought I could find myself but couldn't! I have life less figured out than I ever thought, and I can only hope that blessing continues. Figuring everything else out is someone else's job anyway, and guess what? He's already finished it.
These days, I care more than ever what God thinks about me and less about what everyone else does. The nice thing about that is that what he thinks doesn't change like people's opinions do. I don't have to manage it. Nor can I: no matter what I do, God is only looking at me with love and planning me a future filled with hope. 100% love, all the time-- Even when that means he has to discipline me to get something stupid to stop. It never changes his opinion on me: beloved son, covered by the blood of the beloved Son.
So, that real world thing I was talking about? I didn't mean getting a grown-up job (although I did do that). I mean seeing that this is my Father's world, and no matter what happens I have him. His question to me in this season is the same as to the disciples in the sinking boat in the storm: why are you so afraid? And as I realize that he will always be there, I start to fear less. With him there, it will always be ok... and even if it isn't, I still get to go be with him in heaven at the end.
Still, eternal life starts now. That life is the light of the world, the streetlights' call. What is eternal life? That I may know the only true God and Jesus who he sent. I can do that now. I can let his light shine through me more and more-- another new beginning, every day, every moment, every prayer.
Want to try it? Want to see what happens? Well, you won't read about it here.
Come live it with me.
Showing posts with label kingdom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kingdom. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Integrity in Community
I've had a couple conversations recently that really got me thinking again about the issue of how we relate to each other within the body of Christ (i.e. the church). Long story short, I ended up expressing a lot of my thoughts about it in a poem, so I'll start with that:
Euphemistic Eucharist
Howya doin’? What’s up?
Pretty good, not too much,
life goes on, praise the Lord,
the usual and such--
By pretty good I mean
my family’s a mess--
we fight, except not here:
in this house we just bless.
I’m saying in not much
my schedule is insane:
it’s filled with noise and stress
it hardly can contain--
Life just keeps on going,
and so I don’t have time
to let you see beneath
charade and pantomime.
To praise the Lord I smile
and just sing happy songs;
pain stays behind the mask
where it, of course, belongs--
The usual just means
I’d tell you I’m depressed
were I allowed to break
facades so nicely dressed
And such and such and on--
a thousand pointless things
I’d rather say than tell
you anything that stings.
Safe. But are we happy?
We smile; are we alive?
The one place where it seems
reality should thrive,
instead we hide away;
we put our pride above
our pain--how can we throw
our masks aside and love?
Because we need help and we need
to be saved and all of us are
pretty much the same kinds
of messed up so why not just be real?
Can you see here what I’m driving toward?
Maybe then we could really praise the Lord.
So, I realize that my poem is a bit caustic. I'm just trying to honestly address a real issue, though, and the fact that it keeps on coming up among people I talk to lets me know I'm not the only one who feels it. The issue, as you can probably guess from the poem, is that church (not just mine, or anyone else's specifically, but church in general-- the conversations I mentioned at the beginning were with people from three different ones) has a tendency to become a place of fakeness where people don't feel like they can come with their real problems, instead of what it should be: the place where they could safely be honest and receive healing.
3 questions come to my mind: why does this happen, why is it so bad, and what can we do about it?
Let's break my OCD tendencies toward order and symmetry and start right in the middle with the second question. I don't want to belabor the point that the phenomenon I'm talking about is bad news, but I want to start with what I see as the basic reasons why it is so harmful.
The first is that everyone has problems, and problems don't just go away. Of course, drawing near to God is helpful in dealing with them. God can supernaturally solve them whenever he wants to. The problem comes when churches start teaching (or just believing, consciously or subconsciously), that this supernatural encounter with the healing Lord is only a one-on-one deal. Now, I know that God has healed me at times without any help from anyone else--he's just that good. However, the general model that he has laid out for us is something totally different.
"And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective." (James 5:15-16). This is God's model for healing. We get other believers involved, and they pray for us so that we will be healed. Catch that? James is letting us know that if we won't share our brokenness, both spiritual and physical, we won't access all the healing that we could because it comes through receiving prayer from each other! So that's one reason why it's a crisis that we don't feel like we can be real in church-- where else will we find the righteous men who can pray powerful and effective prayers for our healing?
Another reason is that everyone has problems, and everyone knows this is true. Even (or especially?) people who aren't Christians yet. We might feel like being real with the stuff of our lives will scare unbelievers away, but I propose that the fakeness we choose instead is infinitely more frightening. Everyone knows that people have problems. Everyone knows that they themselves have problems! So if you walk into a group of people where no one seems to have any, what do you think? You think, I'll never fit in with these people. So another reason this fear of dealing with real issues in church is a problem is because it is actually driving away the broken people who desperately need to receive healing by being prayed for (and who God wants to make into the powerful and effective prayers who will then help restore others!).
Finally, and potentially most seriously, being fake in church will hinder our worship. We might think we can sneak in and deal with our problems alone with God and have ourselves fixed by the time we have to talk to anyone. The problem there is that God is looking for worshipers who worship him in spirit and in truth (John 4:23). If we won't be real with God and with our family, we can't worship him in the way he desires. This is serious stuff, and if you don't think so just read in Exodus and Leviticus about people who tried to worship God in unauthorized ways. If we want his healing presence to be with us, we have to be willing to worship in the spiritual integrity God is seeking. Otherwise, our thanksgiving (Greek: Eucharist) will amount to little more than empty words we use to avoid saying what we really mean.
So, why does it happen that we feel like all we can be at church is just fine and peachy-keen, etc.?
I think it probably comes down to fear, mostly. Just because we all have problems and we know it doesn't mean we necessarily feel comfortable sharing them with people! If our fear of being judged for the things that are still messed up about us trumps our desire to be healed from those things, we won't share, plain and simple. If we have a history of being judged, that makes things worse of course, as does seeing other people be judged in places (like church) where they should be welcomed instead. Put all those things together, and fear wins out a lot of times.
Also, I think there's a misunderstanding in the church of what the Bible really teaches about joy. When it says to be joyful in all circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:16), is that the same as being happy all the time? If the joy of the Lord is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10), and a fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22), are we weak Christians who don't have the Holy Spirit if we go through struggles and trials?
All of the answers are no, in case you're wondering. No one is "too blessed to be stressed" either (although some might be in too much denial not to smile). Joy is not the same thing as happiness, and godly joy is just as compatible with sorrow as with happiness. Jesus himself wept (John 11:35), but he was given the oil of joy more than all his companions (Psalm 45:7). He also got so stressed that he sweated blood (Luke 22:44). So godly joy must be something different than unceasing happiness. What if, instead, it's the ongoing security of knowing that eventually everything will work out for your good because it's all in the control of the all-powerful God who loves you? Then you can feel the pain of loss and brokenness without losing hope, and when you are happy you can be happy for the right reasons. That's the joy that will bring you strength.
One further note on why the problem of disingenuousness happens at church: it kind of gets to be a vicious cycle. No one wants to be the first person to do anything, so if no one is talking about any real stuff, it's that much harder for anyone to break the trend.
Which segues nicely into the last question: what can we do about this thing?
First, let me say that I'm no expert on this. I'm actually more of an expert on being fake, to be quite honest. All I know is that I deeply desire to be real, and I'm starting to learn what that means. So how can we be the ones to step out and start being real in the one place in all the world where the truth should win out? How can streetlights shine into darkness that has clouded the home of light?
The main thing I can see is that we have to start wanting more of God so desperately that we don't care about our own images. We have to care more about what he thinks of us than what anyone else does. This is what it means for him to be our Lord. His opinion is the final word, and what he says goes, no matter what it makes us look like. If we start believing that, maybe we can be the ones to step out and take the first risk. We can't make anyone else be real, but we can show them they won't die if they try it!
Also, we have to confess and repent of our judgmental spirits. This will allow us to bless other people who are real enough to be honest about their problems instead of comparing our own struggles to theirs to see how we stack up. All judgment is comparison, and all comparison is irrelevant because God's love is infinite. What if ours started looking more like his?
We also have to stop getting the truth backwards. It's not that God is so good that his followers shouldn't have any problems; He's so good because welcomes us in spite of them! He fixes them too, but for whatever reason he hasn't chosen to do it instantaneously in most cases. We have to let him be who he is in this instead of making him into a false image of what we want him to be.
I'm sure there is much more to be said on this topic-- does anyone else have any ideas to share on how we can help? I'll end with one I just thought of, which is actually the most important one: prayer. I want to start asking God to change the problems I see instead of just worrying about them. I want to talk less and pray more.
So-- God, change what you want to change. Make us more like you. Make your body whole. Let us walk in integrity, bravery, and community. Give us real relationships with real people, and let us worship you in Spirit and in truth. Amen.
Euphemistic Eucharist
Howya doin’? What’s up?
Pretty good, not too much,
life goes on, praise the Lord,
the usual and such--
By pretty good I mean
my family’s a mess--
we fight, except not here:
in this house we just bless.
I’m saying in not much
my schedule is insane:
it’s filled with noise and stress
it hardly can contain--
Life just keeps on going,
and so I don’t have time
to let you see beneath
charade and pantomime.
To praise the Lord I smile
and just sing happy songs;
pain stays behind the mask
where it, of course, belongs--
The usual just means
I’d tell you I’m depressed
were I allowed to break
facades so nicely dressed
And such and such and on--
a thousand pointless things
I’d rather say than tell
you anything that stings.
Safe. But are we happy?
We smile; are we alive?
The one place where it seems
reality should thrive,
instead we hide away;
we put our pride above
our pain--how can we throw
our masks aside and love?
Because we need help and we need
to be saved and all of us are
pretty much the same kinds
of messed up so why not just be real?
Can you see here what I’m driving toward?
Maybe then we could really praise the Lord.
So, I realize that my poem is a bit caustic. I'm just trying to honestly address a real issue, though, and the fact that it keeps on coming up among people I talk to lets me know I'm not the only one who feels it. The issue, as you can probably guess from the poem, is that church (not just mine, or anyone else's specifically, but church in general-- the conversations I mentioned at the beginning were with people from three different ones) has a tendency to become a place of fakeness where people don't feel like they can come with their real problems, instead of what it should be: the place where they could safely be honest and receive healing.
3 questions come to my mind: why does this happen, why is it so bad, and what can we do about it?
Let's break my OCD tendencies toward order and symmetry and start right in the middle with the second question. I don't want to belabor the point that the phenomenon I'm talking about is bad news, but I want to start with what I see as the basic reasons why it is so harmful.
The first is that everyone has problems, and problems don't just go away. Of course, drawing near to God is helpful in dealing with them. God can supernaturally solve them whenever he wants to. The problem comes when churches start teaching (or just believing, consciously or subconsciously), that this supernatural encounter with the healing Lord is only a one-on-one deal. Now, I know that God has healed me at times without any help from anyone else--he's just that good. However, the general model that he has laid out for us is something totally different.
"And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective." (James 5:15-16). This is God's model for healing. We get other believers involved, and they pray for us so that we will be healed. Catch that? James is letting us know that if we won't share our brokenness, both spiritual and physical, we won't access all the healing that we could because it comes through receiving prayer from each other! So that's one reason why it's a crisis that we don't feel like we can be real in church-- where else will we find the righteous men who can pray powerful and effective prayers for our healing?
Another reason is that everyone has problems, and everyone knows this is true. Even (or especially?) people who aren't Christians yet. We might feel like being real with the stuff of our lives will scare unbelievers away, but I propose that the fakeness we choose instead is infinitely more frightening. Everyone knows that people have problems. Everyone knows that they themselves have problems! So if you walk into a group of people where no one seems to have any, what do you think? You think, I'll never fit in with these people. So another reason this fear of dealing with real issues in church is a problem is because it is actually driving away the broken people who desperately need to receive healing by being prayed for (and who God wants to make into the powerful and effective prayers who will then help restore others!).
Finally, and potentially most seriously, being fake in church will hinder our worship. We might think we can sneak in and deal with our problems alone with God and have ourselves fixed by the time we have to talk to anyone. The problem there is that God is looking for worshipers who worship him in spirit and in truth (John 4:23). If we won't be real with God and with our family, we can't worship him in the way he desires. This is serious stuff, and if you don't think so just read in Exodus and Leviticus about people who tried to worship God in unauthorized ways. If we want his healing presence to be with us, we have to be willing to worship in the spiritual integrity God is seeking. Otherwise, our thanksgiving (Greek: Eucharist) will amount to little more than empty words we use to avoid saying what we really mean.
So, why does it happen that we feel like all we can be at church is just fine and peachy-keen, etc.?
I think it probably comes down to fear, mostly. Just because we all have problems and we know it doesn't mean we necessarily feel comfortable sharing them with people! If our fear of being judged for the things that are still messed up about us trumps our desire to be healed from those things, we won't share, plain and simple. If we have a history of being judged, that makes things worse of course, as does seeing other people be judged in places (like church) where they should be welcomed instead. Put all those things together, and fear wins out a lot of times.
Also, I think there's a misunderstanding in the church of what the Bible really teaches about joy. When it says to be joyful in all circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:16), is that the same as being happy all the time? If the joy of the Lord is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10), and a fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22), are we weak Christians who don't have the Holy Spirit if we go through struggles and trials?
All of the answers are no, in case you're wondering. No one is "too blessed to be stressed" either (although some might be in too much denial not to smile). Joy is not the same thing as happiness, and godly joy is just as compatible with sorrow as with happiness. Jesus himself wept (John 11:35), but he was given the oil of joy more than all his companions (Psalm 45:7). He also got so stressed that he sweated blood (Luke 22:44). So godly joy must be something different than unceasing happiness. What if, instead, it's the ongoing security of knowing that eventually everything will work out for your good because it's all in the control of the all-powerful God who loves you? Then you can feel the pain of loss and brokenness without losing hope, and when you are happy you can be happy for the right reasons. That's the joy that will bring you strength.
One further note on why the problem of disingenuousness happens at church: it kind of gets to be a vicious cycle. No one wants to be the first person to do anything, so if no one is talking about any real stuff, it's that much harder for anyone to break the trend.
Which segues nicely into the last question: what can we do about this thing?
First, let me say that I'm no expert on this. I'm actually more of an expert on being fake, to be quite honest. All I know is that I deeply desire to be real, and I'm starting to learn what that means. So how can we be the ones to step out and start being real in the one place in all the world where the truth should win out? How can streetlights shine into darkness that has clouded the home of light?
The main thing I can see is that we have to start wanting more of God so desperately that we don't care about our own images. We have to care more about what he thinks of us than what anyone else does. This is what it means for him to be our Lord. His opinion is the final word, and what he says goes, no matter what it makes us look like. If we start believing that, maybe we can be the ones to step out and take the first risk. We can't make anyone else be real, but we can show them they won't die if they try it!
Also, we have to confess and repent of our judgmental spirits. This will allow us to bless other people who are real enough to be honest about their problems instead of comparing our own struggles to theirs to see how we stack up. All judgment is comparison, and all comparison is irrelevant because God's love is infinite. What if ours started looking more like his?
We also have to stop getting the truth backwards. It's not that God is so good that his followers shouldn't have any problems; He's so good because welcomes us in spite of them! He fixes them too, but for whatever reason he hasn't chosen to do it instantaneously in most cases. We have to let him be who he is in this instead of making him into a false image of what we want him to be.
I'm sure there is much more to be said on this topic-- does anyone else have any ideas to share on how we can help? I'll end with one I just thought of, which is actually the most important one: prayer. I want to start asking God to change the problems I see instead of just worrying about them. I want to talk less and pray more.
So-- God, change what you want to change. Make us more like you. Make your body whole. Let us walk in integrity, bravery, and community. Give us real relationships with real people, and let us worship you in Spirit and in truth. Amen.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Stepping In
Disclaimer: this post is not meant to be read while eating. Consider yourself warned.
The more I try to follow Jesus, the more I realize that he is always speaking to us, whether we are listening or not. He can use any means, any situation, and nothing is too plain or ordinary for him. He doesn't have to part the heavens; he'll do whatever it takes to get to us.
I know that because this week he spoke to me through a piece of poop.
No, not like an audible voice or anything. I'll explain. First of all, though, just a brief sidebar: I will be using the G-rated or PG-rated terms for fecal matter throughout this post (poop and crap, respectively), but I wish it to be known that I find neither of them as satisfying as the PG-13/R-rated term for which they are both euphemisms (although there's no denying that poop is an intrinsically funny word). I think it has to do with the idea of onomatopoeia-- when you step in some of said substance, it doesn't sound anything like "poop" or "crap"... but it does sound an awful lot like "Sh....." (at least I think so). Also, the occasional use of real swear words instead of their socially acceptable equivalents can be more helpful (and probably no more or less offensive to God, who sees our hearts) in relieving real frustration such as what I'm about to describe, I've found. But, I really don't want to get into the moral discussion of the proper uses (if any) of profanity. Although, having said all that, it probably can't be helped at this point. ANYway...
To restate my earlier premise, God used some crap to get my attention. I was moving a bunch of stuff into my new apartment, and I had to park my car on the street (I guess 3rd-floor tenants don't get driveway spots). So, I was carrying a big box of random stuff through the treelawn. As you may know, when carrying a big box it is pretty hard to see the ground near your feet.
So yeah, I stepped all up in that stuff (a prime example of a situation where using the real word would be more satisfying). Not one of those glancing blows where you just wipe it off real quick, but one of those where you look down and the whole pile is smashed flat and a large portion is still adhering to and squishing around the side of your shoe. Very frustrating, and not at all what you want to be tracking into your new apartment, especially when to get there you have to walk up a common staircase past two other people's doors whom you'd like to have a cordial relationship with.
Something had to be done, so I left my shoes at the door, took the box up to my place in my socks, and got some paper towels. Unfortunately, I was wearing basketball shoes. As a former shoe salesman, I know that the benefits of this shoe style include superior impact absorption (for jumping), great ankle support, and good traction. Well, the traction part turns into a big disadvantage if you step in some crap, because all those little rubber zigzags make for some pretty impossible crevices to clean with paper towels. So there I was, sitting on my new doorstep, very intently scraping poop out of the treads of my shoe with a tiny stick.
And then God said, "What if you were this diligent about getting rid of the crap that's in your heart?"
At least, that's the best wording I can put to the conviction I felt in my spirit. How often am I content to just leave my sin sticking to me and track it all around my own life and the lives of those around me? It's not big... just like poop isn't real big. It isn't the size that's the problem... it's the content, the dirt, and... the smell.
We're supposed to be the fragrance of Christ in the world, both to believers and those who are still searching, and ultimately as an offering to God himself (see 2 Corinthians 2:14-16). But if we walk without really caring too much or taking time to address the sin stuck in the treads of our lives, even the little/private/thought-life/insert excuse here stuff, I guarantee our aroma will be a much different one.
Even if most of the rest of us is clean, it doesn't take much to change a fragrance. I can pray and worship God and witness all I want, but if I'm self-centered the rest of the time then what do I smell like? I'll leave you to fill in that blank. By the way, another sidebar I don't want to get into now: this same principle may well be why the church is often not respected by our culture. We can do all kinds of good things, but it doesn't take many people like those idiots who protest at funerals and such to change the aroma of all of us...just a thought.
Back to my other idea, though. The verse that God initially brought to my mind through all of this was a different one from 2 Corinthians-- the part where it talks about their reaction to the correction Paul had brought them in his other letter (7:8-11):
"Even if I caused you sorrow by my letter, I do not regret it. Though I did regret it--I see that my letter hurt you, but only for a little while--yet now I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance. For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us. Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done. At every point you have proved yourselves to be innocent in this matter."
See, we don't need to dwell painfully on our sin forever, but to bring it to God. God's conviction brings earnestness, eagerness to clear ourselves, indignation, alarm, longing, concern, and readiness for justice-- all of which are exactly what I felt when I stepped in that crap, by the way. I was diligent, eager to clean it off, angry, alarmed, concerned, and ready to see justice done to the perpetrator! (I believe I prayed something to the effect that the owner of that dog would have to watch it get run over, actually. I'm not saying this was part of the godly sorrow, just that it seemed like justice at the time. It probably isn't.)
The bigger question, though, is why my stepping into sin doesn't have this same effect on me. Why do I seem so unconcerned about the uncleanness and the aroma? Why don't I have that same earnestness to be clean? I have one idea-- come back with me to my story for a moment.
The reason I was at the apartment in the first place on this day before moving in was to meet the gas man and let him in so he could turn the gas on. He was (not surprisingly) late, but it turned out to be good because I had just finished my lengthy cleaning process and gotten all the stuff up into my place. He arrived just as I was coming down to my car with a couple bags I was going to fill with more stuff to move on a future trip. "Go on in," I said, "it's open... I just have to drop these in my car real quick." So I was hurrying back to my car, only thinking about getting back into the house to show him where to go. You see where this is heading?
Yup. I stepped in it again. The exact same place. It wasn't quite as bad this time, but only because it was already completely flat from the first time. What I said at this point I will not even paraphrase. My point is, though, that I felt a lot less desire to clean it off right away, having just gone through that whole process.
I think it gets harder to deal with our sin seriously because we keep coming back to it. We step in it again, sometimes within hours or minutes of getting clean, and we'd just rather hide it than go through the painstaking process of actually cleaning it out and the additional shame of not being able to avoid the exact same mistake we already made. The ancient philosopher Heraclitus famously said "You could not step twice into the same river," the idea being that the water flows on and is different when you come back. But you can step into the same crap as many times as you choose to, or as many times as you forget where it is or don't pay attention.
That's why it's so important to have godly sorrow, the kind that brings earnestness and repentance and leaves no regret. Each time we come before God with our sin is no different than the first time. His love for us is the same, no matter how many times we fall, and only He can clean us to the point where we convey the aroma of Christ and give us awareness of how to stay out of the crap next time.
So anyway, I did clean off my shoes again, and it was while doing so that I felt like God told me that second part. The instrument He used to reveal all this to me was perhaps the most unglamorous one possible, and then just in case I forgot he used that same piece of s**t (couldn't resist any longer) again. He is always speaking. Will I listen? He has much better things for me to step into. :)
The more I try to follow Jesus, the more I realize that he is always speaking to us, whether we are listening or not. He can use any means, any situation, and nothing is too plain or ordinary for him. He doesn't have to part the heavens; he'll do whatever it takes to get to us.
I know that because this week he spoke to me through a piece of poop.
No, not like an audible voice or anything. I'll explain. First of all, though, just a brief sidebar: I will be using the G-rated or PG-rated terms for fecal matter throughout this post (poop and crap, respectively), but I wish it to be known that I find neither of them as satisfying as the PG-13/R-rated term for which they are both euphemisms (although there's no denying that poop is an intrinsically funny word). I think it has to do with the idea of onomatopoeia-- when you step in some of said substance, it doesn't sound anything like "poop" or "crap"... but it does sound an awful lot like "Sh....." (at least I think so). Also, the occasional use of real swear words instead of their socially acceptable equivalents can be more helpful (and probably no more or less offensive to God, who sees our hearts) in relieving real frustration such as what I'm about to describe, I've found. But, I really don't want to get into the moral discussion of the proper uses (if any) of profanity. Although, having said all that, it probably can't be helped at this point. ANYway...
To restate my earlier premise, God used some crap to get my attention. I was moving a bunch of stuff into my new apartment, and I had to park my car on the street (I guess 3rd-floor tenants don't get driveway spots). So, I was carrying a big box of random stuff through the treelawn. As you may know, when carrying a big box it is pretty hard to see the ground near your feet.
So yeah, I stepped all up in that stuff (a prime example of a situation where using the real word would be more satisfying). Not one of those glancing blows where you just wipe it off real quick, but one of those where you look down and the whole pile is smashed flat and a large portion is still adhering to and squishing around the side of your shoe. Very frustrating, and not at all what you want to be tracking into your new apartment, especially when to get there you have to walk up a common staircase past two other people's doors whom you'd like to have a cordial relationship with.
Something had to be done, so I left my shoes at the door, took the box up to my place in my socks, and got some paper towels. Unfortunately, I was wearing basketball shoes. As a former shoe salesman, I know that the benefits of this shoe style include superior impact absorption (for jumping), great ankle support, and good traction. Well, the traction part turns into a big disadvantage if you step in some crap, because all those little rubber zigzags make for some pretty impossible crevices to clean with paper towels. So there I was, sitting on my new doorstep, very intently scraping poop out of the treads of my shoe with a tiny stick.
And then God said, "What if you were this diligent about getting rid of the crap that's in your heart?"
At least, that's the best wording I can put to the conviction I felt in my spirit. How often am I content to just leave my sin sticking to me and track it all around my own life and the lives of those around me? It's not big... just like poop isn't real big. It isn't the size that's the problem... it's the content, the dirt, and... the smell.
We're supposed to be the fragrance of Christ in the world, both to believers and those who are still searching, and ultimately as an offering to God himself (see 2 Corinthians 2:14-16). But if we walk without really caring too much or taking time to address the sin stuck in the treads of our lives, even the little/private/thought-life/insert excuse here stuff, I guarantee our aroma will be a much different one.
Even if most of the rest of us is clean, it doesn't take much to change a fragrance. I can pray and worship God and witness all I want, but if I'm self-centered the rest of the time then what do I smell like? I'll leave you to fill in that blank. By the way, another sidebar I don't want to get into now: this same principle may well be why the church is often not respected by our culture. We can do all kinds of good things, but it doesn't take many people like those idiots who protest at funerals and such to change the aroma of all of us...just a thought.
Back to my other idea, though. The verse that God initially brought to my mind through all of this was a different one from 2 Corinthians-- the part where it talks about their reaction to the correction Paul had brought them in his other letter (7:8-11):
"Even if I caused you sorrow by my letter, I do not regret it. Though I did regret it--I see that my letter hurt you, but only for a little while--yet now I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance. For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us. Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done. At every point you have proved yourselves to be innocent in this matter."
See, we don't need to dwell painfully on our sin forever, but to bring it to God. God's conviction brings earnestness, eagerness to clear ourselves, indignation, alarm, longing, concern, and readiness for justice-- all of which are exactly what I felt when I stepped in that crap, by the way. I was diligent, eager to clean it off, angry, alarmed, concerned, and ready to see justice done to the perpetrator! (I believe I prayed something to the effect that the owner of that dog would have to watch it get run over, actually. I'm not saying this was part of the godly sorrow, just that it seemed like justice at the time. It probably isn't.)
The bigger question, though, is why my stepping into sin doesn't have this same effect on me. Why do I seem so unconcerned about the uncleanness and the aroma? Why don't I have that same earnestness to be clean? I have one idea-- come back with me to my story for a moment.
The reason I was at the apartment in the first place on this day before moving in was to meet the gas man and let him in so he could turn the gas on. He was (not surprisingly) late, but it turned out to be good because I had just finished my lengthy cleaning process and gotten all the stuff up into my place. He arrived just as I was coming down to my car with a couple bags I was going to fill with more stuff to move on a future trip. "Go on in," I said, "it's open... I just have to drop these in my car real quick." So I was hurrying back to my car, only thinking about getting back into the house to show him where to go. You see where this is heading?
Yup. I stepped in it again. The exact same place. It wasn't quite as bad this time, but only because it was already completely flat from the first time. What I said at this point I will not even paraphrase. My point is, though, that I felt a lot less desire to clean it off right away, having just gone through that whole process.
I think it gets harder to deal with our sin seriously because we keep coming back to it. We step in it again, sometimes within hours or minutes of getting clean, and we'd just rather hide it than go through the painstaking process of actually cleaning it out and the additional shame of not being able to avoid the exact same mistake we already made. The ancient philosopher Heraclitus famously said "You could not step twice into the same river," the idea being that the water flows on and is different when you come back. But you can step into the same crap as many times as you choose to, or as many times as you forget where it is or don't pay attention.
That's why it's so important to have godly sorrow, the kind that brings earnestness and repentance and leaves no regret. Each time we come before God with our sin is no different than the first time. His love for us is the same, no matter how many times we fall, and only He can clean us to the point where we convey the aroma of Christ and give us awareness of how to stay out of the crap next time.
So anyway, I did clean off my shoes again, and it was while doing so that I felt like God told me that second part. The instrument He used to reveal all this to me was perhaps the most unglamorous one possible, and then just in case I forgot he used that same piece of s**t (couldn't resist any longer) again. He is always speaking. Will I listen? He has much better things for me to step into. :)
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Saying no...
I suppose I probably should have seen this coming.
What, you may ask? Well, of course ever since I posted about saying yes to God, I've been much more conscious of all the ways I say no to him. I'm actually realizing, much to my chagrin, that between outright saying no and just not listening at all, I don't really say yes to God nearly as much as my previous post might have made it seem like. I mean, I even boiled the whole process of life down to a few simple steps in that post... and then I found out I'm bad at doing them.
I guess this is just my personal disclaimer then. I didn't ever mean to suggest that I have life under control, but it turns out that's kind of what I was actually thinking after all. If that sounds prideful... it is. Nice thing is, if you just get something like that out in the open, then God can do something with it. What he likes to do is humbling and often painful, but that's really what progress looks like, I think.
So, I was thinking that I should amend my five-step plan to include a part where we confess and ask for repentance for all the ways we say no. Then I was thinking, not many of us are actually bold enough to say no outright to God (although I have done that, and I don't recommend it). Mostly we just don't ask/listen/pay attention to him. For those of us who know that he actually speaks, this is a little bit like a kid plugging his ears and yelling lalalalala to not hear what his parents are saying. He can try the excuse that he didn't hear, but that doesn't usually get far (note that this is a purely hypothetical kid of course, not based on personal experience at all).
The only difference between us and that kid is we've developed more sophisticated ways of plugging our ears and yelling, so to speak. Last time I mentioned YouTube and its noise-making, distracting brethren on the web and tv. Sometimes it can even be healthy things, like working hard, or even personal relationships. Mostly, however we do it, we say no to God by trying to avoid the silence (physical and spiritual) in which we know he speaks.
What I'm finding is that no matter how well I think I'm doing with this stuff, I'm still much more of a mixed bag of good and bad than I wish I was. I suspect the same is true for you, if you're honest. Even in this, though, we have hope:
Our hope is that God pursues us.
Even when we are running away (or toward any other thing, which is the same), he comes after us. He doesn't mind the whole mixed bag thing so much; it's really his only option for people to work with. Check out the story of Elijah in 1 Kings 19, for example! Elijah just had pretty much the most amazing mountaintop experience (literally) possible in the chapter before, and in chapter 19 he freaks out and runs away. He also asks God to kill him rather than making him keep working! Keep in mind this is the same guy that was eventually found worthy to skip the whole death thing and get carried into heaven on a chariot made of fire as well. Was he perfect? No. But God pursued him... and he spoke to him in the silence (1 Kings 19:12). I know the NIV says gentle whisper, but the literal translation is "thin silence." That phrase inspired a poem for me that reflects my desire to listen and respond to the Lord, and I'll finish with that:
Elijah's Prayer
let me be found
in the thin silence
listening
let my voice
surrender and stay
quietly
for you
let my heart
be wholly at home
to whisper
resting on you
let me be lost
Amen
What, you may ask? Well, of course ever since I posted about saying yes to God, I've been much more conscious of all the ways I say no to him. I'm actually realizing, much to my chagrin, that between outright saying no and just not listening at all, I don't really say yes to God nearly as much as my previous post might have made it seem like. I mean, I even boiled the whole process of life down to a few simple steps in that post... and then I found out I'm bad at doing them.
I guess this is just my personal disclaimer then. I didn't ever mean to suggest that I have life under control, but it turns out that's kind of what I was actually thinking after all. If that sounds prideful... it is. Nice thing is, if you just get something like that out in the open, then God can do something with it. What he likes to do is humbling and often painful, but that's really what progress looks like, I think.
So, I was thinking that I should amend my five-step plan to include a part where we confess and ask for repentance for all the ways we say no. Then I was thinking, not many of us are actually bold enough to say no outright to God (although I have done that, and I don't recommend it). Mostly we just don't ask/listen/pay attention to him. For those of us who know that he actually speaks, this is a little bit like a kid plugging his ears and yelling lalalalala to not hear what his parents are saying. He can try the excuse that he didn't hear, but that doesn't usually get far (note that this is a purely hypothetical kid of course, not based on personal experience at all).
The only difference between us and that kid is we've developed more sophisticated ways of plugging our ears and yelling, so to speak. Last time I mentioned YouTube and its noise-making, distracting brethren on the web and tv. Sometimes it can even be healthy things, like working hard, or even personal relationships. Mostly, however we do it, we say no to God by trying to avoid the silence (physical and spiritual) in which we know he speaks.
What I'm finding is that no matter how well I think I'm doing with this stuff, I'm still much more of a mixed bag of good and bad than I wish I was. I suspect the same is true for you, if you're honest. Even in this, though, we have hope:
Our hope is that God pursues us.
Even when we are running away (or toward any other thing, which is the same), he comes after us. He doesn't mind the whole mixed bag thing so much; it's really his only option for people to work with. Check out the story of Elijah in 1 Kings 19, for example! Elijah just had pretty much the most amazing mountaintop experience (literally) possible in the chapter before, and in chapter 19 he freaks out and runs away. He also asks God to kill him rather than making him keep working! Keep in mind this is the same guy that was eventually found worthy to skip the whole death thing and get carried into heaven on a chariot made of fire as well. Was he perfect? No. But God pursued him... and he spoke to him in the silence (1 Kings 19:12). I know the NIV says gentle whisper, but the literal translation is "thin silence." That phrase inspired a poem for me that reflects my desire to listen and respond to the Lord, and I'll finish with that:
Elijah's Prayer
let me be found
in the thin silence
listening
let my voice
surrender and stay
quietly
for you
let my heart
be wholly at home
to whisper
resting on you
let me be lost
Amen
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Memento Mori
The title of this post is a Latin phrase. It may not at first seem like a very uplifting one-- it means "Remember you will die."
This phrase has been a motto of the Christian faith throughout its history. Does it sound morbid to you? It did to me at first... but as I've been thinking about it more I think it's one of the most important thoughts that has ever been expressed.
And believe it or not, it's in the Bible. Ecclesiastes 7:2 says "It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart."
Yeah, houses of mourning are pretty much our favorite places to be, right? I was trying to think about what these places would be today, and what came to mind was funeral homes. How do you feel when you go to a funeral? I know I just want to get out of there as soon as possible most times. If there's a choice between a funeral and a feast, I know which one I'd normally choose.
But Solomon is challenging us with something here, challenging us to deal with the real issues of this messed up world we find ourselves in. When we're partying, we often don't have to deal with any of this-- it's like the food and drink and entertainment are specifically designed to keep us from having to think. Actually it's not like that, it IS that in many cases. As Solomon points out elsewhere in his book, this isn't always a bad thing-- too much thinking can be just as bad as not enough. The lesson of the funeral, however, is said to have more lasting value.
What's the lesson? Essentially, it's that we are all going to die. And we don't know when-- could be tomorrow, could be fifty years from now. As Francis Chan said in his (excellent and highly challenging) book, Crazy Love, "You might not finish this chapter." Or this blog. Comforting, right?
Actually, I think it is. Here's why: something happens when we die. You might be thinking, "we go to Heaven!" and yeah, that's obviously what we're shooting for. (Remembering to live in the light of our future hope in heaven is really important too, but that's really a whole different post. I'm just talking about death here. Let's keep it focused on death.)
See, while our spirits are going to meet Jesus and face the last judgment, something is happening here on earth too. The best way I can describe it is that things are ceasing to matter. Think about it-- when you die, do you think anyone will care at all what clothes you wore, what job you had, how much money you made at it, or where you lived? I doubt it-- they'll care about who you were, not what you did. So all those other things will entirely cease to matter because the only person who ever really cared about them will have just left the premises.
Remembering that we will die just puts in perspective the things that are really important. Did we live life striving to become more like Jesus and to bless those around us, both our Christian family and the lost around us? Or were we too selfish? As I've been thinking about this for myself, I've realized that a lot of the things I'm focused on are so dramatically self-centered that they completely lack importance.
Remembering that we might die soon provides the impetus we need to do something about this self-centeredness. There really isn't time to deal with our own priorities and then move on to what God cares about and what will bless others. We have to do the important things NOW. I know I don't want to scrape my way into Heaven like someone escaping through the flames (see 1 Corinthians 3:11-16). I want to devote my time to things that will last.
Now, obviously this mindset could lead us into frenzied panic: we have to know right now what God wants and do all of it right away with no breaks because we could die any minute! But that isn't really the point. I'm convinced that almost anything can have eternal value... if it's offered to the Lord. We become more like him in our everyday work if we do it for him, in our resting if we rest in him, in our worship if our hearts are really inviting him. We also bless our community by working, our friends and family by resting and recharging, and our God and church family by worshipping with all our hearts and inspiring others.
"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God" --1 Corinthians 10:31
The coolest thing that's been happening in my life recently is that I've started seeing how God desires to meet me and grow me up in all these different situations. I feel a lot of times like my thoughts and feelings are all over the map, but God pursues me in all of them. All of these things then become windows into his love and ways to become more like him. As I offer them to him, some he takes away, some he gives back, and some are multiplied several times over! But all of it matters-- yet only to the extent that it stops being about me and starts being about God's plan being worked out in my life and in the lives of those he has placed around me.
So, I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, but I have to remember that I will die. I just don't want to waste my time alive on cares that will perish with me. My life will have impact on the future only as I care about the things the eternal God has always cared about: the rescue and restoration, salvation and sanctification, of broken souls in a fallen world. As I learn to live like this, I can be free from the stress of all my own plans and worries (which, incidentally, I don't have power to do anything about because God isn't terribly concerned about them) and begin to walk in the freedom that comes when you're working for the plans of the One who has the power.
And all that just from remembering that one unspecified day, I'll die. Not so bad, is it?
Memento mori.
This phrase has been a motto of the Christian faith throughout its history. Does it sound morbid to you? It did to me at first... but as I've been thinking about it more I think it's one of the most important thoughts that has ever been expressed.
And believe it or not, it's in the Bible. Ecclesiastes 7:2 says "It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart."
Yeah, houses of mourning are pretty much our favorite places to be, right? I was trying to think about what these places would be today, and what came to mind was funeral homes. How do you feel when you go to a funeral? I know I just want to get out of there as soon as possible most times. If there's a choice between a funeral and a feast, I know which one I'd normally choose.
But Solomon is challenging us with something here, challenging us to deal with the real issues of this messed up world we find ourselves in. When we're partying, we often don't have to deal with any of this-- it's like the food and drink and entertainment are specifically designed to keep us from having to think. Actually it's not like that, it IS that in many cases. As Solomon points out elsewhere in his book, this isn't always a bad thing-- too much thinking can be just as bad as not enough. The lesson of the funeral, however, is said to have more lasting value.
What's the lesson? Essentially, it's that we are all going to die. And we don't know when-- could be tomorrow, could be fifty years from now. As Francis Chan said in his (excellent and highly challenging) book, Crazy Love, "You might not finish this chapter." Or this blog. Comforting, right?
Actually, I think it is. Here's why: something happens when we die. You might be thinking, "we go to Heaven!" and yeah, that's obviously what we're shooting for. (Remembering to live in the light of our future hope in heaven is really important too, but that's really a whole different post. I'm just talking about death here. Let's keep it focused on death.)
See, while our spirits are going to meet Jesus and face the last judgment, something is happening here on earth too. The best way I can describe it is that things are ceasing to matter. Think about it-- when you die, do you think anyone will care at all what clothes you wore, what job you had, how much money you made at it, or where you lived? I doubt it-- they'll care about who you were, not what you did. So all those other things will entirely cease to matter because the only person who ever really cared about them will have just left the premises.
Remembering that we will die just puts in perspective the things that are really important. Did we live life striving to become more like Jesus and to bless those around us, both our Christian family and the lost around us? Or were we too selfish? As I've been thinking about this for myself, I've realized that a lot of the things I'm focused on are so dramatically self-centered that they completely lack importance.
Remembering that we might die soon provides the impetus we need to do something about this self-centeredness. There really isn't time to deal with our own priorities and then move on to what God cares about and what will bless others. We have to do the important things NOW. I know I don't want to scrape my way into Heaven like someone escaping through the flames (see 1 Corinthians 3:11-16). I want to devote my time to things that will last.
Now, obviously this mindset could lead us into frenzied panic: we have to know right now what God wants and do all of it right away with no breaks because we could die any minute! But that isn't really the point. I'm convinced that almost anything can have eternal value... if it's offered to the Lord. We become more like him in our everyday work if we do it for him, in our resting if we rest in him, in our worship if our hearts are really inviting him. We also bless our community by working, our friends and family by resting and recharging, and our God and church family by worshipping with all our hearts and inspiring others.
"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God" --1 Corinthians 10:31
The coolest thing that's been happening in my life recently is that I've started seeing how God desires to meet me and grow me up in all these different situations. I feel a lot of times like my thoughts and feelings are all over the map, but God pursues me in all of them. All of these things then become windows into his love and ways to become more like him. As I offer them to him, some he takes away, some he gives back, and some are multiplied several times over! But all of it matters-- yet only to the extent that it stops being about me and starts being about God's plan being worked out in my life and in the lives of those he has placed around me.
So, I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, but I have to remember that I will die. I just don't want to waste my time alive on cares that will perish with me. My life will have impact on the future only as I care about the things the eternal God has always cared about: the rescue and restoration, salvation and sanctification, of broken souls in a fallen world. As I learn to live like this, I can be free from the stress of all my own plans and worries (which, incidentally, I don't have power to do anything about because God isn't terribly concerned about them) and begin to walk in the freedom that comes when you're working for the plans of the One who has the power.
And all that just from remembering that one unspecified day, I'll die. Not so bad, is it?
Memento mori.
Monday, February 28, 2011
What and When
I am in a season right now where I am more aware than ever of my need for God's guidance. I have a lot of decisions to make and things to think about, more than it seems I ever have. Maybe becoming a man just brings that stuff with it, and maybe I should have been feeling like this a year or two ago while I was determinedly avoiding decisions and (to be honest) real life. Whatever the case, anything that reminds you of your dependence on God can't be too bad of a thing; it's just that the uncertainty can be unpleasant.
I don't feel afraid about it all, though... not really. This past year has been a year of immense change and I know God has guided me through it all. As I approach another birthday, I feel like the coming year is going to be much the same in that respect. The hard thing about change, though, is that while you can sometimes see it coming, it's pretty much impossible to tell what it's going to be.
Really, I think that's where we get in trouble a lot in life: trying to decide what changes will come to our lives before they happen. Even worse, sometimes we try to tell God what changes he should be making and when they should be happening. I know I had a whole plan for my life when I was 18-- according to that plan, by this present time in my life I was supposed to be a full-time pastor happily married to the woman of my dreams and thinking about when and how many kids to have. Thankfully, God knew I wasn't even close to ready for any of that.
Funny thing is, a lot of that horribly mistaken adolescent vision was based on things that I really do feel like God wants me to do. My heart is to minister to people, to be married someday, and to be a good father. I feel like these desires come from God and even honor him. What God has been showing me recently, though, is that just because he has spoken something, doesn't mean it has to happen right NOW.
I've seen a lot of people bring themselves pain like this-- God gives them a vision for something, and then they get ahead of the plan and wear themselves out trying to make it happen, only to end up questioning God when the plan fails. My question is, whose plan was it? We (I include myself here) have an alarming tendency to grab the plans out of God's hands and make them our own. God should fulfill this vision this way, and (usually) right NOW.
The Bible paints a very different picture of how God fulfills his plans, even once he has revealed them to us. The lives of Joseph, Paul, Abraham, David, and many others reveal that God doesn't always do things right NOW. After God revealed some of his plans to those honored individuals, they ended up being imprisoned for years, preaching on the backside of nowhere, wandering about in foreign lands, or being chased by the very king they had been anointed to replace, for example. And Jesus, who clearly knew that God was his father at age 12 (see Luke 2:49), had eighteen more years to wait before he began his ministry!
But who would have followed a 12 year-old rabbi?
It just wouldn't work. My point, I guess, is that any attempt at carrying out God's plans before their time is just as ludicrous.
As for those people I mentioned, all they kept on doing was the next right thing. Joseph never lost faith in prison and served with distinction no matter where he found himself. Paul just kept on preaching the truth. Abraham was even willing to sacrifice the son of the promise if it meant following God's commands. Maybe part of David being a man after God's heart was the way he knew that God had anointed him king in Saul's place but continued to serve him and refused to kill him even when he had the chance (twice!). He was waiting for God to do what he said he would, and he refused to take it into his own hands.
As for Jesus, he just continued to grow. That's pretty incredible, considering he was God in the flesh.
Now, none of that is to say that we should just passively wait for things to happen. All those men walked in great purpose and initiative when the time was right. It's just to say that finding out what God wants to do is worthless if we won't wait on his timing to make it happen. We also have to keep growing in the meantime.
So that's where I find myself. I know God wants to do some things. I'm just trying to find out what they are and, just as importantly, when they are. The constant battle of life is to let God's plan be the one I follow. This plan is not just destination, but timing and method as well. God's revelation, no matter what it is, awaits its appointed time to be fulfilled (see Habakkuk 2:3), because God fulfills it--not us. Jesus knew that it was his Father who was the one doing the moving. I want to know what the Father is doing, and then (and only then) join in doing that thing myself. That's how God's will is done.
And if we'd all do that... that's how his kingdom will come on earth as it is in heaven.
I don't feel afraid about it all, though... not really. This past year has been a year of immense change and I know God has guided me through it all. As I approach another birthday, I feel like the coming year is going to be much the same in that respect. The hard thing about change, though, is that while you can sometimes see it coming, it's pretty much impossible to tell what it's going to be.
Really, I think that's where we get in trouble a lot in life: trying to decide what changes will come to our lives before they happen. Even worse, sometimes we try to tell God what changes he should be making and when they should be happening. I know I had a whole plan for my life when I was 18-- according to that plan, by this present time in my life I was supposed to be a full-time pastor happily married to the woman of my dreams and thinking about when and how many kids to have. Thankfully, God knew I wasn't even close to ready for any of that.
Funny thing is, a lot of that horribly mistaken adolescent vision was based on things that I really do feel like God wants me to do. My heart is to minister to people, to be married someday, and to be a good father. I feel like these desires come from God and even honor him. What God has been showing me recently, though, is that just because he has spoken something, doesn't mean it has to happen right NOW.
I've seen a lot of people bring themselves pain like this-- God gives them a vision for something, and then they get ahead of the plan and wear themselves out trying to make it happen, only to end up questioning God when the plan fails. My question is, whose plan was it? We (I include myself here) have an alarming tendency to grab the plans out of God's hands and make them our own. God should fulfill this vision this way, and (usually) right NOW.
The Bible paints a very different picture of how God fulfills his plans, even once he has revealed them to us. The lives of Joseph, Paul, Abraham, David, and many others reveal that God doesn't always do things right NOW. After God revealed some of his plans to those honored individuals, they ended up being imprisoned for years, preaching on the backside of nowhere, wandering about in foreign lands, or being chased by the very king they had been anointed to replace, for example. And Jesus, who clearly knew that God was his father at age 12 (see Luke 2:49), had eighteen more years to wait before he began his ministry!
But who would have followed a 12 year-old rabbi?
It just wouldn't work. My point, I guess, is that any attempt at carrying out God's plans before their time is just as ludicrous.
As for those people I mentioned, all they kept on doing was the next right thing. Joseph never lost faith in prison and served with distinction no matter where he found himself. Paul just kept on preaching the truth. Abraham was even willing to sacrifice the son of the promise if it meant following God's commands. Maybe part of David being a man after God's heart was the way he knew that God had anointed him king in Saul's place but continued to serve him and refused to kill him even when he had the chance (twice!). He was waiting for God to do what he said he would, and he refused to take it into his own hands.
As for Jesus, he just continued to grow. That's pretty incredible, considering he was God in the flesh.
Now, none of that is to say that we should just passively wait for things to happen. All those men walked in great purpose and initiative when the time was right. It's just to say that finding out what God wants to do is worthless if we won't wait on his timing to make it happen. We also have to keep growing in the meantime.
So that's where I find myself. I know God wants to do some things. I'm just trying to find out what they are and, just as importantly, when they are. The constant battle of life is to let God's plan be the one I follow. This plan is not just destination, but timing and method as well. God's revelation, no matter what it is, awaits its appointed time to be fulfilled (see Habakkuk 2:3), because God fulfills it--not us. Jesus knew that it was his Father who was the one doing the moving. I want to know what the Father is doing, and then (and only then) join in doing that thing myself. That's how God's will is done.
And if we'd all do that... that's how his kingdom will come on earth as it is in heaven.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Moving
As I mentioned last time, this is a season of many new things for me as I move out of my parents' house for the first (and hopefully only) time. Well, it really did (after some unforeseen delays) happen, and the dust is just now beginning to settle a bit. There are countless things that could be said about this whole process and all it entails, so I really can't let it go by without blogging about it at least once. Besides, it's really the main thing that's been happening in my life and my heart recently, so I can't imagine writing about anything else right now anyway. What follows is a sampling of my thoughts from the past few weeks. If it seems a bit random or chaotic, then it mirrors exactly the process of moving in general, at least to me.
This may seem self-evident, but one of the biggest things about moving is all the movement it causes. It sometimes seems like everything is constantly in motion. I think this is one of the best reasons to do it every so often, especially for people like me. Sometimes I can just get very stationary in life, not doing much or making much progress in any direction. Moving does not allow for that option. I feel like I've learned so many things and in so doing gotten out of my own little world and into the real world at large to a much greater extent. It's a wonderful, beautiful place to explore-- it makes me feel small, and that's a good thing. It breaks the illusion that I am a big deal in a small world that I orchestrate to orbit myself. Instead, I'm just a little man in a huge world that revolves around God's never-failing plan. And that, my friends, is a comforting thought.
Another big thing that moves when you move is emotion. It's a good thing that God started helping me learn to deal with my emotions before I started this process, because I had no idea that I could feel so many wildly different things in such a short space of time. I have felt overwhelmed, exhilarated, afraid, happy, sad, peaceful, lonely, joyful, confident and any number of other things that I don't know how to name, sometimes all at once or in rapid-fire succession, sometimes at longer stretches. I say stretches because that what it's doing to me in a big way-- it forces me to go to God, feel what I'm feeling, and bring it to him for help. The only other option would be implosion, I think. Another good reason for moving: anything that brings our constant desperate need for God into such sharp focus has to be a good thing. He always comes through when he has to, and being closer to him is the end goal of life anyway...
Moving has really highlighted the value of relationships for me as well. The people I care about mean more to me than ever now that I have my own house to welcome them into. That being said, if I just stay in my house and retreat into myself, those relationships will suffer-- they need investment and time. I mean, it helps if you have a wonderful, like-minded brother to move in with you, but even (or especially?) that kind of relationship is not self-sustaining. It needs care and time to achieve the constant growth necessary for health... but it's worth it. I would argue that relationship (i.e. friendship, love, community and real connection) is one of the biggest things worth striving for in all the world. If you count relationship with God, then it definitely IS the most important.
And of course, moving teaches many more mundane or practical lessons as well. For example, it is a better idea to wait for your roommate to help you move large furniture up two flights of stairs than to do it yourself because you just want to be finished with the task. Similarly, it is a good idea to bring a quarter to Aldi when you go there and get a cart, rather than trying to hold your whole trip in one big box that was lying around. On a related note, Marc's doesn't take Visa cards (or any other kind except Discover, it turns out). What?!?! Who knew? And who knew how expensive most of the things I really like to eat are? And who knew that garbage disposal and recycling require a six-page manual? Paying bills, repairing locks, cooking food... man, I'm starting to feel like a freaking adult.
And it's all exactly where I'm supposed to be.
This may seem self-evident, but one of the biggest things about moving is all the movement it causes. It sometimes seems like everything is constantly in motion. I think this is one of the best reasons to do it every so often, especially for people like me. Sometimes I can just get very stationary in life, not doing much or making much progress in any direction. Moving does not allow for that option. I feel like I've learned so many things and in so doing gotten out of my own little world and into the real world at large to a much greater extent. It's a wonderful, beautiful place to explore-- it makes me feel small, and that's a good thing. It breaks the illusion that I am a big deal in a small world that I orchestrate to orbit myself. Instead, I'm just a little man in a huge world that revolves around God's never-failing plan. And that, my friends, is a comforting thought.
Another big thing that moves when you move is emotion. It's a good thing that God started helping me learn to deal with my emotions before I started this process, because I had no idea that I could feel so many wildly different things in such a short space of time. I have felt overwhelmed, exhilarated, afraid, happy, sad, peaceful, lonely, joyful, confident and any number of other things that I don't know how to name, sometimes all at once or in rapid-fire succession, sometimes at longer stretches. I say stretches because that what it's doing to me in a big way-- it forces me to go to God, feel what I'm feeling, and bring it to him for help. The only other option would be implosion, I think. Another good reason for moving: anything that brings our constant desperate need for God into such sharp focus has to be a good thing. He always comes through when he has to, and being closer to him is the end goal of life anyway...
Moving has really highlighted the value of relationships for me as well. The people I care about mean more to me than ever now that I have my own house to welcome them into. That being said, if I just stay in my house and retreat into myself, those relationships will suffer-- they need investment and time. I mean, it helps if you have a wonderful, like-minded brother to move in with you, but even (or especially?) that kind of relationship is not self-sustaining. It needs care and time to achieve the constant growth necessary for health... but it's worth it. I would argue that relationship (i.e. friendship, love, community and real connection) is one of the biggest things worth striving for in all the world. If you count relationship with God, then it definitely IS the most important.
And of course, moving teaches many more mundane or practical lessons as well. For example, it is a better idea to wait for your roommate to help you move large furniture up two flights of stairs than to do it yourself because you just want to be finished with the task. Similarly, it is a good idea to bring a quarter to Aldi when you go there and get a cart, rather than trying to hold your whole trip in one big box that was lying around. On a related note, Marc's doesn't take Visa cards (or any other kind except Discover, it turns out). What?!?! Who knew? And who knew how expensive most of the things I really like to eat are? And who knew that garbage disposal and recycling require a six-page manual? Paying bills, repairing locks, cooking food... man, I'm starting to feel like a freaking adult.
And it's all exactly where I'm supposed to be.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
A New Street
When I started this blog, I noted that in some ways it was a chronicle of my journey into the "real world," as far as I understood that at the time. The first entry was over a year ago now, written the day after I turned in my last paper and shut the door on college. The journey continues to be a long and strange one, and although I'm still not sure I know what the real world is, I believe I'm taking the next step towards it. Tomorrow begins the one year lease of my first apartment, my first time out from under my parents' roof.
I have lived in this house where I sit right now for 19 1/2 years, which is a pretty high percentage of a life of only 23 1/2. There are memories in every corner of it; in some ways it will always be home. It's time, though, and it's been time for a while now, for me to move on. I think it will be a spiritual change just as much if not more than a physical one.
It's funny, because for a long time I've thought of autumn as a time of new beginnings. I know everything is dying and falling and such, but it seems to me that new things are always beginning in this time. Maybe it's just that every school year offers the elusive possibility of a fresh start, but even now that I don't have that on my plate, things still feel new around the fall.
I have no idea what God wants to do in me in this season, but I want all of it. He's giving me a new road to walk down, and I don't want to miss any of it by taking unnecessary detours. I love my parents, and I'm blessed to know that I'll always have a place to return to if I need it. But for now, God is sending me to be a light on a new street. I look forward to writing again from there! For now, I'll end with a poem I wrote a long, long time ago that somehow feels very fresh and new to me right now. Things always cycle like that, I'm finding. Out of death comes new life; out of old things, new things are born. And fall doesn't really begin until you drink apple cider around a fire :)
Deeper
Floating in the same wind that brings
impending autumn, surrender
and freedom awaken together.
With hayrides and first
days of school
comes the dream that this fall
could be different,
the restless replaced
by anticipation,
a promise beating back
the patterns circling
viciously around—
a fall deeper, into one
transcending the changing seasons,
more faithful than the turning
leaves, who bears me in
their opposite direction,
resting in pursuit
and drinking apple cider
by the fire.
I have lived in this house where I sit right now for 19 1/2 years, which is a pretty high percentage of a life of only 23 1/2. There are memories in every corner of it; in some ways it will always be home. It's time, though, and it's been time for a while now, for me to move on. I think it will be a spiritual change just as much if not more than a physical one.
It's funny, because for a long time I've thought of autumn as a time of new beginnings. I know everything is dying and falling and such, but it seems to me that new things are always beginning in this time. Maybe it's just that every school year offers the elusive possibility of a fresh start, but even now that I don't have that on my plate, things still feel new around the fall.
I have no idea what God wants to do in me in this season, but I want all of it. He's giving me a new road to walk down, and I don't want to miss any of it by taking unnecessary detours. I love my parents, and I'm blessed to know that I'll always have a place to return to if I need it. But for now, God is sending me to be a light on a new street. I look forward to writing again from there! For now, I'll end with a poem I wrote a long, long time ago that somehow feels very fresh and new to me right now. Things always cycle like that, I'm finding. Out of death comes new life; out of old things, new things are born. And fall doesn't really begin until you drink apple cider around a fire :)
Deeper
Floating in the same wind that brings
impending autumn, surrender
and freedom awaken together.
With hayrides and first
days of school
comes the dream that this fall
could be different,
the restless replaced
by anticipation,
a promise beating back
the patterns circling
viciously around—
a fall deeper, into one
transcending the changing seasons,
more faithful than the turning
leaves, who bears me in
their opposite direction,
resting in pursuit
and drinking apple cider
by the fire.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Devotion
There's an old saying that goes, "Don't put all your eggs in the same basket." This is commonly regarded as wisdom, since obviously if you drop the one basket carrying all your eggs, you then have zero eggs, which would be the worst possible outcome.
I'm not sure it works that way in God's kingdom, though. Check this out:
"Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to preaching and to teaching. Do not neglect your gift, which was given you through a prophetic message when the body of elders laid their hands on you. Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress."
--Paul, in 1 Timothy 4:13-15
Paul is asking Timothy to put all his eggs in one basket. Devote yourself, be diligent, give yourself wholly. These are all or nothing phrases.
I think we shy away from approaching life like this for a couple of reasons. For one thing, devoting yourself to anything (which implies complete focus and being set apart for a task--similar to holiness, actually) is hard work by definition. It is all consuming, and a lot of us have trouble committing to things like that. So, laziness gets in our way.
Even deeper than that, though, I feel like we avoid this devoted lifestyle because of fear. We are somehow afraid that it won't turn out to be that great and we'll be left with nothing else after the eggs drop. We really don't think God's plan is the best, so we follow halfway just in case it is the best, while also making our own plans and holding onto those. It doesn't seem to work, but that doesn't usually stop us. Maybe that's why Jesus said we have to lose our lives to save them.
Then another thing we fear is the reaction of others. Paul comes right out and tells Timothy that everyone will see his progress: little or much, good or bad, it will be right out there. Streetlights are right out in the open, not hidden. If we devote our lives to following the Lord, people will be able to tell, and our successes and failures will be much more visible if we're willing to be real. I think that's why we paradoxically try to save face by not trying as hard as we can. That way if what we're doing fails, we always have the out that "we weren't really trying our very hardest." Who knows what would have happened if we were?
So that's where I find myself today. I know that I want to devote myself to following God, reading the word, and using my spiritual gifts. I want to be diligent. I want to devote myself wholly to this. I am also afraid. But, I know the times when I am most devoted to God are the times I am most free. The same decision presents itself every day, every hour, every moment. All I know is, regardless of my past choices, my current fears, or old sayings, right now I choose devotion.
I'm not sure it works that way in God's kingdom, though. Check this out:
"Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to preaching and to teaching. Do not neglect your gift, which was given you through a prophetic message when the body of elders laid their hands on you. Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress."
--Paul, in 1 Timothy 4:13-15
Paul is asking Timothy to put all his eggs in one basket. Devote yourself, be diligent, give yourself wholly. These are all or nothing phrases.
I think we shy away from approaching life like this for a couple of reasons. For one thing, devoting yourself to anything (which implies complete focus and being set apart for a task--similar to holiness, actually) is hard work by definition. It is all consuming, and a lot of us have trouble committing to things like that. So, laziness gets in our way.
Even deeper than that, though, I feel like we avoid this devoted lifestyle because of fear. We are somehow afraid that it won't turn out to be that great and we'll be left with nothing else after the eggs drop. We really don't think God's plan is the best, so we follow halfway just in case it is the best, while also making our own plans and holding onto those. It doesn't seem to work, but that doesn't usually stop us. Maybe that's why Jesus said we have to lose our lives to save them.
Then another thing we fear is the reaction of others. Paul comes right out and tells Timothy that everyone will see his progress: little or much, good or bad, it will be right out there. Streetlights are right out in the open, not hidden. If we devote our lives to following the Lord, people will be able to tell, and our successes and failures will be much more visible if we're willing to be real. I think that's why we paradoxically try to save face by not trying as hard as we can. That way if what we're doing fails, we always have the out that "we weren't really trying our very hardest." Who knows what would have happened if we were?
So that's where I find myself today. I know that I want to devote myself to following God, reading the word, and using my spiritual gifts. I want to be diligent. I want to devote myself wholly to this. I am also afraid. But, I know the times when I am most devoted to God are the times I am most free. The same decision presents itself every day, every hour, every moment. All I know is, regardless of my past choices, my current fears, or old sayings, right now I choose devotion.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Witness?
I don't know how much this is true anywhere else, but in Cleveland sports are a religion.
There's really no other way to explain it. I was reading the newspaper the other day, and they had all these photos of people looking extraordinarily downcast after watching yet another highly touted Cleveland team bomb out of its league's playoffs in spectacular fashion. In this most recent episode, the Cavaliers essentially rolled over and died against a team they were probably better than, all the while looking lethargic, scared, and relatively hopeless. Sound familiar? Those are also a lot of the same problems the city in general has, ironically.
Now, disappointment and heartbreak are pretty foundational to Cleveland sports. Every time a Cleveland team is getting even remotely close to doing something good, the sports shows inevitably have to air the montage of all of Cleveland's past failures. I've seen this so many times that I can tell you what's coming and in what order without even watching it-- Willie Mays' catch, the Drive, the Fumble, the Shot, and 1997 game 7 are the standard lineup, sometimes with other humiliating moments thrown in for good measure. My point in saying all this is that you might think Clevelanders would be getting used to this stuff.
This time, though, there was an extra layer of despondency and fear attached to the loss. This particular loss happened to be in the last year of the contract of Cleveland's self-appointed savior, meaning that he could end up cutting his losses and leaving Cleveland to join another team with a better chance of winning. I'm sure you know who I'm referring to-- giant billboard downtown? arms outstretched in a travesty of the cross? army of fans in shirts that say "WITNESS" right above a Nike swoosh? Yeah, that's the guy. The imagery is almost too obvious: Cleveland is looking to LeBron for salvation.
I think somehow people have bought into the idea (read: lie) that if Cleveland could just win a sports championship, the city would be saved or somehow set on the road to recovery. Now the best chance in years for that to happen might leave town. You can start to see why everyone is so upset. There's no denying the fact that LeBron's arrival and time in Cleveland have brought a lot of money to the city that otherwise wouldn't have been there, both in ticket sales and the spending of people who come from across the nation to see him. But even if he could deliver on his promise and bring a championship to Cleveland, all of its deep, systemic problems would still exist.
It's easier, though, not to think about those real problems. People who want to ignore them (or at least get a small respite from them) readily turn to sports as an escape, and that's where the salvation problem begins. I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with sports; if you know me, you know I enjoy both playing sports and watching well-played games (which Cleveland unfortunately supplied very few of in this year's playoffs). That's the thing though: sports were meant to be enjoyed. When I saw all those depressed faces in the Plain Dealer, I couldn't help thinking that the point was being missed somewhere. Obviously, we all want our team to win, and that's fine. But when it becomes so pivotal to our emotions that we can't enjoy it anymore, then I think we're starting to head towards Jonah 2:8 territory.
Remember that verse? It says "Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs." I feel like a lot of Clevelanders were and are forfeiting some happiness and grace they could have had by clinging to idols, whether sports, winning, or LeBron himself. I have to include myself in that group as well. For a lot of my life, I've lived and died with Cleveland sports. (I wasn't really sentient for most of those montage of failure moments, but my 10-year old self was crushed after the '97 world series.) You'd think all the disappointment might get us looking for something better.
But you know what? This isn't just about basketball or even sports in general. The same thing happens any time we cling so tightly to things that we miss God. This is the natural condition of all of us in our fallen state, and it's the perfect opportunity to have a real witness. We all have things we've put our hope in that have dramatically let us down: people, relationships, jobs, money, and yes, even sports teams. No one is exempt from this, even if they could care less about the free-agent saga of LeBron.
We can always share our stories of our idols failing to satisfy. And then... then we can bear witness to the One who is worthy of our praise, who has never let us down, and who will never leave us for another team. He sees the problems in Cleveland that run much deeper than the ineptitude of our sports teams, and they don't scare him. Our job is to show him to the people who are looking for him in a team, a relationship, or a freakishly athletic and egotistical superstar. I think that's what it really means to be a witness in Cleveland.
There's really no other way to explain it. I was reading the newspaper the other day, and they had all these photos of people looking extraordinarily downcast after watching yet another highly touted Cleveland team bomb out of its league's playoffs in spectacular fashion. In this most recent episode, the Cavaliers essentially rolled over and died against a team they were probably better than, all the while looking lethargic, scared, and relatively hopeless. Sound familiar? Those are also a lot of the same problems the city in general has, ironically.
Now, disappointment and heartbreak are pretty foundational to Cleveland sports. Every time a Cleveland team is getting even remotely close to doing something good, the sports shows inevitably have to air the montage of all of Cleveland's past failures. I've seen this so many times that I can tell you what's coming and in what order without even watching it-- Willie Mays' catch, the Drive, the Fumble, the Shot, and 1997 game 7 are the standard lineup, sometimes with other humiliating moments thrown in for good measure. My point in saying all this is that you might think Clevelanders would be getting used to this stuff.
This time, though, there was an extra layer of despondency and fear attached to the loss. This particular loss happened to be in the last year of the contract of Cleveland's self-appointed savior, meaning that he could end up cutting his losses and leaving Cleveland to join another team with a better chance of winning. I'm sure you know who I'm referring to-- giant billboard downtown? arms outstretched in a travesty of the cross? army of fans in shirts that say "WITNESS" right above a Nike swoosh? Yeah, that's the guy. The imagery is almost too obvious: Cleveland is looking to LeBron for salvation.
I think somehow people have bought into the idea (read: lie) that if Cleveland could just win a sports championship, the city would be saved or somehow set on the road to recovery. Now the best chance in years for that to happen might leave town. You can start to see why everyone is so upset. There's no denying the fact that LeBron's arrival and time in Cleveland have brought a lot of money to the city that otherwise wouldn't have been there, both in ticket sales and the spending of people who come from across the nation to see him. But even if he could deliver on his promise and bring a championship to Cleveland, all of its deep, systemic problems would still exist.
It's easier, though, not to think about those real problems. People who want to ignore them (or at least get a small respite from them) readily turn to sports as an escape, and that's where the salvation problem begins. I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with sports; if you know me, you know I enjoy both playing sports and watching well-played games (which Cleveland unfortunately supplied very few of in this year's playoffs). That's the thing though: sports were meant to be enjoyed. When I saw all those depressed faces in the Plain Dealer, I couldn't help thinking that the point was being missed somewhere. Obviously, we all want our team to win, and that's fine. But when it becomes so pivotal to our emotions that we can't enjoy it anymore, then I think we're starting to head towards Jonah 2:8 territory.
Remember that verse? It says "Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs." I feel like a lot of Clevelanders were and are forfeiting some happiness and grace they could have had by clinging to idols, whether sports, winning, or LeBron himself. I have to include myself in that group as well. For a lot of my life, I've lived and died with Cleveland sports. (I wasn't really sentient for most of those montage of failure moments, but my 10-year old self was crushed after the '97 world series.) You'd think all the disappointment might get us looking for something better.
But you know what? This isn't just about basketball or even sports in general. The same thing happens any time we cling so tightly to things that we miss God. This is the natural condition of all of us in our fallen state, and it's the perfect opportunity to have a real witness. We all have things we've put our hope in that have dramatically let us down: people, relationships, jobs, money, and yes, even sports teams. No one is exempt from this, even if they could care less about the free-agent saga of LeBron.
We can always share our stories of our idols failing to satisfy. And then... then we can bear witness to the One who is worthy of our praise, who has never let us down, and who will never leave us for another team. He sees the problems in Cleveland that run much deeper than the ineptitude of our sports teams, and they don't scare him. Our job is to show him to the people who are looking for him in a team, a relationship, or a freakishly athletic and egotistical superstar. I think that's what it really means to be a witness in Cleveland.
Friday, April 30, 2010
One Thing at a Time
I just have a quick thought for today, and I realize it might seem like kind of a "duh" moment to everyone else. It's been a pretty important revelation for me though, so I just thought I would share. Plus, it's something I need to keep coming back to, so writing it down should really be helpful in that regard too. Ready? Here it is:
I can only do one thing at a time.
Pretty earthshaking, no? Of course, there is always multitasking, and I don't deny it (even though it's a skill that many of you know I possess in very small measure), but that's not what I'm talking about. No matter how good of a multitasker you are, you still can only be in one place at any given moment. Whatever you're doing, be it one thing or fourteen, is all you're doing. Put that up against the countless millions of things you could theoretically be doing, and multitasking doesn't seem to matter as much. There are still way more things happening than you can ever possibly be part of.
That last thought is one of two things: really depressing or really freeing. It's just a matter of how you look at it. I think I've lived a lot of my life with the mindset that I had to keep from missing out on things. If there was a party or event going on, I felt like I had to be there or I'd be missing out on something I desperately needed, something that would make my life better. I'm sure my rampant desire for people's acceptance had something to do with that, but that's really another blog for another time. For the purposes of this one, it's just important that I've often felt like I was missing out. And of course, as I've said, each moment really does contain millions of things I'm not doing. It can get a little overwhelming if you start thinking about it like that, and that's where you can start getting depressed if you aren't careful.
On the other hand, the freeing side of this whole thing is that we can choose to focus our attention on whatever we are doing instead of what we aren't. What if that was all we had to worry about? How do we choose out of all the possible choices the one thing we are going to do and focus fully on that in each moment? Actually, that's pretty overwhelming too, on the face of it. That's why we need the Spirit of God in our lives.
Believing that God has a plan for you and is sovereignly directing your life changes the whole equation. We can actually ask God for directions, ask him to tell us by his Spirit what we should be doing, and he will! Then, we just have to be willing to do it, but again that's a different blog. If we know God is leading us, though, that should certainly raise our level of confidence. If we actually start believing that his plan is best, we probably will spend a lot less time worrying about missing out on things.
Having a job has really helped put this all in perspective for me. There are significant amounts of time that I just have to be there, some of which are also times that other things are going on that I might like to do. Now, I can get all worried about what I'm "missing out" on (the party, the girl, the worship night, the free time, etc.) if I want to. However, I can also choose to believe that God has called me to work as part of his larger plan to move me into the rest of my life and has provided this job for me to do that. If that's true, then that's where I'm supposed to be, and it will end up being the best for me in ways I can't even understand yet (and some that I do understand, like $$).
"We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28). All things! Really, that makes it impossible to miss out on goodness. Whatever we do, God is working for our good as we submit to his purposes. That's true even if it doesn't seem good to us at the time because all too often what we feel has absolutely no bearing on what is true. Maybe that's why we get so worried and upset about many things, when only one thing is needed (see Luke 10:42).
So, if we feel like we're always missing out, it probably means one of two things: either
a). we don't really believe that what God is calling us to do is the best thing, OR
b). we don't know if what we're doing is actually what God is calling us to do.
The way out of this pattern, then, is to always be asking God what he wants us to be doing (note: even while we're doing things! Check out Philippians 4:6 and 1 Thessalonians 5:17-- Scripturally mandated multitasking! Looks like I need some practice... yet another thing my job can be good for). While we're at it, we can also ask for faith to believe that he will lead us and that what he tells us will be the best thing for us. That's freeing and comforting to me because it puts all the need to make things happen where it belongs--with the One who can actually make them happen. God doesn't call us to more than we can handle. Well, actually he kind of does... but then he handles it. He's in charge of the millions and millions of things. All we have to do is one thing at a time.
I can only do one thing at a time.
Pretty earthshaking, no? Of course, there is always multitasking, and I don't deny it (even though it's a skill that many of you know I possess in very small measure), but that's not what I'm talking about. No matter how good of a multitasker you are, you still can only be in one place at any given moment. Whatever you're doing, be it one thing or fourteen, is all you're doing. Put that up against the countless millions of things you could theoretically be doing, and multitasking doesn't seem to matter as much. There are still way more things happening than you can ever possibly be part of.
That last thought is one of two things: really depressing or really freeing. It's just a matter of how you look at it. I think I've lived a lot of my life with the mindset that I had to keep from missing out on things. If there was a party or event going on, I felt like I had to be there or I'd be missing out on something I desperately needed, something that would make my life better. I'm sure my rampant desire for people's acceptance had something to do with that, but that's really another blog for another time. For the purposes of this one, it's just important that I've often felt like I was missing out. And of course, as I've said, each moment really does contain millions of things I'm not doing. It can get a little overwhelming if you start thinking about it like that, and that's where you can start getting depressed if you aren't careful.
On the other hand, the freeing side of this whole thing is that we can choose to focus our attention on whatever we are doing instead of what we aren't. What if that was all we had to worry about? How do we choose out of all the possible choices the one thing we are going to do and focus fully on that in each moment? Actually, that's pretty overwhelming too, on the face of it. That's why we need the Spirit of God in our lives.
Believing that God has a plan for you and is sovereignly directing your life changes the whole equation. We can actually ask God for directions, ask him to tell us by his Spirit what we should be doing, and he will! Then, we just have to be willing to do it, but again that's a different blog. If we know God is leading us, though, that should certainly raise our level of confidence. If we actually start believing that his plan is best, we probably will spend a lot less time worrying about missing out on things.
Having a job has really helped put this all in perspective for me. There are significant amounts of time that I just have to be there, some of which are also times that other things are going on that I might like to do. Now, I can get all worried about what I'm "missing out" on (the party, the girl, the worship night, the free time, etc.) if I want to. However, I can also choose to believe that God has called me to work as part of his larger plan to move me into the rest of my life and has provided this job for me to do that. If that's true, then that's where I'm supposed to be, and it will end up being the best for me in ways I can't even understand yet (and some that I do understand, like $$).
"We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28). All things! Really, that makes it impossible to miss out on goodness. Whatever we do, God is working for our good as we submit to his purposes. That's true even if it doesn't seem good to us at the time because all too often what we feel has absolutely no bearing on what is true. Maybe that's why we get so worried and upset about many things, when only one thing is needed (see Luke 10:42).
So, if we feel like we're always missing out, it probably means one of two things: either
a). we don't really believe that what God is calling us to do is the best thing, OR
b). we don't know if what we're doing is actually what God is calling us to do.
The way out of this pattern, then, is to always be asking God what he wants us to be doing (note: even while we're doing things! Check out Philippians 4:6 and 1 Thessalonians 5:17-- Scripturally mandated multitasking! Looks like I need some practice... yet another thing my job can be good for). While we're at it, we can also ask for faith to believe that he will lead us and that what he tells us will be the best thing for us. That's freeing and comforting to me because it puts all the need to make things happen where it belongs--with the One who can actually make them happen. God doesn't call us to more than we can handle. Well, actually he kind of does... but then he handles it. He's in charge of the millions and millions of things. All we have to do is one thing at a time.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Returning
I think I've been living life in the wrong metaphor.
What I mean by that is, I think that my fundamental picture of how life works has been slightly off. It's always popular, even to the point of being slightly cliché, to think of life as a journey. Countless books, poems, songs, etc. have been written from this perspective, even though the ones written apart from God often fail to offer much hope as to the journey's destination. As Christians, though, we especially love this metaphor because the Bible promises the ultimate destination, heaven.
Now, I'm not trying to say there's anything wrong with the idea of a journey. It's hard to argue with the popular success and powerful impact of a book like Pilgrim's Progress, for example, and the story of Christian's journey to the Celestial City has actually been a big inspiration to me over the years. It's just that the allegory in that story, like all metaphors, is limited in scope. Obviously, no metaphor can ever fully become the exact thing it represents, or else it would be superfluous (which by the way, is one of my favorite words and one I've been dying to work into one of my blogs somehow). That's why it's important to recognize where comparisons fall short and see just how far they can stretch before they break.
Here's how the Pilgrim's Progress-style journey metaphor got my thinking a little off: basically, I started thinking about life as a voyage towards God, who waits for us at a fixed destination as we slowly and circuitously (another one of my favorites) make our way closer and closer to him. Catch the subtle twist introduced in that viewpoint? It makes God the destination instead of heaven. It's an easy jump to make, especially in light of the fact that heaven is where our fellowship with the Lord will be complete and full. The thing is, he's not just sitting around up there waiting for us. If God was a destination, he would of course be the best one to aim for. But he's not. He's everywhere. In fact, our only hope of making it to our destination of glory in heaven is that God is in us (Colossians 1:27).
Now, the hope of heaven is a huge deal, and it has helped me through a lot of struggles in this life to know that one day all those struggles will be permanently erased by joy. If we make the mistake of confining God to heaven, though, we can miss out on the fact that he travels with us.
We are not alone on our journey.
This is immensely important, not least of all because the idea of trying to get closer to a God we can't reach until heaven is a bit of a depressing prospect. It's also important because it gives us a much more accurate picture of what life is actually like.
I'm coming to think of life more and more as a constant returning. Instead of thinking of a one-way voyage toward heaven, I'm thinking more of a continuous coming back to God, wherever he is. That way, my actions are relieved of the pressure of moving me closer to or further from heaven. Really, if I've truly accepted Jesus, my salvation is secure and I'm moving toward heaven at the same rate as all other Christians: 60 seconds per minute. I have no control over that; when I reach the end of the time God has written in my book, I'll just be there! However, I don't have to wait to be with God until then. Eternal life begins now, because eternal life simply means to know God (John 17:3), and he is actually walking with me.
God is not distant. He is near me, and at times I walk right by his side. Other times, I get distracted and let things pull me away. Because this is a fallen world, there are a lot of opportunities for distraction. The question, though, is not so much of moving forward or backward, of climbing up or falling back down, of progress or regress, but of whether the things of life will draw me towards God or away from him as he walks with me.
Will I return to God if a situation draws me away from him? Will I re-turn my face toward his if something distracts my attention elsewhere? The command to return to the Lord is echoed over and over again throughout the Old Testament by all kinds of prophets in all different situations, from captivity to prosperity. In fact, every single thing that happens in life (like jobs, relationships, emotions, our own sins, or God's gifts to us, just to name a few) offers the choice to turn toward God or away from him, but he is always with us. He is in control of the destination and how we get there. The part he gives us a say in is how much like him we'll become along the way.
We become like whatever we look at. To become like God, we need to turn towards him. And because this life is so distracting and so many things draw our attention away, we need to re-turn towards him. Often. Always. We have to fix our gaze on him, and then when we look away, look back. Constant returning. God's grace to us is that no matter how many times we need to return, he will still be there.
I was worshipping God at c-hop recently, and we ended up singing that Jesus is our soul's refrain, the part of the song we keep coming back to. That's a whole different metaphor that I don't have time to address right now, but I think the journey works fine if we understand it correctly in the sense of always returning to a God who walks with us. To finish, though, here's part of another song (Psalm 73: 23-26) that pretty much sums up what I mean by all of this:
"Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."
What I mean by that is, I think that my fundamental picture of how life works has been slightly off. It's always popular, even to the point of being slightly cliché, to think of life as a journey. Countless books, poems, songs, etc. have been written from this perspective, even though the ones written apart from God often fail to offer much hope as to the journey's destination. As Christians, though, we especially love this metaphor because the Bible promises the ultimate destination, heaven.
Now, I'm not trying to say there's anything wrong with the idea of a journey. It's hard to argue with the popular success and powerful impact of a book like Pilgrim's Progress, for example, and the story of Christian's journey to the Celestial City has actually been a big inspiration to me over the years. It's just that the allegory in that story, like all metaphors, is limited in scope. Obviously, no metaphor can ever fully become the exact thing it represents, or else it would be superfluous (which by the way, is one of my favorite words and one I've been dying to work into one of my blogs somehow). That's why it's important to recognize where comparisons fall short and see just how far they can stretch before they break.
Here's how the Pilgrim's Progress-style journey metaphor got my thinking a little off: basically, I started thinking about life as a voyage towards God, who waits for us at a fixed destination as we slowly and circuitously (another one of my favorites) make our way closer and closer to him. Catch the subtle twist introduced in that viewpoint? It makes God the destination instead of heaven. It's an easy jump to make, especially in light of the fact that heaven is where our fellowship with the Lord will be complete and full. The thing is, he's not just sitting around up there waiting for us. If God was a destination, he would of course be the best one to aim for. But he's not. He's everywhere. In fact, our only hope of making it to our destination of glory in heaven is that God is in us (Colossians 1:27).
Now, the hope of heaven is a huge deal, and it has helped me through a lot of struggles in this life to know that one day all those struggles will be permanently erased by joy. If we make the mistake of confining God to heaven, though, we can miss out on the fact that he travels with us.
We are not alone on our journey.
This is immensely important, not least of all because the idea of trying to get closer to a God we can't reach until heaven is a bit of a depressing prospect. It's also important because it gives us a much more accurate picture of what life is actually like.
I'm coming to think of life more and more as a constant returning. Instead of thinking of a one-way voyage toward heaven, I'm thinking more of a continuous coming back to God, wherever he is. That way, my actions are relieved of the pressure of moving me closer to or further from heaven. Really, if I've truly accepted Jesus, my salvation is secure and I'm moving toward heaven at the same rate as all other Christians: 60 seconds per minute. I have no control over that; when I reach the end of the time God has written in my book, I'll just be there! However, I don't have to wait to be with God until then. Eternal life begins now, because eternal life simply means to know God (John 17:3), and he is actually walking with me.
God is not distant. He is near me, and at times I walk right by his side. Other times, I get distracted and let things pull me away. Because this is a fallen world, there are a lot of opportunities for distraction. The question, though, is not so much of moving forward or backward, of climbing up or falling back down, of progress or regress, but of whether the things of life will draw me towards God or away from him as he walks with me.
Will I return to God if a situation draws me away from him? Will I re-turn my face toward his if something distracts my attention elsewhere? The command to return to the Lord is echoed over and over again throughout the Old Testament by all kinds of prophets in all different situations, from captivity to prosperity. In fact, every single thing that happens in life (like jobs, relationships, emotions, our own sins, or God's gifts to us, just to name a few) offers the choice to turn toward God or away from him, but he is always with us. He is in control of the destination and how we get there. The part he gives us a say in is how much like him we'll become along the way.
We become like whatever we look at. To become like God, we need to turn towards him. And because this life is so distracting and so many things draw our attention away, we need to re-turn towards him. Often. Always. We have to fix our gaze on him, and then when we look away, look back. Constant returning. God's grace to us is that no matter how many times we need to return, he will still be there.
I was worshipping God at c-hop recently, and we ended up singing that Jesus is our soul's refrain, the part of the song we keep coming back to. That's a whole different metaphor that I don't have time to address right now, but I think the journey works fine if we understand it correctly in the sense of always returning to a God who walks with us. To finish, though, here's part of another song (Psalm 73: 23-26) that pretty much sums up what I mean by all of this:
"Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."
Thursday, March 4, 2010
A Heart for Cleveland
One of the biggest things God has been doing in my life recently is teaching me how to feel. If you know me well at all, you know that I'm a thinker. I love to analyze things, and I tend to turn them over in my brain repeatedly until I arrive at what I deem to be a "solution," whatever that means. I've always wanted to have a logical reason for things, and that pretty much leaves emotional considerations in the background.
I've come to realize, though, that my unflappable logic and analysis has often just been another layer of my biggest weakness: pride. My refusal to feel was really just arrogance, an attempt to control the world through understanding. If I remain unaffected, I stay in control.
When it comes down to it, I really have believed that I was in control in my life. Now, it obviously takes some pretty selective memory to believe something like that in the face of all the craziness of life, but I was getting the hang of it. Problem was, the One who really does have the control wasn't too thrilled. He's not really a fan of competition for his position.
Long story short, God started shattering my perceptions of control by using my emotions. Now, I don't know if you've ever tried to make yourself feel something (e.g. joy, love, etc.), but if you have, you know that it really doesn't work. If you haven't, give it a shot sometime. I don't think it's possible, at least not for long. Anyway, the conclusion of all my logic and analysis was that if I had all the answers, I should be happy. Needless to say, I wasn't.
To give an example, I'll share a poem I wrote somewhere in the midst of trying to analyze my way through life. During my Junior year of college, my mom had totalled her car (she was fine) and was borrowing mine, so I had to take the bus/train to school for a while. The experience had quite an effect on me, and I wrote this in a subconscious attempt to deal with what I was feeling but didn't want to admit.
Commute
Today I am riding through
the steel bowels of a single
manmade mountain. It isn’t
very impressive, but it is all
the subway we have here. I
haven’t eaten for hours,
but I don’t get off as I reach
the city center, a hard rock
that only turns to living flesh
at certain quite specific
times. Those times, you can
lose yourself in the hurrying
humanity and quietly pretend
you have the answer to the
endless iron question. Other times,
it’s better to pass quickly by
the dirty Modernist monuments
and hope you can catch
the next bus at your connection
further on.
Thursday, 4:34
by the market tower clock
and I am boarding the 4:25.
The conglomerate smell of the
market is all I will enjoy today, not
the shouting vendors as they
make their best deal or set up
the stuffed pig’s head at
just the right eye-level
to scare the children. I don’t
have time for the homemade
glazed doughnuts from the
baker in the far northwest corner
or the fresh produce that
is somewhat less fresh than
the sellers say, but still a bit
more fresh than it smells.
No,
today my goal is just to make
it home, taking the redline 66X
and the 20A through the shades
of culture, death and life
to my refuge from the smoldering
embers in the dying heart
of the fire, where I can set myself
apart and analyze as I prepare
for the inevitable onrush of
tomorrow and my next ride.
I knew even then that this withdrawn analysis was not going to be the answer, but writing this poem provided me with the first realization that that's what I was doing. I had always thought of myself as a city kid, in touch with the problems of the street. Really though, despite the fact that I lived within the city, I had left it, to protect my heart from the hardness and pain. I was taking sociology classes, learning how to analyze the problems of the city without really feeling them, trading emotions for statistics. As I hope you can tell from the poem, I love my city (well, most of it anyway), but I was turning my back on it.
Even more pressing on my thoughts was my own survival in finishing college and managing my life. I spent a lot of time in survival mode in those days. Living like that gets tiring though, and God had other things in store. First, he had to bring me face to face with my own emotions, which turned out to be darker and much less controlled than I had thought. I had to learn, as strange as it might sound, to feel what I was really feeling, even if it meant admitting that I had no idea what to do with it and very little (if any) control over it. It's a journey I'm still walking on, and probably will be for quite awhile.
As I feel my own emotions more and more, though, I'm finding that God has more for me than just that. He also wants me to feel His emotions! I think we can easily forget that God feels things just like we do. Actually, I guess a better way to put that would be that he feels things even more deeply and profoundly than we do. And the biggest thing he feels? Love.
In asking God what he feels, I have become much more conscious of his overpowering love. For me, for others, for his Son, his church, everyone. God feels sorrow mixed with love, anger mixed with love and joy because of love. In fact, one of the most amazing and praiseworthy things about God is the way that he loves us beyond explanation, despite ourselves.
So, back to my poem for a minute. The problems of Cleveland are pretty overwhelming, and you can see a lot of them if you take the rapid from University Circle to the W. 25th street bus. They seem too big to handle from the perspective of just me and my thoughts and feelings. When I look at my city, I can feel frustrated, afraid, or even depressed.
But what does God feel about Cleveland? In most cases, I'm guessing it's something like compassion. I'm sure there are things that make him happy, angry and sad as well, but I think the overriding current is compassion for people who have lost their way. Therein lies the difference between God's thoughts and mine. I see large-scale societal problems that I don't even know how to begin to change, and the result is the overwhelming emotions I've tried to get rid of. God sees the problems and could rectify them instantly, but his heart is for the people. Although he could change things on the grand scale, his method of choice is compassion.
That's why it's so important for us to be in touch with God's heart, not just to know but to feel what he feels. Compassion, it turns out, is not nearly as overwhelming as fixing all the deep-seeded problems that plague my city. Each person I see on my commute through Cleveland is someone God loves, and I can treat them like that. I don't need to analyze so much as I need to feel God's love, and if I have no idea where to start, I can just start where I am. If I can just do that, I can break out of my protective bubble and really start making a difference.
And if we all could do that... who knows what could happen here?
I've come to realize, though, that my unflappable logic and analysis has often just been another layer of my biggest weakness: pride. My refusal to feel was really just arrogance, an attempt to control the world through understanding. If I remain unaffected, I stay in control.
When it comes down to it, I really have believed that I was in control in my life. Now, it obviously takes some pretty selective memory to believe something like that in the face of all the craziness of life, but I was getting the hang of it. Problem was, the One who really does have the control wasn't too thrilled. He's not really a fan of competition for his position.
Long story short, God started shattering my perceptions of control by using my emotions. Now, I don't know if you've ever tried to make yourself feel something (e.g. joy, love, etc.), but if you have, you know that it really doesn't work. If you haven't, give it a shot sometime. I don't think it's possible, at least not for long. Anyway, the conclusion of all my logic and analysis was that if I had all the answers, I should be happy. Needless to say, I wasn't.
To give an example, I'll share a poem I wrote somewhere in the midst of trying to analyze my way through life. During my Junior year of college, my mom had totalled her car (she was fine) and was borrowing mine, so I had to take the bus/train to school for a while. The experience had quite an effect on me, and I wrote this in a subconscious attempt to deal with what I was feeling but didn't want to admit.
Commute
Today I am riding through
the steel bowels of a single
manmade mountain. It isn’t
very impressive, but it is all
the subway we have here. I
haven’t eaten for hours,
but I don’t get off as I reach
the city center, a hard rock
that only turns to living flesh
at certain quite specific
times. Those times, you can
lose yourself in the hurrying
humanity and quietly pretend
you have the answer to the
endless iron question. Other times,
it’s better to pass quickly by
the dirty Modernist monuments
and hope you can catch
the next bus at your connection
further on.
Thursday, 4:34
by the market tower clock
and I am boarding the 4:25.
The conglomerate smell of the
market is all I will enjoy today, not
the shouting vendors as they
make their best deal or set up
the stuffed pig’s head at
just the right eye-level
to scare the children. I don’t
have time for the homemade
glazed doughnuts from the
baker in the far northwest corner
or the fresh produce that
is somewhat less fresh than
the sellers say, but still a bit
more fresh than it smells.
No,
today my goal is just to make
it home, taking the redline 66X
and the 20A through the shades
of culture, death and life
to my refuge from the smoldering
embers in the dying heart
of the fire, where I can set myself
apart and analyze as I prepare
for the inevitable onrush of
tomorrow and my next ride.
I knew even then that this withdrawn analysis was not going to be the answer, but writing this poem provided me with the first realization that that's what I was doing. I had always thought of myself as a city kid, in touch with the problems of the street. Really though, despite the fact that I lived within the city, I had left it, to protect my heart from the hardness and pain. I was taking sociology classes, learning how to analyze the problems of the city without really feeling them, trading emotions for statistics. As I hope you can tell from the poem, I love my city (well, most of it anyway), but I was turning my back on it.
Even more pressing on my thoughts was my own survival in finishing college and managing my life. I spent a lot of time in survival mode in those days. Living like that gets tiring though, and God had other things in store. First, he had to bring me face to face with my own emotions, which turned out to be darker and much less controlled than I had thought. I had to learn, as strange as it might sound, to feel what I was really feeling, even if it meant admitting that I had no idea what to do with it and very little (if any) control over it. It's a journey I'm still walking on, and probably will be for quite awhile.
As I feel my own emotions more and more, though, I'm finding that God has more for me than just that. He also wants me to feel His emotions! I think we can easily forget that God feels things just like we do. Actually, I guess a better way to put that would be that he feels things even more deeply and profoundly than we do. And the biggest thing he feels? Love.
In asking God what he feels, I have become much more conscious of his overpowering love. For me, for others, for his Son, his church, everyone. God feels sorrow mixed with love, anger mixed with love and joy because of love. In fact, one of the most amazing and praiseworthy things about God is the way that he loves us beyond explanation, despite ourselves.
So, back to my poem for a minute. The problems of Cleveland are pretty overwhelming, and you can see a lot of them if you take the rapid from University Circle to the W. 25th street bus. They seem too big to handle from the perspective of just me and my thoughts and feelings. When I look at my city, I can feel frustrated, afraid, or even depressed.
But what does God feel about Cleveland? In most cases, I'm guessing it's something like compassion. I'm sure there are things that make him happy, angry and sad as well, but I think the overriding current is compassion for people who have lost their way. Therein lies the difference between God's thoughts and mine. I see large-scale societal problems that I don't even know how to begin to change, and the result is the overwhelming emotions I've tried to get rid of. God sees the problems and could rectify them instantly, but his heart is for the people. Although he could change things on the grand scale, his method of choice is compassion.
That's why it's so important for us to be in touch with God's heart, not just to know but to feel what he feels. Compassion, it turns out, is not nearly as overwhelming as fixing all the deep-seeded problems that plague my city. Each person I see on my commute through Cleveland is someone God loves, and I can treat them like that. I don't need to analyze so much as I need to feel God's love, and if I have no idea where to start, I can just start where I am. If I can just do that, I can break out of my protective bubble and really start making a difference.
And if we all could do that... who knows what could happen here?
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Finding Christmas
As I've been getting older, I find that I sometimes have trouble getting in the "Christmas spirit" like I did when I was a kid. Maybe it's just because when I was little, all Christmas meant to me really was the excitement of getting new stuff. You know, waking up and realizing you finally made it through the agonizingly long night, going downstairs to find the tree all lit up and a beautiful unknown haul of presents under it... that kind of stuff. I think decorations also seem more fun and festive when you're a little kid, and they certainly aren't just another task that needs to be completed. Anyway, Christmas was definitely joyful to me when I was a child, albeit possibly not for the right reasons.
Somewhere along the way, though, you start to realize that presents aren't always going to be enough. I've always known what Christmas is really all about (Linus in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" anyone?), but I think my young brain had a bad disconnect between that and what actually happened around Christmas. Good tidings of great joy=...presents?? Now, I realize of course that Jesus gave us the best gift and that's why we give gifts on Christmas, and I love giving gifts to people I love! All I know is, I was at the mall yesterday buying said gifts, and I left feeling depressed despite the fact that I got some really cool stuff I'm excited about giving.
Here's a poem I wrote most of a long time ago (and without thinking about Christmas) that describes some of my thoughts today:
Search Engine
A search for entertainment, from desire to forget
the pains already suffered and prevent the ones not yet,
a fight to disengage the mind and not to know, just feel:
we can only live when happy; deeper feelings we conceal.
So the cycle will increase just as it always has before,
an insatiable desire reaching out for more and more.
A search for education, to remember we aspire,
to learn why things aren’t working out through knowledge we acquire,
and so the mind is stretched while the emotions just congeal:
we trust only what we understand and nothing else is real.
But as we learn, the more we know at some things we must guess:
disillusionment reversed, reaching into less and less.
A search for something different, but what difference does it make
in a Nutri-sweet and plastic world where everything is fake?
Still the imitations indicate that real things do exist,
and they might be there for finding if we only can resist
the current that pulls down around and kills beneath the fall
to go through instead of under, to where truth is all in all.
I guess maybe I'm just tired of all the fakeness. I'm with Charlie Brown: Christmas is way too commercial. And man, if he was worried about that in the '60's, what would he say now? See, I'm all in favor of gifts, but I'm worried that we're skipping the part about honoring and remembering Jesus' gift and just using it as an excuse to go whole-hog into the materialism that is probably the #1 besetting vice of American culture. I know he would want us to celebrate his birth, but I can't help asking: is this how he would want us to do it?
It's this materialistic tendency, I think, that can make all the best things about Christmas the things that we end up hating. Maybe that's why I like How the Grinch Stole Christmas (both versions) more than almost any of my friends do. I identify with the Grinch! I also think the modern version is really on to something with this idea of Christmas as a search for something. Unfortunately, they chose to express that insight through the song, "Where are you, Christmas?", a song that is almost tolerable when that cute little who sings it, but completely insufferable when sung by Faith Hill or whoever it was in the credits. In any case, that song (like so many other secular songs) is inches away from being a Jesus song. It has an excellent grasp of a real problem... but then it offers a worthless solution.
The solution offered by the song is, however, close: it suggests saving Christmas by having love and joy in our hearts. Great, now how do I do that, especially when I have to go to the mall filled with shoppers that generally tend to seem much more angry than loving and workers that seem far more depressed than joyful? That could just be because I'm such a last minute shopper... but still. The key thing is, there's no way I can just generate these good feelings. In the terms of my poem above, I can't entertain myself into forgetting my pain, and I can't intellectualize it away. I desperately need a third option, but I find it obscured by a lot of fakeness and annoying decorations.
I'm not trying to be a downer here. I think the state of Christmas in America is pretty sad, but there is one thing I like about it: it gets people searching. It's also the one time every year when the gospel message gets on national tv (thank God for Linus!). Hopefully, when people get tired of the cheap imitations, they'll realize that the mere proliferation of imitations means there must be something real somewhere. There is real love to be had, and real joy comes with it. That's why all I really want to do this Christmas is worship God and spend time with people I love. What if we focused on that instead of making a part-time job out of managing/purchasing/looking for Christmas? As I'm trying to shift my focus, I'm noticing that the real joy and peace that are supposed to be associated with Christmas spirit have come to me from the Father and his love! Have we ever thought that maybe the "Christmas Spirit" should be the Holy Spirit? I ask because the Spirit is the one who reveals the Father's love and the joy of being saved by Jesus to us, and we'll never find Christmas until we find Christ.
Somewhere along the way, though, you start to realize that presents aren't always going to be enough. I've always known what Christmas is really all about (Linus in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" anyone?), but I think my young brain had a bad disconnect between that and what actually happened around Christmas. Good tidings of great joy=...presents?? Now, I realize of course that Jesus gave us the best gift and that's why we give gifts on Christmas, and I love giving gifts to people I love! All I know is, I was at the mall yesterday buying said gifts, and I left feeling depressed despite the fact that I got some really cool stuff I'm excited about giving.
Here's a poem I wrote most of a long time ago (and without thinking about Christmas) that describes some of my thoughts today:
Search Engine
A search for entertainment, from desire to forget
the pains already suffered and prevent the ones not yet,
a fight to disengage the mind and not to know, just feel:
we can only live when happy; deeper feelings we conceal.
So the cycle will increase just as it always has before,
an insatiable desire reaching out for more and more.
A search for education, to remember we aspire,
to learn why things aren’t working out through knowledge we acquire,
and so the mind is stretched while the emotions just congeal:
we trust only what we understand and nothing else is real.
But as we learn, the more we know at some things we must guess:
disillusionment reversed, reaching into less and less.
A search for something different, but what difference does it make
in a Nutri-sweet and plastic world where everything is fake?
Still the imitations indicate that real things do exist,
and they might be there for finding if we only can resist
the current that pulls down around and kills beneath the fall
to go through instead of under, to where truth is all in all.
I guess maybe I'm just tired of all the fakeness. I'm with Charlie Brown: Christmas is way too commercial. And man, if he was worried about that in the '60's, what would he say now? See, I'm all in favor of gifts, but I'm worried that we're skipping the part about honoring and remembering Jesus' gift and just using it as an excuse to go whole-hog into the materialism that is probably the #1 besetting vice of American culture. I know he would want us to celebrate his birth, but I can't help asking: is this how he would want us to do it?
It's this materialistic tendency, I think, that can make all the best things about Christmas the things that we end up hating. Maybe that's why I like How the Grinch Stole Christmas (both versions) more than almost any of my friends do. I identify with the Grinch! I also think the modern version is really on to something with this idea of Christmas as a search for something. Unfortunately, they chose to express that insight through the song, "Where are you, Christmas?", a song that is almost tolerable when that cute little who sings it, but completely insufferable when sung by Faith Hill or whoever it was in the credits. In any case, that song (like so many other secular songs) is inches away from being a Jesus song. It has an excellent grasp of a real problem... but then it offers a worthless solution.
The solution offered by the song is, however, close: it suggests saving Christmas by having love and joy in our hearts. Great, now how do I do that, especially when I have to go to the mall filled with shoppers that generally tend to seem much more angry than loving and workers that seem far more depressed than joyful? That could just be because I'm such a last minute shopper... but still. The key thing is, there's no way I can just generate these good feelings. In the terms of my poem above, I can't entertain myself into forgetting my pain, and I can't intellectualize it away. I desperately need a third option, but I find it obscured by a lot of fakeness and annoying decorations.
I'm not trying to be a downer here. I think the state of Christmas in America is pretty sad, but there is one thing I like about it: it gets people searching. It's also the one time every year when the gospel message gets on national tv (thank God for Linus!). Hopefully, when people get tired of the cheap imitations, they'll realize that the mere proliferation of imitations means there must be something real somewhere. There is real love to be had, and real joy comes with it. That's why all I really want to do this Christmas is worship God and spend time with people I love. What if we focused on that instead of making a part-time job out of managing/purchasing/looking for Christmas? As I'm trying to shift my focus, I'm noticing that the real joy and peace that are supposed to be associated with Christmas spirit have come to me from the Father and his love! Have we ever thought that maybe the "Christmas Spirit" should be the Holy Spirit? I ask because the Spirit is the one who reveals the Father's love and the joy of being saved by Jesus to us, and we'll never find Christmas until we find Christ.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Such as these
I have just a few very simple yet challenging thoughts circulating in my head today. Normally my posts tend to be pretty long and involved, but today I'm not thinking that will happen. Sometimes, I think the power of insights can be lost when too many words are used. I mean, look at Jesus and the way he taught. He didn't spell things out to the last detail for people. In fact, he often left them wishing that he would explain more fully and wondering why he wouldn't. But, by leaving his teachings as they were without over-explaining, I think Jesus encourages us to go back to things and ponder them ourselves. Then, we have to engage our minds and search for him, which brings him glory. "It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; to search out a matter is the glory of kings," (i.e. us!) Proverbs 25:2.
I think that the teachings of Jesus most emblematic of this concealed style or strategy on his part are the beatitudes. They seem so simple on the surface, even as a group, but each one of them is deep enough to study for a week... or eight... or more! The one I've been thinking about recently, along with many people from the house of prayer, is the first of them, Matthew 5:3. It says, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
What does it mean to be poor in spirit? More than I could ever address in a blog entry, that's for sure. I'll give you just one aspect of it that has been on my heart. For me, the mention of the kingdom of heaven in this verse brings to mind another verse where Jesus is talking about the same thing. In Matthew 19, people were bringing their children to Jesus so he could pray for them and bless them. The disciples didn't want to "waste his time" with these kids, so they were shooing them off. But in verse 14, Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."
What a profound and seemingly almost crazy statement! The kingdom belongs to children? What kind of kingdom is that? In the accounts of the same story in Mark and Luke, Jesus goes even further than that: "I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it" (Luke 18:17). Clearly, this is a pretty big deal in Jesus' mind and we would do well to think more about it.
Here's how I see this whole thing relating to being poor in spirit: being poor (in spirit or in body) means you know you need to receive. You don't have what it takes, and you need someone to help you. And who knows how to receive better than little kids? Jesus even points out in that Luke verse that their ability to receive is what we should emulate. Why are they so good at receiving? Partly, I think, because they realize they don't have any other choice.
Think about it: if a little kid is thirsty and wants a glass of water, can they reach the cupboard where the cups are? If they could, then could they reach the faucet to pour it? No, they have to ask for it! Dad, can you get me... etc. For quite a while, small children remain completely dependent on their parents like this. That, to me, is a perfect picture of being poor in spirit.
We can't make God let us into his kingdom or his blessings. We can't get in ourselves by our efforts. We have to ask. In fact, some translators believe that the kids that were being brought to Jesus were actually infants. In that case, we can't even ask... we just have to cry. We have no other choice but to trust that God will know our needs and meet them. It's not so much that we have to lay down our adulthood and be childlike as it is that we need to realize that we are children in God's sight. None of our demands or efforts really changes anything. All we can do is receive the gifts of a good father to his helpless (although sometimes rebellious) children. The kingdom of heaven, for such as these.
What a mystery.
What a blessing.
I think that the teachings of Jesus most emblematic of this concealed style or strategy on his part are the beatitudes. They seem so simple on the surface, even as a group, but each one of them is deep enough to study for a week... or eight... or more! The one I've been thinking about recently, along with many people from the house of prayer, is the first of them, Matthew 5:3. It says, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
What does it mean to be poor in spirit? More than I could ever address in a blog entry, that's for sure. I'll give you just one aspect of it that has been on my heart. For me, the mention of the kingdom of heaven in this verse brings to mind another verse where Jesus is talking about the same thing. In Matthew 19, people were bringing their children to Jesus so he could pray for them and bless them. The disciples didn't want to "waste his time" with these kids, so they were shooing them off. But in verse 14, Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."
What a profound and seemingly almost crazy statement! The kingdom belongs to children? What kind of kingdom is that? In the accounts of the same story in Mark and Luke, Jesus goes even further than that: "I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it" (Luke 18:17). Clearly, this is a pretty big deal in Jesus' mind and we would do well to think more about it.
Here's how I see this whole thing relating to being poor in spirit: being poor (in spirit or in body) means you know you need to receive. You don't have what it takes, and you need someone to help you. And who knows how to receive better than little kids? Jesus even points out in that Luke verse that their ability to receive is what we should emulate. Why are they so good at receiving? Partly, I think, because they realize they don't have any other choice.
Think about it: if a little kid is thirsty and wants a glass of water, can they reach the cupboard where the cups are? If they could, then could they reach the faucet to pour it? No, they have to ask for it! Dad, can you get me... etc. For quite a while, small children remain completely dependent on their parents like this. That, to me, is a perfect picture of being poor in spirit.
We can't make God let us into his kingdom or his blessings. We can't get in ourselves by our efforts. We have to ask. In fact, some translators believe that the kids that were being brought to Jesus were actually infants. In that case, we can't even ask... we just have to cry. We have no other choice but to trust that God will know our needs and meet them. It's not so much that we have to lay down our adulthood and be childlike as it is that we need to realize that we are children in God's sight. None of our demands or efforts really changes anything. All we can do is receive the gifts of a good father to his helpless (although sometimes rebellious) children. The kingdom of heaven, for such as these.
What a mystery.
What a blessing.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Whatever you do...
"And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." -- Colossians 3:17
This verse has been rocking my world this week. It's so simple, yet so powerful. Simple, in this case, I mean as the opposite of complex, not of difficult. In fact, I think this simple instruction from Paul is something that almost nobody is really good at.
The problem is, we're far too quick to view these kinds of statements in Scripture as suggestions. But this is a command. It's not just an idea for a way to receive blessing and have a better life (although it is that too), it's a sovereign directive from God himself. Obviously, it's a good plan to pay attention to those. So how do we do this thing that God is commanding? Let's take it piece by piece.
First, we have this crucial qualifier, "whatever you do." This is a huge deal, because this phrase makes the coming instruction all-encompassing. Whatever is about to be said, it applies to every single situation and action in our lives, so it should always be on our mind as we make our decisions. These kinds of over-arching statements in Scripture are fairly rare, and they always indicate things that are of great importance. In fact, I can only think of four others in the whole Bible right now (but if you know of any more, please let me know!). One is in Proverbs 4:23: "Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life." Also, there are the three "one thing" verses, which I'm pretty sure I've previously mentioned on this blog. They are in Psalm 27:4, Luke 10:42, and Philippians 3:13-14. If you don't know them, you should really look them up right now. Also, I can't think of any better place to start memorizing Scripture than these verses.
Next, we have Paul refusing to leave any loopholes in his command. Words and deeds are both included. I know the old saying "actions speak louder than words" has some merit to it, because a lot of times people remember what you do more than what you say. But, trying to make the two things separate is a deceptively false dichotomy. It's not like what you say is unimportant as long as you do the right thing. Words are actions! They are things you choose, and God expects them, like everything else, to be included in his dominion. To reinforce this beyond all doubt, the next words are "do it all." Everything. Pretty self-explanatory, I think.
Now we come to the payoff. We are to do whatever we do "in the name of the Lord Jesus." This part is really the reason I'm getting rocked by this verse. What does it mean to do something (or, as we are instructed, everything) in Jesus' name? Here's my take on it. If you think about it, every action or word gives glory to something. If I brag about my accomplishments, I give glory to myself. Another way to word that would be that I say those boastful things in my own name. If I idolize a celebrity, I give glory to them. I try to be like them, and make decisions essentially in their name. See where I'm going here? Essentially, we are always worshipping something because that's what bringing glory means. If you disagree, try to think of an action that brings no glory to anyone or anything. I couldn't do it.
That's why I'm thinking that doing something in Jesus' name means doing it for his glory. AND, as I just stated, everything brings glory to someone or something. SO, if we aren't bringing glory to Jesus with what we do, we must be bringing glory to someone or something else. There is no middle ground, no neutral gear here. That actually reminds me of another big over-arching statement of the Bible that I forgot earlier. In Matthew 12:30, Jesus says "He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters." That's what makes this command from Colossians so stunning. There is no moral neutrality. Either words or actions bring glory to God, or they bring glory to something else, and if it's something else then that is against God. Being against God, as you may know, is not a good place to be.
Then to reinforce this point, Paul finishes with the clarification that the things we do should all be out of thanksgiving (see that worship/glory idea again?) to God. This helps us have a better visual picture of what Paul means. It's a good question to ask ourselves as we consider doing something: "can I do this while giving thanks to God?" If the answer is no, we shouldn't do it. End of story.
Here's where this thing gets really sticky for us. As Christians, we want to please God, but we also have our flesh that just wants to please itself. We know it's a bad idea to offend God, so our favorite phrase becomes, "well, it's not wrong..." etc. I'm not going to pull any punches here: that whole idea is a lie from the enemy. If something isn't specifically for God, it's against him. If it doesn't gather glory to God, it scatters that glory elsewhere, and that IS wrong!
Another favorite strategy of ours in justifying our actions is comparison. This one works two different ways. One way is that we have something we want to do, so we look at someone we respect who is doing that: If they're doing it, it must not be wrong! They're a great person! The other way is that we look at someone who is doing something much worse: I'm not doing something that bad, so I should be fine. Both of these approaches have the same problem. The verse doesn't say 'whatever everyone else does,' it says "whatever YOU do"! The decision to glorify God with your life, your words and actions, is up to you individually and no one else. Others might decide differently from us what they think glorifies God, but it shouldn't have any impact on our own decisions. On the flipside of that, we shouldn't judge them either. We should just do what we believe God says is right, no matter what.
So what should we do in light of this all-inclusive command? I can't really tell you what to do because God has to stir it in your heart. As I just mentioned, you shouldn't do anything just because I'm doing it or anyone else is. You need to glorify God in whatever way he shows you. But I'll tell you what I'm doing: I'm looking carefully at my life, thinking and praying about all the things I have and do. If it doesn't glorify Jesus and can't be used to give thanks to God, I'm getting rid of it. When I say getting rid of it, I mean exactly that. In the next week or so, I expect the amount of possessions I have and things I spend my time on to noticeably decrease. I also expect, though, that I won't really miss them if I pursue Jesus instead.
I know that all sounds pretty radical. Jesus was pretty radical too. While we're being radical then, let's just call things what they are. Anything that brings glory to something or someone other than Jesus is an idol. Not just a personal choice, a waste of time, or a harmless little addiction but an idol. And I'm not talking like American Idol, I'm talking like a false god (although I often feel like the two are pretty much synonymous). It's what the first of the Ten Commandments is talking about not having. I just feel like so many of us have the cords of materialism, this world of things we worship, wrapped around us like seaweed dragging us down. What's worse, we don't even know it a lot of the time. I know I didn't. It might be because Christians don't like to use the word idol, which I'm convinced is mostly because it draws attention to their breaking of the first commandment! I know now that I've been breaking this commandment and ignoring it for years. Speaking of people who had seaweed wrapped around them, Jonah said, "those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs" (Jonah 2:8). I don't want to miss out on any more blessings because of stupid things I bow down to! I want to guard my heart and see my life be blessed because of it.
Now, will I get all this right, and keep that command perfectly? I highly doubt it. But I will try. I have to. I'm realizing more and more that if following Jesus isn't a 100% thing, I don't even want to do it. I'm tired of wasting my life. God is calling us to radical holiness, something completely outside what this world's system can offer, something for which there is no model other than Jesus. Holiness. Worshipping one God, being set apart for one purpose only. "Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3:13-14, ESV).
Want to come with me?
This verse has been rocking my world this week. It's so simple, yet so powerful. Simple, in this case, I mean as the opposite of complex, not of difficult. In fact, I think this simple instruction from Paul is something that almost nobody is really good at.
The problem is, we're far too quick to view these kinds of statements in Scripture as suggestions. But this is a command. It's not just an idea for a way to receive blessing and have a better life (although it is that too), it's a sovereign directive from God himself. Obviously, it's a good plan to pay attention to those. So how do we do this thing that God is commanding? Let's take it piece by piece.
First, we have this crucial qualifier, "whatever you do." This is a huge deal, because this phrase makes the coming instruction all-encompassing. Whatever is about to be said, it applies to every single situation and action in our lives, so it should always be on our mind as we make our decisions. These kinds of over-arching statements in Scripture are fairly rare, and they always indicate things that are of great importance. In fact, I can only think of four others in the whole Bible right now (but if you know of any more, please let me know!). One is in Proverbs 4:23: "Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life." Also, there are the three "one thing" verses, which I'm pretty sure I've previously mentioned on this blog. They are in Psalm 27:4, Luke 10:42, and Philippians 3:13-14. If you don't know them, you should really look them up right now. Also, I can't think of any better place to start memorizing Scripture than these verses.
Next, we have Paul refusing to leave any loopholes in his command. Words and deeds are both included. I know the old saying "actions speak louder than words" has some merit to it, because a lot of times people remember what you do more than what you say. But, trying to make the two things separate is a deceptively false dichotomy. It's not like what you say is unimportant as long as you do the right thing. Words are actions! They are things you choose, and God expects them, like everything else, to be included in his dominion. To reinforce this beyond all doubt, the next words are "do it all." Everything. Pretty self-explanatory, I think.
Now we come to the payoff. We are to do whatever we do "in the name of the Lord Jesus." This part is really the reason I'm getting rocked by this verse. What does it mean to do something (or, as we are instructed, everything) in Jesus' name? Here's my take on it. If you think about it, every action or word gives glory to something. If I brag about my accomplishments, I give glory to myself. Another way to word that would be that I say those boastful things in my own name. If I idolize a celebrity, I give glory to them. I try to be like them, and make decisions essentially in their name. See where I'm going here? Essentially, we are always worshipping something because that's what bringing glory means. If you disagree, try to think of an action that brings no glory to anyone or anything. I couldn't do it.
That's why I'm thinking that doing something in Jesus' name means doing it for his glory. AND, as I just stated, everything brings glory to someone or something. SO, if we aren't bringing glory to Jesus with what we do, we must be bringing glory to someone or something else. There is no middle ground, no neutral gear here. That actually reminds me of another big over-arching statement of the Bible that I forgot earlier. In Matthew 12:30, Jesus says "He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters." That's what makes this command from Colossians so stunning. There is no moral neutrality. Either words or actions bring glory to God, or they bring glory to something else, and if it's something else then that is against God. Being against God, as you may know, is not a good place to be.
Then to reinforce this point, Paul finishes with the clarification that the things we do should all be out of thanksgiving (see that worship/glory idea again?) to God. This helps us have a better visual picture of what Paul means. It's a good question to ask ourselves as we consider doing something: "can I do this while giving thanks to God?" If the answer is no, we shouldn't do it. End of story.
Here's where this thing gets really sticky for us. As Christians, we want to please God, but we also have our flesh that just wants to please itself. We know it's a bad idea to offend God, so our favorite phrase becomes, "well, it's not wrong..." etc. I'm not going to pull any punches here: that whole idea is a lie from the enemy. If something isn't specifically for God, it's against him. If it doesn't gather glory to God, it scatters that glory elsewhere, and that IS wrong!
Another favorite strategy of ours in justifying our actions is comparison. This one works two different ways. One way is that we have something we want to do, so we look at someone we respect who is doing that: If they're doing it, it must not be wrong! They're a great person! The other way is that we look at someone who is doing something much worse: I'm not doing something that bad, so I should be fine. Both of these approaches have the same problem. The verse doesn't say 'whatever everyone else does,' it says "whatever YOU do"! The decision to glorify God with your life, your words and actions, is up to you individually and no one else. Others might decide differently from us what they think glorifies God, but it shouldn't have any impact on our own decisions. On the flipside of that, we shouldn't judge them either. We should just do what we believe God says is right, no matter what.
So what should we do in light of this all-inclusive command? I can't really tell you what to do because God has to stir it in your heart. As I just mentioned, you shouldn't do anything just because I'm doing it or anyone else is. You need to glorify God in whatever way he shows you. But I'll tell you what I'm doing: I'm looking carefully at my life, thinking and praying about all the things I have and do. If it doesn't glorify Jesus and can't be used to give thanks to God, I'm getting rid of it. When I say getting rid of it, I mean exactly that. In the next week or so, I expect the amount of possessions I have and things I spend my time on to noticeably decrease. I also expect, though, that I won't really miss them if I pursue Jesus instead.
I know that all sounds pretty radical. Jesus was pretty radical too. While we're being radical then, let's just call things what they are. Anything that brings glory to something or someone other than Jesus is an idol. Not just a personal choice, a waste of time, or a harmless little addiction but an idol. And I'm not talking like American Idol, I'm talking like a false god (although I often feel like the two are pretty much synonymous). It's what the first of the Ten Commandments is talking about not having. I just feel like so many of us have the cords of materialism, this world of things we worship, wrapped around us like seaweed dragging us down. What's worse, we don't even know it a lot of the time. I know I didn't. It might be because Christians don't like to use the word idol, which I'm convinced is mostly because it draws attention to their breaking of the first commandment! I know now that I've been breaking this commandment and ignoring it for years. Speaking of people who had seaweed wrapped around them, Jonah said, "those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs" (Jonah 2:8). I don't want to miss out on any more blessings because of stupid things I bow down to! I want to guard my heart and see my life be blessed because of it.
Now, will I get all this right, and keep that command perfectly? I highly doubt it. But I will try. I have to. I'm realizing more and more that if following Jesus isn't a 100% thing, I don't even want to do it. I'm tired of wasting my life. God is calling us to radical holiness, something completely outside what this world's system can offer, something for which there is no model other than Jesus. Holiness. Worshipping one God, being set apart for one purpose only. "Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3:13-14, ESV).
Want to come with me?
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Your Kingdom come...
Anyone who has ever been even remotely associated with Christians or Christianity will certainly recognize the phrase serving as the title for this entry. In fact, many Christians have probably said those words countless times without really thinking about them, until finally the words are completely stripped of meaning. (As a side note, constant repetition of pretty much any word or words will eventually make you wonder what things mean. It works especially well, I find, with multi-syllable words. For example, just try saying something like "telephone" or "salami" over and over and over. Eventually, you'll be like, "who thought of this word?" and then "what does this word even mean?" until it finally ends up with something like "who am I?"...) Anyway, strange forms of amusement invented by only children aside, I think there's real danger in saying some things without caring about their meaning. Specifically, I'm talking about things with real spiritual significance, e.g. the Lord's prayer.
What are we really saying when we say "your kingdom come" ? Well, first of all, God's kingdom when fully revealed will be the place of ultimate peace. There won't be any more war, or death, or hurt or crying or anything like that. Sickness will be a thing of the past, as will poverty, racism and any other forces you can think of that are currently killing people. The entire old world order of things will be repealed (Revelation 21:4). So obviously that's what we should be hoping for when we ask God to bring his kingdom.
But, there's another whole side to this kingdom thing. We really like the loving and comforting part (as well we should), so it's easy to get stuck there. On the other hand, here's what got me thinking about this whole kingdom issue in the first place:
The other thing we're talking about when we ask for God's kingdom, whether we know it or not, is his majesty and power. This is why just saying the words is potentially dangerous. We need, as Psalm 34 says, to be taught the fear of the Lord.
Think about it like this: Imagine that you lived sometime in the Middle Ages, and you were a swordsmith (because that would be a pretty sweet job). One day, the king of the whole land shows up at your shop with his heavily armed royal bodyguards and tells you to make him a royal sword. What would you do? I have a feeling you would drop what you were doing and make it as soon as you could. There wouldn't be any other choice. You wouldn't, I imagine, be saying anything like, "Well, I have a lot of other work coming in... busiest season of the year, you know... and I really should be taking some time to myself to relax, if that will even be possible with all the housework I have to do... but I would like to help, so maybe I can fit it in around the end of the month" or anything else like that. You'd be firing up the furnace and asking for the specifications. See where I'm going with this?
It's funny that we have to go back so far to the Middle Ages to conjure up an image of a king with that kind of power. In that day, you just didn't argue with royalty. I wonder why we think God would be any different than that. Why in the world do we think we have any choice in the matter of what he tells us to do? This is THE King we're talking about, the Lord Almighty, from whom angels hide their faces. Angels whose voices shake the earth. Imagine what happens when the King himself speaks! No wonder Isaiah said he was ruined. I bet he was pretty sure he had no right to live.
The next thing that happened to him, though, is that God cleansed him from guilt and blessed him. Here's the thing: that same mighty, fearsome King is the one who loves us. And, "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment" (1 John 4:18). So where does the fear of the Lord come in? I know we get all excited about the coming blessings of the kingdom, but God doesn't change (James 1:17). He is still the King, high and exalted, seated on the throne as well. How can we reconcile these things and relate to him in the proper way?
I see it something like this. If you think back to my swordsmith analogy, I said that he didn't have any choice about following the king's orders. The king holds the power of life and death, so obviously arguing with him is a bad idea. But, good kings don't derive their power from threats. They are respected for their wise and caring rule and hold the power of command by virtue of that. If it was a good king in my analogy, he probably wouldn't have killed the poor ridiculous swordsmith if he turned down the king's request. He would, however, have taken the huge pile of gold he was waiting to give the swordsmith for the sword and taken it to someone who would do his will.
So, what does it mean to fear the Lord? If he loves us perfectly as his children (which he does, in case you were wondering), it's not a question of punishment, like if the king had his bodyguards kill the recalcitrant sword maker. God just doesn't sit in Heaven with lightning bolts waiting to zap us. Thing is, he doesn't want or need to. Psalm 37:17 says that "the Lord upholds the righteous." If he is constantly holding our world together with his hand of blessing, I think that's a position worthy of respect. But, he gives us the freedom to turn him down. As much as it breaks his heart, he will let us push his blessings away by refusing the mission and call that he has for us. What we find, as we turn our backs on the blessings by taking control for ourselves, is that we have plenty enough problems without God shooting lightning at us. All the chaos and confusion we let in will ruin us pretty quickly. God allows it, through his tears, for the purpose of bringing us running back to his hand of blessing. This is discipline, yet another way he loves us.
The fear of God for us as his children, then, is something more like reverence. (For his enemies, it's a whole different story.) For us, it's not so much that we have to worry about being smited (and yes, I know the correct word is smitten) but that we have great respect for the all-powerful force of blessing that runs our lives. It would obviously be idiotic for us to attempt to live in the dangerous land outside that protection, but it's still something we tend to do. We give the King, the Lord Almighty, all kinds of reasons why his blessing isn't quite as good or important as the other things we've got going on. And, he respects our wishes with what I can only imagine is some type of sorrowful disbelief. "You want what instead of me?"
Incidentally, this attitude on our parts probably has a lot to do with why non-Christians look at us and don't especially want what we have. If we spend our time actively running away from the blessings we are offering, why would anyone else want them? If we won't live like there's a living King in the land, why would anyone else believe it? I mean, if God is real and he is the all-powerful force of blessing we say he is, then we owe him everything. Everything. All of it, all the time, no matter what. Time, money, jobs, relationships; all his. All subject to his leading, every moment spent in his service. If we lived like that instead of like The World Lite™, then maybe more people would realize the truth. In fact, it would be impossible for them to avoid.
So, let's not be naïve when we pray "your kingdom come." We definitely want and should ask for the blessings that are part of God's kingdom: tears being dried, healing from sickness, etc. But why do we think we should just pray about something we're supposed to have a part in doing? How do we expect to gain the blessings of the kingdom without submitting to God's rule? If we want God's kingdom to come, maybe we should think about living like he is the King.
What are we really saying when we say "your kingdom come" ? Well, first of all, God's kingdom when fully revealed will be the place of ultimate peace. There won't be any more war, or death, or hurt or crying or anything like that. Sickness will be a thing of the past, as will poverty, racism and any other forces you can think of that are currently killing people. The entire old world order of things will be repealed (Revelation 21:4). So obviously that's what we should be hoping for when we ask God to bring his kingdom.
But, there's another whole side to this kingdom thing. We really like the loving and comforting part (as well we should), so it's easy to get stuck there. On the other hand, here's what got me thinking about this whole kingdom issue in the first place:
"In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphs, each with six wings: with two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another: 'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory.' At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke. 'Woe to me!' I cried. 'I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty." (Isaiah 6:1-5)
The other thing we're talking about when we ask for God's kingdom, whether we know it or not, is his majesty and power. This is why just saying the words is potentially dangerous. We need, as Psalm 34 says, to be taught the fear of the Lord.
Think about it like this: Imagine that you lived sometime in the Middle Ages, and you were a swordsmith (because that would be a pretty sweet job). One day, the king of the whole land shows up at your shop with his heavily armed royal bodyguards and tells you to make him a royal sword. What would you do? I have a feeling you would drop what you were doing and make it as soon as you could. There wouldn't be any other choice. You wouldn't, I imagine, be saying anything like, "Well, I have a lot of other work coming in... busiest season of the year, you know... and I really should be taking some time to myself to relax, if that will even be possible with all the housework I have to do... but I would like to help, so maybe I can fit it in around the end of the month" or anything else like that. You'd be firing up the furnace and asking for the specifications. See where I'm going with this?
It's funny that we have to go back so far to the Middle Ages to conjure up an image of a king with that kind of power. In that day, you just didn't argue with royalty. I wonder why we think God would be any different than that. Why in the world do we think we have any choice in the matter of what he tells us to do? This is THE King we're talking about, the Lord Almighty, from whom angels hide their faces. Angels whose voices shake the earth. Imagine what happens when the King himself speaks! No wonder Isaiah said he was ruined. I bet he was pretty sure he had no right to live.
The next thing that happened to him, though, is that God cleansed him from guilt and blessed him. Here's the thing: that same mighty, fearsome King is the one who loves us. And, "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment" (1 John 4:18). So where does the fear of the Lord come in? I know we get all excited about the coming blessings of the kingdom, but God doesn't change (James 1:17). He is still the King, high and exalted, seated on the throne as well. How can we reconcile these things and relate to him in the proper way?
I see it something like this. If you think back to my swordsmith analogy, I said that he didn't have any choice about following the king's orders. The king holds the power of life and death, so obviously arguing with him is a bad idea. But, good kings don't derive their power from threats. They are respected for their wise and caring rule and hold the power of command by virtue of that. If it was a good king in my analogy, he probably wouldn't have killed the poor ridiculous swordsmith if he turned down the king's request. He would, however, have taken the huge pile of gold he was waiting to give the swordsmith for the sword and taken it to someone who would do his will.
So, what does it mean to fear the Lord? If he loves us perfectly as his children (which he does, in case you were wondering), it's not a question of punishment, like if the king had his bodyguards kill the recalcitrant sword maker. God just doesn't sit in Heaven with lightning bolts waiting to zap us. Thing is, he doesn't want or need to. Psalm 37:17 says that "the Lord upholds the righteous." If he is constantly holding our world together with his hand of blessing, I think that's a position worthy of respect. But, he gives us the freedom to turn him down. As much as it breaks his heart, he will let us push his blessings away by refusing the mission and call that he has for us. What we find, as we turn our backs on the blessings by taking control for ourselves, is that we have plenty enough problems without God shooting lightning at us. All the chaos and confusion we let in will ruin us pretty quickly. God allows it, through his tears, for the purpose of bringing us running back to his hand of blessing. This is discipline, yet another way he loves us.
The fear of God for us as his children, then, is something more like reverence. (For his enemies, it's a whole different story.) For us, it's not so much that we have to worry about being smited (and yes, I know the correct word is smitten) but that we have great respect for the all-powerful force of blessing that runs our lives. It would obviously be idiotic for us to attempt to live in the dangerous land outside that protection, but it's still something we tend to do. We give the King, the Lord Almighty, all kinds of reasons why his blessing isn't quite as good or important as the other things we've got going on. And, he respects our wishes with what I can only imagine is some type of sorrowful disbelief. "You want what instead of me?"
Incidentally, this attitude on our parts probably has a lot to do with why non-Christians look at us and don't especially want what we have. If we spend our time actively running away from the blessings we are offering, why would anyone else want them? If we won't live like there's a living King in the land, why would anyone else believe it? I mean, if God is real and he is the all-powerful force of blessing we say he is, then we owe him everything. Everything. All of it, all the time, no matter what. Time, money, jobs, relationships; all his. All subject to his leading, every moment spent in his service. If we lived like that instead of like The World Lite™, then maybe more people would realize the truth. In fact, it would be impossible for them to avoid.
So, let's not be naïve when we pray "your kingdom come." We definitely want and should ask for the blessings that are part of God's kingdom: tears being dried, healing from sickness, etc. But why do we think we should just pray about something we're supposed to have a part in doing? How do we expect to gain the blessings of the kingdom without submitting to God's rule? If we want God's kingdom to come, maybe we should think about living like he is the King.
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