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 God's sovereignty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God's sovereignty. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Trying
I'd like to begin today with an extremely random quote: "Do or do not; there is no try" --Yoda. Our favorite green jedi munchkin utters this line while trying to get Luke Skywalker to use the force strongly enough to lift his X-wing out of the swamp that inexplicably exists on (in?) the asteroid where Yoda lives. At least I think that's how it goes; I haven't seen the old Star Wars movies in quite a while.
Anyway, that particular line has always been one I've loved to quote, partially because Yoda is one of the only voice impressions I can do with any level of proficiency whatsoever and partly because it just seems applicable in many situations. You have to watch out for Yoda, though. As the main philosopher of the Star Wars series (along with Obi-wan, I guess), he's always saying things that are obviously meant to be profound costumed in a mystifying array of vague spirituality, ambiguity, and reversed syntax. When you look closer, though, his statements usually fall somewhere on the spectrum between pure nonsense and outright falsehood.
This one is a prime example. Now, I think it's true that people tend to use the phrase, "I'll try" to indicate that no one should expect them to succeed, either because they aren't up to the task or because they don't actually plan to expend that much effort on it. So in that sense, Yoda's instruction could be legitimate. A jedi saying they'd try would be a cop-out of that order, since the force should enable them to do basically whatever they want (an interesting issue never really addressed in the films, by the way-- why can't they fly? why can't they all shoot lightning out of their hands? If Vader can choke people with his mind, why does he even bother with a lightsaber? But I digress.) Here in the real world, though, there is no force. Here, we have God.
The most powerful force in the universe is not a formless power that can be used to good or evil ends. Far from it, He's a person (three of them, actually) with a very specific will for how things are going to go in his world. His sovereign will puts us in the position where we clearly do not have control over our own success or failure.
I'm not trying to get into the whole free will vs. sovereignty argument here. I think it's self evident, though, that our best-laid plans tend to "gang aft a-gley" as Robert Burns said (rough translation: they go straight to crap a lot of the time). A much more intelligible quote from another poet sums it up quite nicely, I think: "For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business." --T.S. Eliot. Now, Mr. Eliot wrote some really depressing poetry (and some very snobbish literary criticism) early in his career, but then an amazing thing happened: he met Jesus. The quote above is from after that happened, in the midst of his crowning accomplishment, a very long poetic meditation on the value of life (and other things) called The Four Quartets, which I highly recommend.
I think T.S. Eliot was wiser than Yoda. I also think that the preceding is a sentence that has never before been written in the history of literature. I'm ok with that. All I know is that the Bible is filled with verses backing up the idea that we have very little control of the "do or do not" part of life. For us, there is only try!
"Who can speak and have it happen if the Lord has not decreed it? Is it not from the mouth of the Most High that both calamities and good things come?" Lamentations 3:37-38
"Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain." Psalm 127:1
"Lord, you establish peace for us; all that we have accomplished, you have done for us" Isaiah 26:12
Far from being depressing, this is freedom. If our success or failure as men or women-- as Christians, as people-- depends on our own efforts, we are screwed. But God takes the pressure off! He is already doing things; the things that we have accomplished are all things that he did. Instead of worrying about whether we succeed or fail, we get the privilege of discovering and participating in the plans of God.
"For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them" Ephesians 2:10 (ESV).
I quoted from the ESV here because the NIV makes the verse sound unnecessarily Yoda-ish by inexplicably translating the Greek word for walk as "do" in this verse (and in no other place for whatever reason) and adding another "do" before good works, where there isn't even a verb in the original! Their carelessness caused me to misunderstand this verse for years, thinking that I had to somehow make God's plans happen.
What if instead, God is already at work in His world? What if his plans are already in motion, and we can just walk right into them as we pursue relationship with Him? What if all we have to do is try, and He handles the success and gives us failure when we need it? What if we can trust that He is strong and He loves us, and the rest is not our business?
Can we really be led by the hand of God, hear his voice, and work alongside Him in his perfect plan?
It's something I'd like to try.
Anyway, that particular line has always been one I've loved to quote, partially because Yoda is one of the only voice impressions I can do with any level of proficiency whatsoever and partly because it just seems applicable in many situations. You have to watch out for Yoda, though. As the main philosopher of the Star Wars series (along with Obi-wan, I guess), he's always saying things that are obviously meant to be profound costumed in a mystifying array of vague spirituality, ambiguity, and reversed syntax. When you look closer, though, his statements usually fall somewhere on the spectrum between pure nonsense and outright falsehood.
This one is a prime example. Now, I think it's true that people tend to use the phrase, "I'll try" to indicate that no one should expect them to succeed, either because they aren't up to the task or because they don't actually plan to expend that much effort on it. So in that sense, Yoda's instruction could be legitimate. A jedi saying they'd try would be a cop-out of that order, since the force should enable them to do basically whatever they want (an interesting issue never really addressed in the films, by the way-- why can't they fly? why can't they all shoot lightning out of their hands? If Vader can choke people with his mind, why does he even bother with a lightsaber? But I digress.) Here in the real world, though, there is no force. Here, we have God.
The most powerful force in the universe is not a formless power that can be used to good or evil ends. Far from it, He's a person (three of them, actually) with a very specific will for how things are going to go in his world. His sovereign will puts us in the position where we clearly do not have control over our own success or failure.
I'm not trying to get into the whole free will vs. sovereignty argument here. I think it's self evident, though, that our best-laid plans tend to "gang aft a-gley" as Robert Burns said (rough translation: they go straight to crap a lot of the time). A much more intelligible quote from another poet sums it up quite nicely, I think: "For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business." --T.S. Eliot. Now, Mr. Eliot wrote some really depressing poetry (and some very snobbish literary criticism) early in his career, but then an amazing thing happened: he met Jesus. The quote above is from after that happened, in the midst of his crowning accomplishment, a very long poetic meditation on the value of life (and other things) called The Four Quartets, which I highly recommend.
I think T.S. Eliot was wiser than Yoda. I also think that the preceding is a sentence that has never before been written in the history of literature. I'm ok with that. All I know is that the Bible is filled with verses backing up the idea that we have very little control of the "do or do not" part of life. For us, there is only try!
"Who can speak and have it happen if the Lord has not decreed it? Is it not from the mouth of the Most High that both calamities and good things come?" Lamentations 3:37-38
"Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain." Psalm 127:1
"Lord, you establish peace for us; all that we have accomplished, you have done for us" Isaiah 26:12
Far from being depressing, this is freedom. If our success or failure as men or women-- as Christians, as people-- depends on our own efforts, we are screwed. But God takes the pressure off! He is already doing things; the things that we have accomplished are all things that he did. Instead of worrying about whether we succeed or fail, we get the privilege of discovering and participating in the plans of God.
"For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them" Ephesians 2:10 (ESV).
I quoted from the ESV here because the NIV makes the verse sound unnecessarily Yoda-ish by inexplicably translating the Greek word for walk as "do" in this verse (and in no other place for whatever reason) and adding another "do" before good works, where there isn't even a verb in the original! Their carelessness caused me to misunderstand this verse for years, thinking that I had to somehow make God's plans happen.
What if instead, God is already at work in His world? What if his plans are already in motion, and we can just walk right into them as we pursue relationship with Him? What if all we have to do is try, and He handles the success and gives us failure when we need it? What if we can trust that He is strong and He loves us, and the rest is not our business?
Can we really be led by the hand of God, hear his voice, and work alongside Him in his perfect plan?
It's something I'd like to try.
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. :)
Monday, August 22, 2011
Saying Yes
Have you ever had something you've said or written come back to get in your way when you want to do or say something else? That happened to me this week, but it was actually a really good thing. I'll explain.
You see, over the years, I have located a lot of amusing, random and even positively worthwhile (although representatives of this last category are much fewer and further between) content on the monstrous website we all know as Youtube. Every now and again, I'll go to make a joke or a reference to one of these videos I like, but then no one has ever seen it and my joke just falls flat. Or even worse, I'm laughing and no one else is--they're just standing there awkwardly, perhaps offering a slight polite chuckle, trying to affirm that my sense of humor is valid while knowing that they never plan to watch the video in question (or if they do plan to, that they'll never remember what it is when they go to look for it).
My solution to this problem? If you're thinking "stop making jokes based on obscure time-wasting internet videos?" I have to commend your logic, but perhaps you don't know me very well. No, I had a much more comprehensive solution in mind: Compile a list of every crazy Youtube video that I might possibly want to reference or joke about, then post it on my blog so thatall my friends at least everyone who reads that will understand and be able to laugh when I want to talk/post about these things. Because all of you would instantly devote your next several hours to watching all of them as soon as I did that, right?
Yeah, it sounds kind of dumb when I write it all out like that--which brings me to my point, really. One of the benefits of writing things down is that it helps you clarify what's important and worthwhile. Another benefit is that if you write down the good things you learn, they can help convict you and get you back on track later when you're about to do or say or post something stupid.
In my case, I had just written at length about how we're going to die and we don't know when, so we might as well use our time for things that actually matter. I was seriously about to directly follow that post (see below) with a giant list of Youtube videos. Just think about that for a second. To use the internet term, *facepalm*.
As some of you may know, I have just a bit of an addictive personality. It's a strange combination of being very easy to amuse, difficult to distract, and able to tune the whole world out and focus on one thing. I tell people I can't have ADD-- no way I have a deficit of attention, I have a surplus. It may be a disorder though... anyway, suffice it to say that almost anything can get my attention and hold it for longer than most people would imagine, sometimes even at the expense of eating, sleeping, conversing or other necessary life functions.
So imagine what Youtube does to me.
I can't even begin to tell you how much of my life has been flushed down that drain. I'm really not sure why I would want anyone else to experience that. Certainly me seeming funnier is not a good enough reason.
And really, mindless waste of time is one of the best sides of Youtube. There's a whole underworld of darkness and inappropriate content on it as well that they don't advertise, but they know it drives a huge portion of their traffic. You just have to look at what kinds of videos have the most views.
Anyway, I didn't really write this to bash a website. I know Youtube can be used for good things too, like learning how to do things. My church's worship team uses it to help teach people new songs because pretty much every song in the world is posted on it somewhere (most illegally of course, but that's a topic for a different blog). As with almost all our greatest human inventions, though, our greatest blessings become our greatest curses too. After all, pretty much any problem or benefit you can point out with Youtube also applies to the Internet at large. Clearly, the issue here is not Youtube.
The issue is me.
More specifically, will I say yes to God's will even when it means laying down my plans or frivolous enjoyments? (both of which are perfectly illustrated by my Youtube list/plan) Underneath that, one level further down, will I trust that God's plan for my life will be the best, most fulfilling one in the end?
By not posting my list, I'm saying I will.
It's interesting too that as I am willing to submit myself in this way, God is giving me new ways to deny my own will and live for his, some little and some larger. For example on this blog, I took down my poem of the day gadget even though I love poems because some of its content was questionable/depressing. I also took down my movie list because... it reminded me way too much of the Youtube list. I'm not going to lie, some of this can get a little frustrating! Sometimes I can get all like, "really? you're not letting me have this? Now my blog sidebar won't be nearly long enough to line up with my posts!" or some other such ridiculous thing. My order and my plans get challenged by his order and his plans (by the way, when I say not letting me, I refer not to a physical prohibition but to the way my peace of mind and spirit start to evaporate when I consider doing said thing). Even if it's a bigger thing (like fasting, for example, which seems huge to me at least) the peace that comes from listening to that still small voice is worth whatever I have to give up.
One step further: I believe it's the only way for me to grow into the things I need to become in this season of my life (and live in the way I suggested in my last blog). I don't have to figure myself or my life out! I'm thankful for that-- I don't know which one of the two would be harder to decipher. What I do have to do is trust enough to slow down, listen to a God who desires to speak, and then say yes.
Not maybe, not later, not yesbut, just yes. After saying yes, then I just have to do the yes. It's no good to be the son who pays lip service but doesn't do anything! Better to be one who says no but then does the yes, actually (see Matthew 21:28-31). I can plan my course, but I want to let God determine my steps (see Proverbs 16:9). It's very simple, but that doesn't mean it's easy. It actually takes God's strength to say yes to God, which is a whole other level of confusing that I don't have time to go into right now because I've been focused on writing this blog at the expense of eating, as I mentioned that I tend to do. I only bring it up to say that it requires we depend on him, not on ourselves.
Trust. Listen. Say Yes. Do Yes. Repeat.
The rest is up to him.
You see, over the years, I have located a lot of amusing, random and even positively worthwhile (although representatives of this last category are much fewer and further between) content on the monstrous website we all know as Youtube. Every now and again, I'll go to make a joke or a reference to one of these videos I like, but then no one has ever seen it and my joke just falls flat. Or even worse, I'm laughing and no one else is--they're just standing there awkwardly, perhaps offering a slight polite chuckle, trying to affirm that my sense of humor is valid while knowing that they never plan to watch the video in question (or if they do plan to, that they'll never remember what it is when they go to look for it).
My solution to this problem? If you're thinking "stop making jokes based on obscure time-wasting internet videos?" I have to commend your logic, but perhaps you don't know me very well. No, I had a much more comprehensive solution in mind: Compile a list of every crazy Youtube video that I might possibly want to reference or joke about, then post it on my blog so that
Yeah, it sounds kind of dumb when I write it all out like that--which brings me to my point, really. One of the benefits of writing things down is that it helps you clarify what's important and worthwhile. Another benefit is that if you write down the good things you learn, they can help convict you and get you back on track later when you're about to do or say or post something stupid.
In my case, I had just written at length about how we're going to die and we don't know when, so we might as well use our time for things that actually matter. I was seriously about to directly follow that post (see below) with a giant list of Youtube videos. Just think about that for a second. To use the internet term, *facepalm*.
As some of you may know, I have just a bit of an addictive personality. It's a strange combination of being very easy to amuse, difficult to distract, and able to tune the whole world out and focus on one thing. I tell people I can't have ADD-- no way I have a deficit of attention, I have a surplus. It may be a disorder though... anyway, suffice it to say that almost anything can get my attention and hold it for longer than most people would imagine, sometimes even at the expense of eating, sleeping, conversing or other necessary life functions.
So imagine what Youtube does to me.
I can't even begin to tell you how much of my life has been flushed down that drain. I'm really not sure why I would want anyone else to experience that. Certainly me seeming funnier is not a good enough reason.
And really, mindless waste of time is one of the best sides of Youtube. There's a whole underworld of darkness and inappropriate content on it as well that they don't advertise, but they know it drives a huge portion of their traffic. You just have to look at what kinds of videos have the most views.
Anyway, I didn't really write this to bash a website. I know Youtube can be used for good things too, like learning how to do things. My church's worship team uses it to help teach people new songs because pretty much every song in the world is posted on it somewhere (most illegally of course, but that's a topic for a different blog). As with almost all our greatest human inventions, though, our greatest blessings become our greatest curses too. After all, pretty much any problem or benefit you can point out with Youtube also applies to the Internet at large. Clearly, the issue here is not Youtube.
The issue is me.
More specifically, will I say yes to God's will even when it means laying down my plans or frivolous enjoyments? (both of which are perfectly illustrated by my Youtube list/plan) Underneath that, one level further down, will I trust that God's plan for my life will be the best, most fulfilling one in the end?
By not posting my list, I'm saying I will.
It's interesting too that as I am willing to submit myself in this way, God is giving me new ways to deny my own will and live for his, some little and some larger. For example on this blog, I took down my poem of the day gadget even though I love poems because some of its content was questionable/depressing. I also took down my movie list because... it reminded me way too much of the Youtube list. I'm not going to lie, some of this can get a little frustrating! Sometimes I can get all like, "really? you're not letting me have this? Now my blog sidebar won't be nearly long enough to line up with my posts!" or some other such ridiculous thing. My order and my plans get challenged by his order and his plans (by the way, when I say not letting me, I refer not to a physical prohibition but to the way my peace of mind and spirit start to evaporate when I consider doing said thing). Even if it's a bigger thing (like fasting, for example, which seems huge to me at least) the peace that comes from listening to that still small voice is worth whatever I have to give up.
One step further: I believe it's the only way for me to grow into the things I need to become in this season of my life (and live in the way I suggested in my last blog). I don't have to figure myself or my life out! I'm thankful for that-- I don't know which one of the two would be harder to decipher. What I do have to do is trust enough to slow down, listen to a God who desires to speak, and then say yes.
Not maybe, not later, not yesbut, just yes. After saying yes, then I just have to do the yes. It's no good to be the son who pays lip service but doesn't do anything! Better to be one who says no but then does the yes, actually (see Matthew 21:28-31). I can plan my course, but I want to let God determine my steps (see Proverbs 16:9). It's very simple, but that doesn't mean it's easy. It actually takes God's strength to say yes to God, which is a whole other level of confusing that I don't have time to go into right now because I've been focused on writing this blog at the expense of eating, as I mentioned that I tend to do. I only bring it up to say that it requires we depend on him, not on ourselves.
Trust. Listen. Say Yes. Do Yes. Repeat.
The rest is up to him.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Mushrooms, but No Shortcuts
I recently took some time off from all my responsibilities and went on a road trip by myself, something I highly recommend doing if you can find the means to do so. (A hint: it's a lot easier if you quit your job.) It's just good to get out and remember that this is a huge world that God is holding together, and it's also great to catch up with old friends (and relatives)! More than all that, though, I went looking for some direction and set aside some serious time to seek God for that purpose on the trip. I didn't keep this a secret, so since I got back a lot of people have been asking what God showed me.
It sure wasn't what I was expecting.
In fact, it wasn't direction in the sense I was asking for at all. The best way I can actually think of to explain it is just with this story that happened on day 2 of the trip.
I was at my grandparents' house for this early stage of the voyage. They live on like 120 acres of wonderful land in the middle of not much (central Illinois). Part of my trip's mission was to take long walks in their woods and talk to God out in his creation. As I told them that, and almost before the words had finished leaving my mouth, my grandma said "maybe you'll find some mushrooms!"
See, I didn't know this, but my trip directly coincided with the beginning of wild mushroom season in Illinois. Something else I didn't know was that this is a *big deal* around these parts (perhaps due to the lack of too much else going on). I mean, I've never seen people get so excited about fungus before! More on that later. Anyway, it was clear that on any walk I took in my time there, I was going to be equipped with a "sack" (which is what people in Illinois call plastic bags) for the purpose of retrieving any mushrooms I happened to find.
I wasn't really thinking too much about the mushrooms at first. I stuffed the sack into the pocket of my jacket and started off down the hill toward the creek behind my grandparents' house with my eyes only occasionally straying downward to check for the ugly, wrinkly morel mushrooms that were supposed to be there for the picking. They don't really look like anything you'd want to eat, actually. Anyhow, I walked for a long time, stopping occasionally to rest and pray and bring the things on my heart before God.
I kind of thought, I guess, that there would be a lot of these mushrooms around. I was looking forward to making my grandma's day since she was clearly pretty excited about my search. After two and a half hours or so of my walk, though, I still hadn't found a single one of the elusive fungi. My prayers actually started to shift from my requests for general life direction into requests to be directed toward mushrooms. I hadn't really felt like I was hearing God answer my other prayers anyway, so I was starting to get a little bit frustrated.
I don't know why he was waiting for this, but almost as soon as I started praying about the mushrooms, God started to speak. What I felt him say, though, was not what I was expecting or even wanting: "why don't you forget about the mushrooms and just walk with me in my woods?"
So I did. It's funny: I always ask God for answers when he really likes to give me questions. And the really amazing thing is that they always end up being the answers too. Anyway, my walk suddenly got much better. The sun came smiling through the trees after hours of overcast, and either a great variety of birds started suddenly singing... or I just started to notice them. I felt God just show me his love. Finally, I got pretty tired and hungry and sat down to rest beside the creek a little before turning back toward the house.
I turned around, put my hand down to get up... and there it was. Yup, a mushroom. A big, ugly wrinkled one. I picked it and thought I would at least have something to show for my time... but that wasn't it. I looked around a little more, and I kept finding more and more! In one little area about the size of my apartment, I found so many that I almost filled the sack. I was unreasonably happy for someone carrying a bag of fungus. I started to understand maybe why the locals were so into this... maybe.
After the initial euphoria wore off, though, I realized that the mushrooms were just the next part of what God was trying to tell me. I was so concerned about my own life and my own stuff, when God just wanted me to spend time with him. What a crazy shortcut to attempt, getting God's direction without taking time to invest in relationship with him. But I do that all the time. The mushrooms were just a symbol of that, and really--he had been leading me towards them the whole time. The blessing was only revealed in fellowship with him, though.
Now, I don't think it's wrong to ask God for specific direction, just that it wasn't God's plan for my trip. David asked for very specific guidance, as did many others, and God answered them. You don't really read about Jesus asking the Father for directions, though. The model he gave is in John 5:19: "I tell you the truth, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does." Jesus just lived life as close to his father as possible, and then he could easily see what the Father was doing and join him in it. He didn't ask, he just walked in fellowship with his eyes open... and he saw.
That's what I think God wants me to do for the direction I need for my future: draw close to him and keep my eyes open. It just takes the trust that he really is leading me all the while to things I can't currently see. Otherwise, the request for direction is just about me, not about him... and he doesn't do shortcuts like that.
By the way, everyone at my grandparents' church was very impressed with my mushroom find... apparently I passed some obscure Midwestern initiation rite without even knowing it! I wasn't just a city kid anymore, now I was a mushroom hunter and better, a finder. Only God could come up with something like that. Oh, and my grandma was so excited as she fried up the mushrooms and made me eat most of them in honor of the find. I guess mushrooms can be significant after all... and they were delicious :)
It sure wasn't what I was expecting.
In fact, it wasn't direction in the sense I was asking for at all. The best way I can actually think of to explain it is just with this story that happened on day 2 of the trip.
I was at my grandparents' house for this early stage of the voyage. They live on like 120 acres of wonderful land in the middle of not much (central Illinois). Part of my trip's mission was to take long walks in their woods and talk to God out in his creation. As I told them that, and almost before the words had finished leaving my mouth, my grandma said "maybe you'll find some mushrooms!"
See, I didn't know this, but my trip directly coincided with the beginning of wild mushroom season in Illinois. Something else I didn't know was that this is a *big deal* around these parts (perhaps due to the lack of too much else going on). I mean, I've never seen people get so excited about fungus before! More on that later. Anyway, it was clear that on any walk I took in my time there, I was going to be equipped with a "sack" (which is what people in Illinois call plastic bags) for the purpose of retrieving any mushrooms I happened to find.
I wasn't really thinking too much about the mushrooms at first. I stuffed the sack into the pocket of my jacket and started off down the hill toward the creek behind my grandparents' house with my eyes only occasionally straying downward to check for the ugly, wrinkly morel mushrooms that were supposed to be there for the picking. They don't really look like anything you'd want to eat, actually. Anyhow, I walked for a long time, stopping occasionally to rest and pray and bring the things on my heart before God.
I kind of thought, I guess, that there would be a lot of these mushrooms around. I was looking forward to making my grandma's day since she was clearly pretty excited about my search. After two and a half hours or so of my walk, though, I still hadn't found a single one of the elusive fungi. My prayers actually started to shift from my requests for general life direction into requests to be directed toward mushrooms. I hadn't really felt like I was hearing God answer my other prayers anyway, so I was starting to get a little bit frustrated.
I don't know why he was waiting for this, but almost as soon as I started praying about the mushrooms, God started to speak. What I felt him say, though, was not what I was expecting or even wanting: "why don't you forget about the mushrooms and just walk with me in my woods?"
So I did. It's funny: I always ask God for answers when he really likes to give me questions. And the really amazing thing is that they always end up being the answers too. Anyway, my walk suddenly got much better. The sun came smiling through the trees after hours of overcast, and either a great variety of birds started suddenly singing... or I just started to notice them. I felt God just show me his love. Finally, I got pretty tired and hungry and sat down to rest beside the creek a little before turning back toward the house.
I turned around, put my hand down to get up... and there it was. Yup, a mushroom. A big, ugly wrinkled one. I picked it and thought I would at least have something to show for my time... but that wasn't it. I looked around a little more, and I kept finding more and more! In one little area about the size of my apartment, I found so many that I almost filled the sack. I was unreasonably happy for someone carrying a bag of fungus. I started to understand maybe why the locals were so into this... maybe.
After the initial euphoria wore off, though, I realized that the mushrooms were just the next part of what God was trying to tell me. I was so concerned about my own life and my own stuff, when God just wanted me to spend time with him. What a crazy shortcut to attempt, getting God's direction without taking time to invest in relationship with him. But I do that all the time. The mushrooms were just a symbol of that, and really--he had been leading me towards them the whole time. The blessing was only revealed in fellowship with him, though.
Now, I don't think it's wrong to ask God for specific direction, just that it wasn't God's plan for my trip. David asked for very specific guidance, as did many others, and God answered them. You don't really read about Jesus asking the Father for directions, though. The model he gave is in John 5:19: "I tell you the truth, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does." Jesus just lived life as close to his father as possible, and then he could easily see what the Father was doing and join him in it. He didn't ask, he just walked in fellowship with his eyes open... and he saw.
That's what I think God wants me to do for the direction I need for my future: draw close to him and keep my eyes open. It just takes the trust that he really is leading me all the while to things I can't currently see. Otherwise, the request for direction is just about me, not about him... and he doesn't do shortcuts like that.
By the way, everyone at my grandparents' church was very impressed with my mushroom find... apparently I passed some obscure Midwestern initiation rite without even knowing it! I wasn't just a city kid anymore, now I was a mushroom hunter and better, a finder. Only God could come up with something like that. Oh, and my grandma was so excited as she fried up the mushrooms and made me eat most of them in honor of the find. I guess mushrooms can be significant after all... and they were delicious :)
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
A Winter Poem in Spring
I'm looking out a window right now at that beautiful kind of wet snow that sticks to only the tops of tree branches and makes the whole world look like if you bit it, you'd taste ice cream. Earlier, I took a walk in the beginnings of it, but it was still a pleasant surprise when I looked out later to see that it had covered everything. I know it's almost April, and even my winter-loving self has to admit that it is now, by all official standards, spring. I just think it's kind of funny that just because of that arbitrary division of months, some people act like this snow is an affront to the dignity of the world.
That got me thinking, too, about how we don't really get to decide when a lot of different things happen in life. We can strive and try and even ask God for things, but they happen exactly when he wants them to happen, regardless of our plans or categories. Just like it snows in April (and sometimes May too) in Cleveland.
Then, I started thinking about the challenge of staying in the present. I wrote last time about how the desire to have everything right now gets in our way. However, that doesn't change the fact that right now is really the only moment we have to work with. I think our problem comes when we spend now focusing on later or already. When we do that, we effectively take ourselves out of the present. What's more, we make it very difficult for people to connect to us because we are somewhere (or somewhen) else.
God is never like that, though. As we try to become more like him, it's important to remember that he is definitionally the God who IS. It's his name. I AM. Although he is not bound by time and experiences all the moments of it equally, he has dedicated his presence to being with us. God with us, Immanuel, is really just a synonym for I AM in my mind. If you look at how Jesus lived when he was here, he embodied this divine characteristic fully. He was able to devote his full attention to wherever and whenever he was, and whoever he was with. He knew so well how to be present.
Now, I don't think it's wrong for all you colder-blooded people to wish for warmer weather. I just made the connection mentally that staying emotionally and spiritually present in our lives can be like trying to appreciate a snowstorm in spring. If we can look past the potential inconvenience and the fact that the whole thing isn't what we were expecting (or hoping for in many cases), there is great beauty to be seen and enjoyed. Although the seasons of our lives may not last as long or may last longer than we expect or want, God never fails to give us beauty out of our ashes (see Isaiah 61:3). Instead of getting stuck on the beauty of the future (or past), why not stay in the present and enjoy what's there?
That's what I'm trying to do. In fact, I've been trying to do it for awhile now, and this whole winter stream of consciousness reminded me of a poem I wrote a long time ago. For some reason or other, snow has always been something that gets me thinking about these deeper things, I guess. I'll end with this:
Comparison
faintly perceptible
falling in silence
uncounted stacking
of discrete moments
gentle brilliance
smiling, smoldering cold
overpowering flash
that marks restive roads
empty blanket plush
insulating clarity in the dark
silken momentum
across great distance
quiet everything covering
shining outer shells
restoring final stream
that gives growth future
indirect ocean
wave of frozen clean
and how could we be anywhere
but home?
That got me thinking, too, about how we don't really get to decide when a lot of different things happen in life. We can strive and try and even ask God for things, but they happen exactly when he wants them to happen, regardless of our plans or categories. Just like it snows in April (and sometimes May too) in Cleveland.
Then, I started thinking about the challenge of staying in the present. I wrote last time about how the desire to have everything right now gets in our way. However, that doesn't change the fact that right now is really the only moment we have to work with. I think our problem comes when we spend now focusing on later or already. When we do that, we effectively take ourselves out of the present. What's more, we make it very difficult for people to connect to us because we are somewhere (or somewhen) else.
God is never like that, though. As we try to become more like him, it's important to remember that he is definitionally the God who IS. It's his name. I AM. Although he is not bound by time and experiences all the moments of it equally, he has dedicated his presence to being with us. God with us, Immanuel, is really just a synonym for I AM in my mind. If you look at how Jesus lived when he was here, he embodied this divine characteristic fully. He was able to devote his full attention to wherever and whenever he was, and whoever he was with. He knew so well how to be present.
Now, I don't think it's wrong for all you colder-blooded people to wish for warmer weather. I just made the connection mentally that staying emotionally and spiritually present in our lives can be like trying to appreciate a snowstorm in spring. If we can look past the potential inconvenience and the fact that the whole thing isn't what we were expecting (or hoping for in many cases), there is great beauty to be seen and enjoyed. Although the seasons of our lives may not last as long or may last longer than we expect or want, God never fails to give us beauty out of our ashes (see Isaiah 61:3). Instead of getting stuck on the beauty of the future (or past), why not stay in the present and enjoy what's there?
That's what I'm trying to do. In fact, I've been trying to do it for awhile now, and this whole winter stream of consciousness reminded me of a poem I wrote a long time ago. For some reason or other, snow has always been something that gets me thinking about these deeper things, I guess. I'll end with this:
Comparison
faintly perceptible
falling in silence
uncounted stacking
of discrete moments
gentle brilliance
smiling, smoldering cold
overpowering flash
that marks restive roads
empty blanket plush
insulating clarity in the dark
silken momentum
across great distance
quiet everything covering
shining outer shells
restoring final stream
that gives growth future
indirect ocean
wave of frozen clean
and how could we be anywhere
but home?
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.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Christmas Traditions
A lot of my holiday traditions got disrupted this year. The simple fact that I live in a different place now was responsible for a lot of it, but there were also some other changes for a variety of reasons. For example, none of my Christmas ornaments got hung on any tree this year, probably for the first time since I was born. Well, actually that isn't quite true; my parents were trying to steal a few of them by hanging them on their tree while I was separating mine out of their boxes. I caught them :)
Anyhow, none of that is as important as what it all got me thinking about. The holidays seem to me to be the time of the year most governed by tradition. I mean, there are various traditional things throughout the year, but especially around Christmas there is this whole extra set of rules and practices that goes into effect. Presents, decorations, music, shopping, cards, and all kinds of other things that no one thinks that much about the rest of the year suddenly become the main focus of life (or at least it seems like that). Not that any of those things are bad (except maybe the music *shudder* that gets piped into stores like the one I work in constantly and makes me a little extra cynical-- not carols mind you, which are about Jesus, but just songs... meaningless, mindless, repetitive, and totally empty. This has been my bah humbug Christmas moment. We now return to the regularly scheduled blog [and sentence] already in progress), it's just that I feel like they all get done without any thought involved. This is what we're supposed to do now, so it has to be done.
I guess I just don't like it when Christmas becomes a to-do list. No wonder people are so stressed out and angry. There's a whole load of extra things they suddenly have to take time out of their busy lives to accomplish! What's worse, the whole process has (in many cases) been so completely divorced from the deeper meaning it was supposed to have that it has to leave many people scratching their heads as to why they run themselves into the ground trying to do it all. I mean, the only possible way you could find out the real meaning of all this stuff from our "Christmas culture" is if you happen to listen to Linus in the Charlie Brown Christmas special-- which by some miracle, seeing as how it contains essentially the gospel message straight out of Luke, is still aired on secular tv every Christmas.
I'm going to stop right there before I start ranting about how secular culture is ruining Christmas by looking for it in all the wrong places. I did that last Christmas (and it can be found in the archives of this very blog). What I want to do instead is just ask the question that has been on my mind.
What if we could just throw the Christmas to-do list away?
Perhaps better stated, what if we should just throw the Christmas to-do list away? Would we be able to do it? Would we want to? What if we really spent Christmas asking Christ how he wanted us to celebrate it? What would he say? Are we afraid of what he might say, so afraid that we won't even dare to ask? How would it feel to be the only one in your family to be stemming the onrushing tide of tradition?
I guess that was more than one question. I didn't realize how much was in that thought until I was writing it, but it's all what I've been thinking about. And really, please do not hear me saying that tradition is somehow evil. I think it often has great value, and Jesus himself instituted some traditions, most notably the sacrament of communion. Speaking of communion, it seems like community and fellowship were things that Jesus cared about a lot more than material possessions. Perhaps his answers to the questions of how we should spend Christmas would be along those lines?
Anyway, tradition isn't bad, but it is made for us, not us for the tradition. All too often, I think, tradition becomes little more than a euphemism for blindly doing what we always have and an excuse for not involving Jesus in our decision-making processes. All I know is, I did Christmas again this year. Very little of it did I ask God about; some parts of it I liked, some I didn't. I know it would be extremely hard for me to give up presents if God asked me to do that. I just want to know that I would do it, and to be honest I can't say for sure. I'd give up the music in a heartbeat, I know that much. But what if I just put the whole process in his control?
Above all, I just want to be close enough to the heart of God to hear how he wants me to spend my time and money. I hate the idea of doing things for no reason. I want God to put on my heart the gifts to bring, just like he did for the wise men so long ago. I don't know what (if anything) he would have me change in my Christmas traditions for next year. I just hope I listen.
Anyhow, none of that is as important as what it all got me thinking about. The holidays seem to me to be the time of the year most governed by tradition. I mean, there are various traditional things throughout the year, but especially around Christmas there is this whole extra set of rules and practices that goes into effect. Presents, decorations, music, shopping, cards, and all kinds of other things that no one thinks that much about the rest of the year suddenly become the main focus of life (or at least it seems like that). Not that any of those things are bad (except maybe the music *shudder* that gets piped into stores like the one I work in constantly and makes me a little extra cynical-- not carols mind you, which are about Jesus, but just songs... meaningless, mindless, repetitive, and totally empty. This has been my bah humbug Christmas moment. We now return to the regularly scheduled blog [and sentence] already in progress), it's just that I feel like they all get done without any thought involved. This is what we're supposed to do now, so it has to be done.
I guess I just don't like it when Christmas becomes a to-do list. No wonder people are so stressed out and angry. There's a whole load of extra things they suddenly have to take time out of their busy lives to accomplish! What's worse, the whole process has (in many cases) been so completely divorced from the deeper meaning it was supposed to have that it has to leave many people scratching their heads as to why they run themselves into the ground trying to do it all. I mean, the only possible way you could find out the real meaning of all this stuff from our "Christmas culture" is if you happen to listen to Linus in the Charlie Brown Christmas special-- which by some miracle, seeing as how it contains essentially the gospel message straight out of Luke, is still aired on secular tv every Christmas.
I'm going to stop right there before I start ranting about how secular culture is ruining Christmas by looking for it in all the wrong places. I did that last Christmas (and it can be found in the archives of this very blog). What I want to do instead is just ask the question that has been on my mind.
What if we could just throw the Christmas to-do list away?
Perhaps better stated, what if we should just throw the Christmas to-do list away? Would we be able to do it? Would we want to? What if we really spent Christmas asking Christ how he wanted us to celebrate it? What would he say? Are we afraid of what he might say, so afraid that we won't even dare to ask? How would it feel to be the only one in your family to be stemming the onrushing tide of tradition?
I guess that was more than one question. I didn't realize how much was in that thought until I was writing it, but it's all what I've been thinking about. And really, please do not hear me saying that tradition is somehow evil. I think it often has great value, and Jesus himself instituted some traditions, most notably the sacrament of communion. Speaking of communion, it seems like community and fellowship were things that Jesus cared about a lot more than material possessions. Perhaps his answers to the questions of how we should spend Christmas would be along those lines?
Anyway, tradition isn't bad, but it is made for us, not us for the tradition. All too often, I think, tradition becomes little more than a euphemism for blindly doing what we always have and an excuse for not involving Jesus in our decision-making processes. All I know is, I did Christmas again this year. Very little of it did I ask God about; some parts of it I liked, some I didn't. I know it would be extremely hard for me to give up presents if God asked me to do that. I just want to know that I would do it, and to be honest I can't say for sure. I'd give up the music in a heartbeat, I know that much. But what if I just put the whole process in his control?
Above all, I just want to be close enough to the heart of God to hear how he wants me to spend my time and money. I hate the idea of doing things for no reason. I want God to put on my heart the gifts to bring, just like he did for the wise men so long ago. I don't know what (if anything) he would have me change in my Christmas traditions for next year. I just hope I listen.
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.
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.
Monday, November 30, 2009
The Law and the Spirit
One of the great things I'm finding about reading the Bible is that it helps me deal with the craziness inherent in life. What I'm saying is, if we really walked in the true implications of its teachings, I think our lives would make a lot more sense. For example, I read this verse the other day that blew me right out of the water. I mean, I knew it was in there, but I had never really thought about it before or what it would really mean if I lived like it was true.
Side note: isn't it easy when you're reading to take in words and yet no meaning whatsoever? We have to stop doing this with the Bible. When we're young, too many of us get trained to read the Word in whole chapters, like a textbook. I say read as small a chunk as necessary so that you really wrestle with the meaning of what you read. Only after you do that will reading whole chapters make any sense! Ok... that's the end of my tangent, but unfortunately it really broke up the flow of where I was going. Here's what you should do: go back to the top and read that first paragraph again, but this time skip this whole tangential paragraph and move on to the next one when you get done.
Anyway, here's the verse: "God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, having cancelled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to the cross" (Colossians 2:13-14). Do you hear how radical that is? The law, that written code we could never succeed in keeping and therefore opposed us, is cancelled! Ended. Voided. Xed (bonus points if you get that reference). Nullified. Removed. And I could keep going like a thesaurus, but I don't need to because just in case any of those words aren't strong enough for you, the verse says the law is also nailed to the cross of Christ!
It's not just this one verse either. Now that I've spent some time thinking about it and searching further, this idea of the cancelled law is found throughout the New Testament. The story certainly doesn't end there, though. Let me connect some more dots in this constellation before I try to make a point from it.
So, according to this crazy verse, the law is crucified on Jesus' cross. That got me thinking, what else died on that cross? Short answer: I did. "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Galatians 2:20). It kind of puts a damper on the joy that the law is dead to find out that I'm dead too. Thankfully, the story doesn't end there either.
I may be dead, but that verse does seem to give me some hope of life through Christ because Jesus didn't stay dead but rose again. The apostle Paul (who wrote all these books I'm quoting, by the way) agrees elsewhere in his writings: "Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him... The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus" (Romans 6:8,10-11). So what really died?
Sin in me died, so that Christ could take its place. The NIV really mistranslates this concept as the "sinful nature" dying, but a better term is "the flesh," the part of me that is not my spirit. So really, it's just a flesh wound! (I've had worse... No you haven't! Your arm's off! ...Ahem... many apologies to anyone who hasn't seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail). Anyway, this idea of the crucified flesh is what's important here. Paul says later on that "if you live according to the sinful nature [flesh], you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live, because those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God" (Romans 8:13-14). The idea of us being dead, then, is so that we will be led by the Spirit.
The verse that brings this whole thing full circle is Galatians 5:18-- "If you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law"!! I know the actual verse ends with a period, but I couldn't resist adding some exclamation marks (notice how they're outside the quotation marks). I just can't believe how Paul makes this unbelievably radical statement so matter-of-factly. Of course the written code is cancelled! How could it not be? It's like he's saying we should already know this stuff!
And really, we should. Maybe we even do, but how many of us live like it? I think the church in general and most of us individually are pretty stuck on the law. We are very concerned with our outward appearances and doing the right things, but where is the concern for the spirit? Is there even a point to changing people's outward morality if the heart underneath remains unchanged, not under God's control?
I don't really know, and I'm not trying to suggest that sin is unimportant in light of the law being cancelled. People made that mistake in Paul's day, and they were badly missing his point. "What then? Shall we sin because we are not under law but under grace? By no means! Don't you know that when you offer yourselves to someone to obey him as slaves, you are slaves to the one whom you obey-- whether you are slaves to sin, which leads to death, or to obedience, which leads to righteousness?" (Romans 6:15-16). The gravity and importance of sin is not just that some law says not to do it. It is serious because it enslaves us and eventually destroys us.
We are meant, though, to be slaves to righteousness. This is tough language, and I think this has a lot to do with why many Christians balk at the idea of the law being completely cancelled. We are faced with this unsettling dichotomy in Galatians 5:18. Either we are led by the Spirit, or we are under the law. There is no in-between space.
Here's where it gets tricky. Think about the difference between the law and the Spirit for a minute. The law is made of rules that apply to certain situations. If someone makes me mad, I shouldn't kill that person. Ok, got it. I'm extremely attracted to this person, but I didn't sleep with them. Check. Success, as far as the law goes. Apart from these few rules, I am free to do as I please. But being led by the Spirit is much different. He wants to lead us in ALL situations! Do whatever you do in the name of the Lord, remember? 100%. Being led by the Spirit means constantly seeking his direction and submitting to his leading in everything, even the things we would much rather control ourselves.
That, my friends, is hard. There's no getting around it. I'm terrible at it, and I assume you are too. I'm getting better I think (hope), but I still want to keep some areas of my life for myself. That's why we tend to go back to the law. We are not bound by it, but we bind ourselves to it because it seems easier. If we have a rule we can follow for difficult situations, we feel like we will be able to follow it and save ourselves. We want to earn salvation instead of just being saved. We feel like we will be able to keep the rules well enough to meet the standard. It's not true, of course, but it's what we believe. The rules seem easier than laying our lives completely at the feet of God, listening to his voice and letting him direct us in all situations.
Maybe we just misunderstand holiness. I was at my church's men's retreat recently, and we talked a lot about sexual purity. The speaker offered a lot of insight into how to live a pure life, but in my mind the single most important thing he said was that holiness is active, directional. It IS action! It's about what we do, not all the things we don't do. And how in the world do we expect to know what to do unless we let ourselves be led by the Spirit? The rules just don't provide enough guidance.
It's kind of like walking blindfold between two electrified wires. You could do your best to walk straight and wait until you get zapped to change course. That's life under the law, the wires being the rules and associated judgments. Or, you could let someone who knows how to see lead your every step, trusting that he knows the best path and won't let you stray into pain. That's what the Spirit does for us. "Now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves to God, the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life" (Romans 6:22).
It's directional. It's all-encompassing. It's eternal life. It seems a little crazy in our human understanding, but it's so good. That's God for you :)
Side note: isn't it easy when you're reading to take in words and yet no meaning whatsoever? We have to stop doing this with the Bible. When we're young, too many of us get trained to read the Word in whole chapters, like a textbook. I say read as small a chunk as necessary so that you really wrestle with the meaning of what you read. Only after you do that will reading whole chapters make any sense! Ok... that's the end of my tangent, but unfortunately it really broke up the flow of where I was going. Here's what you should do: go back to the top and read that first paragraph again, but this time skip this whole tangential paragraph and move on to the next one when you get done.
Anyway, here's the verse: "God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, having cancelled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to the cross" (Colossians 2:13-14). Do you hear how radical that is? The law, that written code we could never succeed in keeping and therefore opposed us, is cancelled! Ended. Voided. Xed (bonus points if you get that reference). Nullified. Removed. And I could keep going like a thesaurus, but I don't need to because just in case any of those words aren't strong enough for you, the verse says the law is also nailed to the cross of Christ!
It's not just this one verse either. Now that I've spent some time thinking about it and searching further, this idea of the cancelled law is found throughout the New Testament. The story certainly doesn't end there, though. Let me connect some more dots in this constellation before I try to make a point from it.
So, according to this crazy verse, the law is crucified on Jesus' cross. That got me thinking, what else died on that cross? Short answer: I did. "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Galatians 2:20). It kind of puts a damper on the joy that the law is dead to find out that I'm dead too. Thankfully, the story doesn't end there either.
I may be dead, but that verse does seem to give me some hope of life through Christ because Jesus didn't stay dead but rose again. The apostle Paul (who wrote all these books I'm quoting, by the way) agrees elsewhere in his writings: "Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him... The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus" (Romans 6:8,10-11). So what really died?
Sin in me died, so that Christ could take its place. The NIV really mistranslates this concept as the "sinful nature" dying, but a better term is "the flesh," the part of me that is not my spirit. So really, it's just a flesh wound! (I've had worse... No you haven't! Your arm's off! ...Ahem... many apologies to anyone who hasn't seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail). Anyway, this idea of the crucified flesh is what's important here. Paul says later on that "if you live according to the sinful nature [flesh], you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live, because those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God" (Romans 8:13-14). The idea of us being dead, then, is so that we will be led by the Spirit.
The verse that brings this whole thing full circle is Galatians 5:18-- "If you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law"!! I know the actual verse ends with a period, but I couldn't resist adding some exclamation marks (notice how they're outside the quotation marks). I just can't believe how Paul makes this unbelievably radical statement so matter-of-factly. Of course the written code is cancelled! How could it not be? It's like he's saying we should already know this stuff!
And really, we should. Maybe we even do, but how many of us live like it? I think the church in general and most of us individually are pretty stuck on the law. We are very concerned with our outward appearances and doing the right things, but where is the concern for the spirit? Is there even a point to changing people's outward morality if the heart underneath remains unchanged, not under God's control?
I don't really know, and I'm not trying to suggest that sin is unimportant in light of the law being cancelled. People made that mistake in Paul's day, and they were badly missing his point. "What then? Shall we sin because we are not under law but under grace? By no means! Don't you know that when you offer yourselves to someone to obey him as slaves, you are slaves to the one whom you obey-- whether you are slaves to sin, which leads to death, or to obedience, which leads to righteousness?" (Romans 6:15-16). The gravity and importance of sin is not just that some law says not to do it. It is serious because it enslaves us and eventually destroys us.
We are meant, though, to be slaves to righteousness. This is tough language, and I think this has a lot to do with why many Christians balk at the idea of the law being completely cancelled. We are faced with this unsettling dichotomy in Galatians 5:18. Either we are led by the Spirit, or we are under the law. There is no in-between space.
Here's where it gets tricky. Think about the difference between the law and the Spirit for a minute. The law is made of rules that apply to certain situations. If someone makes me mad, I shouldn't kill that person. Ok, got it. I'm extremely attracted to this person, but I didn't sleep with them. Check. Success, as far as the law goes. Apart from these few rules, I am free to do as I please. But being led by the Spirit is much different. He wants to lead us in ALL situations! Do whatever you do in the name of the Lord, remember? 100%. Being led by the Spirit means constantly seeking his direction and submitting to his leading in everything, even the things we would much rather control ourselves.
That, my friends, is hard. There's no getting around it. I'm terrible at it, and I assume you are too. I'm getting better I think (hope), but I still want to keep some areas of my life for myself. That's why we tend to go back to the law. We are not bound by it, but we bind ourselves to it because it seems easier. If we have a rule we can follow for difficult situations, we feel like we will be able to follow it and save ourselves. We want to earn salvation instead of just being saved. We feel like we will be able to keep the rules well enough to meet the standard. It's not true, of course, but it's what we believe. The rules seem easier than laying our lives completely at the feet of God, listening to his voice and letting him direct us in all situations.
Maybe we just misunderstand holiness. I was at my church's men's retreat recently, and we talked a lot about sexual purity. The speaker offered a lot of insight into how to live a pure life, but in my mind the single most important thing he said was that holiness is active, directional. It IS action! It's about what we do, not all the things we don't do. And how in the world do we expect to know what to do unless we let ourselves be led by the Spirit? The rules just don't provide enough guidance.
It's kind of like walking blindfold between two electrified wires. You could do your best to walk straight and wait until you get zapped to change course. That's life under the law, the wires being the rules and associated judgments. Or, you could let someone who knows how to see lead your every step, trusting that he knows the best path and won't let you stray into pain. That's what the Spirit does for us. "Now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves to God, the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life" (Romans 6:22).
It's directional. It's all-encompassing. It's eternal life. It seems a little crazy in our human understanding, but it's so good. That's God for you :)
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.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Qualifications
Recently, the process of trying to find a job has gotten me thinking about what qualifications I actually have as I've attempted to list them in my resumé. I've realized that there are some real, concrete things about me that qualify me to do certain jobs and not others. When it comes to doing God's work, though, I often feel so unqualified. I can't really understand why it is that God would want to have me even attempt to serve him, given my great propensity for messing things up. Too often, the person doing ministry one minute is off ignoring God's voice in some sinful pattern the next and then thinking "surely if the people in charge/people that I minister to knew how I really am, they wouldn't let me serve them... surely there's someone more qualified." If I can't even hold my own life together, how am I supposed to make an impact on my city? my church? my family?
I guess you could call that kind of feeling desperation.
Here's what I mean: in order for my life to avoid crumbling into chaos, despair and failure, I am constantly in need of God's miraculous intervention. He has to hold it together, not me, because I can't. That may sound like kind of a downer, but the funny thing about it, I'm coming to see, is that this is exactly how God wants us to feel. I think he's constantly leading us to a place of desperation for him, whether we like it or not. And just so you know I'm not making this up, check out the book of 2 Corinthians: the whole thing is about this! Paul is trying to give us this doctrine of desperation throughout this whole letter. Some highlights:
1:8-9--"We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead."
I find it very comforting that the greatest missionary in history despaired of life at some points along the way. Even he needed to learn not to rely on himself. Now, I'm not saying that the hardships of my life are comparable to Paul's, but this is still so cool: God uses our hardships to free us from the burden we put on ourselves of having to make everything work out all the time. That's his job, and he can handle it. He does, after all, raise the dead.
3:4-6--"Such confidence as this is ours through Christ before God. Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from God. He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant."
Simply put, God qualifies us to do his work. Not anything about us or our quantifiable job skills or gifts. God is not about resumés. The only reason we get to do his ministry is because he says so. This also frees us from having to worry what people think about it. God said it, so we do it, whether we feel qualified for it or not. Another point about that: we have no business questioning God's call on us. We might not understand why he has chosen us, but it's really none of our business. We don't earn it. I can't say that enough times.
4:7--"But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us."
A crucial point: being desperate for God relieves us of any glory that might come as we follow him. What we do is only a result of his power, and we are just broken, dirty vessels. It's a good thing we don't have to carry the glory, because we can't handle it. It goes straight to our heads and we forget our place all too easily. Our overwhelming imperfections, though, make it obvious that God is the only one who accomplishes anything. As Isaiah said, "all that we have accomplished you have done for us" (Isaiah 26:12).
12:9--"But he [God] said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness"
These words of God to Paul really sum up the whole thing: God uses our brokenness to highlight his power. Therefore, we actually get stronger by making ourselves weaker and relying on God's power. As Paul is forced to conclude, "when I am weak, then I am strong." (12:10).
The challenge, then, is learning to rest in the knowledge that we aren't perfect and never will be in this life. We can choose to be depressed about this, or we can choose to minimize ourselves and rely on God to give us good and perfect gifts and to be strong through us. This strength is the kind we need to change a broken city, not whatever pitiful power we can muster up on our own. He qualifies us to do it, and who can argue with God? I don't know why he would choose me out of the many options, I just know he did. I'll finish with a poem I wrote about that and about learning to rest at God's feet despite everything else, being weak but relying on his strength. So enjoy, and also check out the "poem of the day" from the Library of Congress newly added over on the right--I told you more poetry was coming! I also know it's risky putting my poems in such close proximity to those of the masters: please don't compare the two, just enjoy each one for what it's worth. Here's mine:
One Among Many
Under a tolling fog,
in the speckled mist,
answer the question soaking you
gently as you are unaware
who is calling—
Dampening wind
reaching around umbrellas, under hoods
slanted in momentary hesitation
pointing in one direction,
soon forsaking stillness—
Listen through the footsteps,
over the engines; wait
alone in the reverberation
of small voices fading
for the one who asks—
Hear what you can,
see only what you cannot,
and there on the hill
inside the fog
rest.
I guess you could call that kind of feeling desperation.
Here's what I mean: in order for my life to avoid crumbling into chaos, despair and failure, I am constantly in need of God's miraculous intervention. He has to hold it together, not me, because I can't. That may sound like kind of a downer, but the funny thing about it, I'm coming to see, is that this is exactly how God wants us to feel. I think he's constantly leading us to a place of desperation for him, whether we like it or not. And just so you know I'm not making this up, check out the book of 2 Corinthians: the whole thing is about this! Paul is trying to give us this doctrine of desperation throughout this whole letter. Some highlights:
1:8-9--"We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead."
I find it very comforting that the greatest missionary in history despaired of life at some points along the way. Even he needed to learn not to rely on himself. Now, I'm not saying that the hardships of my life are comparable to Paul's, but this is still so cool: God uses our hardships to free us from the burden we put on ourselves of having to make everything work out all the time. That's his job, and he can handle it. He does, after all, raise the dead.
3:4-6--"Such confidence as this is ours through Christ before God. Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from God. He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant."
Simply put, God qualifies us to do his work. Not anything about us or our quantifiable job skills or gifts. God is not about resumés. The only reason we get to do his ministry is because he says so. This also frees us from having to worry what people think about it. God said it, so we do it, whether we feel qualified for it or not. Another point about that: we have no business questioning God's call on us. We might not understand why he has chosen us, but it's really none of our business. We don't earn it. I can't say that enough times.
4:7--"But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us."
A crucial point: being desperate for God relieves us of any glory that might come as we follow him. What we do is only a result of his power, and we are just broken, dirty vessels. It's a good thing we don't have to carry the glory, because we can't handle it. It goes straight to our heads and we forget our place all too easily. Our overwhelming imperfections, though, make it obvious that God is the only one who accomplishes anything. As Isaiah said, "all that we have accomplished you have done for us" (Isaiah 26:12).
12:9--"But he [God] said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness"
These words of God to Paul really sum up the whole thing: God uses our brokenness to highlight his power. Therefore, we actually get stronger by making ourselves weaker and relying on God's power. As Paul is forced to conclude, "when I am weak, then I am strong." (12:10).
The challenge, then, is learning to rest in the knowledge that we aren't perfect and never will be in this life. We can choose to be depressed about this, or we can choose to minimize ourselves and rely on God to give us good and perfect gifts and to be strong through us. This strength is the kind we need to change a broken city, not whatever pitiful power we can muster up on our own. He qualifies us to do it, and who can argue with God? I don't know why he would choose me out of the many options, I just know he did. I'll finish with a poem I wrote about that and about learning to rest at God's feet despite everything else, being weak but relying on his strength. So enjoy, and also check out the "poem of the day" from the Library of Congress newly added over on the right--I told you more poetry was coming! I also know it's risky putting my poems in such close proximity to those of the masters: please don't compare the two, just enjoy each one for what it's worth. Here's mine:
One Among Many
Under a tolling fog,
in the speckled mist,
answer the question soaking you
gently as you are unaware
who is calling—
Dampening wind
reaching around umbrellas, under hoods
slanted in momentary hesitation
pointing in one direction,
soon forsaking stillness—
Listen through the footsteps,
over the engines; wait
alone in the reverberation
of small voices fading
for the one who asks—
Hear what you can,
see only what you cannot,
and there on the hill
inside the fog
rest.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
