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 brokenness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brokenness. 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.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Integrity in Community
I've had a couple conversations recently that really got me thinking again about the issue of how we relate to each other within the body of Christ (i.e. the church). Long story short, I ended up expressing a lot of my thoughts about it in a poem, so I'll start with that:
Euphemistic Eucharist
Howya doin’? What’s up?
Pretty good, not too much,
life goes on, praise the Lord,
the usual and such--
By pretty good I mean
my family’s a mess--
we fight, except not here:
in this house we just bless.
I’m saying in not much
my schedule is insane:
it’s filled with noise and stress
it hardly can contain--
Life just keeps on going,
and so I don’t have time
to let you see beneath
charade and pantomime.
To praise the Lord I smile
and just sing happy songs;
pain stays behind the mask
where it, of course, belongs--
The usual just means
I’d tell you I’m depressed
were I allowed to break
facades so nicely dressed
And such and such and on--
a thousand pointless things
I’d rather say than tell
you anything that stings.
Safe. But are we happy?
We smile; are we alive?
The one place where it seems
reality should thrive,
instead we hide away;
we put our pride above
our pain--how can we throw
our masks aside and love?
Because we need help and we need
to be saved and all of us are
pretty much the same kinds
of messed up so why not just be real?
Can you see here what I’m driving toward?
Maybe then we could really praise the Lord.
So, I realize that my poem is a bit caustic. I'm just trying to honestly address a real issue, though, and the fact that it keeps on coming up among people I talk to lets me know I'm not the only one who feels it. The issue, as you can probably guess from the poem, is that church (not just mine, or anyone else's specifically, but church in general-- the conversations I mentioned at the beginning were with people from three different ones) has a tendency to become a place of fakeness where people don't feel like they can come with their real problems, instead of what it should be: the place where they could safely be honest and receive healing.
3 questions come to my mind: why does this happen, why is it so bad, and what can we do about it?
Let's break my OCD tendencies toward order and symmetry and start right in the middle with the second question. I don't want to belabor the point that the phenomenon I'm talking about is bad news, but I want to start with what I see as the basic reasons why it is so harmful.
The first is that everyone has problems, and problems don't just go away. Of course, drawing near to God is helpful in dealing with them. God can supernaturally solve them whenever he wants to. The problem comes when churches start teaching (or just believing, consciously or subconsciously), that this supernatural encounter with the healing Lord is only a one-on-one deal. Now, I know that God has healed me at times without any help from anyone else--he's just that good. However, the general model that he has laid out for us is something totally different.
"And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective." (James 5:15-16). This is God's model for healing. We get other believers involved, and they pray for us so that we will be healed. Catch that? James is letting us know that if we won't share our brokenness, both spiritual and physical, we won't access all the healing that we could because it comes through receiving prayer from each other! So that's one reason why it's a crisis that we don't feel like we can be real in church-- where else will we find the righteous men who can pray powerful and effective prayers for our healing?
Another reason is that everyone has problems, and everyone knows this is true. Even (or especially?) people who aren't Christians yet. We might feel like being real with the stuff of our lives will scare unbelievers away, but I propose that the fakeness we choose instead is infinitely more frightening. Everyone knows that people have problems. Everyone knows that they themselves have problems! So if you walk into a group of people where no one seems to have any, what do you think? You think, I'll never fit in with these people. So another reason this fear of dealing with real issues in church is a problem is because it is actually driving away the broken people who desperately need to receive healing by being prayed for (and who God wants to make into the powerful and effective prayers who will then help restore others!).
Finally, and potentially most seriously, being fake in church will hinder our worship. We might think we can sneak in and deal with our problems alone with God and have ourselves fixed by the time we have to talk to anyone. The problem there is that God is looking for worshipers who worship him in spirit and in truth (John 4:23). If we won't be real with God and with our family, we can't worship him in the way he desires. This is serious stuff, and if you don't think so just read in Exodus and Leviticus about people who tried to worship God in unauthorized ways. If we want his healing presence to be with us, we have to be willing to worship in the spiritual integrity God is seeking. Otherwise, our thanksgiving (Greek: Eucharist) will amount to little more than empty words we use to avoid saying what we really mean.
So, why does it happen that we feel like all we can be at church is just fine and peachy-keen, etc.?
I think it probably comes down to fear, mostly. Just because we all have problems and we know it doesn't mean we necessarily feel comfortable sharing them with people! If our fear of being judged for the things that are still messed up about us trumps our desire to be healed from those things, we won't share, plain and simple. If we have a history of being judged, that makes things worse of course, as does seeing other people be judged in places (like church) where they should be welcomed instead. Put all those things together, and fear wins out a lot of times.
Also, I think there's a misunderstanding in the church of what the Bible really teaches about joy. When it says to be joyful in all circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:16), is that the same as being happy all the time? If the joy of the Lord is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10), and a fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22), are we weak Christians who don't have the Holy Spirit if we go through struggles and trials?
All of the answers are no, in case you're wondering. No one is "too blessed to be stressed" either (although some might be in too much denial not to smile). Joy is not the same thing as happiness, and godly joy is just as compatible with sorrow as with happiness. Jesus himself wept (John 11:35), but he was given the oil of joy more than all his companions (Psalm 45:7). He also got so stressed that he sweated blood (Luke 22:44). So godly joy must be something different than unceasing happiness. What if, instead, it's the ongoing security of knowing that eventually everything will work out for your good because it's all in the control of the all-powerful God who loves you? Then you can feel the pain of loss and brokenness without losing hope, and when you are happy you can be happy for the right reasons. That's the joy that will bring you strength.
One further note on why the problem of disingenuousness happens at church: it kind of gets to be a vicious cycle. No one wants to be the first person to do anything, so if no one is talking about any real stuff, it's that much harder for anyone to break the trend.
Which segues nicely into the last question: what can we do about this thing?
First, let me say that I'm no expert on this. I'm actually more of an expert on being fake, to be quite honest. All I know is that I deeply desire to be real, and I'm starting to learn what that means. So how can we be the ones to step out and start being real in the one place in all the world where the truth should win out? How can streetlights shine into darkness that has clouded the home of light?
The main thing I can see is that we have to start wanting more of God so desperately that we don't care about our own images. We have to care more about what he thinks of us than what anyone else does. This is what it means for him to be our Lord. His opinion is the final word, and what he says goes, no matter what it makes us look like. If we start believing that, maybe we can be the ones to step out and take the first risk. We can't make anyone else be real, but we can show them they won't die if they try it!
Also, we have to confess and repent of our judgmental spirits. This will allow us to bless other people who are real enough to be honest about their problems instead of comparing our own struggles to theirs to see how we stack up. All judgment is comparison, and all comparison is irrelevant because God's love is infinite. What if ours started looking more like his?
We also have to stop getting the truth backwards. It's not that God is so good that his followers shouldn't have any problems; He's so good because welcomes us in spite of them! He fixes them too, but for whatever reason he hasn't chosen to do it instantaneously in most cases. We have to let him be who he is in this instead of making him into a false image of what we want him to be.
I'm sure there is much more to be said on this topic-- does anyone else have any ideas to share on how we can help? I'll end with one I just thought of, which is actually the most important one: prayer. I want to start asking God to change the problems I see instead of just worrying about them. I want to talk less and pray more.
So-- God, change what you want to change. Make us more like you. Make your body whole. Let us walk in integrity, bravery, and community. Give us real relationships with real people, and let us worship you in Spirit and in truth. Amen.
Euphemistic Eucharist
Howya doin’? What’s up?
Pretty good, not too much,
life goes on, praise the Lord,
the usual and such--
By pretty good I mean
my family’s a mess--
we fight, except not here:
in this house we just bless.
I’m saying in not much
my schedule is insane:
it’s filled with noise and stress
it hardly can contain--
Life just keeps on going,
and so I don’t have time
to let you see beneath
charade and pantomime.
To praise the Lord I smile
and just sing happy songs;
pain stays behind the mask
where it, of course, belongs--
The usual just means
I’d tell you I’m depressed
were I allowed to break
facades so nicely dressed
And such and such and on--
a thousand pointless things
I’d rather say than tell
you anything that stings.
Safe. But are we happy?
We smile; are we alive?
The one place where it seems
reality should thrive,
instead we hide away;
we put our pride above
our pain--how can we throw
our masks aside and love?
Because we need help and we need
to be saved and all of us are
pretty much the same kinds
of messed up so why not just be real?
Can you see here what I’m driving toward?
Maybe then we could really praise the Lord.
So, I realize that my poem is a bit caustic. I'm just trying to honestly address a real issue, though, and the fact that it keeps on coming up among people I talk to lets me know I'm not the only one who feels it. The issue, as you can probably guess from the poem, is that church (not just mine, or anyone else's specifically, but church in general-- the conversations I mentioned at the beginning were with people from three different ones) has a tendency to become a place of fakeness where people don't feel like they can come with their real problems, instead of what it should be: the place where they could safely be honest and receive healing.
3 questions come to my mind: why does this happen, why is it so bad, and what can we do about it?
Let's break my OCD tendencies toward order and symmetry and start right in the middle with the second question. I don't want to belabor the point that the phenomenon I'm talking about is bad news, but I want to start with what I see as the basic reasons why it is so harmful.
The first is that everyone has problems, and problems don't just go away. Of course, drawing near to God is helpful in dealing with them. God can supernaturally solve them whenever he wants to. The problem comes when churches start teaching (or just believing, consciously or subconsciously), that this supernatural encounter with the healing Lord is only a one-on-one deal. Now, I know that God has healed me at times without any help from anyone else--he's just that good. However, the general model that he has laid out for us is something totally different.
"And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective." (James 5:15-16). This is God's model for healing. We get other believers involved, and they pray for us so that we will be healed. Catch that? James is letting us know that if we won't share our brokenness, both spiritual and physical, we won't access all the healing that we could because it comes through receiving prayer from each other! So that's one reason why it's a crisis that we don't feel like we can be real in church-- where else will we find the righteous men who can pray powerful and effective prayers for our healing?
Another reason is that everyone has problems, and everyone knows this is true. Even (or especially?) people who aren't Christians yet. We might feel like being real with the stuff of our lives will scare unbelievers away, but I propose that the fakeness we choose instead is infinitely more frightening. Everyone knows that people have problems. Everyone knows that they themselves have problems! So if you walk into a group of people where no one seems to have any, what do you think? You think, I'll never fit in with these people. So another reason this fear of dealing with real issues in church is a problem is because it is actually driving away the broken people who desperately need to receive healing by being prayed for (and who God wants to make into the powerful and effective prayers who will then help restore others!).
Finally, and potentially most seriously, being fake in church will hinder our worship. We might think we can sneak in and deal with our problems alone with God and have ourselves fixed by the time we have to talk to anyone. The problem there is that God is looking for worshipers who worship him in spirit and in truth (John 4:23). If we won't be real with God and with our family, we can't worship him in the way he desires. This is serious stuff, and if you don't think so just read in Exodus and Leviticus about people who tried to worship God in unauthorized ways. If we want his healing presence to be with us, we have to be willing to worship in the spiritual integrity God is seeking. Otherwise, our thanksgiving (Greek: Eucharist) will amount to little more than empty words we use to avoid saying what we really mean.
So, why does it happen that we feel like all we can be at church is just fine and peachy-keen, etc.?
I think it probably comes down to fear, mostly. Just because we all have problems and we know it doesn't mean we necessarily feel comfortable sharing them with people! If our fear of being judged for the things that are still messed up about us trumps our desire to be healed from those things, we won't share, plain and simple. If we have a history of being judged, that makes things worse of course, as does seeing other people be judged in places (like church) where they should be welcomed instead. Put all those things together, and fear wins out a lot of times.
Also, I think there's a misunderstanding in the church of what the Bible really teaches about joy. When it says to be joyful in all circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:16), is that the same as being happy all the time? If the joy of the Lord is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10), and a fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22), are we weak Christians who don't have the Holy Spirit if we go through struggles and trials?
All of the answers are no, in case you're wondering. No one is "too blessed to be stressed" either (although some might be in too much denial not to smile). Joy is not the same thing as happiness, and godly joy is just as compatible with sorrow as with happiness. Jesus himself wept (John 11:35), but he was given the oil of joy more than all his companions (Psalm 45:7). He also got so stressed that he sweated blood (Luke 22:44). So godly joy must be something different than unceasing happiness. What if, instead, it's the ongoing security of knowing that eventually everything will work out for your good because it's all in the control of the all-powerful God who loves you? Then you can feel the pain of loss and brokenness without losing hope, and when you are happy you can be happy for the right reasons. That's the joy that will bring you strength.
One further note on why the problem of disingenuousness happens at church: it kind of gets to be a vicious cycle. No one wants to be the first person to do anything, so if no one is talking about any real stuff, it's that much harder for anyone to break the trend.
Which segues nicely into the last question: what can we do about this thing?
First, let me say that I'm no expert on this. I'm actually more of an expert on being fake, to be quite honest. All I know is that I deeply desire to be real, and I'm starting to learn what that means. So how can we be the ones to step out and start being real in the one place in all the world where the truth should win out? How can streetlights shine into darkness that has clouded the home of light?
The main thing I can see is that we have to start wanting more of God so desperately that we don't care about our own images. We have to care more about what he thinks of us than what anyone else does. This is what it means for him to be our Lord. His opinion is the final word, and what he says goes, no matter what it makes us look like. If we start believing that, maybe we can be the ones to step out and take the first risk. We can't make anyone else be real, but we can show them they won't die if they try it!
Also, we have to confess and repent of our judgmental spirits. This will allow us to bless other people who are real enough to be honest about their problems instead of comparing our own struggles to theirs to see how we stack up. All judgment is comparison, and all comparison is irrelevant because God's love is infinite. What if ours started looking more like his?
We also have to stop getting the truth backwards. It's not that God is so good that his followers shouldn't have any problems; He's so good because welcomes us in spite of them! He fixes them too, but for whatever reason he hasn't chosen to do it instantaneously in most cases. We have to let him be who he is in this instead of making him into a false image of what we want him to be.
I'm sure there is much more to be said on this topic-- does anyone else have any ideas to share on how we can help? I'll end with one I just thought of, which is actually the most important one: prayer. I want to start asking God to change the problems I see instead of just worrying about them. I want to talk less and pray more.
So-- God, change what you want to change. Make us more like you. Make your body whole. Let us walk in integrity, bravery, and community. Give us real relationships with real people, and let us worship you in Spirit and in truth. Amen.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Confession and Repentance
So, I know in the past I've said in my introductory paragraph that a blog entry would be short... and it's turned into a total lie. However, this one really is a quick one (by my standards at least). I think its importance actually comes in part from the fact that it's so simple.
Basically, God showed me this past week that I haven't really been understanding the process of confession and repentance.
I tend to fall into what Timothy Keller (in his book The Prodigal God, which is an excellent book that also derives some of its effectiveness from being short) would call the "elder brother" category. Now, I'm an only child, but this refers to the story (Luke 15:11-32) of the lost son(s), in which the older brother is angry when the "prodigal" son is allowed to return. He had been slaving away sedulously (vocab word for the week) all those years, and the rebellious younger son was welcomed back despite being profligate and wicked.
I don't think I begrudge people their welcome back to God, but the point of the "elder brother" idea is that dedicated people often use (or attempt to use) their morality as leverage on God. I've been slaving away, so you have to do ____ for me, etc. Now, when these slavers (like me) actually do mess up, they try to earn their forgiveness the same way.
Ever spend a lot of time beating yourself up for your failures? I know I have. I thought that was just part of the deal, like a specific amount of self-flagellation would be necessary as proof of being properly sorry so God could forgive you. The "bigger" the sin, the more beating up of self needed, right? Interestingly, this is also the younger son in the story's plan, but the father cuts him off in midstream when he tries to execute it.
That's what happened to me too. I (gasp!) sinned this month, and I was starting to grovel about it when God challenged me to put my silly English major brain to work and remember what some words actually mean: confession, and repentance.
Confession essentially just means stating what you believe to be true. We confess Christ, for example, when we say we believe he is the Savior. It's just telling it like it is.
Repentance, in the literal sense, means turning away from something. It's not the same thing as being sorry at all... it's more like facing in a different direction.
Confessing sin, then, is just telling God what happened.
Repenting of sin is the part where you stop thinking about it.
Is that shocking? It is to me! Something in me doesn't even want to accept that it could be that easy, but the fact remains that Jesus already dealt with our sin on the cross, and God continues to be the good father who cuts us off in the middle of our beating ourselves up.
It's so practical and efficient that it has to be God's design. We get to just tell God, "I sinned, and this is how." He is already fully aware of how bad it was, so no editorializing or grovelling on our part is necessary. Then we're allowed to just leave it behind, trusting that confessing is all we need to do to be forgiven (1 John 1:9).
By the way, not thinking about sin is just like not thinking about a pink elephant (which you just did, of course). In order to do it, you have to think about something else, not focus on what you're trying not to think of. If we try merely to turn away from sin, we have to keep checking to make sure it's still behind us. If you just try not to think about sin, not only are you still thinking about it but you also are much more likely to do it again! We become what we look at, I think. That's why I recommend instead thinking about Jesus dying on the cross, or the fact that no matter what happens, I'm God's son. Don't turn away from sin, turn toward Him. Looking that way moves me to awe and worship instead of gloom and self-focus. I think that's the only way to do it.
"One thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3:13-14).
What a privilege!
Basically, God showed me this past week that I haven't really been understanding the process of confession and repentance.
I tend to fall into what Timothy Keller (in his book The Prodigal God, which is an excellent book that also derives some of its effectiveness from being short) would call the "elder brother" category. Now, I'm an only child, but this refers to the story (Luke 15:11-32) of the lost son(s), in which the older brother is angry when the "prodigal" son is allowed to return. He had been slaving away sedulously (vocab word for the week) all those years, and the rebellious younger son was welcomed back despite being profligate and wicked.
I don't think I begrudge people their welcome back to God, but the point of the "elder brother" idea is that dedicated people often use (or attempt to use) their morality as leverage on God. I've been slaving away, so you have to do ____ for me, etc. Now, when these slavers (like me) actually do mess up, they try to earn their forgiveness the same way.
Ever spend a lot of time beating yourself up for your failures? I know I have. I thought that was just part of the deal, like a specific amount of self-flagellation would be necessary as proof of being properly sorry so God could forgive you. The "bigger" the sin, the more beating up of self needed, right? Interestingly, this is also the younger son in the story's plan, but the father cuts him off in midstream when he tries to execute it.
That's what happened to me too. I (gasp!) sinned this month, and I was starting to grovel about it when God challenged me to put my silly English major brain to work and remember what some words actually mean: confession, and repentance.
Confession essentially just means stating what you believe to be true. We confess Christ, for example, when we say we believe he is the Savior. It's just telling it like it is.
Repentance, in the literal sense, means turning away from something. It's not the same thing as being sorry at all... it's more like facing in a different direction.
Confessing sin, then, is just telling God what happened.
Repenting of sin is the part where you stop thinking about it.
Is that shocking? It is to me! Something in me doesn't even want to accept that it could be that easy, but the fact remains that Jesus already dealt with our sin on the cross, and God continues to be the good father who cuts us off in the middle of our beating ourselves up.
It's so practical and efficient that it has to be God's design. We get to just tell God, "I sinned, and this is how." He is already fully aware of how bad it was, so no editorializing or grovelling on our part is necessary. Then we're allowed to just leave it behind, trusting that confessing is all we need to do to be forgiven (1 John 1:9).
By the way, not thinking about sin is just like not thinking about a pink elephant (which you just did, of course). In order to do it, you have to think about something else, not focus on what you're trying not to think of. If we try merely to turn away from sin, we have to keep checking to make sure it's still behind us. If you just try not to think about sin, not only are you still thinking about it but you also are much more likely to do it again! We become what we look at, I think. That's why I recommend instead thinking about Jesus dying on the cross, or the fact that no matter what happens, I'm God's son. Don't turn away from sin, turn toward Him. Looking that way moves me to awe and worship instead of gloom and self-focus. I think that's the only way to do it.
"One thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3:13-14).
What a privilege!
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Stepping In
Disclaimer: this post is not meant to be read while eating. Consider yourself warned.
The more I try to follow Jesus, the more I realize that he is always speaking to us, whether we are listening or not. He can use any means, any situation, and nothing is too plain or ordinary for him. He doesn't have to part the heavens; he'll do whatever it takes to get to us.
I know that because this week he spoke to me through a piece of poop.
No, not like an audible voice or anything. I'll explain. First of all, though, just a brief sidebar: I will be using the G-rated or PG-rated terms for fecal matter throughout this post (poop and crap, respectively), but I wish it to be known that I find neither of them as satisfying as the PG-13/R-rated term for which they are both euphemisms (although there's no denying that poop is an intrinsically funny word). I think it has to do with the idea of onomatopoeia-- when you step in some of said substance, it doesn't sound anything like "poop" or "crap"... but it does sound an awful lot like "Sh....." (at least I think so). Also, the occasional use of real swear words instead of their socially acceptable equivalents can be more helpful (and probably no more or less offensive to God, who sees our hearts) in relieving real frustration such as what I'm about to describe, I've found. But, I really don't want to get into the moral discussion of the proper uses (if any) of profanity. Although, having said all that, it probably can't be helped at this point. ANYway...
To restate my earlier premise, God used some crap to get my attention. I was moving a bunch of stuff into my new apartment, and I had to park my car on the street (I guess 3rd-floor tenants don't get driveway spots). So, I was carrying a big box of random stuff through the treelawn. As you may know, when carrying a big box it is pretty hard to see the ground near your feet.
So yeah, I stepped all up in that stuff (a prime example of a situation where using the real word would be more satisfying). Not one of those glancing blows where you just wipe it off real quick, but one of those where you look down and the whole pile is smashed flat and a large portion is still adhering to and squishing around the side of your shoe. Very frustrating, and not at all what you want to be tracking into your new apartment, especially when to get there you have to walk up a common staircase past two other people's doors whom you'd like to have a cordial relationship with.
Something had to be done, so I left my shoes at the door, took the box up to my place in my socks, and got some paper towels. Unfortunately, I was wearing basketball shoes. As a former shoe salesman, I know that the benefits of this shoe style include superior impact absorption (for jumping), great ankle support, and good traction. Well, the traction part turns into a big disadvantage if you step in some crap, because all those little rubber zigzags make for some pretty impossible crevices to clean with paper towels. So there I was, sitting on my new doorstep, very intently scraping poop out of the treads of my shoe with a tiny stick.
And then God said, "What if you were this diligent about getting rid of the crap that's in your heart?"
At least, that's the best wording I can put to the conviction I felt in my spirit. How often am I content to just leave my sin sticking to me and track it all around my own life and the lives of those around me? It's not big... just like poop isn't real big. It isn't the size that's the problem... it's the content, the dirt, and... the smell.
We're supposed to be the fragrance of Christ in the world, both to believers and those who are still searching, and ultimately as an offering to God himself (see 2 Corinthians 2:14-16). But if we walk without really caring too much or taking time to address the sin stuck in the treads of our lives, even the little/private/thought-life/insert excuse here stuff, I guarantee our aroma will be a much different one.
Even if most of the rest of us is clean, it doesn't take much to change a fragrance. I can pray and worship God and witness all I want, but if I'm self-centered the rest of the time then what do I smell like? I'll leave you to fill in that blank. By the way, another sidebar I don't want to get into now: this same principle may well be why the church is often not respected by our culture. We can do all kinds of good things, but it doesn't take many people like those idiots who protest at funerals and such to change the aroma of all of us...just a thought.
Back to my other idea, though. The verse that God initially brought to my mind through all of this was a different one from 2 Corinthians-- the part where it talks about their reaction to the correction Paul had brought them in his other letter (7:8-11):
"Even if I caused you sorrow by my letter, I do not regret it. Though I did regret it--I see that my letter hurt you, but only for a little while--yet now I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance. For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us. Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done. At every point you have proved yourselves to be innocent in this matter."
See, we don't need to dwell painfully on our sin forever, but to bring it to God. God's conviction brings earnestness, eagerness to clear ourselves, indignation, alarm, longing, concern, and readiness for justice-- all of which are exactly what I felt when I stepped in that crap, by the way. I was diligent, eager to clean it off, angry, alarmed, concerned, and ready to see justice done to the perpetrator! (I believe I prayed something to the effect that the owner of that dog would have to watch it get run over, actually. I'm not saying this was part of the godly sorrow, just that it seemed like justice at the time. It probably isn't.)
The bigger question, though, is why my stepping into sin doesn't have this same effect on me. Why do I seem so unconcerned about the uncleanness and the aroma? Why don't I have that same earnestness to be clean? I have one idea-- come back with me to my story for a moment.
The reason I was at the apartment in the first place on this day before moving in was to meet the gas man and let him in so he could turn the gas on. He was (not surprisingly) late, but it turned out to be good because I had just finished my lengthy cleaning process and gotten all the stuff up into my place. He arrived just as I was coming down to my car with a couple bags I was going to fill with more stuff to move on a future trip. "Go on in," I said, "it's open... I just have to drop these in my car real quick." So I was hurrying back to my car, only thinking about getting back into the house to show him where to go. You see where this is heading?
Yup. I stepped in it again. The exact same place. It wasn't quite as bad this time, but only because it was already completely flat from the first time. What I said at this point I will not even paraphrase. My point is, though, that I felt a lot less desire to clean it off right away, having just gone through that whole process.
I think it gets harder to deal with our sin seriously because we keep coming back to it. We step in it again, sometimes within hours or minutes of getting clean, and we'd just rather hide it than go through the painstaking process of actually cleaning it out and the additional shame of not being able to avoid the exact same mistake we already made. The ancient philosopher Heraclitus famously said "You could not step twice into the same river," the idea being that the water flows on and is different when you come back. But you can step into the same crap as many times as you choose to, or as many times as you forget where it is or don't pay attention.
That's why it's so important to have godly sorrow, the kind that brings earnestness and repentance and leaves no regret. Each time we come before God with our sin is no different than the first time. His love for us is the same, no matter how many times we fall, and only He can clean us to the point where we convey the aroma of Christ and give us awareness of how to stay out of the crap next time.
So anyway, I did clean off my shoes again, and it was while doing so that I felt like God told me that second part. The instrument He used to reveal all this to me was perhaps the most unglamorous one possible, and then just in case I forgot he used that same piece of s**t (couldn't resist any longer) again. He is always speaking. Will I listen? He has much better things for me to step into. :)
The more I try to follow Jesus, the more I realize that he is always speaking to us, whether we are listening or not. He can use any means, any situation, and nothing is too plain or ordinary for him. He doesn't have to part the heavens; he'll do whatever it takes to get to us.
I know that because this week he spoke to me through a piece of poop.
No, not like an audible voice or anything. I'll explain. First of all, though, just a brief sidebar: I will be using the G-rated or PG-rated terms for fecal matter throughout this post (poop and crap, respectively), but I wish it to be known that I find neither of them as satisfying as the PG-13/R-rated term for which they are both euphemisms (although there's no denying that poop is an intrinsically funny word). I think it has to do with the idea of onomatopoeia-- when you step in some of said substance, it doesn't sound anything like "poop" or "crap"... but it does sound an awful lot like "Sh....." (at least I think so). Also, the occasional use of real swear words instead of their socially acceptable equivalents can be more helpful (and probably no more or less offensive to God, who sees our hearts) in relieving real frustration such as what I'm about to describe, I've found. But, I really don't want to get into the moral discussion of the proper uses (if any) of profanity. Although, having said all that, it probably can't be helped at this point. ANYway...
To restate my earlier premise, God used some crap to get my attention. I was moving a bunch of stuff into my new apartment, and I had to park my car on the street (I guess 3rd-floor tenants don't get driveway spots). So, I was carrying a big box of random stuff through the treelawn. As you may know, when carrying a big box it is pretty hard to see the ground near your feet.
So yeah, I stepped all up in that stuff (a prime example of a situation where using the real word would be more satisfying). Not one of those glancing blows where you just wipe it off real quick, but one of those where you look down and the whole pile is smashed flat and a large portion is still adhering to and squishing around the side of your shoe. Very frustrating, and not at all what you want to be tracking into your new apartment, especially when to get there you have to walk up a common staircase past two other people's doors whom you'd like to have a cordial relationship with.
Something had to be done, so I left my shoes at the door, took the box up to my place in my socks, and got some paper towels. Unfortunately, I was wearing basketball shoes. As a former shoe salesman, I know that the benefits of this shoe style include superior impact absorption (for jumping), great ankle support, and good traction. Well, the traction part turns into a big disadvantage if you step in some crap, because all those little rubber zigzags make for some pretty impossible crevices to clean with paper towels. So there I was, sitting on my new doorstep, very intently scraping poop out of the treads of my shoe with a tiny stick.
And then God said, "What if you were this diligent about getting rid of the crap that's in your heart?"
At least, that's the best wording I can put to the conviction I felt in my spirit. How often am I content to just leave my sin sticking to me and track it all around my own life and the lives of those around me? It's not big... just like poop isn't real big. It isn't the size that's the problem... it's the content, the dirt, and... the smell.
We're supposed to be the fragrance of Christ in the world, both to believers and those who are still searching, and ultimately as an offering to God himself (see 2 Corinthians 2:14-16). But if we walk without really caring too much or taking time to address the sin stuck in the treads of our lives, even the little/private/thought-life/insert excuse here stuff, I guarantee our aroma will be a much different one.
Even if most of the rest of us is clean, it doesn't take much to change a fragrance. I can pray and worship God and witness all I want, but if I'm self-centered the rest of the time then what do I smell like? I'll leave you to fill in that blank. By the way, another sidebar I don't want to get into now: this same principle may well be why the church is often not respected by our culture. We can do all kinds of good things, but it doesn't take many people like those idiots who protest at funerals and such to change the aroma of all of us...just a thought.
Back to my other idea, though. The verse that God initially brought to my mind through all of this was a different one from 2 Corinthians-- the part where it talks about their reaction to the correction Paul had brought them in his other letter (7:8-11):
"Even if I caused you sorrow by my letter, I do not regret it. Though I did regret it--I see that my letter hurt you, but only for a little while--yet now I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance. For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us. Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done. At every point you have proved yourselves to be innocent in this matter."
See, we don't need to dwell painfully on our sin forever, but to bring it to God. God's conviction brings earnestness, eagerness to clear ourselves, indignation, alarm, longing, concern, and readiness for justice-- all of which are exactly what I felt when I stepped in that crap, by the way. I was diligent, eager to clean it off, angry, alarmed, concerned, and ready to see justice done to the perpetrator! (I believe I prayed something to the effect that the owner of that dog would have to watch it get run over, actually. I'm not saying this was part of the godly sorrow, just that it seemed like justice at the time. It probably isn't.)
The bigger question, though, is why my stepping into sin doesn't have this same effect on me. Why do I seem so unconcerned about the uncleanness and the aroma? Why don't I have that same earnestness to be clean? I have one idea-- come back with me to my story for a moment.
The reason I was at the apartment in the first place on this day before moving in was to meet the gas man and let him in so he could turn the gas on. He was (not surprisingly) late, but it turned out to be good because I had just finished my lengthy cleaning process and gotten all the stuff up into my place. He arrived just as I was coming down to my car with a couple bags I was going to fill with more stuff to move on a future trip. "Go on in," I said, "it's open... I just have to drop these in my car real quick." So I was hurrying back to my car, only thinking about getting back into the house to show him where to go. You see where this is heading?
Yup. I stepped in it again. The exact same place. It wasn't quite as bad this time, but only because it was already completely flat from the first time. What I said at this point I will not even paraphrase. My point is, though, that I felt a lot less desire to clean it off right away, having just gone through that whole process.
I think it gets harder to deal with our sin seriously because we keep coming back to it. We step in it again, sometimes within hours or minutes of getting clean, and we'd just rather hide it than go through the painstaking process of actually cleaning it out and the additional shame of not being able to avoid the exact same mistake we already made. The ancient philosopher Heraclitus famously said "You could not step twice into the same river," the idea being that the water flows on and is different when you come back. But you can step into the same crap as many times as you choose to, or as many times as you forget where it is or don't pay attention.
That's why it's so important to have godly sorrow, the kind that brings earnestness and repentance and leaves no regret. Each time we come before God with our sin is no different than the first time. His love for us is the same, no matter how many times we fall, and only He can clean us to the point where we convey the aroma of Christ and give us awareness of how to stay out of the crap next time.
So anyway, I did clean off my shoes again, and it was while doing so that I felt like God told me that second part. The instrument He used to reveal all this to me was perhaps the most unglamorous one possible, and then just in case I forgot he used that same piece of s**t (couldn't resist any longer) again. He is always speaking. Will I listen? He has much better things for me to step into. :)
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Saying no...
I suppose I probably should have seen this coming.
What, you may ask? Well, of course ever since I posted about saying yes to God, I've been much more conscious of all the ways I say no to him. I'm actually realizing, much to my chagrin, that between outright saying no and just not listening at all, I don't really say yes to God nearly as much as my previous post might have made it seem like. I mean, I even boiled the whole process of life down to a few simple steps in that post... and then I found out I'm bad at doing them.
I guess this is just my personal disclaimer then. I didn't ever mean to suggest that I have life under control, but it turns out that's kind of what I was actually thinking after all. If that sounds prideful... it is. Nice thing is, if you just get something like that out in the open, then God can do something with it. What he likes to do is humbling and often painful, but that's really what progress looks like, I think.
So, I was thinking that I should amend my five-step plan to include a part where we confess and ask for repentance for all the ways we say no. Then I was thinking, not many of us are actually bold enough to say no outright to God (although I have done that, and I don't recommend it). Mostly we just don't ask/listen/pay attention to him. For those of us who know that he actually speaks, this is a little bit like a kid plugging his ears and yelling lalalalala to not hear what his parents are saying. He can try the excuse that he didn't hear, but that doesn't usually get far (note that this is a purely hypothetical kid of course, not based on personal experience at all).
The only difference between us and that kid is we've developed more sophisticated ways of plugging our ears and yelling, so to speak. Last time I mentioned YouTube and its noise-making, distracting brethren on the web and tv. Sometimes it can even be healthy things, like working hard, or even personal relationships. Mostly, however we do it, we say no to God by trying to avoid the silence (physical and spiritual) in which we know he speaks.
What I'm finding is that no matter how well I think I'm doing with this stuff, I'm still much more of a mixed bag of good and bad than I wish I was. I suspect the same is true for you, if you're honest. Even in this, though, we have hope:
Our hope is that God pursues us.
Even when we are running away (or toward any other thing, which is the same), he comes after us. He doesn't mind the whole mixed bag thing so much; it's really his only option for people to work with. Check out the story of Elijah in 1 Kings 19, for example! Elijah just had pretty much the most amazing mountaintop experience (literally) possible in the chapter before, and in chapter 19 he freaks out and runs away. He also asks God to kill him rather than making him keep working! Keep in mind this is the same guy that was eventually found worthy to skip the whole death thing and get carried into heaven on a chariot made of fire as well. Was he perfect? No. But God pursued him... and he spoke to him in the silence (1 Kings 19:12). I know the NIV says gentle whisper, but the literal translation is "thin silence." That phrase inspired a poem for me that reflects my desire to listen and respond to the Lord, and I'll finish with that:
Elijah's Prayer
let me be found
in the thin silence
listening
let my voice
surrender and stay
quietly
for you
let my heart
be wholly at home
to whisper
resting on you
let me be lost
Amen
What, you may ask? Well, of course ever since I posted about saying yes to God, I've been much more conscious of all the ways I say no to him. I'm actually realizing, much to my chagrin, that between outright saying no and just not listening at all, I don't really say yes to God nearly as much as my previous post might have made it seem like. I mean, I even boiled the whole process of life down to a few simple steps in that post... and then I found out I'm bad at doing them.
I guess this is just my personal disclaimer then. I didn't ever mean to suggest that I have life under control, but it turns out that's kind of what I was actually thinking after all. If that sounds prideful... it is. Nice thing is, if you just get something like that out in the open, then God can do something with it. What he likes to do is humbling and often painful, but that's really what progress looks like, I think.
So, I was thinking that I should amend my five-step plan to include a part where we confess and ask for repentance for all the ways we say no. Then I was thinking, not many of us are actually bold enough to say no outright to God (although I have done that, and I don't recommend it). Mostly we just don't ask/listen/pay attention to him. For those of us who know that he actually speaks, this is a little bit like a kid plugging his ears and yelling lalalalala to not hear what his parents are saying. He can try the excuse that he didn't hear, but that doesn't usually get far (note that this is a purely hypothetical kid of course, not based on personal experience at all).
The only difference between us and that kid is we've developed more sophisticated ways of plugging our ears and yelling, so to speak. Last time I mentioned YouTube and its noise-making, distracting brethren on the web and tv. Sometimes it can even be healthy things, like working hard, or even personal relationships. Mostly, however we do it, we say no to God by trying to avoid the silence (physical and spiritual) in which we know he speaks.
What I'm finding is that no matter how well I think I'm doing with this stuff, I'm still much more of a mixed bag of good and bad than I wish I was. I suspect the same is true for you, if you're honest. Even in this, though, we have hope:
Our hope is that God pursues us.
Even when we are running away (or toward any other thing, which is the same), he comes after us. He doesn't mind the whole mixed bag thing so much; it's really his only option for people to work with. Check out the story of Elijah in 1 Kings 19, for example! Elijah just had pretty much the most amazing mountaintop experience (literally) possible in the chapter before, and in chapter 19 he freaks out and runs away. He also asks God to kill him rather than making him keep working! Keep in mind this is the same guy that was eventually found worthy to skip the whole death thing and get carried into heaven on a chariot made of fire as well. Was he perfect? No. But God pursued him... and he spoke to him in the silence (1 Kings 19:12). I know the NIV says gentle whisper, but the literal translation is "thin silence." That phrase inspired a poem for me that reflects my desire to listen and respond to the Lord, and I'll finish with that:
Elijah's Prayer
let me be found
in the thin silence
listening
let my voice
surrender and stay
quietly
for you
let my heart
be wholly at home
to whisper
resting on you
let me be lost
Amen
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.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Memento Mori
The title of this post is a Latin phrase. It may not at first seem like a very uplifting one-- it means "Remember you will die."
This phrase has been a motto of the Christian faith throughout its history. Does it sound morbid to you? It did to me at first... but as I've been thinking about it more I think it's one of the most important thoughts that has ever been expressed.
And believe it or not, it's in the Bible. Ecclesiastes 7:2 says "It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart."
Yeah, houses of mourning are pretty much our favorite places to be, right? I was trying to think about what these places would be today, and what came to mind was funeral homes. How do you feel when you go to a funeral? I know I just want to get out of there as soon as possible most times. If there's a choice between a funeral and a feast, I know which one I'd normally choose.
But Solomon is challenging us with something here, challenging us to deal with the real issues of this messed up world we find ourselves in. When we're partying, we often don't have to deal with any of this-- it's like the food and drink and entertainment are specifically designed to keep us from having to think. Actually it's not like that, it IS that in many cases. As Solomon points out elsewhere in his book, this isn't always a bad thing-- too much thinking can be just as bad as not enough. The lesson of the funeral, however, is said to have more lasting value.
What's the lesson? Essentially, it's that we are all going to die. And we don't know when-- could be tomorrow, could be fifty years from now. As Francis Chan said in his (excellent and highly challenging) book, Crazy Love, "You might not finish this chapter." Or this blog. Comforting, right?
Actually, I think it is. Here's why: something happens when we die. You might be thinking, "we go to Heaven!" and yeah, that's obviously what we're shooting for. (Remembering to live in the light of our future hope in heaven is really important too, but that's really a whole different post. I'm just talking about death here. Let's keep it focused on death.)
See, while our spirits are going to meet Jesus and face the last judgment, something is happening here on earth too. The best way I can describe it is that things are ceasing to matter. Think about it-- when you die, do you think anyone will care at all what clothes you wore, what job you had, how much money you made at it, or where you lived? I doubt it-- they'll care about who you were, not what you did. So all those other things will entirely cease to matter because the only person who ever really cared about them will have just left the premises.
Remembering that we will die just puts in perspective the things that are really important. Did we live life striving to become more like Jesus and to bless those around us, both our Christian family and the lost around us? Or were we too selfish? As I've been thinking about this for myself, I've realized that a lot of the things I'm focused on are so dramatically self-centered that they completely lack importance.
Remembering that we might die soon provides the impetus we need to do something about this self-centeredness. There really isn't time to deal with our own priorities and then move on to what God cares about and what will bless others. We have to do the important things NOW. I know I don't want to scrape my way into Heaven like someone escaping through the flames (see 1 Corinthians 3:11-16). I want to devote my time to things that will last.
Now, obviously this mindset could lead us into frenzied panic: we have to know right now what God wants and do all of it right away with no breaks because we could die any minute! But that isn't really the point. I'm convinced that almost anything can have eternal value... if it's offered to the Lord. We become more like him in our everyday work if we do it for him, in our resting if we rest in him, in our worship if our hearts are really inviting him. We also bless our community by working, our friends and family by resting and recharging, and our God and church family by worshipping with all our hearts and inspiring others.
"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God" --1 Corinthians 10:31
The coolest thing that's been happening in my life recently is that I've started seeing how God desires to meet me and grow me up in all these different situations. I feel a lot of times like my thoughts and feelings are all over the map, but God pursues me in all of them. All of these things then become windows into his love and ways to become more like him. As I offer them to him, some he takes away, some he gives back, and some are multiplied several times over! But all of it matters-- yet only to the extent that it stops being about me and starts being about God's plan being worked out in my life and in the lives of those he has placed around me.
So, I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, but I have to remember that I will die. I just don't want to waste my time alive on cares that will perish with me. My life will have impact on the future only as I care about the things the eternal God has always cared about: the rescue and restoration, salvation and sanctification, of broken souls in a fallen world. As I learn to live like this, I can be free from the stress of all my own plans and worries (which, incidentally, I don't have power to do anything about because God isn't terribly concerned about them) and begin to walk in the freedom that comes when you're working for the plans of the One who has the power.
And all that just from remembering that one unspecified day, I'll die. Not so bad, is it?
Memento mori.
This phrase has been a motto of the Christian faith throughout its history. Does it sound morbid to you? It did to me at first... but as I've been thinking about it more I think it's one of the most important thoughts that has ever been expressed.
And believe it or not, it's in the Bible. Ecclesiastes 7:2 says "It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart."
Yeah, houses of mourning are pretty much our favorite places to be, right? I was trying to think about what these places would be today, and what came to mind was funeral homes. How do you feel when you go to a funeral? I know I just want to get out of there as soon as possible most times. If there's a choice between a funeral and a feast, I know which one I'd normally choose.
But Solomon is challenging us with something here, challenging us to deal with the real issues of this messed up world we find ourselves in. When we're partying, we often don't have to deal with any of this-- it's like the food and drink and entertainment are specifically designed to keep us from having to think. Actually it's not like that, it IS that in many cases. As Solomon points out elsewhere in his book, this isn't always a bad thing-- too much thinking can be just as bad as not enough. The lesson of the funeral, however, is said to have more lasting value.
What's the lesson? Essentially, it's that we are all going to die. And we don't know when-- could be tomorrow, could be fifty years from now. As Francis Chan said in his (excellent and highly challenging) book, Crazy Love, "You might not finish this chapter." Or this blog. Comforting, right?
Actually, I think it is. Here's why: something happens when we die. You might be thinking, "we go to Heaven!" and yeah, that's obviously what we're shooting for. (Remembering to live in the light of our future hope in heaven is really important too, but that's really a whole different post. I'm just talking about death here. Let's keep it focused on death.)
See, while our spirits are going to meet Jesus and face the last judgment, something is happening here on earth too. The best way I can describe it is that things are ceasing to matter. Think about it-- when you die, do you think anyone will care at all what clothes you wore, what job you had, how much money you made at it, or where you lived? I doubt it-- they'll care about who you were, not what you did. So all those other things will entirely cease to matter because the only person who ever really cared about them will have just left the premises.
Remembering that we will die just puts in perspective the things that are really important. Did we live life striving to become more like Jesus and to bless those around us, both our Christian family and the lost around us? Or were we too selfish? As I've been thinking about this for myself, I've realized that a lot of the things I'm focused on are so dramatically self-centered that they completely lack importance.
Remembering that we might die soon provides the impetus we need to do something about this self-centeredness. There really isn't time to deal with our own priorities and then move on to what God cares about and what will bless others. We have to do the important things NOW. I know I don't want to scrape my way into Heaven like someone escaping through the flames (see 1 Corinthians 3:11-16). I want to devote my time to things that will last.
Now, obviously this mindset could lead us into frenzied panic: we have to know right now what God wants and do all of it right away with no breaks because we could die any minute! But that isn't really the point. I'm convinced that almost anything can have eternal value... if it's offered to the Lord. We become more like him in our everyday work if we do it for him, in our resting if we rest in him, in our worship if our hearts are really inviting him. We also bless our community by working, our friends and family by resting and recharging, and our God and church family by worshipping with all our hearts and inspiring others.
"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God" --1 Corinthians 10:31
The coolest thing that's been happening in my life recently is that I've started seeing how God desires to meet me and grow me up in all these different situations. I feel a lot of times like my thoughts and feelings are all over the map, but God pursues me in all of them. All of these things then become windows into his love and ways to become more like him. As I offer them to him, some he takes away, some he gives back, and some are multiplied several times over! But all of it matters-- yet only to the extent that it stops being about me and starts being about God's plan being worked out in my life and in the lives of those he has placed around me.
So, I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, but I have to remember that I will die. I just don't want to waste my time alive on cares that will perish with me. My life will have impact on the future only as I care about the things the eternal God has always cared about: the rescue and restoration, salvation and sanctification, of broken souls in a fallen world. As I learn to live like this, I can be free from the stress of all my own plans and worries (which, incidentally, I don't have power to do anything about because God isn't terribly concerned about them) and begin to walk in the freedom that comes when you're working for the plans of the One who has the power.
And all that just from remembering that one unspecified day, I'll die. Not so bad, is it?
Memento mori.
Monday, 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 :)
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Goals, past and present
Well, I've been writing like a madman all week (and last... and next), so I want to keep this short. I just thought I would give an update to the small world of my blog on how I did with my New Year's "resolutions" last year. As you may (or more likely, may not) recall, last year around this time I wrote a post denouncing the idea of New Year's resolutions and then made two of them in that same post. It seems only fair, seeing that I shared them with the world, that I let everyone know how they went.
First, I resolved to drink more water. I think it's safe to say that I definitely did that, but it happened fairly intermittently and not as consistently as I would like. It did result in me buying a nice water bottle that makes me much more likely to drink water, so that's definitely a positive. I think what really happened is that, toward the end of last year, I got really overwhelmed and all these high-minded resolution type things I was thinking about just went right out the door. I'm doing pretty well with this one this year so far, though.
The second resolution was to be on time for things. Keep in mind that when I wrote that one, I was completely unemployed. It's amazing what wonders having somewhere you have to be on time to or get fired will do for your punctuality. It's nothing like college, that's for sure :) Anyway, I feel like I've come a long way in this area. There was a momentary setback when I moved and didn't know how long it was going to take me to get anywhere for awhile, but now I think I'm back on track. I really like how life feels a lot better when I'm not constantly running late!
Speaking of that... well, first of all, I had a good talk with some friends recently about goals for the New Year. I said how I don't like resolutions, but a friend of mine challenged me that living life without goals is really dangerous. I knew I had to agree with him, and it led to a discussion about goals vs. resolutions. In a resolution, people tend to just resolve to be different, which is what I bristled against last year. Goals are more like a plan for long-term growth. What I ended up doing last year, really, was setting some goals: by the end of the year, I want to be doing better in this area.
So, this year I'm setting a goal again. I want to stop procrastinating. This is huge for me, because I've been this way for a long time, but I really want to do things before the last minute at least some of the time. The reason I've been writing like a maniac this week is because I let this enormous period of time I had to work on the huge project I'm under contract for elapse without doing hardly any of it. The deadline is in a week and three days and I still have a long, long way to go. Needless to say, this is dramatically reducing my quality of life. Completely aside from the fact that all I have time to do is write, the whole thing is also very stressful, what with the possibility of failure, humiliation, and worst of all: not getting paid.
Mind you, I think I'm going to make it. I have a plan for making it. I will do everything in my power to make it. The point is just that it didn't have to be like this. Even a little bit less procrastination would have made this month a much more enjoyable one. That's how I want to live in the future.
And one step further: I don't think I can be the things God is calling me to be if I won't learn to work ahead of time and get the procrastination under control. I live on my own now. If I won't get the things done that need to happen in my life, no one will (unless my roommate bails me out somehow, but that's different). It's time to man up and live like I care about where I'm going. Maybe this deadline crunch is exactly what I needed. It could end up getting me on the right start for not just the new year but for the rest of, you know... life.
First, I resolved to drink more water. I think it's safe to say that I definitely did that, but it happened fairly intermittently and not as consistently as I would like. It did result in me buying a nice water bottle that makes me much more likely to drink water, so that's definitely a positive. I think what really happened is that, toward the end of last year, I got really overwhelmed and all these high-minded resolution type things I was thinking about just went right out the door. I'm doing pretty well with this one this year so far, though.
The second resolution was to be on time for things. Keep in mind that when I wrote that one, I was completely unemployed. It's amazing what wonders having somewhere you have to be on time to or get fired will do for your punctuality. It's nothing like college, that's for sure :) Anyway, I feel like I've come a long way in this area. There was a momentary setback when I moved and didn't know how long it was going to take me to get anywhere for awhile, but now I think I'm back on track. I really like how life feels a lot better when I'm not constantly running late!
Speaking of that... well, first of all, I had a good talk with some friends recently about goals for the New Year. I said how I don't like resolutions, but a friend of mine challenged me that living life without goals is really dangerous. I knew I had to agree with him, and it led to a discussion about goals vs. resolutions. In a resolution, people tend to just resolve to be different, which is what I bristled against last year. Goals are more like a plan for long-term growth. What I ended up doing last year, really, was setting some goals: by the end of the year, I want to be doing better in this area.
So, this year I'm setting a goal again. I want to stop procrastinating. This is huge for me, because I've been this way for a long time, but I really want to do things before the last minute at least some of the time. The reason I've been writing like a maniac this week is because I let this enormous period of time I had to work on the huge project I'm under contract for elapse without doing hardly any of it. The deadline is in a week and three days and I still have a long, long way to go. Needless to say, this is dramatically reducing my quality of life. Completely aside from the fact that all I have time to do is write, the whole thing is also very stressful, what with the possibility of failure, humiliation, and worst of all: not getting paid.
Mind you, I think I'm going to make it. I have a plan for making it. I will do everything in my power to make it. The point is just that it didn't have to be like this. Even a little bit less procrastination would have made this month a much more enjoyable one. That's how I want to live in the future.
And one step further: I don't think I can be the things God is calling me to be if I won't learn to work ahead of time and get the procrastination under control. I live on my own now. If I won't get the things done that need to happen in my life, no one will (unless my roommate bails me out somehow, but that's different). It's time to man up and live like I care about where I'm going. Maybe this deadline crunch is exactly what I needed. It could end up getting me on the right start for not just the new year but for the rest of, you know... life.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Devotion
There's an old saying that goes, "Don't put all your eggs in the same basket." This is commonly regarded as wisdom, since obviously if you drop the one basket carrying all your eggs, you then have zero eggs, which would be the worst possible outcome.
I'm not sure it works that way in God's kingdom, though. Check this out:
"Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to preaching and to teaching. Do not neglect your gift, which was given you through a prophetic message when the body of elders laid their hands on you. Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress."
--Paul, in 1 Timothy 4:13-15
Paul is asking Timothy to put all his eggs in one basket. Devote yourself, be diligent, give yourself wholly. These are all or nothing phrases.
I think we shy away from approaching life like this for a couple of reasons. For one thing, devoting yourself to anything (which implies complete focus and being set apart for a task--similar to holiness, actually) is hard work by definition. It is all consuming, and a lot of us have trouble committing to things like that. So, laziness gets in our way.
Even deeper than that, though, I feel like we avoid this devoted lifestyle because of fear. We are somehow afraid that it won't turn out to be that great and we'll be left with nothing else after the eggs drop. We really don't think God's plan is the best, so we follow halfway just in case it is the best, while also making our own plans and holding onto those. It doesn't seem to work, but that doesn't usually stop us. Maybe that's why Jesus said we have to lose our lives to save them.
Then another thing we fear is the reaction of others. Paul comes right out and tells Timothy that everyone will see his progress: little or much, good or bad, it will be right out there. Streetlights are right out in the open, not hidden. If we devote our lives to following the Lord, people will be able to tell, and our successes and failures will be much more visible if we're willing to be real. I think that's why we paradoxically try to save face by not trying as hard as we can. That way if what we're doing fails, we always have the out that "we weren't really trying our very hardest." Who knows what would have happened if we were?
So that's where I find myself today. I know that I want to devote myself to following God, reading the word, and using my spiritual gifts. I want to be diligent. I want to devote myself wholly to this. I am also afraid. But, I know the times when I am most devoted to God are the times I am most free. The same decision presents itself every day, every hour, every moment. All I know is, regardless of my past choices, my current fears, or old sayings, right now I choose devotion.
I'm not sure it works that way in God's kingdom, though. Check this out:
"Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to preaching and to teaching. Do not neglect your gift, which was given you through a prophetic message when the body of elders laid their hands on you. Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress."
--Paul, in 1 Timothy 4:13-15
Paul is asking Timothy to put all his eggs in one basket. Devote yourself, be diligent, give yourself wholly. These are all or nothing phrases.
I think we shy away from approaching life like this for a couple of reasons. For one thing, devoting yourself to anything (which implies complete focus and being set apart for a task--similar to holiness, actually) is hard work by definition. It is all consuming, and a lot of us have trouble committing to things like that. So, laziness gets in our way.
Even deeper than that, though, I feel like we avoid this devoted lifestyle because of fear. We are somehow afraid that it won't turn out to be that great and we'll be left with nothing else after the eggs drop. We really don't think God's plan is the best, so we follow halfway just in case it is the best, while also making our own plans and holding onto those. It doesn't seem to work, but that doesn't usually stop us. Maybe that's why Jesus said we have to lose our lives to save them.
Then another thing we fear is the reaction of others. Paul comes right out and tells Timothy that everyone will see his progress: little or much, good or bad, it will be right out there. Streetlights are right out in the open, not hidden. If we devote our lives to following the Lord, people will be able to tell, and our successes and failures will be much more visible if we're willing to be real. I think that's why we paradoxically try to save face by not trying as hard as we can. That way if what we're doing fails, we always have the out that "we weren't really trying our very hardest." Who knows what would have happened if we were?
So that's where I find myself today. I know that I want to devote myself to following God, reading the word, and using my spiritual gifts. I want to be diligent. I want to devote myself wholly to this. I am also afraid. But, I know the times when I am most devoted to God are the times I am most free. The same decision presents itself every day, every hour, every moment. All I know is, regardless of my past choices, my current fears, or old sayings, right now I choose devotion.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Seasons
"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven"
--Ecclesiastes 3:1
My recent season, as you may have noticed, has not been the season for blogging. It would be easy to say that the reason for my lack of writing and posting is just that I have a lot of other things on my plate at the moment, but I don't think that's really the whole truth. I was getting frustrated the other day about all the things I have to do, but truth be told I have all the time I need. Really, I haven't been writing because I haven't felt like I had much of anything to say.
I'm coming to realize that the ongoing battle of adulthood is not just about making it through all your responsibilities to clear out some free time for fun or for pursuing the Lord. It's about keeping your heart alive, right in the midst of all the stuff of your life, so that you have something to hold onto when the responsibilities are finally finished.
I don't know if you've ever felt like this, but for me it's easy to get lost in the practical. There are specific things (e.g. my job) that I know God has called me to do, so I tend to focus on just accomplishing those things. What I mean about keeping your heart alive, though, is that no practical thing you focus on is going to be able to hold up your life by itself. There has to be something transcendent at the foundation. I think I was missing God himself in the pursuit of all the things I thought he wanted me to do.
That's how you end up feeling like you don't have anything to say. And in a sense, maybe it should be considered progress that I've finally realized I should just be quiet if I don't have anything to say (see verse 7 of the same chapter). I know I've often just talked right on through those times, saying very little in many words, which benefits no one. Just the absence of speaking by itself, though, is not enough.
I want to be silent before the Lord until he gives me something to speak.
Then, I'll have something worth saying. The trick is, he's still calling me to do those things that I've let get in the way of seeking him out. I think what he wants is for me to find him in those things, to pursue the love and joy that he has for me in my job, my friendships, my calling, etc. I know that I can just practically manage those situations and find that I have nothing to speak in them. Or, I can try to find the holy moments in the midst of the mundane.
I think doing that will also lead to increased desire to pursue God himself in the quiet (as well as the love he brings me through my friends) when I do have time. It's like the opposite of a vicious cycle... an upward spiral? I think that's what St. Anselm was getting at when he prayed this prayer that is also my prayer in this season:
"Lord, let me find you in loving you and love you in finding you."
Amen.
--Ecclesiastes 3:1
My recent season, as you may have noticed, has not been the season for blogging. It would be easy to say that the reason for my lack of writing and posting is just that I have a lot of other things on my plate at the moment, but I don't think that's really the whole truth. I was getting frustrated the other day about all the things I have to do, but truth be told I have all the time I need. Really, I haven't been writing because I haven't felt like I had much of anything to say.
I'm coming to realize that the ongoing battle of adulthood is not just about making it through all your responsibilities to clear out some free time for fun or for pursuing the Lord. It's about keeping your heart alive, right in the midst of all the stuff of your life, so that you have something to hold onto when the responsibilities are finally finished.
I don't know if you've ever felt like this, but for me it's easy to get lost in the practical. There are specific things (e.g. my job) that I know God has called me to do, so I tend to focus on just accomplishing those things. What I mean about keeping your heart alive, though, is that no practical thing you focus on is going to be able to hold up your life by itself. There has to be something transcendent at the foundation. I think I was missing God himself in the pursuit of all the things I thought he wanted me to do.
That's how you end up feeling like you don't have anything to say. And in a sense, maybe it should be considered progress that I've finally realized I should just be quiet if I don't have anything to say (see verse 7 of the same chapter). I know I've often just talked right on through those times, saying very little in many words, which benefits no one. Just the absence of speaking by itself, though, is not enough.
I want to be silent before the Lord until he gives me something to speak.
Then, I'll have something worth saying. The trick is, he's still calling me to do those things that I've let get in the way of seeking him out. I think what he wants is for me to find him in those things, to pursue the love and joy that he has for me in my job, my friendships, my calling, etc. I know that I can just practically manage those situations and find that I have nothing to speak in them. Or, I can try to find the holy moments in the midst of the mundane.
I think doing that will also lead to increased desire to pursue God himself in the quiet (as well as the love he brings me through my friends) when I do have time. It's like the opposite of a vicious cycle... an upward spiral? I think that's what St. Anselm was getting at when he prayed this prayer that is also my prayer in this season:
"Lord, let me find you in loving you and love you in finding you."
Amen.
Monday, May 31, 2010
One Step
I'll start off today with a poem I wrote a while ago as I was preparing to graduate from college:
One Step Forward Taken
Somewhere outside empty,
around the corner
from unrest and
down the next
street from destiny
is my intended
destination. I sit
in my life
like a kid
in the car
in the family
driveway and say
Are we there
yet? knowing only
leaving and arriving.
Wherever there is,
I can’t get
to where real
and fake diverge
all at once,
so I tend
to take less
than the first
step.
I wrote this poem in the midst of thinking about moving out of academia into "real life," but I've realized since then that it applies to so many different situations. It seems like my brain always wants to do things later or somehow start at a more easily defined time, e.g. "I'll start my workout plan on Monday, but today's Thursday so there's no use starting it now" or "Next month I'll have to eat healthier, but this one is already pretty shot" or "Next year I'll really start working towards my goal of dunking a basketball"-- you get the idea. Goals that seem very big just can't be accomplished all at once, and that can often lead to putting off even their smallest beginnings (which then leads, of course, to putting them off again later). Those are just examples, but it can happen with anything.
Am I the only one that does stuff like that? No? Good, I didn't think so. I think it's really an example of how we listen to the voice of fear in our lives. The whole situation reminds me of something my pastor likes to say, which I will paraphrase from the Ricktionary like this: "Our enemy always wants us to do things a little, and later. God wants to give us more, and now!" And isn't that the truth? It seems like there is often a questioning voice advising us to hedge our bets or put things off until we're more ready or the time is more right. But when is that, exactly?
What I'm trying to learn to do is take the first steps. If I realize something needs to change in my life, I don't want to finish out this week doing it wrong and start trying it the right way on Monday! I need to accept that real change is messier than that and can't be confined to my (sometimes unreasonable) desire for order. I want to take the first step toward doing the things God has placed in my heart right now, right here in the middle of all the ridiculous mess and chaos. I don't have time to wait for things to be more right or ready. A little and later just isn't going to cut it for me; I need more of God and his help, and I need it now!
That might seem a little demanding, and I guess maybe it is. All I know is that God has given us the green light to come after him with that kind of intensity. Check out Genesis 32. Jacob wrestled with God (!!) all through the night and wouldn't stop until he received a blessing. He wasn't like, "let me just get things straight with my brother who wants to kill me and then I'll start following you and seeking your blessing." He knew he couldn't go any further without God's blessing and he needed it right then. He took the one step he needed to take, even though he took it (and every other step from then on) with a limp.
I don't want my fear of limping to get in the way of my taking that first step, whatever it may be.
There's no time to waste.
One Step Forward Taken
Somewhere outside empty,
around the corner
from unrest and
down the next
street from destiny
is my intended
destination. I sit
in my life
like a kid
in the car
in the family
driveway and say
Are we there
yet? knowing only
leaving and arriving.
Wherever there is,
I can’t get
to where real
and fake diverge
all at once,
so I tend
to take less
than the first
step.
I wrote this poem in the midst of thinking about moving out of academia into "real life," but I've realized since then that it applies to so many different situations. It seems like my brain always wants to do things later or somehow start at a more easily defined time, e.g. "I'll start my workout plan on Monday, but today's Thursday so there's no use starting it now" or "Next month I'll have to eat healthier, but this one is already pretty shot" or "Next year I'll really start working towards my goal of dunking a basketball"-- you get the idea. Goals that seem very big just can't be accomplished all at once, and that can often lead to putting off even their smallest beginnings (which then leads, of course, to putting them off again later). Those are just examples, but it can happen with anything.
Am I the only one that does stuff like that? No? Good, I didn't think so. I think it's really an example of how we listen to the voice of fear in our lives. The whole situation reminds me of something my pastor likes to say, which I will paraphrase from the Ricktionary like this: "Our enemy always wants us to do things a little, and later. God wants to give us more, and now!" And isn't that the truth? It seems like there is often a questioning voice advising us to hedge our bets or put things off until we're more ready or the time is more right. But when is that, exactly?
What I'm trying to learn to do is take the first steps. If I realize something needs to change in my life, I don't want to finish out this week doing it wrong and start trying it the right way on Monday! I need to accept that real change is messier than that and can't be confined to my (sometimes unreasonable) desire for order. I want to take the first step toward doing the things God has placed in my heart right now, right here in the middle of all the ridiculous mess and chaos. I don't have time to wait for things to be more right or ready. A little and later just isn't going to cut it for me; I need more of God and his help, and I need it now!
That might seem a little demanding, and I guess maybe it is. All I know is that God has given us the green light to come after him with that kind of intensity. Check out Genesis 32. Jacob wrestled with God (!!) all through the night and wouldn't stop until he received a blessing. He wasn't like, "let me just get things straight with my brother who wants to kill me and then I'll start following you and seeking your blessing." He knew he couldn't go any further without God's blessing and he needed it right then. He took the one step he needed to take, even though he took it (and every other step from then on) with a limp.
I don't want my fear of limping to get in the way of my taking that first step, whatever it may be.
There's no time to waste.
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.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
A Heart for Cleveland
One of the biggest things God has been doing in my life recently is teaching me how to feel. If you know me well at all, you know that I'm a thinker. I love to analyze things, and I tend to turn them over in my brain repeatedly until I arrive at what I deem to be a "solution," whatever that means. I've always wanted to have a logical reason for things, and that pretty much leaves emotional considerations in the background.
I've come to realize, though, that my unflappable logic and analysis has often just been another layer of my biggest weakness: pride. My refusal to feel was really just arrogance, an attempt to control the world through understanding. If I remain unaffected, I stay in control.
When it comes down to it, I really have believed that I was in control in my life. Now, it obviously takes some pretty selective memory to believe something like that in the face of all the craziness of life, but I was getting the hang of it. Problem was, the One who really does have the control wasn't too thrilled. He's not really a fan of competition for his position.
Long story short, God started shattering my perceptions of control by using my emotions. Now, I don't know if you've ever tried to make yourself feel something (e.g. joy, love, etc.), but if you have, you know that it really doesn't work. If you haven't, give it a shot sometime. I don't think it's possible, at least not for long. Anyway, the conclusion of all my logic and analysis was that if I had all the answers, I should be happy. Needless to say, I wasn't.
To give an example, I'll share a poem I wrote somewhere in the midst of trying to analyze my way through life. During my Junior year of college, my mom had totalled her car (she was fine) and was borrowing mine, so I had to take the bus/train to school for a while. The experience had quite an effect on me, and I wrote this in a subconscious attempt to deal with what I was feeling but didn't want to admit.
Commute
Today I am riding through
the steel bowels of a single
manmade mountain. It isn’t
very impressive, but it is all
the subway we have here. I
haven’t eaten for hours,
but I don’t get off as I reach
the city center, a hard rock
that only turns to living flesh
at certain quite specific
times. Those times, you can
lose yourself in the hurrying
humanity and quietly pretend
you have the answer to the
endless iron question. Other times,
it’s better to pass quickly by
the dirty Modernist monuments
and hope you can catch
the next bus at your connection
further on.
Thursday, 4:34
by the market tower clock
and I am boarding the 4:25.
The conglomerate smell of the
market is all I will enjoy today, not
the shouting vendors as they
make their best deal or set up
the stuffed pig’s head at
just the right eye-level
to scare the children. I don’t
have time for the homemade
glazed doughnuts from the
baker in the far northwest corner
or the fresh produce that
is somewhat less fresh than
the sellers say, but still a bit
more fresh than it smells.
No,
today my goal is just to make
it home, taking the redline 66X
and the 20A through the shades
of culture, death and life
to my refuge from the smoldering
embers in the dying heart
of the fire, where I can set myself
apart and analyze as I prepare
for the inevitable onrush of
tomorrow and my next ride.
I knew even then that this withdrawn analysis was not going to be the answer, but writing this poem provided me with the first realization that that's what I was doing. I had always thought of myself as a city kid, in touch with the problems of the street. Really though, despite the fact that I lived within the city, I had left it, to protect my heart from the hardness and pain. I was taking sociology classes, learning how to analyze the problems of the city without really feeling them, trading emotions for statistics. As I hope you can tell from the poem, I love my city (well, most of it anyway), but I was turning my back on it.
Even more pressing on my thoughts was my own survival in finishing college and managing my life. I spent a lot of time in survival mode in those days. Living like that gets tiring though, and God had other things in store. First, he had to bring me face to face with my own emotions, which turned out to be darker and much less controlled than I had thought. I had to learn, as strange as it might sound, to feel what I was really feeling, even if it meant admitting that I had no idea what to do with it and very little (if any) control over it. It's a journey I'm still walking on, and probably will be for quite awhile.
As I feel my own emotions more and more, though, I'm finding that God has more for me than just that. He also wants me to feel His emotions! I think we can easily forget that God feels things just like we do. Actually, I guess a better way to put that would be that he feels things even more deeply and profoundly than we do. And the biggest thing he feels? Love.
In asking God what he feels, I have become much more conscious of his overpowering love. For me, for others, for his Son, his church, everyone. God feels sorrow mixed with love, anger mixed with love and joy because of love. In fact, one of the most amazing and praiseworthy things about God is the way that he loves us beyond explanation, despite ourselves.
So, back to my poem for a minute. The problems of Cleveland are pretty overwhelming, and you can see a lot of them if you take the rapid from University Circle to the W. 25th street bus. They seem too big to handle from the perspective of just me and my thoughts and feelings. When I look at my city, I can feel frustrated, afraid, or even depressed.
But what does God feel about Cleveland? In most cases, I'm guessing it's something like compassion. I'm sure there are things that make him happy, angry and sad as well, but I think the overriding current is compassion for people who have lost their way. Therein lies the difference between God's thoughts and mine. I see large-scale societal problems that I don't even know how to begin to change, and the result is the overwhelming emotions I've tried to get rid of. God sees the problems and could rectify them instantly, but his heart is for the people. Although he could change things on the grand scale, his method of choice is compassion.
That's why it's so important for us to be in touch with God's heart, not just to know but to feel what he feels. Compassion, it turns out, is not nearly as overwhelming as fixing all the deep-seeded problems that plague my city. Each person I see on my commute through Cleveland is someone God loves, and I can treat them like that. I don't need to analyze so much as I need to feel God's love, and if I have no idea where to start, I can just start where I am. If I can just do that, I can break out of my protective bubble and really start making a difference.
And if we all could do that... who knows what could happen here?
I've come to realize, though, that my unflappable logic and analysis has often just been another layer of my biggest weakness: pride. My refusal to feel was really just arrogance, an attempt to control the world through understanding. If I remain unaffected, I stay in control.
When it comes down to it, I really have believed that I was in control in my life. Now, it obviously takes some pretty selective memory to believe something like that in the face of all the craziness of life, but I was getting the hang of it. Problem was, the One who really does have the control wasn't too thrilled. He's not really a fan of competition for his position.
Long story short, God started shattering my perceptions of control by using my emotions. Now, I don't know if you've ever tried to make yourself feel something (e.g. joy, love, etc.), but if you have, you know that it really doesn't work. If you haven't, give it a shot sometime. I don't think it's possible, at least not for long. Anyway, the conclusion of all my logic and analysis was that if I had all the answers, I should be happy. Needless to say, I wasn't.
To give an example, I'll share a poem I wrote somewhere in the midst of trying to analyze my way through life. During my Junior year of college, my mom had totalled her car (she was fine) and was borrowing mine, so I had to take the bus/train to school for a while. The experience had quite an effect on me, and I wrote this in a subconscious attempt to deal with what I was feeling but didn't want to admit.
Commute
Today I am riding through
the steel bowels of a single
manmade mountain. It isn’t
very impressive, but it is all
the subway we have here. I
haven’t eaten for hours,
but I don’t get off as I reach
the city center, a hard rock
that only turns to living flesh
at certain quite specific
times. Those times, you can
lose yourself in the hurrying
humanity and quietly pretend
you have the answer to the
endless iron question. Other times,
it’s better to pass quickly by
the dirty Modernist monuments
and hope you can catch
the next bus at your connection
further on.
Thursday, 4:34
by the market tower clock
and I am boarding the 4:25.
The conglomerate smell of the
market is all I will enjoy today, not
the shouting vendors as they
make their best deal or set up
the stuffed pig’s head at
just the right eye-level
to scare the children. I don’t
have time for the homemade
glazed doughnuts from the
baker in the far northwest corner
or the fresh produce that
is somewhat less fresh than
the sellers say, but still a bit
more fresh than it smells.
No,
today my goal is just to make
it home, taking the redline 66X
and the 20A through the shades
of culture, death and life
to my refuge from the smoldering
embers in the dying heart
of the fire, where I can set myself
apart and analyze as I prepare
for the inevitable onrush of
tomorrow and my next ride.
I knew even then that this withdrawn analysis was not going to be the answer, but writing this poem provided me with the first realization that that's what I was doing. I had always thought of myself as a city kid, in touch with the problems of the street. Really though, despite the fact that I lived within the city, I had left it, to protect my heart from the hardness and pain. I was taking sociology classes, learning how to analyze the problems of the city without really feeling them, trading emotions for statistics. As I hope you can tell from the poem, I love my city (well, most of it anyway), but I was turning my back on it.
Even more pressing on my thoughts was my own survival in finishing college and managing my life. I spent a lot of time in survival mode in those days. Living like that gets tiring though, and God had other things in store. First, he had to bring me face to face with my own emotions, which turned out to be darker and much less controlled than I had thought. I had to learn, as strange as it might sound, to feel what I was really feeling, even if it meant admitting that I had no idea what to do with it and very little (if any) control over it. It's a journey I'm still walking on, and probably will be for quite awhile.
As I feel my own emotions more and more, though, I'm finding that God has more for me than just that. He also wants me to feel His emotions! I think we can easily forget that God feels things just like we do. Actually, I guess a better way to put that would be that he feels things even more deeply and profoundly than we do. And the biggest thing he feels? Love.
In asking God what he feels, I have become much more conscious of his overpowering love. For me, for others, for his Son, his church, everyone. God feels sorrow mixed with love, anger mixed with love and joy because of love. In fact, one of the most amazing and praiseworthy things about God is the way that he loves us beyond explanation, despite ourselves.
So, back to my poem for a minute. The problems of Cleveland are pretty overwhelming, and you can see a lot of them if you take the rapid from University Circle to the W. 25th street bus. They seem too big to handle from the perspective of just me and my thoughts and feelings. When I look at my city, I can feel frustrated, afraid, or even depressed.
But what does God feel about Cleveland? In most cases, I'm guessing it's something like compassion. I'm sure there are things that make him happy, angry and sad as well, but I think the overriding current is compassion for people who have lost their way. Therein lies the difference between God's thoughts and mine. I see large-scale societal problems that I don't even know how to begin to change, and the result is the overwhelming emotions I've tried to get rid of. God sees the problems and could rectify them instantly, but his heart is for the people. Although he could change things on the grand scale, his method of choice is compassion.
That's why it's so important for us to be in touch with God's heart, not just to know but to feel what he feels. Compassion, it turns out, is not nearly as overwhelming as fixing all the deep-seeded problems that plague my city. Each person I see on my commute through Cleveland is someone God loves, and I can treat them like that. I don't need to analyze so much as I need to feel God's love, and if I have no idea where to start, I can just start where I am. If I can just do that, I can break out of my protective bubble and really start making a difference.
And if we all could do that... who knows what could happen here?
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Snow and Silence
Hmm... that title sounds like a good name for an Eskimo emo (Eskemo?) band... Can you see the hair across the eyes peeking out from the parkas? No? Ok, anyway...
I find myself a member of a distinct minority (at least here in Cleveland) of people whose favorite season is winter. Maybe it's the fact that it goes on for so long, is generally a uniformly overcast grey, and tends to send snow at just the right rate that you have to brush a quarter inch or so off of your car every time you want to get in it. I can see how it might be a little depressing to some. Whatever the reason, few people here seem to actually like it. For me, I'd much rather be a little cold than a little hot any day, but the main reason I love winter is because of the snow.
Now, I could go on and on about snow, as many have probably heard me do already. I've written poems about it, but I'll save those for another day. The main thing I'm thinking about today is how snow makes everything quieter. There's this muffling it achieves that is completely unique. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about: you walk outside after a fresh snowfall and everything seems quiet, even in the middle of the city. I love stepping outside at about 2am and hearing the beautiful softness. It helps me gather my thoughts, and the stillness seems to have a renewing quality to it.
Maybe the renewal is more in the quiet than the snow, though. It seems like our generation is the generation of noise. We're addicted to it. Just look at all the ways noise comes to us: as if tv wasn't bad enough all on its own, we also have radio for those few times when we don't have iPods (side note: the iPod is becoming one of those few lucky products whose brand name has become synonymous with the entire class of products it represents. Kleenex, Frisbee, Band-aid, etc... quite a marketing accomplishment) or cell phones pumping sound into our heads. Plus, those that can multitask do all this while also managing email, Facebook, or the aptly named Twitter.
Speaking of aptly named, how about this new thing Google (another of those dominant brand names, by the way) just came out with: Buzz. This has come crashing into my attention since it's automatically integrated into Gmail, of which I've become a strong supporter. In fact, this buzz deal will even show my blog posts whenever I update (although hopefully my readers will still visit my actual page... hopefully). We got to talking about it at my men's group though, and what name could sum up the general condition of our generation better than buzz? It's this constant dull hum of noise that we tend to keep around us that Google is desperately trying to become a part of. Thus, Buzz. Personally, I'm thinking seriously about disabling it for my account.
Here's why. It's not just an effort to keep people coming to see my actual blog, I promise. It's more of a symbolic stand. Silence, although run from by many and discouraged by our society, is actually extremely important. Buzz is like the opposite of silence, and the worst thing about it is that after so much noise, even when we do find ourselves accidentally in the quiet (like on a snow-covered street in the middle of the night), our minds are still spinning with all the things that have just been pumped into them. That can be unnerving, being alone with our spinning thoughts before God, so often we escape that by pumping in more noise. It can be quite the vicious cycle.
Anyway, I'm not just making up that stuff about snow and the power of quiet. The Bible has all kinds of things to say on the issue of silence too (although it doesn't specifically mention snow in that context, unfortunately). For example, "Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10). Pretty straightforward, I think: we know God better when we are still and quiet. Period. In fact, silence is quite simply the appropriate response to his power and overwhelming glory. "Let all the earth be silent before him" (Habakkuk 2:20); "Be silent before the sovereign Lord" (Zephaniah 1:7).
Or how about this one: "Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life" (1 Thessalonians 4:11). I haven't heard too much preaching about that verse. By the way, the word that is translated quiet here doesn't just mean peaceful-- it's translated as "silent" elsewhere in the New Testament. I mean, Jesus himself went away to quiet places to pray and escape the crowds. I'm guessing he knew that in the Old Testament, one of the reasons judgment came upon Israel was that "the noise of a carefree crowd was around her" (Ezekiel 23:42). Sounds an awful lot like our society today, doesn't it? Buzzzz....
Now, I don't want to seem like I'm bashing the concept of sound here or anything crazy like that. I mean, I was listening to music while writing the beginning of this post (until I started getting convicted about it) and I love making music before God, which we are also commanded to do (see Psalms 66, 81, 98, etc.); "Blessed are those who know the joyful sound" (Psalm 89:15 NASB). It's just that we have to know when to turn off the noise and meet with God in the silence. And really, how else can we expect to hear his voice? You wouldn't have your headphones blasting while your friend was trying to have a conversation with you, so why do we do that to God? True, sometimes he is gracious enough to shout down the noise of our lives, but I bet we'd hear him a lot more if we would just turn it off.
I'll finish with a streetlight lesson, because I can't resist it. What do streetlights do right before they're about to burn out? They buzz. This analogy obviously can't be pushed too far, but maybe buzz is a warning sign for us too. Too much of it, and we may well be getting unhealthy. As streetlights, we shine our best out of the silence.
I find myself a member of a distinct minority (at least here in Cleveland) of people whose favorite season is winter. Maybe it's the fact that it goes on for so long, is generally a uniformly overcast grey, and tends to send snow at just the right rate that you have to brush a quarter inch or so off of your car every time you want to get in it. I can see how it might be a little depressing to some. Whatever the reason, few people here seem to actually like it. For me, I'd much rather be a little cold than a little hot any day, but the main reason I love winter is because of the snow.
Now, I could go on and on about snow, as many have probably heard me do already. I've written poems about it, but I'll save those for another day. The main thing I'm thinking about today is how snow makes everything quieter. There's this muffling it achieves that is completely unique. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about: you walk outside after a fresh snowfall and everything seems quiet, even in the middle of the city. I love stepping outside at about 2am and hearing the beautiful softness. It helps me gather my thoughts, and the stillness seems to have a renewing quality to it.
Maybe the renewal is more in the quiet than the snow, though. It seems like our generation is the generation of noise. We're addicted to it. Just look at all the ways noise comes to us: as if tv wasn't bad enough all on its own, we also have radio for those few times when we don't have iPods (side note: the iPod is becoming one of those few lucky products whose brand name has become synonymous with the entire class of products it represents. Kleenex, Frisbee, Band-aid, etc... quite a marketing accomplishment) or cell phones pumping sound into our heads. Plus, those that can multitask do all this while also managing email, Facebook, or the aptly named Twitter.
Speaking of aptly named, how about this new thing Google (another of those dominant brand names, by the way) just came out with: Buzz. This has come crashing into my attention since it's automatically integrated into Gmail, of which I've become a strong supporter. In fact, this buzz deal will even show my blog posts whenever I update (although hopefully my readers will still visit my actual page... hopefully). We got to talking about it at my men's group though, and what name could sum up the general condition of our generation better than buzz? It's this constant dull hum of noise that we tend to keep around us that Google is desperately trying to become a part of. Thus, Buzz. Personally, I'm thinking seriously about disabling it for my account.
Here's why. It's not just an effort to keep people coming to see my actual blog, I promise. It's more of a symbolic stand. Silence, although run from by many and discouraged by our society, is actually extremely important. Buzz is like the opposite of silence, and the worst thing about it is that after so much noise, even when we do find ourselves accidentally in the quiet (like on a snow-covered street in the middle of the night), our minds are still spinning with all the things that have just been pumped into them. That can be unnerving, being alone with our spinning thoughts before God, so often we escape that by pumping in more noise. It can be quite the vicious cycle.
Anyway, I'm not just making up that stuff about snow and the power of quiet. The Bible has all kinds of things to say on the issue of silence too (although it doesn't specifically mention snow in that context, unfortunately). For example, "Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10). Pretty straightforward, I think: we know God better when we are still and quiet. Period. In fact, silence is quite simply the appropriate response to his power and overwhelming glory. "Let all the earth be silent before him" (Habakkuk 2:20); "Be silent before the sovereign Lord" (Zephaniah 1:7).
Or how about this one: "Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life" (1 Thessalonians 4:11). I haven't heard too much preaching about that verse. By the way, the word that is translated quiet here doesn't just mean peaceful-- it's translated as "silent" elsewhere in the New Testament. I mean, Jesus himself went away to quiet places to pray and escape the crowds. I'm guessing he knew that in the Old Testament, one of the reasons judgment came upon Israel was that "the noise of a carefree crowd was around her" (Ezekiel 23:42). Sounds an awful lot like our society today, doesn't it? Buzzzz....
Now, I don't want to seem like I'm bashing the concept of sound here or anything crazy like that. I mean, I was listening to music while writing the beginning of this post (until I started getting convicted about it) and I love making music before God, which we are also commanded to do (see Psalms 66, 81, 98, etc.); "Blessed are those who know the joyful sound" (Psalm 89:15 NASB). It's just that we have to know when to turn off the noise and meet with God in the silence. And really, how else can we expect to hear his voice? You wouldn't have your headphones blasting while your friend was trying to have a conversation with you, so why do we do that to God? True, sometimes he is gracious enough to shout down the noise of our lives, but I bet we'd hear him a lot more if we would just turn it off.
I'll finish with a streetlight lesson, because I can't resist it. What do streetlights do right before they're about to burn out? They buzz. This analogy obviously can't be pushed too far, but maybe buzz is a warning sign for us too. Too much of it, and we may well be getting unhealthy. As streetlights, we shine our best out of the silence.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Godly sorrow
I think one of the driving forces of our culture in America is the desire for constant happiness. Because painful emotions are so, well, painful, we do our best to push them completely to the margins of our lives. For marketers, this is the perfect cultural climate, mostly because happiness is often so fleeting. They go ahead and prey on the idea that we should always be happy and that we should use such and such product to attain that goal, which works well for them because we quickly get tired of things and then have to get more to get back to that elusive happy place. The cruel trick of this system is that we end up feeling like there's something wrong with us, not the system, because we aren't happy all the time.
But what if pain really has a purpose? What if those unsettling feelings are important windows into who we actually are and who we are supposed to be becoming?
I'm reading this book right now called The Cry of the Soul by Dan Allender and Tremper Longman III (by the way, don't you wish you could put "the third" after your name? It makes it sound much more professional and important, don't you think?) that basically talks about using our painful and dark emotions as a bridge to greater relationship with God. It is a fantastic book and I highly recommend it. In light of our American culture, what it got me thinking about was the specific value of the sorrow we are trying so hard to avoid feeling (but honestly, can never truly escape). The Bible has a lot to say on this topic, but here's just one verse that has really captivated my attention:
"Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death" --2 Corinthians 7:10
No wonder the world is trying to avoid sorrow; perhaps they've picked up on the fact that their particular brand of it leads to death! It's perfectly natural, apart from God's intervention, to try to avoid pain at all costs. But do you catch what happens to the progression when God enters the mix? Godly sorrow --> repentance --> salvation. What an unexpected endpoint! Sorrow helps to save us?
Here's how I see that working: it's the difference between two words that are very similar and thus often confused, despair vs. desperation.
The great thing (or one of the many great things) about words, as English majors such as myself will be quick to tell you, is that they have such subtlety of meaning. Very rarely do two words mean exactly the same thing. Even synonyms usually have some subtle difference that separates them or some situation where one is more appropriate than the other; otherwise, why would we need two different words? Anyway, despair and desperation are two words like this. They are commonly used synonymously, but they are different and the distinction is an important one.
Despair means the loss of hope. A more accurate synonym for it would be hopelessness. It's easy to see where that leads: people who lose hope give up. This is sorrow leading to death, or worldly sorrow to use the terms of Paul in the verse above.
Desperation means the state of recognizing that one is in very serious and pressing need. A more accurate synonym for this one is brokenness. This leads people to do whatever is necessary to see that serious need be met. This sorrow, by God's grace, can often lead to repentance and life-- godly sorrow, as Paul would say.
See the difference? Despair looks at sorrow and sees no way out, so it refuses to deal with pain, opting to drown it out or die trying. Desperation looks right at the sorrow, enters in and cries out to be comforted. Despair sees no way out; desperation sees that there is only one way out and clings to its last chance for dear life.
On its own, of course, desperation isn't enough. But, when we realize that God is that way out, all of a sudden desperation leads right to salvation. We pursue God with single-minded fury and passion, turning from all the things that hinder us from getting to him (which is a pretty good definition of repentance, if I do say so myself), and holding onto the corner of his robe (see Mark 5:25-34) like our lives depend on it (which they do). End result: salvation, and no regrets.
Let me finish by going back to my definition of desperation, recognizing that we have a serious and pressing need. Is there ever a time when we don't have a serious need for God? No. Still, sometimes we feel like that need might not be too serious or pressing, that we can maybe handle things on our own for a little while. The trick for us is realizing that desperation is our constant state. There is only one way out of our problems, and it's Jesus. The only power that we have available to walk in comes from him, but he invites us to share it if we'll only admit we need it.
Maybe that's why God gives us sorrow and pain, to remind us that we need him and to give us access to his strength. God told Isaiah that he would give his people "the bread of adversity and the water of affliction" (Isaiah 30:20). Can it be true that these painful things are actually our food, the sustenance that we need to survive? It could be, if they drive us to God in godly sorrow. So, is it possible that by tuning out our pain and sorrow in all the various ways that we choose, we turn down God's great invitation to draw near and experience his power and salvation and life?
It's something to think about.
But what if pain really has a purpose? What if those unsettling feelings are important windows into who we actually are and who we are supposed to be becoming?
I'm reading this book right now called The Cry of the Soul by Dan Allender and Tremper Longman III (by the way, don't you wish you could put "the third" after your name? It makes it sound much more professional and important, don't you think?) that basically talks about using our painful and dark emotions as a bridge to greater relationship with God. It is a fantastic book and I highly recommend it. In light of our American culture, what it got me thinking about was the specific value of the sorrow we are trying so hard to avoid feeling (but honestly, can never truly escape). The Bible has a lot to say on this topic, but here's just one verse that has really captivated my attention:
"Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death" --2 Corinthians 7:10
No wonder the world is trying to avoid sorrow; perhaps they've picked up on the fact that their particular brand of it leads to death! It's perfectly natural, apart from God's intervention, to try to avoid pain at all costs. But do you catch what happens to the progression when God enters the mix? Godly sorrow --> repentance --> salvation. What an unexpected endpoint! Sorrow helps to save us?
Here's how I see that working: it's the difference between two words that are very similar and thus often confused, despair vs. desperation.
The great thing (or one of the many great things) about words, as English majors such as myself will be quick to tell you, is that they have such subtlety of meaning. Very rarely do two words mean exactly the same thing. Even synonyms usually have some subtle difference that separates them or some situation where one is more appropriate than the other; otherwise, why would we need two different words? Anyway, despair and desperation are two words like this. They are commonly used synonymously, but they are different and the distinction is an important one.
Despair means the loss of hope. A more accurate synonym for it would be hopelessness. It's easy to see where that leads: people who lose hope give up. This is sorrow leading to death, or worldly sorrow to use the terms of Paul in the verse above.
Desperation means the state of recognizing that one is in very serious and pressing need. A more accurate synonym for this one is brokenness. This leads people to do whatever is necessary to see that serious need be met. This sorrow, by God's grace, can often lead to repentance and life-- godly sorrow, as Paul would say.
See the difference? Despair looks at sorrow and sees no way out, so it refuses to deal with pain, opting to drown it out or die trying. Desperation looks right at the sorrow, enters in and cries out to be comforted. Despair sees no way out; desperation sees that there is only one way out and clings to its last chance for dear life.
On its own, of course, desperation isn't enough. But, when we realize that God is that way out, all of a sudden desperation leads right to salvation. We pursue God with single-minded fury and passion, turning from all the things that hinder us from getting to him (which is a pretty good definition of repentance, if I do say so myself), and holding onto the corner of his robe (see Mark 5:25-34) like our lives depend on it (which they do). End result: salvation, and no regrets.
Let me finish by going back to my definition of desperation, recognizing that we have a serious and pressing need. Is there ever a time when we don't have a serious need for God? No. Still, sometimes we feel like that need might not be too serious or pressing, that we can maybe handle things on our own for a little while. The trick for us is realizing that desperation is our constant state. There is only one way out of our problems, and it's Jesus. The only power that we have available to walk in comes from him, but he invites us to share it if we'll only admit we need it.
Maybe that's why God gives us sorrow and pain, to remind us that we need him and to give us access to his strength. God told Isaiah that he would give his people "the bread of adversity and the water of affliction" (Isaiah 30:20). Can it be true that these painful things are actually our food, the sustenance that we need to survive? It could be, if they drive us to God in godly sorrow. So, is it possible that by tuning out our pain and sorrow in all the various ways that we choose, we turn down God's great invitation to draw near and experience his power and salvation and life?
It's something to think about.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Finding Christmas
As I've been getting older, I find that I sometimes have trouble getting in the "Christmas spirit" like I did when I was a kid. Maybe it's just because when I was little, all Christmas meant to me really was the excitement of getting new stuff. You know, waking up and realizing you finally made it through the agonizingly long night, going downstairs to find the tree all lit up and a beautiful unknown haul of presents under it... that kind of stuff. I think decorations also seem more fun and festive when you're a little kid, and they certainly aren't just another task that needs to be completed. Anyway, Christmas was definitely joyful to me when I was a child, albeit possibly not for the right reasons.
Somewhere along the way, though, you start to realize that presents aren't always going to be enough. I've always known what Christmas is really all about (Linus in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" anyone?), but I think my young brain had a bad disconnect between that and what actually happened around Christmas. Good tidings of great joy=...presents?? Now, I realize of course that Jesus gave us the best gift and that's why we give gifts on Christmas, and I love giving gifts to people I love! All I know is, I was at the mall yesterday buying said gifts, and I left feeling depressed despite the fact that I got some really cool stuff I'm excited about giving.
Here's a poem I wrote most of a long time ago (and without thinking about Christmas) that describes some of my thoughts today:
Search Engine
A search for entertainment, from desire to forget
the pains already suffered and prevent the ones not yet,
a fight to disengage the mind and not to know, just feel:
we can only live when happy; deeper feelings we conceal.
So the cycle will increase just as it always has before,
an insatiable desire reaching out for more and more.
A search for education, to remember we aspire,
to learn why things aren’t working out through knowledge we acquire,
and so the mind is stretched while the emotions just congeal:
we trust only what we understand and nothing else is real.
But as we learn, the more we know at some things we must guess:
disillusionment reversed, reaching into less and less.
A search for something different, but what difference does it make
in a Nutri-sweet and plastic world where everything is fake?
Still the imitations indicate that real things do exist,
and they might be there for finding if we only can resist
the current that pulls down around and kills beneath the fall
to go through instead of under, to where truth is all in all.
I guess maybe I'm just tired of all the fakeness. I'm with Charlie Brown: Christmas is way too commercial. And man, if he was worried about that in the '60's, what would he say now? See, I'm all in favor of gifts, but I'm worried that we're skipping the part about honoring and remembering Jesus' gift and just using it as an excuse to go whole-hog into the materialism that is probably the #1 besetting vice of American culture. I know he would want us to celebrate his birth, but I can't help asking: is this how he would want us to do it?
It's this materialistic tendency, I think, that can make all the best things about Christmas the things that we end up hating. Maybe that's why I like How the Grinch Stole Christmas (both versions) more than almost any of my friends do. I identify with the Grinch! I also think the modern version is really on to something with this idea of Christmas as a search for something. Unfortunately, they chose to express that insight through the song, "Where are you, Christmas?", a song that is almost tolerable when that cute little who sings it, but completely insufferable when sung by Faith Hill or whoever it was in the credits. In any case, that song (like so many other secular songs) is inches away from being a Jesus song. It has an excellent grasp of a real problem... but then it offers a worthless solution.
The solution offered by the song is, however, close: it suggests saving Christmas by having love and joy in our hearts. Great, now how do I do that, especially when I have to go to the mall filled with shoppers that generally tend to seem much more angry than loving and workers that seem far more depressed than joyful? That could just be because I'm such a last minute shopper... but still. The key thing is, there's no way I can just generate these good feelings. In the terms of my poem above, I can't entertain myself into forgetting my pain, and I can't intellectualize it away. I desperately need a third option, but I find it obscured by a lot of fakeness and annoying decorations.
I'm not trying to be a downer here. I think the state of Christmas in America is pretty sad, but there is one thing I like about it: it gets people searching. It's also the one time every year when the gospel message gets on national tv (thank God for Linus!). Hopefully, when people get tired of the cheap imitations, they'll realize that the mere proliferation of imitations means there must be something real somewhere. There is real love to be had, and real joy comes with it. That's why all I really want to do this Christmas is worship God and spend time with people I love. What if we focused on that instead of making a part-time job out of managing/purchasing/looking for Christmas? As I'm trying to shift my focus, I'm noticing that the real joy and peace that are supposed to be associated with Christmas spirit have come to me from the Father and his love! Have we ever thought that maybe the "Christmas Spirit" should be the Holy Spirit? I ask because the Spirit is the one who reveals the Father's love and the joy of being saved by Jesus to us, and we'll never find Christmas until we find Christ.
Somewhere along the way, though, you start to realize that presents aren't always going to be enough. I've always known what Christmas is really all about (Linus in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" anyone?), but I think my young brain had a bad disconnect between that and what actually happened around Christmas. Good tidings of great joy=...presents?? Now, I realize of course that Jesus gave us the best gift and that's why we give gifts on Christmas, and I love giving gifts to people I love! All I know is, I was at the mall yesterday buying said gifts, and I left feeling depressed despite the fact that I got some really cool stuff I'm excited about giving.
Here's a poem I wrote most of a long time ago (and without thinking about Christmas) that describes some of my thoughts today:
Search Engine
A search for entertainment, from desire to forget
the pains already suffered and prevent the ones not yet,
a fight to disengage the mind and not to know, just feel:
we can only live when happy; deeper feelings we conceal.
So the cycle will increase just as it always has before,
an insatiable desire reaching out for more and more.
A search for education, to remember we aspire,
to learn why things aren’t working out through knowledge we acquire,
and so the mind is stretched while the emotions just congeal:
we trust only what we understand and nothing else is real.
But as we learn, the more we know at some things we must guess:
disillusionment reversed, reaching into less and less.
A search for something different, but what difference does it make
in a Nutri-sweet and plastic world where everything is fake?
Still the imitations indicate that real things do exist,
and they might be there for finding if we only can resist
the current that pulls down around and kills beneath the fall
to go through instead of under, to where truth is all in all.
I guess maybe I'm just tired of all the fakeness. I'm with Charlie Brown: Christmas is way too commercial. And man, if he was worried about that in the '60's, what would he say now? See, I'm all in favor of gifts, but I'm worried that we're skipping the part about honoring and remembering Jesus' gift and just using it as an excuse to go whole-hog into the materialism that is probably the #1 besetting vice of American culture. I know he would want us to celebrate his birth, but I can't help asking: is this how he would want us to do it?
It's this materialistic tendency, I think, that can make all the best things about Christmas the things that we end up hating. Maybe that's why I like How the Grinch Stole Christmas (both versions) more than almost any of my friends do. I identify with the Grinch! I also think the modern version is really on to something with this idea of Christmas as a search for something. Unfortunately, they chose to express that insight through the song, "Where are you, Christmas?", a song that is almost tolerable when that cute little who sings it, but completely insufferable when sung by Faith Hill or whoever it was in the credits. In any case, that song (like so many other secular songs) is inches away from being a Jesus song. It has an excellent grasp of a real problem... but then it offers a worthless solution.
The solution offered by the song is, however, close: it suggests saving Christmas by having love and joy in our hearts. Great, now how do I do that, especially when I have to go to the mall filled with shoppers that generally tend to seem much more angry than loving and workers that seem far more depressed than joyful? That could just be because I'm such a last minute shopper... but still. The key thing is, there's no way I can just generate these good feelings. In the terms of my poem above, I can't entertain myself into forgetting my pain, and I can't intellectualize it away. I desperately need a third option, but I find it obscured by a lot of fakeness and annoying decorations.
I'm not trying to be a downer here. I think the state of Christmas in America is pretty sad, but there is one thing I like about it: it gets people searching. It's also the one time every year when the gospel message gets on national tv (thank God for Linus!). Hopefully, when people get tired of the cheap imitations, they'll realize that the mere proliferation of imitations means there must be something real somewhere. There is real love to be had, and real joy comes with it. That's why all I really want to do this Christmas is worship God and spend time with people I love. What if we focused on that instead of making a part-time job out of managing/purchasing/looking for Christmas? As I'm trying to shift my focus, I'm noticing that the real joy and peace that are supposed to be associated with Christmas spirit have come to me from the Father and his love! Have we ever thought that maybe the "Christmas Spirit" should be the Holy Spirit? I ask because the Spirit is the one who reveals the Father's love and the joy of being saved by Jesus to us, and we'll never find Christmas until we find Christ.
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