Fools 1 say in their hearts, "There is no God."
Psalm 14:1
I think if the psalmist rewrote this verse today, it would read: "Fools say in their hearts, 'There is only material.'"
Material. Things that you see with your eyes. Things that you hear with your ears. Things that you can reproduce, manipulate, understand, steward, grow, and master. That is all there is.
The modern age has brought with it many amenities. We no longer have to submit to the heavenly lights; we can now work around the clock, 365 days a year if we so choose. We no longer have to pray to the gods for healing; mere handwashing eliminates many of those diseases we have identified as germs. Great distances can be traversed in a matter of hours; what were defining journeys for an entire age of explorers have now become business trips for mid-level executives. What men and women gave their lives to deliver can now be safely transmitted through encrypted e-mail messages. Parents no longer need worry about their child's whereabouts; just flip on the GPS-enabled cell phone, send a text message, or interrupt their date with an antiquated phone call.
What we once had to submit to now submits to us. What once mastered us, we now master. What were once mysteries beyond our comprehension now appear in our grade school textbooks.
There is nothing left to discover. All that is left to do is systematize, manufacture, and reproduce.
It is no wonder we wonder where God is.
It used to be that life brought us to our knees. Power shifts were inevitable and often, and always brought with them war, death, rape, and captivity. The flu was synonymous with widespread death. A wild animal could befall a village, killing off the next generation. Children were stillborn; their mothers were afraid of dying at birth.
And people would pray, sacrifice, dance, cut, wail, fornicate, fast, worship, bathe, and cry out to their gods. They knew that part of living meant encountering things bigger than them, things they did not understand, things that were out of their control. They knew this because they the lived in it every day. The world was a magical place, full of good magic and evil magic. But make no mistake about it; it was magic.
No longer. We no longer sacrifice to the gods for a good crop... at least, most of us do not. We have things called grocery stores (which, by the way, exist only because we have good crops. We just don't have to see where all of that food comes from anymore.) We don't have to cut ourselves so that the gods will call off the plague and heal our people; we have CAT scans and blood tests and biopsies and X-rays, and people called doctors to interpret and prescribe procedures.
We fast only to lose some weight, or to "cleanse." We dance because the music has a good beat. We bathe because we want to smell good.
At no point are we forced to admit or come to grips with a part of life that we do not at least have the possibility of controlling.
And when we do, we almost feel violated.
How different we are than the rest of humanity throughout its existence. We are really the first humans who have to struggle to "fit" the supernatural into our normal mode of thinking and perceiving. We have to "make believe" or "imagine" for the spiritual to share in our world.
In a world where we have mastered all of creation, we have to create God.
Again, it is no wonder that we wonder where God is.
Alas, our exalted position is only a farce; our kingship only a false front. While we have mastered our surroundings, our own hearts condemn us. We are consumed with lust. We are addicted to greed. We must fight for our rights, our equality, our fuel, our way of life.
We are ruled by our ever-growing bellies. Anger grips our tongues. We speak of character and integrity and hope, but our own lives betray our many secret inconsistencies and hypocrisies.
We spend more than we earn. We save not as much as we should, and give away even less. We worship the image of power and sexuality and influence and charisma. And we couldn't stop worshiping them if our very lives depended on it.
And they do.
And no created God is sufficient enough to save us from ourselves. Only a God outside of us. Only a God that is not mastered by us... and not mastered by the things that master us.
How does a master become mastered?
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Thursday, December 27, 2007
motivations
So then, if you know the good you ought to do and don’t do it, you sin.
James 4:17
Yes, James. I agree. But I ask: what is it in us that motivates us to actually do what we ought?
I am fascinated by this question, because as I observe myself and others, I am amazed/confused/scared/awed/angered/disgusted/ convicted/blessed/humbled by all that motivates us to do good things. Yep. I feel all of those about my own motivation and that of others... sometimes simultaneously.
Here's what sparked all of this. Because of the writer's guild strike, all of the networks are having to put on re-runs of their sitcoms, dramas, and talk shows. In flipping through the channels, I came across a summer re-run of the Colbert Report, which frequently addresses religious topics (albeit in a sarcastic yet insightful manner). This particular episode was covering an August Time Magazine cover article on Mother Teresa.
The Time article covered a book that had just been published entitled Come Be My Light. The editor of the book had gathered 50 years worth of personal communication from Mother Teresa to many of her confessors--spiritual confidants and guides.
One would expect that this book would be packed full of wisdom about a deep and abiding love-relationship with God, and how this love-relationship continually fuels selfless acts of service. The book fails to meet that expectation, however.
In fact, the book dashes that expectation to pieces and replaces with a stark, haunting reality: Mother Teresa's 50 years of service were not categorized by a sense of intimacy and closeness to God. Instead, they were characterized by darkness, confusion, loneliness, and a need for God that He never seems to meet.
That can't be. The editor must have gathered letters only from the times Mother Teresa struggled, and then blew them out of proportion by publishing them only.
Not true. The publisher is actually an ardent follower and admirer of Teresa, and is a Catholic himself. He even lobbies for Mother Teresa's canonization.
Well, everyone has times of doubt. I mean, look at Mother Teresa's situation. The need was so great, the setting so dark, and she was surrounded by it all the time. It had to have been overwhelming. I'd wonder where God was, too.
Sure. But that wasn't the thing Mother Teresa sorrowed over. What she sorrowed over was a continuous, characteristic, gaping lack of intimacy with God, despite her repeated advances and requests. She felt like she had it before she embarked on her calling, and felt like she never regained it during her years of service in India.
Gosh... I just have such a hard time believing that. There's got to be a piece (or several pieces) of the puzzle that are missing there. It just doesn't make sense that someone could serve like she did for so long without really sensing the presence of God.
Why is that?
Well, I just can't imagine any amount of discipline, altruism, or whatever that would keep someone doing what she was doing for how long she did it. I mean, she believed that this is what God had called her to do... but she rarely felt His love for her? She felt dark and abandoned more often than not? No way. I would have left. I mean, she sacrificed everything for someone who's mere existence she often questioned because of rarely sensing His intimacy or nearness. People don't do that, especially when the sacrifice is so great.
People do it everyday.
Name one.
Ok. How about the woman who stays married to a dangerously violent man for her entire life?
Go on...
Well, think about it. A man and a woman get married after a whirlwind romance. Sure, they've both got problems, but they're both young, and have their entire lives to figure it out, right? Well, not two years into the marriage, the woman discovers that the man she thought she married is a far cry from the man she's discovering her husband to be. They have a kid now, but a good father he is not. He doesn't seem to be patient with her anymore, is rather quick tempered, and one day hits her for burning his toast, right in front of their toddler.
Yeah, but...
Just a second. Stay with me here. The woman has a deep, abiding belief in the sanctity of marriage--her mother and father taught her that, her church reinforces it, and all of her peers judge anyone who splits up a family. "You stay together; commitment is the only key to a successful marriage."
So she stays. Come hell or high water, she stays. The alternative is too fearful to even consider. The weight of her own belief, coupled with the expectations of the many voices in her community forbid her to reveal to anyone what is going on. Above all else, she has to be a good example, a model of a good wife and mother. And a good wife and mother stays with her family, good or bad, in sickness or in health. She gave her oath. She made a commitment. She promised. And nothing good comes from a broken promise.
So you're equating God to an abusive husband, and Mother Teresa to a battered wife?
I'm equating Mother Teresa's God with an abusive husband.
So there's more than one God, then?
In reality, no, there is only One. But in the realities that we create and fashion for ourselves, there are as many "Gods" as there are people.
Interesting. I think I see where you are going. But that is still awfully hard to believe: Mother Teresa, despite all of her years of service, despite following Jesus' second most important command literally and fervently, fashioned God into something or someone that He wasn't?
It's hard to say... and far be it from me, as someone who is honestly unwilling to make the same sacrifice that Mother Teresa made, to hastily and assuredly come to such a conclusion. But man... 50 years that are characterized by wondering if God was real, by feeling dissatisfied, by not feeling loved in the way that you desire, by feeling jilted to the point where you wonder if Jesus is true... that makes you wonder what kind of God Mother Teresa was really serving.
It does... so what do we do with that?
Well, I take a couple of things away from Mother Teresa's story. First, I think we need to understand something about ourselves as human beings. Human beings seem to have this creative, deceptive ability to "irrigate their souls" when God's fountain seems to have dried up.
Huh?
Think of it this way: a lot of people claim to do things in the name of God's love, right?
Right...
I mean, you name it: teach, lead, shepherd, guide, serve, sing, greet, give, administrate, organize, recycle, prophesy, intercede, pray, confront, submit...
Yeah, yeah, I get it. Your point being?
Well, are they doing those things because they love God, or are they doing them because of God's love for them?
Isn't it both?
Well, it should be both. We should do things because God loves us, and because we love God. But often times, we do them simply because we love God. In other words, we do them because we know that we should love God, and we love God by obeying God through these various acts.
And what's wrong with that?
Nothing. And everything.
Nice. Way to be needlessly unclear. Really makes you look intelligent.
I don't mean to get all "Confucian" on you. Let me explain. In one sense, nothing is wrong with doing things because you know you should, even when you don't feel like doing them. I mean, just because I don't feel an overwhelming sense of God's intimate love for me does not give me an excuse to neglect the poor or not give my money to God.
Right...
But in another sense, if I don't characteristically receive and feel God's love for me, then my good works are characteristically motivated by... well... the same thing a pagan's good works are motivated by.
And that is?
Me. Motivated entirely by me. By my desires, by my will, by my decision, by my effort by my altruistic beliefs and convictions. Doesn't matter if it happens to match what the Bible tells me to do, or what the latest self-help book tells me to do. It still depends on me, and me alone.
Ok, I get that. But what does that have to do with where you started--with what you said about humans having this ability to "irrigate themselves" or something like that?
Well, the picture God gives us in his Word is for us to live a life that flows out of his life, of us to express a love that continually flows from his continual love for us. However, we often find that while the demands of life, ministry, and mission require expressions of love from you, rarely do they require you to receive God's love before you express loving service.
Give me an example.
Sure. Let's say that you're married with 3 kids. The kids have to eat, and you have to provide for them. The kids have to be taught, and you have to teach them. They have to be disciplined, clothed, educated, made to feel safe and secure. You have to do all of this. And those demands just don't stop, now, do they?
I suppose not.
You suppose correctly. The kids need to be fed, spanked, dressed, in school, getting good grades, getting along with their peers and siblings, and so on. But: do you have it in you, not only to do all of those things, but to do them in the way that God desires? Do you have the patience and gentleness in your heart to parent your child how God wants you to? Do you have the joy that will allow you to celebrate even the least significant of their accomplishments? Do you have the humility of spirit that will enable you to wade through their judgmental and arrogant teenage years? Do you have the self control that will prevent you from abusing your power and authority?
It seems like you're setting the bar awfully high.
Well, God's the One setting the bar, but you are making my point exactly. We have a tendency to permit ourselves to "just get the job done." And we usually have it in us to do so. The kids need to be disciplined. Johnny just mouthed off to his mother. The kids need to be clothed. Susie has just outgrown her shoes that we bought her 3 months ago. Billy is getting poor grades, and the teacher wants to have a conference with us, but work is way too crazy right now to allow any time for that. The last thing that I need to worry about is whether or not I'm doing this the "right" way. I just need to get this done. It's my God-given responsibility; my God-given mission. And so from obedience we rip any need to depend on God, and replace it with my own need to accomplish my God-given task.
And our circumstances more often than not permit this mode of operation, even when it comes to our ministry efforts. Love your neighbor. Share your faith. Give your money. Serve your church. Yes, these are things that God calls and commands us to do. But we are to do it with Him before we do it for Him. And we only do these things with God as we take time to receive God's life and love. And as we do, we depend on that life and that love to fuel what we do for God.
So you're saying that more often than not, we consider it our God-given duty to express God's love in service to others before receiving God's love for ourselves?
Well put.
And you're saying that most of our jobs, families, and even churches permit and even encourage this way of living?
Yes, in my experience, I'd say so.
And you're saying that we've permitted ourselves to reduce obedience from an act of dependency on God to an act of dependency on our own will?
That seems to be our pattern.
And you're saying that we use the feeling from our obedience to God's commands and mission as a substitue for receiving God's intimate and personal love for each of us?
That's the danger, yes.
Well, that's certainly a lot to think about.
You're telling me.
James 4:17
Yes, James. I agree. But I ask: what is it in us that motivates us to actually do what we ought?
I am fascinated by this question, because as I observe myself and others, I am amazed/confused/scared/awed/angered/disgusted/ convicted/blessed/humbled by all that motivates us to do good things. Yep. I feel all of those about my own motivation and that of others... sometimes simultaneously.
Here's what sparked all of this. Because of the writer's guild strike, all of the networks are having to put on re-runs of their sitcoms, dramas, and talk shows. In flipping through the channels, I came across a summer re-run of the Colbert Report, which frequently addresses religious topics (albeit in a sarcastic yet insightful manner). This particular episode was covering an August Time Magazine cover article on Mother Teresa.
The Time article covered a book that had just been published entitled Come Be My Light. The editor of the book had gathered 50 years worth of personal communication from Mother Teresa to many of her confessors--spiritual confidants and guides.
One would expect that this book would be packed full of wisdom about a deep and abiding love-relationship with God, and how this love-relationship continually fuels selfless acts of service. The book fails to meet that expectation, however.
In fact, the book dashes that expectation to pieces and replaces with a stark, haunting reality: Mother Teresa's 50 years of service were not categorized by a sense of intimacy and closeness to God. Instead, they were characterized by darkness, confusion, loneliness, and a need for God that He never seems to meet.
That can't be. The editor must have gathered letters only from the times Mother Teresa struggled, and then blew them out of proportion by publishing them only.
Not true. The publisher is actually an ardent follower and admirer of Teresa, and is a Catholic himself. He even lobbies for Mother Teresa's canonization.
Well, everyone has times of doubt. I mean, look at Mother Teresa's situation. The need was so great, the setting so dark, and she was surrounded by it all the time. It had to have been overwhelming. I'd wonder where God was, too.
Sure. But that wasn't the thing Mother Teresa sorrowed over. What she sorrowed over was a continuous, characteristic, gaping lack of intimacy with God, despite her repeated advances and requests. She felt like she had it before she embarked on her calling, and felt like she never regained it during her years of service in India.
Gosh... I just have such a hard time believing that. There's got to be a piece (or several pieces) of the puzzle that are missing there. It just doesn't make sense that someone could serve like she did for so long without really sensing the presence of God.
Why is that?
Well, I just can't imagine any amount of discipline, altruism, or whatever that would keep someone doing what she was doing for how long she did it. I mean, she believed that this is what God had called her to do... but she rarely felt His love for her? She felt dark and abandoned more often than not? No way. I would have left. I mean, she sacrificed everything for someone who's mere existence she often questioned because of rarely sensing His intimacy or nearness. People don't do that, especially when the sacrifice is so great.
People do it everyday.
Name one.
Ok. How about the woman who stays married to a dangerously violent man for her entire life?
Go on...
Well, think about it. A man and a woman get married after a whirlwind romance. Sure, they've both got problems, but they're both young, and have their entire lives to figure it out, right? Well, not two years into the marriage, the woman discovers that the man she thought she married is a far cry from the man she's discovering her husband to be. They have a kid now, but a good father he is not. He doesn't seem to be patient with her anymore, is rather quick tempered, and one day hits her for burning his toast, right in front of their toddler.
Yeah, but...
Just a second. Stay with me here. The woman has a deep, abiding belief in the sanctity of marriage--her mother and father taught her that, her church reinforces it, and all of her peers judge anyone who splits up a family. "You stay together; commitment is the only key to a successful marriage."
So she stays. Come hell or high water, she stays. The alternative is too fearful to even consider. The weight of her own belief, coupled with the expectations of the many voices in her community forbid her to reveal to anyone what is going on. Above all else, she has to be a good example, a model of a good wife and mother. And a good wife and mother stays with her family, good or bad, in sickness or in health. She gave her oath. She made a commitment. She promised. And nothing good comes from a broken promise.
So you're equating God to an abusive husband, and Mother Teresa to a battered wife?
I'm equating Mother Teresa's God with an abusive husband.
So there's more than one God, then?
In reality, no, there is only One. But in the realities that we create and fashion for ourselves, there are as many "Gods" as there are people.
Interesting. I think I see where you are going. But that is still awfully hard to believe: Mother Teresa, despite all of her years of service, despite following Jesus' second most important command literally and fervently, fashioned God into something or someone that He wasn't?
It's hard to say... and far be it from me, as someone who is honestly unwilling to make the same sacrifice that Mother Teresa made, to hastily and assuredly come to such a conclusion. But man... 50 years that are characterized by wondering if God was real, by feeling dissatisfied, by not feeling loved in the way that you desire, by feeling jilted to the point where you wonder if Jesus is true... that makes you wonder what kind of God Mother Teresa was really serving.
It does... so what do we do with that?
Well, I take a couple of things away from Mother Teresa's story. First, I think we need to understand something about ourselves as human beings. Human beings seem to have this creative, deceptive ability to "irrigate their souls" when God's fountain seems to have dried up.
Huh?
Think of it this way: a lot of people claim to do things in the name of God's love, right?
Right...
I mean, you name it: teach, lead, shepherd, guide, serve, sing, greet, give, administrate, organize, recycle, prophesy, intercede, pray, confront, submit...
Yeah, yeah, I get it. Your point being?
Well, are they doing those things because they love God, or are they doing them because of God's love for them?
Isn't it both?
Well, it should be both. We should do things because God loves us, and because we love God. But often times, we do them simply because we love God. In other words, we do them because we know that we should love God, and we love God by obeying God through these various acts.
And what's wrong with that?
Nothing. And everything.
Nice. Way to be needlessly unclear. Really makes you look intelligent.
I don't mean to get all "Confucian" on you. Let me explain. In one sense, nothing is wrong with doing things because you know you should, even when you don't feel like doing them. I mean, just because I don't feel an overwhelming sense of God's intimate love for me does not give me an excuse to neglect the poor or not give my money to God.
Right...
But in another sense, if I don't characteristically receive and feel God's love for me, then my good works are characteristically motivated by... well... the same thing a pagan's good works are motivated by.
And that is?
Me. Motivated entirely by me. By my desires, by my will, by my decision, by my effort by my altruistic beliefs and convictions. Doesn't matter if it happens to match what the Bible tells me to do, or what the latest self-help book tells me to do. It still depends on me, and me alone.
Ok, I get that. But what does that have to do with where you started--with what you said about humans having this ability to "irrigate themselves" or something like that?
Well, the picture God gives us in his Word is for us to live a life that flows out of his life, of us to express a love that continually flows from his continual love for us. However, we often find that while the demands of life, ministry, and mission require expressions of love from you, rarely do they require you to receive God's love before you express loving service.
Give me an example.
Sure. Let's say that you're married with 3 kids. The kids have to eat, and you have to provide for them. The kids have to be taught, and you have to teach them. They have to be disciplined, clothed, educated, made to feel safe and secure. You have to do all of this. And those demands just don't stop, now, do they?
I suppose not.
You suppose correctly. The kids need to be fed, spanked, dressed, in school, getting good grades, getting along with their peers and siblings, and so on. But: do you have it in you, not only to do all of those things, but to do them in the way that God desires? Do you have the patience and gentleness in your heart to parent your child how God wants you to? Do you have the joy that will allow you to celebrate even the least significant of their accomplishments? Do you have the humility of spirit that will enable you to wade through their judgmental and arrogant teenage years? Do you have the self control that will prevent you from abusing your power and authority?
It seems like you're setting the bar awfully high.
Well, God's the One setting the bar, but you are making my point exactly. We have a tendency to permit ourselves to "just get the job done." And we usually have it in us to do so. The kids need to be disciplined. Johnny just mouthed off to his mother. The kids need to be clothed. Susie has just outgrown her shoes that we bought her 3 months ago. Billy is getting poor grades, and the teacher wants to have a conference with us, but work is way too crazy right now to allow any time for that. The last thing that I need to worry about is whether or not I'm doing this the "right" way. I just need to get this done. It's my God-given responsibility; my God-given mission. And so from obedience we rip any need to depend on God, and replace it with my own need to accomplish my God-given task.
And our circumstances more often than not permit this mode of operation, even when it comes to our ministry efforts. Love your neighbor. Share your faith. Give your money. Serve your church. Yes, these are things that God calls and commands us to do. But we are to do it with Him before we do it for Him. And we only do these things with God as we take time to receive God's life and love. And as we do, we depend on that life and that love to fuel what we do for God.
So you're saying that more often than not, we consider it our God-given duty to express God's love in service to others before receiving God's love for ourselves?
Well put.
And you're saying that most of our jobs, families, and even churches permit and even encourage this way of living?
Yes, in my experience, I'd say so.
And you're saying that we've permitted ourselves to reduce obedience from an act of dependency on God to an act of dependency on our own will?
That seems to be our pattern.
And you're saying that we use the feeling from our obedience to God's commands and mission as a substitue for receiving God's intimate and personal love for each of us?
That's the danger, yes.
Well, that's certainly a lot to think about.
You're telling me.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Mike Stubbe
I recently messaged some of my high school friends via facebook about something significant that happened to me today; I thought I'd post it here as well. It's below:
Hey everyone,
Sorry to invade your facebook inboxes with a rather long and admittedly random note, but something has happened to me today that I'd like to share with you.
A man from our church passed away last week. Maybe some of you knew him; I didn't. His name was Mike Stubbe. He was 26, and a 2000 graduate of CF High. He had been married for 6 years, and had a 5-year old daughter. Mike's daughter found him lying on the couch one morning, covered in a blanket, but dead. He had passed away sometime during the night. The autopsy has been, so far, inconclusive.
I was asked to sing a couple of songs at his funeral today. That's a weird part of my job; I am confronted with the reality of death fairly regularly. Anyways, this one stood out to me. Maybe it'll stand out to you.
While I was getting soundchecked before the funeral, our tech guy was playing through some of the songs that Mike's wife had requested we play sometime during the funeral. One of them was a "blast from the past"--K-Ci and JoJo's "All My Life." As it came over the speakers, I thought to myself: "I have memories of that song." I remember that song playing on the radio right in the middle of college life, when communities and identities were forming, when most things were new or firsts, and when the future was finally starting to be written.
Mike and his wife, Tami, had memories of that song, too. It was playing at a similar time in their life together. It was significant enough to them to be played at Mike's funeral.
And that familiarity--that commonality I had with them in that song--shocked me. Normally I can wrap my mind enough around what happens at a funeral that I can remain somewhat detached, even when the cause of the funeral is pretty tragic. But it was more difficult with this one. He was my (read: our) age. He was in good health. He was a godly man. He wasn't screwing around with his life. Nevertheless, his set amount of days came to an abrupt end.
And that is the somewhat cold reality of life. It ends, and there's really no guarantee, and even the odds can be deceiving. Now, God is sovereign and faithful, and has been explicitly so to Tami, in ways that are too numerous to mention in this already lengthy note. Even with that being said: each of us simply does not know and can not know how much longer we will be here.
So, here's the encouragement that I've felt and that I'd like to pass on to you: no matter where you find yourself right now, or where you've been, or where you think you're going, remember that what really matters in life is knowing God, and living God's life. I listened to Mike's brother get up say as much; that's how he makes sense of this. And it's not an empty truth. God gives meaning and hope through Jesus, linking this life with the next. Clinging to him is our only chance of surviving and even thriving in the face of everything that comes our way.
I know it's not the same as you experiencing this firsthand, but I hope that God is able to draw you nearer to himself through these words, and that they help to keep things in perspective during what promises to be another hectic and loaded holiday season.
Hey everyone,
Sorry to invade your facebook inboxes with a rather long and admittedly random note, but something has happened to me today that I'd like to share with you.
A man from our church passed away last week. Maybe some of you knew him; I didn't. His name was Mike Stubbe. He was 26, and a 2000 graduate of CF High. He had been married for 6 years, and had a 5-year old daughter. Mike's daughter found him lying on the couch one morning, covered in a blanket, but dead. He had passed away sometime during the night. The autopsy has been, so far, inconclusive.
I was asked to sing a couple of songs at his funeral today. That's a weird part of my job; I am confronted with the reality of death fairly regularly. Anyways, this one stood out to me. Maybe it'll stand out to you.
While I was getting soundchecked before the funeral, our tech guy was playing through some of the songs that Mike's wife had requested we play sometime during the funeral. One of them was a "blast from the past"--K-Ci and JoJo's "All My Life." As it came over the speakers, I thought to myself: "I have memories of that song." I remember that song playing on the radio right in the middle of college life, when communities and identities were forming, when most things were new or firsts, and when the future was finally starting to be written.
Mike and his wife, Tami, had memories of that song, too. It was playing at a similar time in their life together. It was significant enough to them to be played at Mike's funeral.
And that familiarity--that commonality I had with them in that song--shocked me. Normally I can wrap my mind enough around what happens at a funeral that I can remain somewhat detached, even when the cause of the funeral is pretty tragic. But it was more difficult with this one. He was my (read: our) age. He was in good health. He was a godly man. He wasn't screwing around with his life. Nevertheless, his set amount of days came to an abrupt end.
And that is the somewhat cold reality of life. It ends, and there's really no guarantee, and even the odds can be deceiving. Now, God is sovereign and faithful, and has been explicitly so to Tami, in ways that are too numerous to mention in this already lengthy note. Even with that being said: each of us simply does not know and can not know how much longer we will be here.
So, here's the encouragement that I've felt and that I'd like to pass on to you: no matter where you find yourself right now, or where you've been, or where you think you're going, remember that what really matters in life is knowing God, and living God's life. I listened to Mike's brother get up say as much; that's how he makes sense of this. And it's not an empty truth. God gives meaning and hope through Jesus, linking this life with the next. Clinging to him is our only chance of surviving and even thriving in the face of everything that comes our way.
I know it's not the same as you experiencing this firsthand, but I hope that God is able to draw you nearer to himself through these words, and that they help to keep things in perspective during what promises to be another hectic and loaded holiday season.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Authority
"But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God's grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many! Again, the gift of God is not like the result of the one man's sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification. For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God's abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ. Consequently, just as the result of one trespass was condemnation for all men, so also the result of one act of righteousness was justification that brings life for all men. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous." [Romans 5:15-19]
I was asked once about this passage: "This doesn't seem equitable. How can one good act by one good man remedy the many evil acts by billions of people?" This question gnawed at me. Part of me thought, "It seems like the scales are very much still unbalanced. There is more evil in the world than good. There is more evil in my life than good." Is the work of Christ diminished to some other-worldly, future hope that "it'll all be different in heaven", while in the meantime the world seems to be going to hell, and parts of my life with it?
I revolt at that. Anger at the injustice and inequity in the world tempts me to point a finger at God, and shame at what I've done yet not been held accountable for bids me to run and hide. I feel both at the same time. Despite these conflicting emotions, I nevertheless conclude: heaven later does nothing to fix hell now.
These are the things the Enemy whispers into my ear.
The crux of the dilemma above seems to have something to do with justice. It doesn't seem "fair" or "right" that one man dying on one cross has the capacity to right all of the wrongs committed by all of the men and women who have ever lived. And perhaps it doesn't… at least in our ledgers. But our ledgers are far from balanced… at least in God's bookkeeping.
Our ledgers allow us to easily see the injustices in our world. Women who are battered. Children who are hungry. People who have a target (literally or metaphorically) on their backs because of the DNA they were given at birth. Times and circumstances in which we've been treated unjustly or unfairly… or even hurtfully. And when our ledgers tell us that there are past due accounts like these, we cry out for them to be paid back in justice for the guilt they've incurred.
The problem is that there are flaws in our ability to book keep. For some reason, we are awfully good at keeping someone else's account (like that of the racist, or of the exploiter, or of the abuser), but absolutely terrible at keeping our own.
And I am reminded of a passage from Psalm 130, verses 3 and 4: "If you, O LORD, kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness; therefore you are feared."
My conscience cries out for justice to be leveraged on me for my own sin every day. I cannot keep track of how many characters I've successfully assassinated in my own mind, how many adulteries I've had in my heart, or how many selfish interests I've protected over the course of my brief time here on this earth. Before I cry out for social justice, perhaps I should cry out for personal mercy:
"O Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy." [Psalm 130:1]
The fact that I am still standing and breathing is a testimony to God's mercy. The fact that the stain of humanity has not been completely and utterly wiped clean from God's good earth is evidence of a merciful God. Take a moment to look at your own ledger. You are forced to conclude that the amount of marks in the red far outnumber the marks in the black. And yet you remain, likely living a fairly blessed life by most of the world's standards. Why?
"The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." [2 Peter 3:9]
And then, all of a sudden, we're grateful for the apparently deferred judgment.
And then, we realize that this world can change only as we are changed.
And then, we realize that we are changed because God hasn't deferred our judgment, but has already punished humanity's representative for its sins.
And then, we realize that we are changed beause God is merciful, for He has elected his incarnated Son, Jesus, as humanity's representative.
event planning
One of the things that I am not very good at is event planning. Which is an ok thing to not be good at for most people… mainly people who don't plan events for a living. But it's a problem for youth pastors. Event planning is pretty much the scaffolding around which ministry in a youth setting is done. And I suck at it.
I guess I don't suck at it. But I'm not the best. And it stresses me out. So many details to remember. So many possibilities to forget. So many volunteers to ask to help, to follow up with, to support. So many questions from students. So many messages to plan, ideas to brainstorm, slides to make, multimedia to set up. It makes me tired to just list all of it.
I often wonder when it gets down to crunch time of one of these major events: is this all worth it? Is this what ministry is supposed to be about? It all costs so much… financially, physically, mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually.
I was pondering this tonite, while sitting around a bonfire at our college retreat. It's Saturday night, and I've just gotten over the "hump" of the retreat—I've given my 3rd of four talks, after leading two worship sets, and tomorrow's talk is a done deal. We've gotten up here safely, the weather has been great, the students seem to be responding, the food's been good, and we haven't had any major tech issues. Looks like it's gonna be a success, which alleviates some anxiety, which gives me space to think.
And I think: could we have got more students to come? How many should we shoot for next year? Was all of this work worth it? Is this going to be significant in the lives of these students?
And as I thought that, a story popped into my head from the John Ortberg series my small group has been listening to and discussing. It's the one where Jesus is telling the parable about the man throwing this huge banquet, inviting everyone who's anyone, only to find that all of his A-list invites make excuses and go back on their RSVPs on the day of the party. They're snubbing the host.
The host responds by having his servants search everywhere—even the slums—to fill up his party. And fill up the party the servant does. He finds plenty of people who "aren't doing anything on Saturday night." And just like that, the disabled and feeble-minded are now walking the same red carpet as the stars would have… if only they had made good on their RSVPs.
God, of course, is the host in the story. The A-listers who go back on their initial acceptance of God's invitation are [most of] his chosen people, the Jews. And the disabled and feeble-minded… well, that's all of the rest of us who, disabled and broken from our own sin, have benefitted from the rescinded RSVPs.
God planned this amazing event… but even an event planned by God himself wasn't "attractive" enough to draw the "big names" in big numbers.
And I got to thinking: maybe "big names in big numbers" shouldn't be something that I worry about. Maybe it shouldn't be one of the things I use to determine how well one of my event-planning endeavors turned out. Maybe my events are a success for the same reason that God's event was a success: because God was there. Maybe my effort should be directed toward getting whoever will accept God's invitation to show up, rather than try to make the event attractive to the big names in big numbers… and to give God praise for filling his event with those who he has chosen.
So, God… thanks.
Joseph, Jesus’ Dad
There's a line in Mercy Me's song "Joseph's Lullaby" that grabbed me tonight. The song, as its title communicates, is written as if Joseph was singing a lullaby to his infant son, Jesus. The scene of the song takes place sometime shortly after Jesus is born—perhaps the very night Mary gave birth. And Joseph sings:
"You have a long road before you—rest your little head."
The long road before you. That part of the line struck me. I feel like that a lot—like the road ahead of me is long. I started to think of the road that is set before me each day:
I am undisciplined. I let my appetite go unchecked too often, let my eyes linger too long, and let my spending run too far ahead of my paycheck. I am quick to judge, and rarely quick to listen. I get angry, and am a master at justifying it, spinning it to serve my own interests. And that's the short list.
These things litter the road that is set before me. I am who I am. This is the road I will travel, and these are the obstacles looming out ahead of me.
And God the Father sees this. Every day He sees this. He sees me walk this road and, as I come upon these obstacles, He sees me falter. In fact, He saw me walk and falter long before I even began to do it with my skin on. He saw that what I was going to do, if He didn't do something about it, was eventually going to lead to my death. My death—me being separated forever from the Life He Has. Me walking a road that leads away from him, toward my self-destruction.
And so he gave his Son a road to travel—an even longer road than mine:
"Walk his road, so that he can walk with Me on mine." That was the road that was set before Jesus: change me.
I think that changing someone—I mean, truly changing another person, permanently and for the better—is the single most difficult thing to do in this world. Think about it. Let's say your job is to spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, 49 weeks per year (that's right… you get 3 weeks vacation!) with a gang member who has known the way of violence for as long as he can remember being alive. Your task is to change him into being a non-violent, legitimately-working citizen.
How would you do it? How long would you need? Could you stay with it, walking with him through the ups and downs, through the dangers and snares, all the while remaining an attractive and alternate option to the lifestyle he has grown so accustomed to? Would your mercy know no bounds as he returned to that lifestyle periodically despite showing some growth? Would the life that you produced in him, if you were successful, remain in him even apart from your physical presence? Would you be willing to count the daily cost necessary to change just one person's life?
Jesus was willing. I don't know how he was able, but he was, and he is. And he walks my long road with me even today.
Monday, October 15, 2007
room for mystery
The Lord has been whispering to me, which is a funny thing to say. On the one hand, I feel like He's not close enough to whisper. But this is only from my perspective. Indeed, he must be close enough for me to type what he's been whispering.
He's been whispering something along these lines:
"Can your eyes see, your mind allow, and your heart accept my mysteries?"
His mysteries. Here's how he has been whispering them to me:
Jesus' kingdom message is itself an embrace of mystery. Jesus proclaims to us: my Father's rule is mythically and supernaturally breaking into this world right now through Me, your Curse-Bearer.
He goes on to illustrate this new kingdom reality with more mystery. Jesus says his Father's kingdom is like a seed that is scattered on the ground, remains untended by human hands, and yet grows from the earth all by itself. He goes on to say that this kingdom is like a tiny "pine nut" growing into a massive pine tree (the Message's rendering of Jesus' mustard seed parable).
Stop for a second. When you read that last paragraph, did you think: "Well, perhaps the original readers of those accounts of Jesus simply didn't know how a seed grows." Or, "Actually, a pine nut contains all of the necessary DNA coding to grow a pine tree to its maturity."
Now, without traveling down some sort of long and uncalled-for defense of the intellect of Jesus' contemporaries, suffice it to say they knew enough about how seeds grow to know that if it did not get planted in properly tilled soil, receive adequate water, and protected from the sun and weeds that chances are, it was not going to grow--as any green thumb can readily attest to. And when a seed did manage to grow up into a plant without any sort of human intervention, well, that was so unlikely that it was indeed mysterious.
To look at a vast forest of pine trees, and know that no one planted them. To see a a sapling at the base of a great tree, and to know that it sprouted because a nut dropped from one of the branches. No hole was dug. No food was added. But roots found their way in, and lo and behold, it is on its way to taking its place in the canopy.
It inspires mystery. Awe. Wonder. Even amazement. Mouths dropped at something so unlikely.
Like a God who knows and sees the depths of our (most often hidden) evil and devises an elaborate plan, not for our eradication, but for our redemption.
Stop and let him grow his mystery up in you. Let this great mystery overwhelm your doubt, your shame, your guilt, your fear, your pain, your anxiety. Let your mouth open, your heart well up, and your eyes shed tears at a God who loves so mysteriously.
He's been whispering something along these lines:
"Can your eyes see, your mind allow, and your heart accept my mysteries?"
His mysteries. Here's how he has been whispering them to me:
Jesus' kingdom message is itself an embrace of mystery. Jesus proclaims to us: my Father's rule is mythically and supernaturally breaking into this world right now through Me, your Curse-Bearer.
He goes on to illustrate this new kingdom reality with more mystery. Jesus says his Father's kingdom is like a seed that is scattered on the ground, remains untended by human hands, and yet grows from the earth all by itself. He goes on to say that this kingdom is like a tiny "pine nut" growing into a massive pine tree (the Message's rendering of Jesus' mustard seed parable).
Stop for a second. When you read that last paragraph, did you think: "Well, perhaps the original readers of those accounts of Jesus simply didn't know how a seed grows." Or, "Actually, a pine nut contains all of the necessary DNA coding to grow a pine tree to its maturity."
Now, without traveling down some sort of long and uncalled-for defense of the intellect of Jesus' contemporaries, suffice it to say they knew enough about how seeds grow to know that if it did not get planted in properly tilled soil, receive adequate water, and protected from the sun and weeds that chances are, it was not going to grow--as any green thumb can readily attest to. And when a seed did manage to grow up into a plant without any sort of human intervention, well, that was so unlikely that it was indeed mysterious.
To look at a vast forest of pine trees, and know that no one planted them. To see a a sapling at the base of a great tree, and to know that it sprouted because a nut dropped from one of the branches. No hole was dug. No food was added. But roots found their way in, and lo and behold, it is on its way to taking its place in the canopy.
It inspires mystery. Awe. Wonder. Even amazement. Mouths dropped at something so unlikely.
Like a God who knows and sees the depths of our (most often hidden) evil and devises an elaborate plan, not for our eradication, but for our redemption.
Stop and let him grow his mystery up in you. Let this great mystery overwhelm your doubt, your shame, your guilt, your fear, your pain, your anxiety. Let your mouth open, your heart well up, and your eyes shed tears at a God who loves so mysteriously.
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