Confessions

Accompanying my recent thoughts on sin has been my reading through St. Augustine's Confessions. The following passage is an excellent commentary on Romans 7. I know it's long and it'll take some wading through the olde rhetoric but it's so intense, it's worth the trouble. And just so you know, he writes in prayers so 'you' refers to God.

"The enemy held my will in his power and from it he had made a chain and shackled me. For my will was perverse and lust had grown from it, and when I gave in to lust, habit was born, and when I did not resist the habit it became a necessity. These were the links which together formed what I have called my chain, and it held me fast in the duress of servitude. But the new will which had come to life in me and made me wish to serve you freely and enjoy you, my God, who are our only certain joy, was not yet strong enough to overcome the old, hardened as it was by the passage of time. So these two wills within me, one old, one new, one the servant of the flesh, the other of the spirit, were in conflict and between them they tore my soul apart....

"Instead of fearing, as I ought, to be held back by all that encumbered me, I was frightened to be free of it. In fact I bore the burden of the world as contentedly as one sometimes bears a heavy load of sleep. My thoughts, as I meditated upon you, were like the efforts of a man who tries to wake but cannot and sinks back into the depths of slumber. No one wants to sleep forever, for everyone rightly agrees that it is better to be awake. Yet a man often staves off the effort to rouse himself when his body is leaden with inertia. He is glad to settle down once more, although it is against his better judgement and it is already time he were up and about. In the same way I was quite sure that it was better for me to give myself up to your love than to surrender to my own lust. But while I wanted to follow the first course and was convinced that it was right, I was still a slave to the pleasures of the second....

"For the rule of sin is the force of habit, by which the mind is swept along and held fast even against its will, yet deservedly, because it fell into the habit of its own accord. 'Pitiable creature that I was, who was to set me free from a nature thus doomed to death? Nothing else than the grace of God, through Jesus Christ our Lord.'"

I'm schizophrenic, and so am I.

Sometimes I wonder how much I really understand this whole life as a Christian thing. It seems some of the time I think the point is to be more like Christ. That's kinda been drilled into our heads, especially with the whole 'What Would Jesus Do' scheme. So when that's my goal I create in my mind a linear chart I call "spiritual maturity" where the longer I'm a Christian the closer I get toward actual perfection. I understand God as one who is pleased when I do well and frowns when I sin saying, "Well you're forgiven in Christ, but don't do that again." But then I do and the frustration and disappointment floods back again and my chart takes a dive. What I don't realize is that in charting my progress I'm the judge of what sins are worthy to keep one from 'greater spiritual maturity' and which ones can be quietly overlooked. So for example, I could go a whole day being completely selfish but without blowing up at anybody, being dishonest, or looking at porn and I think I'm one step closer to perfection, as if God's impressed with my display of what I call 'good Christianity'. I don't often think this way consciously in my mind, but that's frequently how I live out my life.

Then sometimes, when I'm sitting in utter depression because I screwed up and let God down, I think the whole point is something more like 'Jesus loves me, this I know.' And if that's the case, then 'moral failure' and the resulting 'guilt' simply become more opportunity for Him to pour out His love on me. Not that I purposefully sin so that grace may abound - by no means - but when I do it takes a sideline to the overwhelming joy of God's grace. I understand God as one who is just waiting for the opportunity to pour out His grace and forgiveness that I may glory in His love for me. As a result, I lose the utter hatred for everything that goes against the character of God. Sin, all of a sudden, while never ok, is not so bad because with it comes a lavishing of grace.

So most of the time I end up sitting under the harmonious contradiction of God's love and His holiness, His mercy and His justice. That's usually when I crank the volume on the stereo and set the song When I Survey The Wondrous Cross on repeat. My dad told me that the Western mind always needs to connect the dots, to find some reasonable explanation to figure out the mystery. The Eastern mind on the other hand (our Jewish brothers who wrote the Bible), are completely content leaving different concepts in different boxes. They're ok with a holy God that loves sinners. To me that seems like a paradox that I'm left struggling to figure out...

"When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died
My richest gain I count but loss
And pour contempt on all my pride...."

Grace for more than drug-addicts and sex offenders

I was having a conversation recently with a friend who said he often feels like he has no testimony to share next to people who've been saved out of some seriously "sinful" lifestyles. After all, you have to admit "I grew up in church, got saved when I was 4, and lived happily ever after" isn't that impressive a display of God's grace....or is it? Truth of the matter is every one of us has been saved from a heart that's twisted and broken, deceptive and selfish. If God had allowed me to go my own way, then my story would be as sad and desperate as many others I've heard. But he didn't. Because of God's grace in my life He saved me from all that rather than saving me out of all that. Because of God's grace in my life I don't have to give into the selfish desires of my heart. I couldn't do that by myself. I know the thoughts of my heart, and it scares me to think if they were to have their way. It's only by God's grace that I can make choices contrary to my selfishness.

A prime example came up for me this week, and it allows me great opportunity to boast in God's grace. I have long been planning a trip to North Carolina to visit with the fam over the holidays. I was going to drive my car down and visit with friends on my way to and from. My brother and sister-in-law had to make their visit the week prior because of work commitments. However, when they were there they had car trouble and had to leave their car in the shop. So the new plan became that they would drive my parents Suburban home, which I would return when I drove down, and drive back up with their car. Seems like a great plan, minus one small objection, my selfish heart. I'm quite comfortable and familiar with my own car and all the amenities it provides, everything short of serving drinks and a bag of pretzels. This may seem like a small deal for many, but comfort and familiarity are a big deal on a long trip. So needless to say, it was not with ease that I consented to the new plan, but only by God's grace. Were I to make that decision on my own, I would've said make other arrangements cause I've been planning this for months and this is what I want to do. It's only the grace of God that could allow me to say no to my own selfish desires and agree to the alternative plan. And as a result my joy abounds. Not my joy in my own selfish comfort, but my joy in knowing I'm not a slave to my selfish desires. I can choose love over self. But not on my own, it's God's grace that saved me from these things. God continues to show His grace in my life everyday that He allows me to defeat my selfish heart. That's the grace that I boast in everyday. That's why I can stand next to the rehabbed drug-addict and former sex offender and say, "I too was lost, but now I'm found" and weep together in God's grace to selfish, messy sinners.

An Invitation

Lately I've had on my mind this whole idea that God's inviting us to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. I haven't really written much about it on here but it's been coming up for me on a pretty regular basis. Most recently I preached a sermon about it this past Sunday so I thought I'd share it with you. You can hear it here if you like, or you can read a rough text here. I'm not usually a fan, but I kind of enjoyed it this time. It's easy when you're preaching from your heart. The Sunday after we got back from Namibia, I stood up and shared a little bit about what I'd been learning. When I was done I realized how easy and natural it was (compared to my previous preaching ventures) because I was just sharing my heart. So this time around I decided to prepare a little differently and just speak from my heart. And like I said, I enjoyed this so much more, and from the feedback I got, so did everyone else. I hope you do as well. Peace

There and back again

Well I'm back from Namibia, and gone and back from TLC and now getting ready to leave for Soulfest later this week. It's been pretty wild, all this traveling, but every time I seem to learn something new about myself or ministry or something else. The Education of Life, I think they call it. There's no way to explain or summarize everything I've been processing through so far this summer in one blog post so I'll hit some highlights and leave the rest for the ongoing conversations.

Probably the biggest thing I've been interacting with is the sovereignty of God. God sovereignly arranges the events of our lives to bring about His desired ends. This much I know in my mind and I've even begun to base my life on it, but as I continue this journey with God I continue to discover to an increasing fullness the true extent of His sovereignty. While the choices and decisions of the immediate moment seem to be mine, God has ordained them all. God put together our team, planning a unique experience and purpose for each person. God designed the relationships we would develop and the people with which each of us would enter into conversation. God foreknew the pain and emotion those relationships would cause, as well as the lessons that can only be learned on the other side of pain. God uniquely chose me and the 5 others in my Kombie to be in a death-defying car accident and walk away virtually unharmed. God ordained it all, before any of it came to be. Why? Well, that answer I will never know in it's entirety so long as I am still enslaved to time, but I can see some good. I can see a student experience for the first time the peace that God's in control. I can see another student share a testimony and interact with people she never would have met if she had stayed on her original team. I can see a hesitant introvert break down walls by risking to love and refuse to rebuild them after hurt and pain. I can't see it all, but I can see just enough to sustain me so that when I see absolutely no good, like sitting next to John Burke in hospice care thinking of his 16 year old daughter who just lost her brother to the same brain tumor, I can still trust that God knows what He's doing, that all this is for a reason, and that there's some good buried in all this pain.

A few people have expressed to me how much they enjoyed my final post on our Namibia 2006 Blogsite (Reflections). Apparently it's helped some people or maybe they just liked the style or something. Some even said I have a talent and should be a writer. I don't know about that, but I am glad it's helped some people. Ultimately I just chase down some thoughts running around in my head and scratch them down on paper. How God has it all worked out that the circumstances He uses to make me think certain things to make me write certain things to make somebody else find and read them and then use them in their heart, that's all a mystery to me. But then, who would want to follow a God they could fully understand and explain anyway.

It's Namibia time again

Well for the next two and a half weeks I will be living what many only dream (except for the 18 hour flights I suppose). There's just something about Africa that you can't get away from. They say the African sand mixes with your blood so you have to keep going back. For me, it's more like a calling home, a sense that this is how life should be lived without all the distractions and nothing more than the goal of loving on people. What seems so important to me today will fade to the back of my mind, waiting to be reawakened upon my return. Perhaps Africa is my calling, perhaps America is my calling. But one thing I know, wherever I am, to love is the greatest calling.

With that fine introduction, you can continue sharing in the journey by reading the stories, browsing the pictures, watching the videos, and more on our blogsite dedicated to the trip. Feel free to leave me comments there. I will get them eventually. Hope you enjoy the ride!

http://namibia2006.blogspot.com

Concerning cultural idolatry

I have been enjoying a recent conversation with a friend on his blog about how much our Christianity has been shaped by our American culture, particularly our materialism. I was reminded of this conversation while reading about the kings of Israel in the Old Testament. After Solomon died, two tribes followed his son, Rehoboam, but the other 10 tribes split off to follow Jeroboam. Now Jeroboam was no moron and began to realize that if all his people kept going down to worship at the temple in Jerusalem then their allegiance would return to Rehoboam. So he made two golden calves so the people could stay in Israel and worship. Well, after Jeroboam died and other kings came along, they kept the calves around so people wouldn't have to return to Jerusalem. Some of them tried hard to follow God, they tore down Asherah poles and altars to Baal. They killed prophets to other gods. But none of them got rid of the golden calves. It says each of them "followed in the idolatry that their father, Jeroboam son of Nebat, had caused Israel to commit." They allowed their culture to shape their behavior. Rather than follow what God told them to do, they filtered what God told them through what their culture told them. In other words, they followed their culture first and God second. Unfortunately, that sounds real familiar. How often do we follow our culture before we follow God. God's commands and character is very important to us, quite a high priority, but only to the extent that our culture allows. For example, from my previous conversation about materialism, in response to the question of how to receive eternal life, Jesus tells a rich man to sell all his possessions and give them to the poor, then come follow Him. We tend to focus more on saying a prayer to be "born again" rather than actually following Christ. We've allowed people to continue in their cultural idolatry by simply adding God to a list of gods to be worshiped. Like Jeroboam and the kings of Israel, we follow the commands that fit our culture, but we don't have courage enough to follow God first no matter what culture would say. Imagine what would happen if we did.

Row 11 Seat C

Yesterday I found myself sitting in the airport waiting for my flight on Southwest. Now Southwest doesn't assign seats so the trick is to get in seating order 'A' and get there early so you can get a good seat. So I got there plenty early, in fact, there were only a few others in the waiting area when I arrived. After about a half hour or more, still before the plane even arrived, I saw this couple walk up and plop themselves down in front of the gate so as to be the first in line. Now I thought to myself, "How arrogant of them to think they can pass by all these people who've been waiting here ahead of them to get a seat on the plane." As soon as that couple sat down as if "in line", it started an onslaught of others rushing for a spot in line lest they get left with a middle seat, like the first drop of water that breaks through the dam. As the lines continued to get longer I kept thinking, "The nerve of these people to think they have any more right to get a better seat then me cause they stood up in line. I've been waiting here longer than all of them", which naturally gives me more of a right than them to get a better seat. "It's not like they're going to run out of seats before you get there. It's a huge plane, just get over yourselves and wait like all of us have had to." Fortunately, from where I was sitting close to the gate, the line extended backward pretty far, so my mind concieved a plan where I would just stand up and make my way to the gate as if there was no line and these presumptuous people were simply standing there for no particular reason. But the longer I sat there I began to actually listen to what I was thinking, that it really is just a seat on the plane and it's awful selfish to think that I should force my rights on them who actually think they have more rights because they've been standing and I sitting. I began to think of Paul talking about yielding his rights and that it's better to be wronged than to make a big deal about it and take someone to court like the world. So I decided it would probably be better of me and more Christlike to make my way back to the end of "the line" and allow the presumptuous people on the plane ahead of me. Afterall I would still get a pretty good seat because I was in the 'A' line. Eventually the plane arrived and people began shuttling off and my mind was fighting with itself over where to get in line. Then the little red 'A' light came on and we were called to board. I watched myself stand up, collect my things and make my way straight to the gate.

Why is it that our selfish desires carry so much more weight than our desire to love? Why is it that my heart tells me it's not that big a deal but my mind is so much more concerned with my comfortable seating preference? Why do I cling so tightly to what I consider to be my earthly rights? This whole process of becoming less and less earthly minded is a tough battle, especially when what I want is in such contradiction to what I know. And since it's my mind that chooses my behavior I'm pretty much screwed, huh. Oh how I long to just 'get over myself' and love people with selfless abandon.

I ended up with a phenomenal seat, an aisle seat in the exit row, couldn't ask for more. But as the guilt poured on and the eyes of those behind me bored holes in the back of my head I kept wishing I could take it back. I pulled out my book, Seizing Your Divine Moment by Erwin McManus, and read about how the choices we make define the moments in which we live. He writes, "If a moment is the gate through which your divine journey begins, then choice is the key that unlocks the adventure." Figures.

To dream or not to dream...

Before you read this post, make sure you get a little context by reading the latest Pascal quote that I've been thinking on lately. Also the movie Vanilla Sky may come to mind if you've ever seen it.

The question at hand relates to our insatiable desire to always want to be somewhere else, to do something else with our lives, something bigger, something better. We dream...and we're far better off for it, I do believe. What greatness would ever be achieved if we didn't dream? I resonate with George Mallory who, in response to the question "Why climb Everest?" replied, "Because it's there." It called out a challenge to him. It gave him a dream. Dreams are about being involved in something bigger than yourself. Something bigger than average, better than normal. Have you ever awoken from a dream only to wish you could fall back asleep because you quite enjoyed it there? It was much more enjoyable and satisfying than the reality you wake up to. That present reality, which we all live in, is far to real, with all it's pains, frustrations, annoyances, interruptions, discontentment. So we dream. Yet dreams are merely a hope, a favorable expectation of a future that may or may not ever exist. But in contrast to this present reality, we dream in perfect color, the way things could be. So we're lead to the question, if our dreams are so great, why don't we drop everything and pursue them with abandon? What is it that keeps us from following our dreams? Fear perhaps. Fear of the unknown. Fear that if we pursue our dream into the present then it may not be as perfect as we imagined it to be. Fear that if it doesn't work out then we'll have nothing to fall back on. And so we remain in discontented reality...with our dreams. But what of those who do follow their dreams? Those who give up average for the hope of fulfillment? When they get there, is it all they imagined it to be? Or do they only find another dream, like climbing to the top of a mountain only to find another mountain on the other side of the valley? So ultimately we've come to the question, is it possible to live your dream? Does anyone ever really honestly say I wouldn't rather be doing anything else than what I'm doing right now, I wouldn't rather be anywhere else than where I am right now? Is that true contentment? Is that life fulfillment?

I'm not totally convinced. Like Pascal says, we can't go on living in times that are not our own (ie, the future, our dreams). The only time we have to live is the present. So does that devalue our dreams? On the contrary, I think it revalues the in-betweens. Follow your dreams, but live the journey. Climb your Everest, but find joy in the climb, not just the summit. Maybe in the end dreams aren't really a place to be, or something to do, but a joy to hold. To hold that joy in this present reality, in the everyday, that's contentment, that's the dream.

So we continue to dream...and are much better off for it, I do believe.

Concerning fear, love, and loss

So I was just watching one of my favorite movies, Good Will Hunting, and I was struck by a conversation that paralleled some things that have recently been stirring my thinking. In a conversation between Will, an emotionally detached, young genius, and Sean, his shrink, Will asks if Sean ever wondered what his life would be like if he had never married his wife, who had died of cancer two years earlier. Sean goes on to reply that he never regretted the years of joy because of the years of pain, but he would've regretted seeing this girl in a bar and never knowing what would've happened if he had only talked with her. Meanwhile, Will doesn't want to give his heart to this girl, Skylar, because he's afraid that if she finds out about all his imperfections then she'll leave. He's not convinced the potential joy is worth the hypothetical loss.

That reminds me of these words I recently wrote to a friend:

Why is it that love always has to end in loss? Truly the tragic curse of the soul, our greatest hurt bound intimately with our greatest joy. But I suppose it's destined to work out that way. So then we're left with "it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." I guess I can accept that.

This goes right along with that quote from Pascal [reference earlier post]. If we constantly fear the pain of loss destined in the future then we will never experience the joy of love in the present. Or on the other hand, as with my friend and I, if we cling to our grief, remembering past loves, we miss those opportunities of new loves right in front of us. Or as Sean, the shrink, would say, it's time to put your money back on the table and see what kind of cards you get.

We never keep to the present.

"We never keep to the present. We . . . anticipate the future as if we found it too slow in coming and were trying to hurry it up, or we recall the past as if to stay its too rapid flight. We are so unwise that we wander about in times that do not belong to us and do not think of the only one that does; so vain that we dream of times that are not and blindly flee the only one that is . . . [We] think of how we are going to arrange things over which we have no control for a time we can never be sure of reaching . . . Thus we never actually live, but hope to live, and since we are always planning how to be happy, it is inevitable that we should never be so." ~Blaise Pascal

I've quite enjoyed meditating on that quote recently and don't have much commentary that could add to it, so I'll just let it speak for itself.

Love Advice from the Gridiron

You often learn the most profound things from the oddest places. So it should be no big surprise that my recent discoveries concerning love come from none other than the football field. No surprise to some who know of my slightly less than fanatical love of football, but surprise to me nonetheless. As many of you probably know, my New England Patriots lost in the divisional round of the playoffs after winning the last 2 Super Bowls. They were on their way to an unprecedented 3 consecutive Super Bowl victories when they were stopped short by their first playoff loss in at least 5 years. Now I've experienced playoff losses before, even a Super Bowl loss, but none struck me quite as hard as this one, and that's what took me by surprise. But that's also what helped me to realize that grief is proportional to love. You know exactly what I mean because those people who right now are saying, "Oh good grief" really have no love for the game, or a particular team. They say that those who can utter the words "It's only a game" have no love for the game. And those who say "There's always next year" just don't quite understand. But for those of us who have invested so much into following their team from free agency, to draft day, to training camp, through pre-season, the ups and downs of the regular season, and triumphantly into the post-season, there is nothing but this season. One friend told me this year he's been following the Minnesota Vikings since their induction to the league in 1961. For those fans, affectionately termed by some as fan-atics, there is nothing greater than watching your team hoist the Lombardi trophy in the air surrounded by confetti in team colors. And it's the ever present hope of that scene that causes us to carry on. But as there is always joy in love, so there is also grief. Two books that I have read recently have also helped greatly along these lines, A Severe Mercy by Sheldon VanHauken and A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis. Grief and loss are not one in the same, nor should they be feared as though they are not a natural part of love. Grief helps clarify and identify love. We shouldn't run from it as though to cut it off before it's natural term, nor over-extend it as though to keep our beloved alive. It's the continuing process of love, not a state or a phase, but an ongoing process. It's a necessary part of the journey of love. I don't know what action I mean to imply by these thoughts. Perhaps it would shed a little light on what it means to "mourn with those who mourn" if we really knew the true extent of love. Perhaps it would help us to love a little deeper understanding that loss is inevitable and grief is a consummation of love. Or perhaps just to stop telling me "it's only a game, get over it", to figure out what things you grieve over with the thought of loss, and to embrace them with all your heart. Because it's true that deeper love brings greater loss, but it also brings greater joy, and I wouldn't trade that for the world.