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Well, I finally fell from grace yesterday. After years of perfection, I blew it with my son. As I'm sure this is hard to believe, I'll relay some of the details...I think many people might find them oddly familiar.
Yesterday was a hectic one. We've been getting over illness at our house (literally every one of us...both me and my wife...all four kids...) and simultaneously preparing to go on vacation. At the same time, my daughter turned 9 on Monday and my wife's birthday is today. Busy.
One of the things my daughter wanted to do this week to celebrate was have friends over for dinner. We originally had this planned for Tuesday, but the aforementioned illness(es) forced us to push the date out a bit. Last night we caught up - a family down the street that pretty well matches up with ours (four kids, each within a year of our four) came up to the house for dinner. One of the great things about having this family over is that the kids all get along fairly well. Sure it's chaotic and there is no shortage of conflict, but you could do far worse with eight kids in your house between 7 months and 9 years old, believe me!
After a fun evening of play, their family headed for home and we began preparing for bed. This is where the "bad dad" in me came to life. My five year old, Tate, mentioned that we were supposed to play a board game. The request was new to me and completely out of any context - I casually declined (and directed him to pajamas and teeth-brushing instead). Tate is an unbelievably amiable kid who has always rolled pretty well with the punches, but when he doesn't he shuts down. And he did.
Whether or not he is adept at pushing my buttons or whether I have my own private baggage regarding this reaction, shutting down pretty well ticks me off. He averts his eyes (or stares at the floor). He is pouting. He is non-responsive and, particularly, won't talk. I, on the other hand, am somewhat verbal (in case you didn't know).
My perspective: Tate, five or not, overtired or not, needs to celebrate the fun evening he's had and not sweat it when a board game doesn't figure in because bedtime is upon us.
My perspective: Not talking about why you are mad makes me mad.
My perspective: Go to bed.
So, I execute on my response and my perspective. Frustrated but sure in the knowledge that he will soon be asleep and that this is just a small bump in an otherwise pretty good day, I put him in bed and ignore my own anger as he pulls the quilt over his head, completely rejecting me. Bad Dad? Just hang on...
Walking down the steps I run into my wife and throw the circumstance at her in passing: after all the fun we've had, you're son is mad that he can't play a boardgame instead of going to bed - you better go talk to him. That's when I find out that the reason the game came up was my wife. That's when I find out that the "fun time" I thought they'd been having included the two oldest kids excluding him from some game even to the point of forcing him out of the room and locking the door behind him. That's when I find out that the boardgame was a lifeline that my wife had offered to comfort him in the midst of rejection.
Bad Dad.
Now, let me be clear: I'm not beating myself up. My son shutting down does hit a nerve, but its also not something productive insofar as it doesn't promote healing or relationship or risking that the other person (me, friends, wife, kids) wants to change or wants to make things better. Big idea for a five year old? Yes - I don't expect him to get it...but I hope to lead him away from shutting down - though, in case you missed it, this is the familiar part for me. I'm likely frustrated because I have had far more time to master the art of shutting down...and its more pervasive and harder to recognize because I'm better at it. How 'bout you?
So now I have a choice. Move on or dig in. Hurting son has deeper wounds that I wasn't aware of, but now I've contributed to the pain and I would love to take it back but, in some ways, it is what it is. But I can love him, now that I have perspective I can love him better. I climb into the top bunk and wrap my arms around him and whisper in his ear that I love him and then play at tickling his leg or punching him in the gut and it gets a little better, though not really better...but I'm in it with him now and I'm happy to hold him for a while and, lets be honest, he'll be asleep soon.
Not so Bad Dad, yeah?
Laying there with my son, quiet and less distracted than I'm usually intent on being, I had this incredible thought that has stayed with me ever since: God is not like this. I mean He "is" in that He loves me and wants me to be healed and would wrap His arms around me in my time of hurt. But He "is not" in that he never doesn't know the context, never doesn't know why I'm shutting down, never isn't intimately aware of my circumstance and my failings - of the real battles and the superficial echos of the real battles. Does that make sense at all?
I'm laying with my son trying to redeem my mistake and trying to keep him from accidentally believing that I would hurt him, by mistake or not, and I suddenly realize that the cool thing about God is that he never blows it like that, never has to try and fix it, never doesn't have our best interest...our best hopes...our truest desires perfectly in view - and, far more important, never doesn't have His own best hope for us in His heart. But, more often than not, whether because my Dad made the same mistakes I do or because of some other reason for my consistent and pervasive doubt, I believe that He 1) doesn't know 2) doesn't love 3) doesn't care...or that if all three of those are true, that I won't like what He has chosen for me.
There's a story in the Bible where Christ is sitting with a group of guys and He says something like, "Seriously. If your son asked you for a piece of bread would you give him a stone?" And then He goes on to connect the dots and call these guys out: "Do you think your Father in heaven would do anything less!?" And the honest answer is both "yes, yes I do think He would do something less" and "no, but I've given my son plenty of stones...and I got a few of my own, too."
Hard to believe in a loving God in the midst of our own failings...and in the midst of all those times we've been failed.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Unbeliever
I've come to realize of late that, for the most part, I'm pretty bad at this whole "belief" thing. That sounds so nonchalant; the statement itself is strikingly symptomatic of my problem. My ability to distance myself from that problem, not just here but far more importantly in my daily life, IS the problem...if that makes any sense?
I've started this badly - let me clarify: across the board, in the midst of wide and varying circumstances, I all too often make poor choices. Not intentionally, of course, nor exclusively. And not, as you might fear, in the midst of the "big" issues. I'm not talking about the monumentally "obvious" choices that might come up in any person's life - to be faithful to my wife, to tithe, to be committed to my family or my job - but its the smaller, daily questions that seem to illumine my, well, somewhat shallow and horribly flimsy personal ethics.
There is a book called, "The Shack," that everyone should read. It is a great picture of a God who is really interested, really involved, really pulling for His people, individually. A friend of mine, one whom I thought would love this story, remarked that she didn't think it was good for people to read because she was afraid it would "get their hopes up." I'm synopsizing, of course, but the idea appears to be that reading a book like The Shack is dangerous because it sets an expectation that God might actually be involved...and clearly we shouldn't, well, expect that? Isn't that troubling? Colossally, I mean?
And yet that same issue of expectations seems to be at the heart of my problem: belief.
Her warning is just more obvious somehow - more public then my own.
You see nobody but me recognizes my doubt when I choose to be dismissive rather than embracing of a friend in need. Nobody but me knows when I watch a skirt walking slowly away or click one time more than I should. Nobody but me knows the times I turn right when I should have turned left or the time I thought ill of my neighbor or...
Wait. "Nobody but me?" Were you with me there, just for a moment? Do you see how pervasive that is? Do you see how easily, in the moment, simply by word choice, I find myself living in the land of no expectations!? Of no real belief? And now, just as quickly, my only attempt at evoking a God who cares is in the context of a God who stands ready and able to judge me deficient. No wonder I struggle with belief! No wonder the man's plea to Christ: "I believe! Lord, help my unbelief!" Heal my unbelief. Heal me.
What does that look like?
For one, it isn't about God acting as a hall monitor. At least I don't think it is. I try to envision how people experience success, how they are led into success, in other circumstance. In the armed forces it does begin with a "tearing down" of sorts - a breaking of bad habits and a filling of new. Woven into that is the idea that obedience is requied because it serves the greater good. To doubt or faulter is to betray the larger plans of one's superiors. But is an enlisted man's allegiance really just to his orders? Or is the dutiful obedience to orders a living testament to his belief?
Here's a different circumstance, closer to (my) home. In sales I have been managed by those who feel compelled to bury themselves in every detail of my efforts...and I have been managed by those who set a high mark, made themselves available, and set expectations that the "little things" are being addressed in service to the goal. As a manager I tend far more to the latter (with some necessary granularity that I hope still points ahead). Some might even call this "leadership."
So how does this come back to my belief problem. Or, more important, the help for my unbelief?
1) My problem is important - the small things I let slip are not horrible or dire, but they point to a deeper disbelief...the belief that God's plan isn't worth my obedience. So while repentance might be called for on any one issue, the greater need is to repent my lack of faith and be healed.
2) Healing is dangerous. It requires that I ask God to show me the real source of my faltering - the real depth of my distrust, rather than the effects of it. These wounds run deep and are painful to operate on.
3) I need, more than anything else, to believe in a higher calling, the upward call of Christ. I need to believe in "The Big Idea" and begin to hope for some way that I figure into it. That belief, that direction on which I can focus; that hope and, yes, expectation that God is up to something and it matters what I do, will begin to be reflected in the smaller choices I make. Because they matter...to something and Someone.
4) God wants to lend me His eyes to see. He put it in His book. He raises up people around me who act as guides...even as He raises me up to act as a guide for others.
One opportunity to gain ground on God's vision in my life, His Calling, is a retreat coming up this January at Wintergreen Resort. Gary Barkalow (The Noble Heart) will spend the weekend orienting men toward God's unique call in their lives - in pursuit of their glory in Him. I encourage you to find out more about the event and even register to join me there by visiting http://www.piercing-the-veil.com/.
I've started this badly - let me clarify: across the board, in the midst of wide and varying circumstances, I all too often make poor choices. Not intentionally, of course, nor exclusively. And not, as you might fear, in the midst of the "big" issues. I'm not talking about the monumentally "obvious" choices that might come up in any person's life - to be faithful to my wife, to tithe, to be committed to my family or my job - but its the smaller, daily questions that seem to illumine my, well, somewhat shallow and horribly flimsy personal ethics.
There is a book called, "The Shack," that everyone should read. It is a great picture of a God who is really interested, really involved, really pulling for His people, individually. A friend of mine, one whom I thought would love this story, remarked that she didn't think it was good for people to read because she was afraid it would "get their hopes up." I'm synopsizing, of course, but the idea appears to be that reading a book like The Shack is dangerous because it sets an expectation that God might actually be involved...and clearly we shouldn't, well, expect that? Isn't that troubling? Colossally, I mean?
And yet that same issue of expectations seems to be at the heart of my problem: belief.
Her warning is just more obvious somehow - more public then my own.
You see nobody but me recognizes my doubt when I choose to be dismissive rather than embracing of a friend in need. Nobody but me knows when I watch a skirt walking slowly away or click one time more than I should. Nobody but me knows the times I turn right when I should have turned left or the time I thought ill of my neighbor or...
Wait. "Nobody but me?" Were you with me there, just for a moment? Do you see how pervasive that is? Do you see how easily, in the moment, simply by word choice, I find myself living in the land of no expectations!? Of no real belief? And now, just as quickly, my only attempt at evoking a God who cares is in the context of a God who stands ready and able to judge me deficient. No wonder I struggle with belief! No wonder the man's plea to Christ: "I believe! Lord, help my unbelief!" Heal my unbelief. Heal me.
What does that look like?
For one, it isn't about God acting as a hall monitor. At least I don't think it is. I try to envision how people experience success, how they are led into success, in other circumstance. In the armed forces it does begin with a "tearing down" of sorts - a breaking of bad habits and a filling of new. Woven into that is the idea that obedience is requied because it serves the greater good. To doubt or faulter is to betray the larger plans of one's superiors. But is an enlisted man's allegiance really just to his orders? Or is the dutiful obedience to orders a living testament to his belief?
Here's a different circumstance, closer to (my) home. In sales I have been managed by those who feel compelled to bury themselves in every detail of my efforts...and I have been managed by those who set a high mark, made themselves available, and set expectations that the "little things" are being addressed in service to the goal. As a manager I tend far more to the latter (with some necessary granularity that I hope still points ahead). Some might even call this "leadership."
So how does this come back to my belief problem. Or, more important, the help for my unbelief?
1) My problem is important - the small things I let slip are not horrible or dire, but they point to a deeper disbelief...the belief that God's plan isn't worth my obedience. So while repentance might be called for on any one issue, the greater need is to repent my lack of faith and be healed.
2) Healing is dangerous. It requires that I ask God to show me the real source of my faltering - the real depth of my distrust, rather than the effects of it. These wounds run deep and are painful to operate on.
3) I need, more than anything else, to believe in a higher calling, the upward call of Christ. I need to believe in "The Big Idea" and begin to hope for some way that I figure into it. That belief, that direction on which I can focus; that hope and, yes, expectation that God is up to something and it matters what I do, will begin to be reflected in the smaller choices I make. Because they matter...to something and Someone.
4) God wants to lend me His eyes to see. He put it in His book. He raises up people around me who act as guides...even as He raises me up to act as a guide for others.
One opportunity to gain ground on God's vision in my life, His Calling, is a retreat coming up this January at Wintergreen Resort. Gary Barkalow (The Noble Heart) will spend the weekend orienting men toward God's unique call in their lives - in pursuit of their glory in Him. I encourage you to find out more about the event and even register to join me there by visiting http://www.piercing-the-veil.com/.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Hi & Lois...Really!?
I am a stalwart reader of the comics. I don't know how or why I fell into the habit, but I generally manage (to my wife's chagrine) to read the funnies every morning before leaving for work...even when it means that the kids need to ask twice to grab my attention and get, say, more milk in their cereal bowl...or maybe a spoon with which they can, you know, eat... said... cereal.
While I read the comics every day, I don't generally expect them to speak to me...not with a message from God or anything. Which made it doubly-strange when they did, this morning. He did, I mean. I guess. And it seemed particularly odd when He chose "Hi & Lois" to do it...I mean, really: Hi & Lois!? Well, at any rate, take a look:
While I read the comics every day, I don't generally expect them to speak to me...not with a message from God or anything. Which made it doubly-strange when they did, this morning. He did, I mean. I guess. And it seemed particularly odd when He chose "Hi & Lois" to do it...I mean, really: Hi & Lois!? Well, at any rate, take a look:
Original Image published online at http://www.timesunion.com/comics/index.asp?feature_id=Hi_and_Lois&feature_date=2009-10-21
Now allow me to explain: Over recent weeks a group of men (myself included) have finalized all the proper steps to establish an organization called Piercing the Veil. It's purpose? Well...in a nutshell, to help enable men to find their purpose in life. God's purpose to be more exact...His calling, for each of us. The Life He promises, now.
So here we are - a group of men who have labored together to establish and register an organization...to create and post a website (http://www.piercing-the-veil.com/)... to reserve space at Wintergreen Resort this January in hopes that 60 or more men will gather in pursuit of God's calling in their life, and I'm reading the comics over my coffee this morning when, in the third panel, that baby hits on the real bottom line we all face.
Is everything I'm doing...most of what I'm up to, I mean...is it all really just, well...crap?
Certainly it is...or can be...in my life. And why wouldn't it be? What am I pursuing? To what do I hold myself accountable? To what do I aspire? For what do I hope? And pray? Any given day my priorities and actions and thoughts and efforts point to "important" things like my paycheck or vacation plans. And those are just a few topics that seem "safe enough" to disclose on a blog...what is my real pursuit, moment by moment? Lust? Power? Money? Fame and Ego? Seriously. How far removed from a baby's diapers are all of my apparent pursuits, in the big picture I mean?
Oh wait...a big picture? A larger story? You mean there might be more?
The last poll data I saw (published in Parade magazine, a reputable source in any good theologian's book) indicated that something like 80% of adults in America muster up a prayer of some sort any given week...so there is at least a collective hope that something more is out there...something more matters.
If that were true, is true, what if that "something more" actually wanted more than a happenstance prayer now and again...and not for His sake, but for ours? What if He wanted something more for us? What if, against all odds, He wanted to tell us what that looked like? Not with layers of duty and ritual or in some type of demeaning "you can't really ever do it" kind of way...but with an invitation and a desire and a hope to chase. Something to pursue.
Wow. What if He were to sit next to you on the couch and say, "Boy you're lucky. Your purpose is to..."
That would be pretty cool, I think. Might He? Do you hope He would? Join me, and others, and a guy named Gary Barkalow (find out more about him at http://www.thenobleheart.com/) at Wintergreen this January 8-10. Learn more about our group and register for the event online at http://www.piercing-the-veil.com/.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
One Thing I Question
For no good reason that comes to mind I turned on the radio this morning on my drive to work. I don't often do that. If I can maintain "upward" focus on my drive (instead of spiraling into thoughts about work, my to-do list or, more often, picking up my phone to make a call), I sometimes use the 15 minutes from my house to the office to engage in prayer...but rarely, if ever, do I turn any "sound" on in the morning. No real aversion, just not something I do - except for today.
Scanning through the available stations I came upon a song that I later discovered to be called "The One Thing." A youtube or google search indicates that title has been used and reused for quite some time, but the iteration that caught my ear is by a guy named Paul Colman. The refrain went like this:
"But the one thing I don't question is You. You really love me like You say You do..."
The song was wonderfully done featuring what sounded like a trio of men. Acoustic guitar. Beautiful harmonies. And that chorus was featured over and over again...haunting, almost. I suppose I choose the word "haunting" to a purpose because I found myself deeply moved by the purity of that line: "The one thing I don't question is You."
It feels pure and deep and completely untrue.
"The one thing I DON'T question is You!?" Are you kidding me? That is, to a fault, the one thing I horribly, fundamentally, frequently and fervently DO question! Should I? Well of course not! BUT DO I? Yes. Oh Lord I'm so sorry but yes. Isn't that at the heart of it all? Isn't that really the brokeness of my heart, inherited through generations going back to the original, "Did He really say? Does He really love..." question planted by the enemy? Acted on by Adam and Eve!?
And now I'm in the car with this phrase rolling over me again and again. I'm sinking into it. It feels familiar. It feels like conviction and I'm lost in the darkness, in the gap between who I want to be and who I really am. I am literally going to drown in it. But then, just a little at first, it doesn't feel quite so dark or convicting. I mean the song is over and I've, thankfully, turned off the radio; but that phrase is in my head and on my lips and the music is driving it home, even with just me singing, a capella, and the harmony only playing out in my head as I continue to mouth the words, to sing these words...and, against my understanding, they grow larger. They grow lighter. They even begin to resonate, cleaner.
Have you seen, "Good Will Hunting?" I hope so. As I played this chorus over and again in my head I was suddenly reminded of the scene from that film when Robin William's character keeps saying over and over again, "Its not your fault" while Will first dismisses then battles against then finally succumbs to the truth of that phrase. It isn't his fault - it really, really isn't. I've seen that movie several times and, even moreso, I've seen that clip used to demonstrate the love that God has to offer. The fathering He desires to provide to us. To me.
This felt like that. Penetrating. Haunting. Like there was a truth inside of it that I couldn't really get at on my own. Something important but impossible.
"But the one thing I don't question is You. You really love me like You say You do..."
And the remarkable thing was to find my conviction not "forgiven" but, rather, disarmed. I had the dawning awareness that this -- THIS -- is the deepest lie that I must battle: that I live in disbelief of Him.
It is a lie, you know. It is an agreement I make that, even at its worst, is just a misconstrued misunderstanding that turns "but how can this be" into "it can't be true." Quick. Simple. Deep. An arrow straight into my heart.
Do you see this? Can you catch a glimpse of it? It seems so apparent yet horribly elusive, even writing this and trying to grab hold, to hang onto it, I can feel the idea slipping from my grip.
My heart believes. My NEW heart doesn't question. "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. (NIV Ezekiel 36:26) My truest self knows -- KNOWS -- He really does love me. Because He rescued me from my real disbelief. Because He gave me the new heart that can't forget and doesn't question. And, yes, sometimes I fail to live from that new heart. In fact, I fail to live from my new heart far more often than I care to admit. But, ultimately, those failings cannot undo the heart change that He has already wrought. My failing cannot reform what has already been transformed.
In the song, the chorus gives way to a simple plea: "So hold me. Hold me." Its breathy and deep throated and hungry and satisfied. Because I am transformed and my new heart doesn't question and I know You love me, hold me. Hold me. Like Will held tight by his doctor, like a child held tight by his Mom. Hold me...because it is true.
Scanning through the available stations I came upon a song that I later discovered to be called "The One Thing." A youtube or google search indicates that title has been used and reused for quite some time, but the iteration that caught my ear is by a guy named Paul Colman. The refrain went like this:
"But the one thing I don't question is You. You really love me like You say You do..."
The song was wonderfully done featuring what sounded like a trio of men. Acoustic guitar. Beautiful harmonies. And that chorus was featured over and over again...haunting, almost. I suppose I choose the word "haunting" to a purpose because I found myself deeply moved by the purity of that line: "The one thing I don't question is You."
It feels pure and deep and completely untrue.
"The one thing I DON'T question is You!?" Are you kidding me? That is, to a fault, the one thing I horribly, fundamentally, frequently and fervently DO question! Should I? Well of course not! BUT DO I? Yes. Oh Lord I'm so sorry but yes. Isn't that at the heart of it all? Isn't that really the brokeness of my heart, inherited through generations going back to the original, "Did He really say? Does He really love..." question planted by the enemy? Acted on by Adam and Eve!?
And now I'm in the car with this phrase rolling over me again and again. I'm sinking into it. It feels familiar. It feels like conviction and I'm lost in the darkness, in the gap between who I want to be and who I really am. I am literally going to drown in it. But then, just a little at first, it doesn't feel quite so dark or convicting. I mean the song is over and I've, thankfully, turned off the radio; but that phrase is in my head and on my lips and the music is driving it home, even with just me singing, a capella, and the harmony only playing out in my head as I continue to mouth the words, to sing these words...and, against my understanding, they grow larger. They grow lighter. They even begin to resonate, cleaner.
Have you seen, "Good Will Hunting?" I hope so. As I played this chorus over and again in my head I was suddenly reminded of the scene from that film when Robin William's character keeps saying over and over again, "Its not your fault" while Will first dismisses then battles against then finally succumbs to the truth of that phrase. It isn't his fault - it really, really isn't. I've seen that movie several times and, even moreso, I've seen that clip used to demonstrate the love that God has to offer. The fathering He desires to provide to us. To me.
This felt like that. Penetrating. Haunting. Like there was a truth inside of it that I couldn't really get at on my own. Something important but impossible.
"But the one thing I don't question is You. You really love me like You say You do..."
And the remarkable thing was to find my conviction not "forgiven" but, rather, disarmed. I had the dawning awareness that this -- THIS -- is the deepest lie that I must battle: that I live in disbelief of Him.
It is a lie, you know. It is an agreement I make that, even at its worst, is just a misconstrued misunderstanding that turns "but how can this be" into "it can't be true." Quick. Simple. Deep. An arrow straight into my heart.
Do you see this? Can you catch a glimpse of it? It seems so apparent yet horribly elusive, even writing this and trying to grab hold, to hang onto it, I can feel the idea slipping from my grip.
My heart believes. My NEW heart doesn't question. "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. (NIV Ezekiel 36:26) My truest self knows -- KNOWS -- He really does love me. Because He rescued me from my real disbelief. Because He gave me the new heart that can't forget and doesn't question. And, yes, sometimes I fail to live from that new heart. In fact, I fail to live from my new heart far more often than I care to admit. But, ultimately, those failings cannot undo the heart change that He has already wrought. My failing cannot reform what has already been transformed.
In the song, the chorus gives way to a simple plea: "So hold me. Hold me." Its breathy and deep throated and hungry and satisfied. Because I am transformed and my new heart doesn't question and I know You love me, hold me. Hold me. Like Will held tight by his doctor, like a child held tight by his Mom. Hold me...because it is true.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
This New Man Idea
I try, best I can, to be candid about my lack of piety (at least with you the reader, if not truly with myself). I'm not as diligent as I "should" be about reading my Bible...my prayer time is often the few minutes I can focus on the Lord as I drive to work (or the even fewer minutes I can steal away from my cell phone as I run between appointments throughout the work day). Yet I am continually surprised, regardless of my commitment, by how committed the Lord remains to me.
This morning my wife and her mom took our infant son and my daughter (the oldest) with her on a trip to Richmond for the weekend. I'm left with the two boys (three and five) to brave the elements together -- a boy's weekend! As they build a fort out of the pillows from the family room couch, I'm also left with more free time on a Saturday morning than I'm usually afforded...and as I try to steer them away from the television, I find myself unable to break my own rules by preparing for the college football day with ESPN - what better time to crack open the Good Book?
On a hunch I went to our church's website to find today's reading - for those who are better committed - in the "read the bible in a year" plan. The first, and longest, recommendation comes from Isaiah chapters 48 through 50. While I am no scholar, I was deeply struck by warnings like, "I will feed those who oppress you with their own flesh, And they shall be drunk with their own blood as with sweet wine (Isaiah 49:26)." I'm sure these can be applied directly to Israel's historical enemies...but isn't it poignant that the Lord's warning is that we will feast upon ourselves...and find the feast sweet? Grotesque but perfectly on target, for me at least. Even today, this morning, left to my own designs, how easily can I look inward...how readily can I be lured to my own lustful desires that offer the promise of life, but only result in sluggish destruction? (Particularly with no good wife to reign me in.)
Contrast that with today's corresponding verse in Ephesians 4:17-24. The Message calls this "The Old Way Has to Go," but for once my wife's New King James speaks more clearly to my heart when titles this section "The New Man:"
"This I say...that you should no longer walk as the rest of [them] walk, in the futility of their mind...alienated from the life of God...because of the blindness of their heart; who, being past feeling, have given themselves over to lewdness, to work all uncleanness with greediness...that you put off, concerning your former conduct, the old man which grows corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, and be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and that you put on the new man which was created according to God, in true righteousness and holiness."
Oh that I could keep my heart from being blind! And to whom is Paul speaking but to me, to us, to the church!? He doesn't assume that we are living as "new men" but that we need to be encouraged to do so. That we are ABLE to do so! He recognizes - God recognizes - that we all too readily feast on our own flesh even as we sit at the foot of His table...and so He takes the time to remind us NOT that we are messing up, but that we are CAPABLE of so much more. That we don't need to look at the feast He has prepared - the desires and promises He offers us - and yet settle for the hyphenated and false desires that would have us drinking our own sweet wine.
He has better wine for us.
He is faithful to invite me into the new life He promises; inviting me to be the new man He knows and loves. Does He blame me for my blindness? Or does He rather understand and shine a light...even offering me new eyes AND a new heart?
Maybe there is more to this "read the Bible every day" thing than just duty and obligation after all. I think I'd like some more of this...
This morning my wife and her mom took our infant son and my daughter (the oldest) with her on a trip to Richmond for the weekend. I'm left with the two boys (three and five) to brave the elements together -- a boy's weekend! As they build a fort out of the pillows from the family room couch, I'm also left with more free time on a Saturday morning than I'm usually afforded...and as I try to steer them away from the television, I find myself unable to break my own rules by preparing for the college football day with ESPN - what better time to crack open the Good Book?
On a hunch I went to our church's website to find today's reading - for those who are better committed - in the "read the bible in a year" plan. The first, and longest, recommendation comes from Isaiah chapters 48 through 50. While I am no scholar, I was deeply struck by warnings like, "I will feed those who oppress you with their own flesh, And they shall be drunk with their own blood as with sweet wine (Isaiah 49:26)." I'm sure these can be applied directly to Israel's historical enemies...but isn't it poignant that the Lord's warning is that we will feast upon ourselves...and find the feast sweet? Grotesque but perfectly on target, for me at least. Even today, this morning, left to my own designs, how easily can I look inward...how readily can I be lured to my own lustful desires that offer the promise of life, but only result in sluggish destruction? (Particularly with no good wife to reign me in.)
Contrast that with today's corresponding verse in Ephesians 4:17-24. The Message calls this "The Old Way Has to Go," but for once my wife's New King James speaks more clearly to my heart when titles this section "The New Man:"
"This I say...that you should no longer walk as the rest of [them] walk, in the futility of their mind...alienated from the life of God...because of the blindness of their heart; who, being past feeling, have given themselves over to lewdness, to work all uncleanness with greediness...that you put off, concerning your former conduct, the old man which grows corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, and be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and that you put on the new man which was created according to God, in true righteousness and holiness."
Oh that I could keep my heart from being blind! And to whom is Paul speaking but to me, to us, to the church!? He doesn't assume that we are living as "new men" but that we need to be encouraged to do so. That we are ABLE to do so! He recognizes - God recognizes - that we all too readily feast on our own flesh even as we sit at the foot of His table...and so He takes the time to remind us NOT that we are messing up, but that we are CAPABLE of so much more. That we don't need to look at the feast He has prepared - the desires and promises He offers us - and yet settle for the hyphenated and false desires that would have us drinking our own sweet wine.
He has better wine for us.
He is faithful to invite me into the new life He promises; inviting me to be the new man He knows and loves. Does He blame me for my blindness? Or does He rather understand and shine a light...even offering me new eyes AND a new heart?
Maybe there is more to this "read the Bible every day" thing than just duty and obligation after all. I think I'd like some more of this...
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Accountable for Parables
A few weeks back I spent some time thinking through (and writing about) the invitation to participate that is inherent in parables. Christ is asked a question. Christ answers with a story. The "asker" must apply himself (or is invited to apply himself) to the question of "what in this story addresses my question...answers my need?"
Last week I was able to listen to a good friend of mine as he presented a message entitled, "The Restoration of Masculine Sexuality" to a men's group. It’s interesting to be in that room as a variety of men struggle to interpret and apply a heady message such as that. I can guess, with 25 some-odd men listening, that circumstances ran across the spectrum from "in desperate need of rescue" to "casually interested but in fairly good shape," and all points in between.
My friend is a huge fan of film. He even refers to movies as "modern parables." And I agree. During his presentation he showed several clips, not as illustrations of a point, but as launching platforms for new perspectives on masculinity, on rescue, on beauty. I spent the 90 minute presentation both drawn into his material and separately observant of the other men in the room. For the most part they seemed stalwart - hopefully intent on absorbing information to the exclusion of interacting, but perhaps in some ways opposed to what they were hearing (I've gotten encouraging reports since the event that lead me toward the former, by the way).
As we watched these clips together, the men and I, and listened to my friend invite us all into a deeper understanding of God the Father's hope for our lives as men, I began to realize another aspect of parables that has intrigued me in the days since. I've already pointed to the parable as an invitation - but I hadn't realized, until now, how strikingly accountable we are each forced to become for our own response.
I don't want this to become confused with some kind of invitation to the altar or anything. I've come to new terms with this idea of "once and for all," you can be sure. I mean to say that I’ve learned to differentiate the start of a journey from the journey itself. You can certainly start on a journey "once" but if your time ever after is spent simply re-starting, you aren't really journeying at all. But I digress...
Isn't it amazing, back to my point, how the process of extending an invitation shifts the weight of accountability fully to the invitee? If I explain things in detail, step-by-step, through process, I seem to have mounting accountability for the transfer of my explanation to my listener. I can check - test, even - to see if the information is understood and assimilated. But when I invite someone to participate, through a film clip or a story...a parable, I am only responsible for the invitation - the remaining onus ("what do I make of this?" "why is this important?") rests squarely on the hearer...the seeker, so to speak.
I suppose this idea intrigues me most because, whether writing or speaking, I feel a burden to translate my ideas in a relevant way that impacts those who will listen. To begin to acknowledge where my responsibility might end in this regard is a powerful concept for me. Many people I know, pastors, part-time speakers, teachers, often get caught in a performance struggle: "Did I say that right?" "Did I make the best case?" And I'll often hear people settle back to a hoped-for truth that "God will make what He wants from it" as they seek to lay that responsibility down.
I'm beginning to pick away at the inkling of an idea that this responsibility was never really mine to take up.
Last week I was able to listen to a good friend of mine as he presented a message entitled, "The Restoration of Masculine Sexuality" to a men's group. It’s interesting to be in that room as a variety of men struggle to interpret and apply a heady message such as that. I can guess, with 25 some-odd men listening, that circumstances ran across the spectrum from "in desperate need of rescue" to "casually interested but in fairly good shape," and all points in between.
My friend is a huge fan of film. He even refers to movies as "modern parables." And I agree. During his presentation he showed several clips, not as illustrations of a point, but as launching platforms for new perspectives on masculinity, on rescue, on beauty. I spent the 90 minute presentation both drawn into his material and separately observant of the other men in the room. For the most part they seemed stalwart - hopefully intent on absorbing information to the exclusion of interacting, but perhaps in some ways opposed to what they were hearing (I've gotten encouraging reports since the event that lead me toward the former, by the way).
As we watched these clips together, the men and I, and listened to my friend invite us all into a deeper understanding of God the Father's hope for our lives as men, I began to realize another aspect of parables that has intrigued me in the days since. I've already pointed to the parable as an invitation - but I hadn't realized, until now, how strikingly accountable we are each forced to become for our own response.
I don't want this to become confused with some kind of invitation to the altar or anything. I've come to new terms with this idea of "once and for all," you can be sure. I mean to say that I’ve learned to differentiate the start of a journey from the journey itself. You can certainly start on a journey "once" but if your time ever after is spent simply re-starting, you aren't really journeying at all. But I digress...
Isn't it amazing, back to my point, how the process of extending an invitation shifts the weight of accountability fully to the invitee? If I explain things in detail, step-by-step, through process, I seem to have mounting accountability for the transfer of my explanation to my listener. I can check - test, even - to see if the information is understood and assimilated. But when I invite someone to participate, through a film clip or a story...a parable, I am only responsible for the invitation - the remaining onus ("what do I make of this?" "why is this important?") rests squarely on the hearer...the seeker, so to speak.
I suppose this idea intrigues me most because, whether writing or speaking, I feel a burden to translate my ideas in a relevant way that impacts those who will listen. To begin to acknowledge where my responsibility might end in this regard is a powerful concept for me. Many people I know, pastors, part-time speakers, teachers, often get caught in a performance struggle: "Did I say that right?" "Did I make the best case?" And I'll often hear people settle back to a hoped-for truth that "God will make what He wants from it" as they seek to lay that responsibility down.
I'm beginning to pick away at the inkling of an idea that this responsibility was never really mine to take up.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Risk Affirmed
I've had an interesting 10-14 days. Remarkable, in some regards. Trying in others. I live in a constant state of risk/reward - its the life of sales, I suppose...but it is somehow still true in my walk, as well.
Saturday before last I had the opportunity to speak at my church's Men's Breakfast. I hoped to present some avenue of insight into my personal story and preview a concept that will be revisited this coming weekend as we tackle the topic of sex and the lies we believe from the enemy about our own desires. While sex and lust are far more compelling topics for men, I hoped to reveal the same subject matter -- the lies of the enemy -- in a different facet.
In my life I've wrestled quite a bit, life-long I suppose, with ego and validation and pursuit versus loss. Risk/reward. I've come to understand that one tactic of the enemy is to point to my victories, particularly those in pursuit of kingdom goals, and whisper a lie into my ear: "Its all about me."
What's remarkable about kingdom living is how God works to heal wounds...even when we are trying to reveal His truth in the midst of those wounds. That sounds difficult, so I'll explain: I was preparing to expose myself in a venue to discuss my "ego issues" -- a position that lends itself exactly to the "ego issues" which I hoped to describe!
So, preparing to talk with some candor also lent itself to feeling a need for affirmation, validation, and...well...a stroke or two of the old ego! What I found is that God provided me respite and prepared my heart through good friends and men around me, timely reminders of His desire to delight in our achievements (and His invitation to enjoy that delight) and, even more remarkably, a sense of peace and the chance to rest.
Resting is not something I do very well.
It is through that growing peace...with myself and my role in God's economy, that I feel called to share that talk (for those who care to listen) without carrying quite the same burden I have in the past for any accolades...or more specifically any lack thereof. If you have 33 minutes and 50 seconds to spare, please feel free to listen to the story I shared about the loss of my daughter, the writing of a play, and the crushing lie of the enemy in my life.
If the player doesn't work...I think you can download and even rip/burn/whatever a copy of the MP3 here: MP3 Tiny URL. Happy listening!
Saturday before last I had the opportunity to speak at my church's Men's Breakfast. I hoped to present some avenue of insight into my personal story and preview a concept that will be revisited this coming weekend as we tackle the topic of sex and the lies we believe from the enemy about our own desires. While sex and lust are far more compelling topics for men, I hoped to reveal the same subject matter -- the lies of the enemy -- in a different facet.
In my life I've wrestled quite a bit, life-long I suppose, with ego and validation and pursuit versus loss. Risk/reward. I've come to understand that one tactic of the enemy is to point to my victories, particularly those in pursuit of kingdom goals, and whisper a lie into my ear: "Its all about me."
What's remarkable about kingdom living is how God works to heal wounds...even when we are trying to reveal His truth in the midst of those wounds. That sounds difficult, so I'll explain: I was preparing to expose myself in a venue to discuss my "ego issues" -- a position that lends itself exactly to the "ego issues" which I hoped to describe!
So, preparing to talk with some candor also lent itself to feeling a need for affirmation, validation, and...well...a stroke or two of the old ego! What I found is that God provided me respite and prepared my heart through good friends and men around me, timely reminders of His desire to delight in our achievements (and His invitation to enjoy that delight) and, even more remarkably, a sense of peace and the chance to rest.
Resting is not something I do very well.
It is through that growing peace...with myself and my role in God's economy, that I feel called to share that talk (for those who care to listen) without carrying quite the same burden I have in the past for any accolades...or more specifically any lack thereof. If you have 33 minutes and 50 seconds to spare, please feel free to listen to the story I shared about the loss of my daughter, the writing of a play, and the crushing lie of the enemy in my life.
If the player doesn't work...I think you can download and even rip/burn/whatever a copy of the MP3 here: MP3 Tiny URL. Happy listening!
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