You know the great thing about this outlet, this process, is that it forces my beliefs to become concrete...and then I am forced to deal with them. So often I find that the ideas in my head are very credible, right up and until I articulate them to my wife or to a friend or maybe even to a son or daughter. Saying things out loud (or writing them down or publishing them online) brings them into the light and gives us a chance to view them for what they really are; to test them against reality.
I spent some of my free time today thinking about my post from last night (drive time is my only real free time these days so long as I don't dial the next number on my call list). If you haven't read that, I'd suggest you take a quick look...this post pretty much picks up where that one left off - with Campbell standing under the gate.
Characterizing Campbell's individual struggle to hold up the gate, his self-sacrifice (or near sacrifice) for his brethren and their cause, as a metaphor for sanctification...well, that was pretty dangerous. I'm not shying away from it because I've already wandered all the way around it today only to land back where I started, but I realize after holding it up and turning it left and right a bit that it needs a little more definition so as not to be mistaken for something unintended.
I fear it would be easy to misinterpret my thought as a celebration of Campbell's strength. Within my application of that scene as a metaphor for sanctification that would seem to imply that I believe sanctification only begins at the point where we begin to fail in our own efforts. We work in our own strength, not God's.
Dangerous. And, by the way, very wrong.
But here's the thing: in the case of Campbell his heart is already sacrificed to the cause of Scotland. He is living into the hope of his transformation. Perhaps it is better to say he has been transformed and now has hope that transcends the fear of death. Love (of Scotland) has indeed conquered death...get it? Regardless, the missing link in my metaphor is to point out that Campbell's strength and sacrifice are a direct outpouring of his love, faith, and hope. The result of his changed heart.
Campbell is not working in his own power. He is living transformed.
The whole idea of sanctification has always been relayed to me in the context of "getting out of God's way." Have you heard this before? This message is steeped in the tradition of the sin nature and basically states, "your heart is bad, you will do evil if you can, as a new child of Christ your only hope is to kill your flesh and let Him run the show." There's that guilt again...everything I "do" only gets in God's way. And there is some apparent measure of truth to that message.
But is that really the promise of Christ?
I love this new picture of sanctification, of Campbell standing under the gate, because it illustrates the change that was wrought in my heart by Christ and the reaction that the change demands of me moving forward. I have a heart for Him (like Campbell's heart for Scotland). I am willing to risk for Him (like Campbell risks his life at the gate). I cannot succeed without Him (like Campbell must be rescued from his own self sacrifice).
I do not celebrate my own strength or Campbell's...I celebrate the strength of the One who changed me and the freedom that comes in risking and sacrificing myself for that freedom. Only to be rescued again and again.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Holding Up the Gate
For Christmas this year my company gave me tickets to the PGA golf tournament that comes through Charlotte, NC. With four kids at home...and one that was just six weeks old when the tournament came 'round a few Saturday's back...I was a little concerned that they'd really, really missed the mark. But my wife encouraged me to slip away and enjoy the gift (this encouragement came well before she gave birth, by the way, but she continued to prod me even after our family grew) and I eventually realized my company's gesture as more than a gesture; this was one of those "perfect" gifts because it really is something I would never buy for myself or prioritize, but it did give me the chance to do something I wouldn't normally do on my own. Yes?
To make the most of the experience I invited my friend John to come along. He's a former resident of Charlotte and still has a loft apartment near downtown, so I was able to benefit from the company of a local native and transition some of the "travel" money I'd gotten from the company away from hotel expenses and into food and fun for us both!
John and I approached the event with a different set of priorities than most badge holders, I suppose. We spent most of the day talking about God, sex, and women... and debating where and how they all intersect. Mostly we talked about God (of course we did - this is a "Christian" blog, isn't it?).
As a brief aside, just so you don't think we're completely lost, we managed to see Sergio blow a drive (complete with his characteristic-too-quickly-released-grip-after-a-lousy-shot that ended with him scowling over his just-dropped driver) and of course a few choice shots from Tiger, among many others. We aren't completely clueless, you know.
Still, more than anything, John and I wandered the grounds digging into varying layers of religious thought. It was in the midst of these conversations that he evoked one image from the movie "Braveheart" that really hit home with me...and has lingered ever since.
Anyone remember Campbell?
I confess, I did not remember the name. Campbell, the elder Campbell, is the father of the recovered boyhood friend of Mel Gibson's character, William Wallace. You remember...Wallace comes back and attends a party and gets in a rock-throwing-fight with the physically overwhelming Harnish Campbell. Harnish launches a boulder right over Wallace's shoulder and then Wallace rattles a small stone off the center of his forehead...Harnish stumbles and falls in a strangely Goliathan manner? Come on...try to stay with me on this, please!?
Like I said, I didn't remember Campbell, his father's name (or his name, for that matter), but IMDB helped me fill in the gaps. Regardless, the scene that my friend, John, evoked is perhaps the single most critical for the character, Campbell...
It's early in the film, Wallace's wife has been murdered, and the Scot's are storming the gates of the English lord. They've caught the English by surprise and have advanced quickly, but now is the critical moment. Campbell, aging father to the red-haired Harnish, is first to the gate and urges all his strength to push it upward over his head, locking his arms just in time to stare into the face of his enemy...who charges straight for his heart.
Wow. Do you remember the scene? It only lasts a moment, maybe 2 seconds if you timed it, but it is HUGE in my memory. The audience knows that Campbell is about to be killed. He is defenseless. He is committed to his task and his plight. He is literally about to die for the cause.
This is sanctification.
Perhaps the only true picture of sanctification I've ever seen, to tell the truth.
"Sanctification." What a terrible and difficult and weighty word. It rarely comes to the surface apart from its implied counterpart: guilt. For me, at least, "sanctification" has always been this horribly futile struggle to "try harder" even as I am reminded of my paltry sin nature that seemingly makes "trying" quite literally futile.
But THIS...this standing at the gate...this risking everything to charge forward toward, well, something...this is REAL sanctification. This is sacrifice. And it happens in community - in relationship that depends on and demands from each other. Where would Campbell be if not for his fellow soldiers?
Understand that as a changed man, a transformed person in Christ, I truly WANT to be more and to do better. I want to go "all out" in the battle. And, with a changed heart, I am better armed to do so. But I can't ever truly win alone. In fact, my only growth seems to come from risking to the point that I MUST FAIL unless someone else comes to my rescue. Unless Christ shows up.
In the film, Campbell's comrades slip under the gate (literally under and around his outstretched arms) at the last moment just in time to glance aside the blow that is so determined to end his life. In my life it is John or Tad or Karl or Mike or my wife or an unexpected or an expected "other" stepping in on behalf of Christ to rescue me only when I am beyond rescuing myself. I don't mean "rescue" in the sense that I am in a deep hole or stumbling in the dark...I mean only to say that I am closer to Christ when I am standing at the gate, exposed, truly alive, lost in my hope and in my role in His story, and utterly dependent on Him to show up (queue blinding light from the sky or heroic rescue from my brothers) and effect my rescue.
John hit on the one illustration that made this crazy idea of being more Christ-like (in spite of my sin) palpable and, yes, even desirable. I'm inspired and encouraged to realize my dependence on Him really does translate to and demand my strength, regardless of the "gate" I'm driven to storm. Regardless of the truth that, in the end, I would be lost at that gate if it weren't for Him.
To make the most of the experience I invited my friend John to come along. He's a former resident of Charlotte and still has a loft apartment near downtown, so I was able to benefit from the company of a local native and transition some of the "travel" money I'd gotten from the company away from hotel expenses and into food and fun for us both!
John and I approached the event with a different set of priorities than most badge holders, I suppose. We spent most of the day talking about God, sex, and women... and debating where and how they all intersect. Mostly we talked about God (of course we did - this is a "Christian" blog, isn't it?).
As a brief aside, just so you don't think we're completely lost, we managed to see Sergio blow a drive (complete with his characteristic-too-quickly-released-grip-after-a-lousy-shot that ended with him scowling over his just-dropped driver) and of course a few choice shots from Tiger, among many others. We aren't completely clueless, you know.
Still, more than anything, John and I wandered the grounds digging into varying layers of religious thought. It was in the midst of these conversations that he evoked one image from the movie "Braveheart" that really hit home with me...and has lingered ever since.
Anyone remember Campbell?
I confess, I did not remember the name. Campbell, the elder Campbell, is the father of the recovered boyhood friend of Mel Gibson's character, William Wallace. You remember...Wallace comes back and attends a party and gets in a rock-throwing-fight with the physically overwhelming Harnish Campbell. Harnish launches a boulder right over Wallace's shoulder and then Wallace rattles a small stone off the center of his forehead...Harnish stumbles and falls in a strangely Goliathan manner? Come on...try to stay with me on this, please!?
Like I said, I didn't remember Campbell, his father's name (or his name, for that matter), but IMDB helped me fill in the gaps. Regardless, the scene that my friend, John, evoked is perhaps the single most critical for the character, Campbell...
It's early in the film, Wallace's wife has been murdered, and the Scot's are storming the gates of the English lord. They've caught the English by surprise and have advanced quickly, but now is the critical moment. Campbell, aging father to the red-haired Harnish, is first to the gate and urges all his strength to push it upward over his head, locking his arms just in time to stare into the face of his enemy...who charges straight for his heart.
Wow. Do you remember the scene? It only lasts a moment, maybe 2 seconds if you timed it, but it is HUGE in my memory. The audience knows that Campbell is about to be killed. He is defenseless. He is committed to his task and his plight. He is literally about to die for the cause.
This is sanctification.
Perhaps the only true picture of sanctification I've ever seen, to tell the truth.
"Sanctification." What a terrible and difficult and weighty word. It rarely comes to the surface apart from its implied counterpart: guilt. For me, at least, "sanctification" has always been this horribly futile struggle to "try harder" even as I am reminded of my paltry sin nature that seemingly makes "trying" quite literally futile.
But THIS...this standing at the gate...this risking everything to charge forward toward, well, something...this is REAL sanctification. This is sacrifice. And it happens in community - in relationship that depends on and demands from each other. Where would Campbell be if not for his fellow soldiers?
Understand that as a changed man, a transformed person in Christ, I truly WANT to be more and to do better. I want to go "all out" in the battle. And, with a changed heart, I am better armed to do so. But I can't ever truly win alone. In fact, my only growth seems to come from risking to the point that I MUST FAIL unless someone else comes to my rescue. Unless Christ shows up.
In the film, Campbell's comrades slip under the gate (literally under and around his outstretched arms) at the last moment just in time to glance aside the blow that is so determined to end his life. In my life it is John or Tad or Karl or Mike or my wife or an unexpected or an expected "other" stepping in on behalf of Christ to rescue me only when I am beyond rescuing myself. I don't mean "rescue" in the sense that I am in a deep hole or stumbling in the dark...I mean only to say that I am closer to Christ when I am standing at the gate, exposed, truly alive, lost in my hope and in my role in His story, and utterly dependent on Him to show up (queue blinding light from the sky or heroic rescue from my brothers) and effect my rescue.
John hit on the one illustration that made this crazy idea of being more Christ-like (in spite of my sin) palpable and, yes, even desirable. I'm inspired and encouraged to realize my dependence on Him really does translate to and demand my strength, regardless of the "gate" I'm driven to storm. Regardless of the truth that, in the end, I would be lost at that gate if it weren't for Him.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Is Real Raw?
I've been glimpsing over my posts to date and am beginning to wonder if I'm capable of posing a question online that doesn't, in appearance at least, contain it's own answer. (Interesting choice of word, "posing," but I refuse to chase that rabbit today). I mean I feel as though I am already making myself "the hero" of every story, even if only through this rediculous idea that I can live out, comment on, cast my verdict and then sum up a life lesson about pretty much everything that happens to me...of any real interest, at least.
Let me temper this somewhat severe insight with one brief observation: God is real and He is working in my life. Even reading back over that line it seems to have that religious lilt that so readily drives me absolutely nuts ("God is Great!" "All the time!") but it really is true. It is the whole "eyes to see" thing at work - yes I am a bit lost at times, yes I'm making tragic errors and taking missteps, and yes I am plagued by an overly indulgent sense of self that often feels like a spotlight of harsh condemnation and recrimination. But in the midst of that struggle, there is a consistently brighter light that includes with it clearer understanding both of self and of circumstance.
So, in light of that, perhaps it isn't quite so terrible to start a post with "here's something interesting or hard or dangerous" and end it with an observation that seems to wrap it all up in a neat bow. Particularly as it reflects the real process I'm living in...the process of seeing Him provide answers that I have no hope of finding on my own. Oops - I think I'm doing it again...
Does everyone who tries this blogging thing come to this point? Does everyone hit this wall that begs the question, am I just gonna throw some crap at the wall or am I going to try and make it art, as well?
Regardless, if only for the sake of my own experience and a meager step outside of my "comfort zone," I have no scripture reference and no revelatory anecdote to offer. In fact, I suppose everything up to this is really no more than my self conscious prelude to what's really been on my mind lately.
Today I am wrestling between writer's block and writer's outlet. (Does the droning internal debate rushing out into the world of bloghood give you a hint as to this struggle?) This blog is a great outlet that calls to me regularly, urging me to excercise my imagination and articulate my thoughts. In the midst of the incredible & ongoing opportunity to participate in the ever expanding online community, I have unfinished, seemingly important, work to complete.
40 pages of a screenplay that could be great.
Chapters yet to write in a first novel.
A hoped for collaboration with another man struggling to become an author.
A poem for my wife.
I am concentrating on and dedicating myself to a better writer's ethic through this blogging effort (and the ones before and yet to come), but is it working...or is it another stall in my long history of stalling? Why is it that I can't seem to pick up something that saw such a great start...and that it gets heavier and harder the further away I am?
I've even finished and seen a play produced...seems I should be able to gather some strength through that "finish" - some lesson learned that I could re-apply here and save the day?
But instead I will stop here, leaving this problem unsolved, and hope that the effort to be a little more "raw" strikes another small, internal blow against my unwavering ability to avoid what seems so vital and important.
Besides, I have a beer in the fridge and there's got to be something ready to start on TV, right?
Let me temper this somewhat severe insight with one brief observation: God is real and He is working in my life. Even reading back over that line it seems to have that religious lilt that so readily drives me absolutely nuts ("God is Great!" "All the time!") but it really is true. It is the whole "eyes to see" thing at work - yes I am a bit lost at times, yes I'm making tragic errors and taking missteps, and yes I am plagued by an overly indulgent sense of self that often feels like a spotlight of harsh condemnation and recrimination. But in the midst of that struggle, there is a consistently brighter light that includes with it clearer understanding both of self and of circumstance.
So, in light of that, perhaps it isn't quite so terrible to start a post with "here's something interesting or hard or dangerous" and end it with an observation that seems to wrap it all up in a neat bow. Particularly as it reflects the real process I'm living in...the process of seeing Him provide answers that I have no hope of finding on my own. Oops - I think I'm doing it again...
Does everyone who tries this blogging thing come to this point? Does everyone hit this wall that begs the question, am I just gonna throw some crap at the wall or am I going to try and make it art, as well?
Regardless, if only for the sake of my own experience and a meager step outside of my "comfort zone," I have no scripture reference and no revelatory anecdote to offer. In fact, I suppose everything up to this is really no more than my self conscious prelude to what's really been on my mind lately.
Today I am wrestling between writer's block and writer's outlet. (Does the droning internal debate rushing out into the world of bloghood give you a hint as to this struggle?) This blog is a great outlet that calls to me regularly, urging me to excercise my imagination and articulate my thoughts. In the midst of the incredible & ongoing opportunity to participate in the ever expanding online community, I have unfinished, seemingly important, work to complete.
40 pages of a screenplay that could be great.
Chapters yet to write in a first novel.
A hoped for collaboration with another man struggling to become an author.
A poem for my wife.
I am concentrating on and dedicating myself to a better writer's ethic through this blogging effort (and the ones before and yet to come), but is it working...or is it another stall in my long history of stalling? Why is it that I can't seem to pick up something that saw such a great start...and that it gets heavier and harder the further away I am?
I've even finished and seen a play produced...seems I should be able to gather some strength through that "finish" - some lesson learned that I could re-apply here and save the day?
But instead I will stop here, leaving this problem unsolved, and hope that the effort to be a little more "raw" strikes another small, internal blow against my unwavering ability to avoid what seems so vital and important.
Besides, I have a beer in the fridge and there's got to be something ready to start on TV, right?
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Lost Fishing
Lately I have been fishing. A lot. Too much, to tell the truth.
Don’t get me wrong – I love fishing. I had, for quite some time, forgotten just how much I love it. It is reclaimed territory in my life – a true and recent gift from God that has, in many ways, been His means to convey to me a sense of His fatherhood.
Fishing is something I enjoyed with both of my grandfathers in my youth. It springs to the forefront in my earliest memories of childhood and sprang off the page in my first efforts at writing. My favorite poem remembers fishing. The only short story I care to share with anyone (though few have read it) explores it, too.
I live equidistant from two great rivers -- The James and The New -- and just minutes from the lesser Roanoke River, to say nothing of countless streams and several lakes throughout Southwestern Virginia. Opportunity to fish abounds and I’ve readily taken advantage of it. I’ve found time and borrowed time…stolen time even. As I’ve said, I believe this rediscovered joy is a gift from my Father. So how can I be pursuing it “too much?”
I guess part of this problem is really just a “gut feeling.” Perhaps even the entirety of it comes from the gut. I mean I could probably detail the process of any one fishing trip – the circumstances, the consequences – and easily reveal some specific sin or sins, some aberration of joy. But for me that exercise misses the point – it labors through the rules looking for broken lines and laws when something deeper and more important is really going on: something in my gut tells me that I’m missing God’s gift – that I’ve lost something.
This is a familiar feeling. For me at least.
“The same path that leads into the kingdom can also lead out of it.” That is a likely misquote of an unreferenced CS Lewis passage that my friend Karl said came to mind when I shared my concerns with him. Regardless of the specific source (or even the language), the sentiment is clearly on target – I’ve come to expect this from Karl, by the way, he is in the habit of delivering targeted quotes.
So here’s the thing. God reclaimed the joy of fishing in my life in order to demonstrate to me the joy of freedom in Christ. He offered this experience to me because it connects so readily to my heart, through my history – my unique memory – giving Him the chance to show me His love. Fishing is my road into the kingdom. One road among many. For me.
But I am easily preoccupied. I am easily lured into pursuing the road rather than following it into the Kingdom. I am easily fooled into believing that the road is the promised land, when it clearly is not. And lingering on the road really just keeps me from arriving. Lingering on the road is really quite the same as using it to leave.
So God gives me the gift of fishing in order to show me something greater…but I begin chasing after the activity of fishing as though it were the gift. Does this make any sense? It’s not unlike God’s offer of intimacy through sex in marriage…that translates so readily (and poorly) into empty pursuit of sex or even the relentless and unrequited quest for online lust. Sure I can hear about that sin on any given Sunday – and it surely is a sin – but isn’t the real sin the missed relationship…the lost gift?
In this context, isn’t fishing every bit as sinful…every bit as lust-full?
I want to look forward to the kingdom and walk toward it and enjoy the journey of discovering it. I want to linger there and then discover new roads to greater kingdoms as God works to reveal Himself more fully to me…and to reveal Me, the real Me, in it all. I want to enjoy looking forward to a fishing trip, enjoy a sudden opportunity to unexpectedly enjoy fishing, enjoy setting aside time and really fishing…but, man, I don’t want fishing to be my life.
I have some important living to do that really isn’t about fishing.
I’ve heard that a common and candid truth among mountain climbers is that they are constantly driven to best their last effort either in speed, height or danger. Constantly. Laboring to achieve even in the sure knowledge that they can never fully achieve…because it all starts again as soon as they “arrive.”
Golfers chase handicaps down toward scratch. And maybe beyond.
Fishermen seek the big catch. A trophy or a picture or just a great story to share over a beer.
Is that really all there is? This “relentless pursuit” of the next “relentless pursuit” (my apologies to Lexus)?
Through God’s offer of freedom He reveals opportunities for life and joy because they are the clearest manner for Him to demonstrate to us…His Life and Freedom! This chase?…well, to me it just feels like slavery all over again.
Don’t get me wrong – I love fishing. I had, for quite some time, forgotten just how much I love it. It is reclaimed territory in my life – a true and recent gift from God that has, in many ways, been His means to convey to me a sense of His fatherhood.
Fishing is something I enjoyed with both of my grandfathers in my youth. It springs to the forefront in my earliest memories of childhood and sprang off the page in my first efforts at writing. My favorite poem remembers fishing. The only short story I care to share with anyone (though few have read it) explores it, too.
I live equidistant from two great rivers -- The James and The New -- and just minutes from the lesser Roanoke River, to say nothing of countless streams and several lakes throughout Southwestern Virginia. Opportunity to fish abounds and I’ve readily taken advantage of it. I’ve found time and borrowed time…stolen time even. As I’ve said, I believe this rediscovered joy is a gift from my Father. So how can I be pursuing it “too much?”
I guess part of this problem is really just a “gut feeling.” Perhaps even the entirety of it comes from the gut. I mean I could probably detail the process of any one fishing trip – the circumstances, the consequences – and easily reveal some specific sin or sins, some aberration of joy. But for me that exercise misses the point – it labors through the rules looking for broken lines and laws when something deeper and more important is really going on: something in my gut tells me that I’m missing God’s gift – that I’ve lost something.
This is a familiar feeling. For me at least.
“The same path that leads into the kingdom can also lead out of it.” That is a likely misquote of an unreferenced CS Lewis passage that my friend Karl said came to mind when I shared my concerns with him. Regardless of the specific source (or even the language), the sentiment is clearly on target – I’ve come to expect this from Karl, by the way, he is in the habit of delivering targeted quotes.
So here’s the thing. God reclaimed the joy of fishing in my life in order to demonstrate to me the joy of freedom in Christ. He offered this experience to me because it connects so readily to my heart, through my history – my unique memory – giving Him the chance to show me His love. Fishing is my road into the kingdom. One road among many. For me.
But I am easily preoccupied. I am easily lured into pursuing the road rather than following it into the Kingdom. I am easily fooled into believing that the road is the promised land, when it clearly is not. And lingering on the road really just keeps me from arriving. Lingering on the road is really quite the same as using it to leave.
So God gives me the gift of fishing in order to show me something greater…but I begin chasing after the activity of fishing as though it were the gift. Does this make any sense? It’s not unlike God’s offer of intimacy through sex in marriage…that translates so readily (and poorly) into empty pursuit of sex or even the relentless and unrequited quest for online lust. Sure I can hear about that sin on any given Sunday – and it surely is a sin – but isn’t the real sin the missed relationship…the lost gift?
In this context, isn’t fishing every bit as sinful…every bit as lust-full?
I want to look forward to the kingdom and walk toward it and enjoy the journey of discovering it. I want to linger there and then discover new roads to greater kingdoms as God works to reveal Himself more fully to me…and to reveal Me, the real Me, in it all. I want to enjoy looking forward to a fishing trip, enjoy a sudden opportunity to unexpectedly enjoy fishing, enjoy setting aside time and really fishing…but, man, I don’t want fishing to be my life.
I have some important living to do that really isn’t about fishing.
I’ve heard that a common and candid truth among mountain climbers is that they are constantly driven to best their last effort either in speed, height or danger. Constantly. Laboring to achieve even in the sure knowledge that they can never fully achieve…because it all starts again as soon as they “arrive.”
Golfers chase handicaps down toward scratch. And maybe beyond.
Fishermen seek the big catch. A trophy or a picture or just a great story to share over a beer.
Is that really all there is? This “relentless pursuit” of the next “relentless pursuit” (my apologies to Lexus)?
Through God’s offer of freedom He reveals opportunities for life and joy because they are the clearest manner for Him to demonstrate to us…His Life and Freedom! This chase?…well, to me it just feels like slavery all over again.
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