I have a problem. There is this nagging voice in the back of my mind that tells me I can save everyone no matter their disposition on faith. No matter if they're extremely violent, bitter, hateful, gay, or just lost in general; I believe with the right words or enough time spent together that they can be reached. I want to believe that somehow the light of Christ can break through whatever walls they may have spent a lifetime setting up and eradicate the darkness of their soul. Sadly, I'm beginning to think that there is a harsh truth I may have to accept which contradicts this hope I have spent my life nurturing.
When people get into heated discussions with me, some would call them arguments but I try to never argue because no positive change ever comes from an argument, they often say that I come across as unrelenting or even exasperating with my tireless pursuit of some type of resolve to the conversation. It may seem as if I want everyone to believe exactly what I believe, but that isn't true. I only want people to believe what I believe when I think that their beliefs cause them harm. I truly want what is best for everyone despite our differences because I believe that everyone impacts the world with how they handle themselves. If someone is "self-destructive" they are not just harming themselves but the community around them as well. It may not even be a community they themselves perceive but it is indeed there. I can't simply drive my car irradically down the freeway saying "It's my car and I can drive how I want! If I crash and burn it only hurts myself anyway!" Anyone who has been in a car accident and lost a vehicle or loved one to a careless driver knows that our mistakes often have profound ripple effects that travel unexpectedly through the world, even impacting complete strangers. It is for this reason that I want to evoke as much good in people as is humanly, or should I say divinely, possible.
Look at the impact that one cocky, pissed off angel had on humanity. Lucifer conned humans into letting Sin enter into the world and forever changed our destiny. He took with him God knows how many other angels who were at one time goodhearted followers of God and corrupted them into demonic figures who stalk the earth looking to terrorize human beings. Knowing myself, if I were in Heaven when Lucifer rebelled I would have been pleading with God to just let me talk to him for a bit, to let me hang out with him and get to know his side of the story, maybe play some basketball together or go see a movie and grab coffee afterwards so I could develop enough trust and credibility to speak into his life. I know this is foolish but I just can't shake this enduring hope, this relentless optimism that somehow God could use me to change even the vilest of beings.
I believe that there is a good inside everyone and everything God created that can all too often be severely repressed in our hearts. While I believe it can be repressed, I do not believe it can be extinguished. People usually lift up Hitler as one of those people who was so clearly beyond salvation. I think Hitler had a pretty screwed up childhood and that he developed a twisted comfort in hate rather than love at an early age that grew into total depravity. It's incredibly tragic how our neglect can cause enough pain in one person's life to inspire genocide years later. It is for this reason that I have to believe that Christ's enduring love poured out through us can cause and even greater impact on people's lives. I have to believe that. This life doesn't make sense if that isn't true and our God is not a God of true love if that's not true.
So this is the part where Scripture kind of rains on my hopeful parade...I know Jesus talks about there being one unforgivable sin, that being blasphemy against the Holy Spirit in Matthew 12:31. This fact is echoed throughout parts of the New Testament, such as 1 John 5:16 which goes so far as to say that we shouldn't even bother praying for people who have committed this sin. That's harsh to me, but it doesn't mean I disagree with it. It clashes with my soul because it means there are people in this life that will completely understand who Christ is and was and is to come, yet still be able to thoughtfully reject Him. The prime example of this, besides Satan and Hitler, would have to be Judas. I feel bad for Judas because someone inevitably had to be born as Judas in order to fulfill the prophecies made about Jesus. If we all cast lots before we were born into this world, then Judas drew the shortest possible lot and got the shaft where the sun don't shine. How sad to be so close to the Son for so long and be destined to never truly taste His love and grace, and instead suffer God's eternal wrath. Satan experienced the greatness of Heaven and still rejected it! How are these things possible?! What is it about our human nature (or angelic nature for Satan) that can be so corrupted that we can have Jesus right in front of our faces and still say "Get lost, I'm better off without ya." I know I'm supposed to turn my back on these kind of people and shake the dust from my sandals at them but I just can't do it. Maybe I need to be broken down a bit more until I'm jaded about humanity, but I find myself constantly praying for these hopelessly lost types.
As I end this discourse on reaching the unreachable I'm humbled by how Scripture constantly reminds us that we may feel justified in our questioning of the ways of the Creator but in actuality it is the most arrogant thing we can possibly do. Romans 19:17-22 says:
17 For
the Scriptures say that God told Pharaoh, "I have appointed you for the
very purpose of displaying my power in you and to spread my fame
throughout the earth." 18 So you see, God chooses to show mercy to some, and he chooses to harden the hearts of others so they refuse to listen. 19 Well then, you might say, “Why does God blame people for not responding? Haven't they simply done what he makes them do?" 20 No,
don't say that. Who are you, a mere human being, to argue with God?
Should the thing that was created say to the one who created it, "Why
have you made me like this?" 21 When
a potter makes jars out of clay, doesn't he have a right to use the
same lump of clay to make one jar for decoration and another to throw
garbage into? 22 In
the same way, even though God has the right to show his anger and his
power, he is very patient with those on whom his anger falls, who are
destined for destruction.
Echoing this point of view is Proverbs 16:4 saying "The Lord has made everything for His own purposes, even the wicked for a day of destruction." I don't know if I'm not allowed to pity the jars that were made to be thrown into the fire or not. It seems like a crappy deal to me, but who am I to question the will of an all-powerful, all-mighty, omnipotent God? I hope God sees my compassion not as dissent against His will but merely a love for what He created---all that He created. I'm trying to accept His will for creation day by day and not waste my time trying to convert Satan or save Judas from disaster, but it's more difficult than it seems; for how do we know who is really a 'Judas' or a 'Pharaoh' and not just someone who is extremely lost yet still retains the possibility of being saved?
Questions without Answers...That's as good a place to stop as any.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Movie God
"I was born to do make movies. This is my essence, ya know? If I couldn't do this...I might as well blow my brains out."
Now, I knew my roommate was committed to making movies. It's all he talks about, all he thinks about, all that he stresses out about and dreams about. He is a self-diagnosed insomniac and spends most of his nights and early mornings watching films only to come in and out of mild sleep. Movies are his life. On top of all this, he tells me he is a fellow Christian. His name is Tom.
I like Tom, sometimes. He is boisterous, loud, charismatic, and a salesman if there ever was a salesman. He can pitch any idea or opinion, no matter how outlandish, with such confidence that you find yourself actually believing that there might be an inkling of valid reasoning or actual proof behind what he is saying. He'd be the first person to buy you a beer or welcome you into the house. I pity Tom with all my heart.
Tom recently finished production on a movie that he wrote, directed, marketed, and invested in with all of his time, energy, and money. It's called Nomad, it's a science fiction action movie, and it's absolutely terrible. Tom believed that this movie would allow him to break into the industry and begin his ascent into stardom as a major movie writer/directer, but sadly I'm beginning to believe that it will never happen for him. Last night we were having a discussion about his future and what he plans to do now that his film has still not sold (he literally has searched the globe for foreign and domestic film studios that would be willing to buy his movie). As we talked it became more and more apparent that becoming a successful director is all that matters to Tom. He mentions getting married and having a family but only in a flippant tone that pales in comparison to the excitement with which he discuss his dream career as a film maker.
Eventually it got to the point where I asked Tom what he would do with his life if he couldn't make movies. That's when I got the response I quoted earlier. I was shocked at the veracity of his statement. I simply shuffled back against the kitchen counter and half chuckled out "That's a little scary, Tom." He asked me what I meant and being that it was 2:30am in the morning and I'm already too honest with my opinions even when I'm well rested, I simply stated "Well, it sounds like movies are your god." That sparked an amusing dispute, to say the least.
I don't think Tom is used to anyone giving him such an honest opinion. I've only ever seen people agree with him or if they disagree with him then he just talks over them until they give a sigh of defeat and ask themselves "What's the point?" That to say, I think I startled Tom with such a heavy, loaded response. While my concern was for Tom's well-being it certainly must not have come off that way. He was caught off guard and once he was able to grasp what I said he jumped right on defense. I realize now that Tom has never been concerned with understanding what anyone else is saying; he merely waits to give his own opinion or correct your point of view (Proverbs 18:2). I know I was taking a certain liberty with my opinion that I may not have earned in Tom's life but that doesn't change the fact that all signs point to the fact that Tom spends his life thinking, working, and loving film yet occasionally professing this devotion to God. It's as if I were to say I'm a SF Giants fan yet I wear all LA Dodger's colors, I cheer for the Dodgers, and I discourage the way Giant's fans act.
People do this all the time. True faith equates change and evokes action. We can't claim to know God and yet do nothing for Him. People who claim to know God and yet live aimlessly are mistaken, for they simply know about God and have no clue about His amazing call on their life. They have no relationship with the Creator and you can watch how their life cracks and crumbles in ways that it would never do if there was the stability of Christ within them. One of the scariest passages in Scripture to me is Matthew 7:21, which says "Not everyone who calls out to me, 'Lord, Lord!' will enter the Kingdom of Heaven." I'm afraid for Tom and many others like him. I don't know for certain where Tom will go when he dies but I do know how he spends his time, how he talks about women, how he views money, possessions, and fame. I know that he knows a bit about God but I don't know if he knows God. I worry for him. I worry for many in this town who think they know what is of true value in this life. I wish I could realign everyone's perspective to see the importance of the Kingdom of God above all else (Matthew 6:33). I wish I could make movies that would make people realize that movies aren't God, money isn't God, and fame certainly isn't God.
Maybe someday...
Now, I knew my roommate was committed to making movies. It's all he talks about, all he thinks about, all that he stresses out about and dreams about. He is a self-diagnosed insomniac and spends most of his nights and early mornings watching films only to come in and out of mild sleep. Movies are his life. On top of all this, he tells me he is a fellow Christian. His name is Tom.
I like Tom, sometimes. He is boisterous, loud, charismatic, and a salesman if there ever was a salesman. He can pitch any idea or opinion, no matter how outlandish, with such confidence that you find yourself actually believing that there might be an inkling of valid reasoning or actual proof behind what he is saying. He'd be the first person to buy you a beer or welcome you into the house. I pity Tom with all my heart.
Tom recently finished production on a movie that he wrote, directed, marketed, and invested in with all of his time, energy, and money. It's called Nomad, it's a science fiction action movie, and it's absolutely terrible. Tom believed that this movie would allow him to break into the industry and begin his ascent into stardom as a major movie writer/directer, but sadly I'm beginning to believe that it will never happen for him. Last night we were having a discussion about his future and what he plans to do now that his film has still not sold (he literally has searched the globe for foreign and domestic film studios that would be willing to buy his movie). As we talked it became more and more apparent that becoming a successful director is all that matters to Tom. He mentions getting married and having a family but only in a flippant tone that pales in comparison to the excitement with which he discuss his dream career as a film maker.
Eventually it got to the point where I asked Tom what he would do with his life if he couldn't make movies. That's when I got the response I quoted earlier. I was shocked at the veracity of his statement. I simply shuffled back against the kitchen counter and half chuckled out "That's a little scary, Tom." He asked me what I meant and being that it was 2:30am in the morning and I'm already too honest with my opinions even when I'm well rested, I simply stated "Well, it sounds like movies are your god." That sparked an amusing dispute, to say the least.
I don't think Tom is used to anyone giving him such an honest opinion. I've only ever seen people agree with him or if they disagree with him then he just talks over them until they give a sigh of defeat and ask themselves "What's the point?" That to say, I think I startled Tom with such a heavy, loaded response. While my concern was for Tom's well-being it certainly must not have come off that way. He was caught off guard and once he was able to grasp what I said he jumped right on defense. I realize now that Tom has never been concerned with understanding what anyone else is saying; he merely waits to give his own opinion or correct your point of view (Proverbs 18:2). I know I was taking a certain liberty with my opinion that I may not have earned in Tom's life but that doesn't change the fact that all signs point to the fact that Tom spends his life thinking, working, and loving film yet occasionally professing this devotion to God. It's as if I were to say I'm a SF Giants fan yet I wear all LA Dodger's colors, I cheer for the Dodgers, and I discourage the way Giant's fans act.
People do this all the time. True faith equates change and evokes action. We can't claim to know God and yet do nothing for Him. People who claim to know God and yet live aimlessly are mistaken, for they simply know about God and have no clue about His amazing call on their life. They have no relationship with the Creator and you can watch how their life cracks and crumbles in ways that it would never do if there was the stability of Christ within them. One of the scariest passages in Scripture to me is Matthew 7:21, which says "Not everyone who calls out to me, 'Lord, Lord!' will enter the Kingdom of Heaven." I'm afraid for Tom and many others like him. I don't know for certain where Tom will go when he dies but I do know how he spends his time, how he talks about women, how he views money, possessions, and fame. I know that he knows a bit about God but I don't know if he knows God. I worry for him. I worry for many in this town who think they know what is of true value in this life. I wish I could realign everyone's perspective to see the importance of the Kingdom of God above all else (Matthew 6:33). I wish I could make movies that would make people realize that movies aren't God, money isn't God, and fame certainly isn't God.
Maybe someday...
Sunday, September 9, 2012
1899
So much has changed. A year's absence has produced growth in the most unexpected areas. New basketball courts, sand volleyball courts, a turf field and even new dining areas. Lord knows the food here hasn't been good since it started over a hundred years ago so hopefully this new addition will take APU to a whole other level.
I graduated from Azusa Pacific University on May 7, 2011. That makes it just about 456 days since I belonged here. Now I'm out of place. I am relegated to the alumni, labeled a "visitor" as I walk the halls of the place I called home for 4 years of the most pivotal time in my life. 4 years...Oh how 4 years seemed like a life sentence when I first crossed the threshold of Trinity Hall and unloaded my things into my new place of residence at 2nd North room #234. I knew not a soul yet mine would find its place here in these halls, classrooms, libraries, coffee shops, lawns, and chapels. The mural that was painted on the wall in 2nd North by one of the residents, my old friend Colin, still remains as tribute to all those who make that special part of Trinity their home and foundation for the rest of their time here at APU. I wonder where Colin is today...I wonder where most of those guys from 2nd North are now. Most are probably married. They'll have kids and neglect to tell them all the stories of the wild times they had in their freshman dorms.
I'm amazed at how well protected I was at APU. I never committed any of the carnal sins that young people away at college typically have the excuse to committ. I'm so thankful that my only serious trials were caused by making hard decisions to follow Christ in the best way I knew how. I wish I would have been more involved, but it's hard to conquer being shy when feeling lonely feels safer than being rejected. I look back on APU with fond reverence as a place so saturated in its authenticity and beauty that it sucks people in like quicksand to a life lead apart from risk and sacrifice. This place reminds me, like a slap in the face or a swift kick to the groin of the risks and sacrifices I've made. It reminds me of how I've met great success only to be humbled by great failure. It reminds me to never stop learning and most importantly to never give up on going after the unsure things in life. I start to wonder if is this place has changed at all or if what I feel is merely a reflection of how much I've changed since I began my journey here almost 5 years ago.
Is it wrong that I wish I could go back? Ecclesiastes 7:10 says "Don't long for 'the good old days.' This is not wise." I've always made fun of those who thought high school was the greatest time of their life, but this is different. At least, it feels different. Going to APU was like getting a deep tissue massage. When you tell someone you're going to get a massage they may think "Oh, that's so great!" or "Wow, you must be spoiled." But the thing about a deep tissue massage is that it isn't restful, it takes you way out of your comfort zone, and while there are fleeting moments of pleasure it typically hurts the entire time. Furthermore, you don't fully realize the benefit of the massage until way after you're done. I'm thankful for every knot APU helped my work out. Most of all, I'm thankful that APU showed me how to prevent the knots in the first place. It's a steep learning curve once you exit the protection of scholarly halls and classrooms filled with knowledge, guidance, and support. I thank God for where I am, where I've been, and where I'm going. Thanks to all those who have helped me along the way and who will hopefully continue to help me along this mysterious new path. God knows I need as much help as I can get!
I graduated from Azusa Pacific University on May 7, 2011. That makes it just about 456 days since I belonged here. Now I'm out of place. I am relegated to the alumni, labeled a "visitor" as I walk the halls of the place I called home for 4 years of the most pivotal time in my life. 4 years...Oh how 4 years seemed like a life sentence when I first crossed the threshold of Trinity Hall and unloaded my things into my new place of residence at 2nd North room #234. I knew not a soul yet mine would find its place here in these halls, classrooms, libraries, coffee shops, lawns, and chapels. The mural that was painted on the wall in 2nd North by one of the residents, my old friend Colin, still remains as tribute to all those who make that special part of Trinity their home and foundation for the rest of their time here at APU. I wonder where Colin is today...I wonder where most of those guys from 2nd North are now. Most are probably married. They'll have kids and neglect to tell them all the stories of the wild times they had in their freshman dorms.
I'm amazed at how well protected I was at APU. I never committed any of the carnal sins that young people away at college typically have the excuse to committ. I'm so thankful that my only serious trials were caused by making hard decisions to follow Christ in the best way I knew how. I wish I would have been more involved, but it's hard to conquer being shy when feeling lonely feels safer than being rejected. I look back on APU with fond reverence as a place so saturated in its authenticity and beauty that it sucks people in like quicksand to a life lead apart from risk and sacrifice. This place reminds me, like a slap in the face or a swift kick to the groin of the risks and sacrifices I've made. It reminds me of how I've met great success only to be humbled by great failure. It reminds me to never stop learning and most importantly to never give up on going after the unsure things in life. I start to wonder if is this place has changed at all or if what I feel is merely a reflection of how much I've changed since I began my journey here almost 5 years ago.
Is it wrong that I wish I could go back? Ecclesiastes 7:10 says "Don't long for 'the good old days.' This is not wise." I've always made fun of those who thought high school was the greatest time of their life, but this is different. At least, it feels different. Going to APU was like getting a deep tissue massage. When you tell someone you're going to get a massage they may think "Oh, that's so great!" or "Wow, you must be spoiled." But the thing about a deep tissue massage is that it isn't restful, it takes you way out of your comfort zone, and while there are fleeting moments of pleasure it typically hurts the entire time. Furthermore, you don't fully realize the benefit of the massage until way after you're done. I'm thankful for every knot APU helped my work out. Most of all, I'm thankful that APU showed me how to prevent the knots in the first place. It's a steep learning curve once you exit the protection of scholarly halls and classrooms filled with knowledge, guidance, and support. I thank God for where I am, where I've been, and where I'm going. Thanks to all those who have helped me along the way and who will hopefully continue to help me along this mysterious new path. God knows I need as much help as I can get!
Covert
When I was a kid, my brother and I would spend a big chunk of our summers driving around with our dad looking at houses. My father was an appraiser back then so his job required that he measure, document, and compare houses in the surrounding areas of the particular house he was appraising in order to formulate a reasonable estimate of that house's true value. Sometimes these real estate scavenger hunts felt as if they lasted all day and all night, and then all the next day too. My brother Will and I would try to find ways of entertaining ourselves, but this typically ended in some form of punishment as we usually roughhoused in the spacious backseat of our Bronco, or played hide and seek in the vacant house my dad was measuring. My father had an uncanny way of hearing us cause trouble no matter how far we thought we were from him, and as we got older we had to learn how to be more covert when breaking the rules. While I can't speak for my brother, I find that to this day I am indeed still very covert when it comes to breaking the rules.
I don't say this to brag but rather to confess an unfortunate quality about myself that has been developed overtime through sheer survival instincts. When I was younger I just wanted to be able to stay up late, own a samurai sword, or play with firecrackers. Now, the desires are much more R-rated in their nature, the persuasion to disobey is more convincing than ever and the punishment for breaking the rules is far more devastating. What I've realized as the stakes have been raised is that there is no level of stealth attainable to sneak past the Father. I will never be covert enough to fool Him into believing that I was really just playing peacefully in my room when in actuality I was defiling His temple. There is no space under the bed where I can hide my paraphernalia from Him and pretend that I just keep stacks of Bibles under there. Most of all, there is no lie that I can profess that He has not already condemned within me. I've messed up a lot in these past 23 years. More than I care to admit, but I would not be the man I am today had I not found the redeeming truth that lies within every punishment I received for my transgressions.
I like to think that I have been punished enough in my short life time to be considered a connoisseur of castigation, at least when it comes to divine correction. What I've come to understand about the way God punishes us is that His worst punishment is no punishment at all. In other words, we suffer most when God just lets us be. God's punishment redirects us and makes us aware of His divine sovereignty. However, when we are left to wander aimlessly down dark paths our journey can only end in despair. I've only experienced this kind of abandonment once in my recent past and it is something I never wish to experience again. I'd rather suffer a divine spanking for running out into the street than suffer the pain of being run over by a truck of despair.
I believe despair is the direct result of God's absence in response to sin in our lives, and in essence, is the greatest pain we can experience. I don't believe that any part of Jesus' crucifixion was as painful as when He looked up to the Heavens and felt completely abandoned by God. Jesus didn't deserve that pain because He never sinned, but because we do, Jesus got the ultimate shaft in suffering despair like no one else has ever suffered despair. I got a taste of despair this past July and it nearly broke me. If I got a 3 out of 10 on the despair scale, I can't image what it was like for Jesus to get an 11. Yes, His scale goes to 11.
It's hard for me to conclude my thoughts on all that I've learned from straying off the path so often, but here goes; There's a lot out there that seems so promising yet ultimately leads to total self-destruction. It's sad how pride can fool you into thinking you always know what's best for yourself. Darkness is contagious and the moment you start convincing yourself that a certain kind of darkness is an unavoidable evil, that is the very moment that you give the enemy a foothold in your life. You give him an inch, soon he'll devour a mile. I think having a good memory is crucial to surviving darkness because when it's all you see it's nearly impossible to believe that there is still a flickering light far off in the distance. Jesus remembered the light on the cross, can we remember it in times of despair?
Therein lies the rub...
I don't say this to brag but rather to confess an unfortunate quality about myself that has been developed overtime through sheer survival instincts. When I was younger I just wanted to be able to stay up late, own a samurai sword, or play with firecrackers. Now, the desires are much more R-rated in their nature, the persuasion to disobey is more convincing than ever and the punishment for breaking the rules is far more devastating. What I've realized as the stakes have been raised is that there is no level of stealth attainable to sneak past the Father. I will never be covert enough to fool Him into believing that I was really just playing peacefully in my room when in actuality I was defiling His temple. There is no space under the bed where I can hide my paraphernalia from Him and pretend that I just keep stacks of Bibles under there. Most of all, there is no lie that I can profess that He has not already condemned within me. I've messed up a lot in these past 23 years. More than I care to admit, but I would not be the man I am today had I not found the redeeming truth that lies within every punishment I received for my transgressions.
I like to think that I have been punished enough in my short life time to be considered a connoisseur of castigation, at least when it comes to divine correction. What I've come to understand about the way God punishes us is that His worst punishment is no punishment at all. In other words, we suffer most when God just lets us be. God's punishment redirects us and makes us aware of His divine sovereignty. However, when we are left to wander aimlessly down dark paths our journey can only end in despair. I've only experienced this kind of abandonment once in my recent past and it is something I never wish to experience again. I'd rather suffer a divine spanking for running out into the street than suffer the pain of being run over by a truck of despair.
I believe despair is the direct result of God's absence in response to sin in our lives, and in essence, is the greatest pain we can experience. I don't believe that any part of Jesus' crucifixion was as painful as when He looked up to the Heavens and felt completely abandoned by God. Jesus didn't deserve that pain because He never sinned, but because we do, Jesus got the ultimate shaft in suffering despair like no one else has ever suffered despair. I got a taste of despair this past July and it nearly broke me. If I got a 3 out of 10 on the despair scale, I can't image what it was like for Jesus to get an 11. Yes, His scale goes to 11.
It's hard for me to conclude my thoughts on all that I've learned from straying off the path so often, but here goes; There's a lot out there that seems so promising yet ultimately leads to total self-destruction. It's sad how pride can fool you into thinking you always know what's best for yourself. Darkness is contagious and the moment you start convincing yourself that a certain kind of darkness is an unavoidable evil, that is the very moment that you give the enemy a foothold in your life. You give him an inch, soon he'll devour a mile. I think having a good memory is crucial to surviving darkness because when it's all you see it's nearly impossible to believe that there is still a flickering light far off in the distance. Jesus remembered the light on the cross, can we remember it in times of despair?
Therein lies the rub...
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Taking Stock
It's 11pm on an average Tuesday night in July. I hear crickets, the occasional car sputtering down the street, and my mind wanders to worrying about how early I have to be up in the morning. I question how well I will function on such little sleep. I don't focus on the fact that I have my own bed with soft, clean sheets. I don't appreciate the sound of crickets rather than gunshots. I'm not conditioned to appreciate the space I call my own room. I expect these things. I know this place. It's all so familiar and too commonplace to be appreciated. I did little to earn this spot in society. I was given a body that walked and talked and was fit enough to work. I was blessed with a mind able to comprehend my surroundings and make educated decisions. Why then do I feel so entitled to all this? How could I ever fail to appreciate eyes that see, ears that hear, a mouth that speaks, a heart that beats, a brain that senses, and a soul that seeks.
For a moment I'm struck with the fleeting nature of this life. The twisted uncertainty of this sinful, broken world sneaks up on us when we least expect it, where we are least prepared. In cars, in homes, in towers and in movie theaters. We carry on in the most unassuming ways in the least threatening locations yet somehow we never cease to be surprised by terror. I don't want to be surprised anymore. I don't want the unexpected unless it means that there is a good which will arise from the ashes that no one could ever have expected and makes all who witness such tragedy realize there is an opposing, and dare I say, far greater good than evil residing in this world. I hope this is the case. I hope with all my heart.
Some people call that being naive. Some believe no great thing can be done without first greatly compromising one's character. I know a man who would beg to differ. He keeps me going when hope seems scarce. He has Risen like no one else could hope to Rise. He is my shelter while the world promotes cheap thrills and apocalyptic flings. The world has no answer for the darkness. It has no comfort for the widows. Utter silence abounds when questions seek reasons for life and loss. Purpose muses the philosophical and stays hidden in shadows of intellect. There is no hope for a true worldview if the world is blocking our view. The world begets darkness.
"Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies." Shawshank never spoke truer words. But this thought is unfinished, unrefined if you will. Where does true hope come from? Can it reside in something so dark as this place, or is it drawn from light that is simply not of this world? I cannot help but hope that there was, and is, and is to come just such a light. This light has reminded me time and time again about the bed, the room, the house, the car, the legs, the eyes, the ears, the mouth, the mind, the friends, the family, and most importantly the love that have all been laid before me...
With this in mind, reinstated by force of will, I can finally sleep peacefully.
For a moment I'm struck with the fleeting nature of this life. The twisted uncertainty of this sinful, broken world sneaks up on us when we least expect it, where we are least prepared. In cars, in homes, in towers and in movie theaters. We carry on in the most unassuming ways in the least threatening locations yet somehow we never cease to be surprised by terror. I don't want to be surprised anymore. I don't want the unexpected unless it means that there is a good which will arise from the ashes that no one could ever have expected and makes all who witness such tragedy realize there is an opposing, and dare I say, far greater good than evil residing in this world. I hope this is the case. I hope with all my heart.
Some people call that being naive. Some believe no great thing can be done without first greatly compromising one's character. I know a man who would beg to differ. He keeps me going when hope seems scarce. He has Risen like no one else could hope to Rise. He is my shelter while the world promotes cheap thrills and apocalyptic flings. The world has no answer for the darkness. It has no comfort for the widows. Utter silence abounds when questions seek reasons for life and loss. Purpose muses the philosophical and stays hidden in shadows of intellect. There is no hope for a true worldview if the world is blocking our view. The world begets darkness.
"Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies." Shawshank never spoke truer words. But this thought is unfinished, unrefined if you will. Where does true hope come from? Can it reside in something so dark as this place, or is it drawn from light that is simply not of this world? I cannot help but hope that there was, and is, and is to come just such a light. This light has reminded me time and time again about the bed, the room, the house, the car, the legs, the eyes, the ears, the mouth, the mind, the friends, the family, and most importantly the love that have all been laid before me...
With this in mind, reinstated by force of will, I can finally sleep peacefully.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Mental Agoraphobia
I'm starting to become wary of overly introverted people. It's fine if you don't like parties or loud music and prefer one-on-one interactions, much like I do, but there's something dangerous about taking up residence in your own head for too long. Being consumed by the solace in our own minds is scary place to be for any extent of time and if our voice becomes the dominant voice speaking into our lives than we are descending down a dark and tragic path. I have known and loved several extremely introverted people and sadly I'm beginning to be jaded by the outcomes of these relationships.
Mental shut-ins, or agoraphobics of the mind as I think of them, constantly fail to reap the benefits of human intimacy. Worse yet, they lash out at those who get close enough to tempt them out of their safe, little worlds created in the vacuum of their obsessive thought life. We all create realities for ourselves based on how we perceive every aspect of life, be it pain, love, heartbreak, or happiness. We also tend to resist people (or even deities) who threaten to change the structure of these worlds we've created through our accumulated perceptions. We will become so self absorbed by our own realities that we will even begin to accept harmful things as familiar things. We alter the true characteristic of inherently good or bad things to fit our skewed worldview. For instance, if we are angry all the time we will just shift our view of anger so it becomes a source of comfort rather than a toxic emotion that degrades our souls over time. The same goes for love. If loving relationships constantly end in heartbreak or loss, then love must be an evil thing that needs to be avoided at all costs. It kills me to watch loved ones go through this because they allow pain to run so deep and their minds to be so corrupted that any source of light and truth appears manipulative and offensive.
Maybe the theme of this post isn't so much about the dangers of locking ourselves away in mental and emotional solitude, as much as it is about the tendency to rely on experience as a basis for truth. I once read that "experience is the mother of all deception". In the Wesleyan Quadrilateral, which many theologians use to develop doctrines of faith, there is a system of using Scripture, Tradition, Experience, and Reason to formulate a belief system. It's what I try to employ in my life as much as possible. The way it is supposed to work is more like a pyramid than a quadrilateral. Scripture is supreme and ranks 1st above everything else. Tradition comes in 2nd as it is the "living faith of the dead" (not 'the dead faith of the living' as it has become in many denominations *cough*Catholicism*cough*). Experience is at the bottom, but nonetheless very important. Finally, Reason is supposed to be used throughout the other three sections of the pyramid, sort of like a common thread holding it all together. No piece of the pyramid should be implemented without a great deal of rational thought. That is why experience is so tricky because it is so so so subjective. Yet we, as individuals in our nature, tend to tip the scales in favor of our own personal, subjective experiences rather than scripture and tradition outweighing experience by several tons. The more we dwell on our experiences, shut out the traditions of believers who have thrived before us, and ignore the Word of God, the more we will be apt to slip into the abyss of our own prideful mindset that dictates just how profoundly intelligent all of our views are on everything under the sun.
I do love, with all my heart, several people in this world who have been so damaged by what this life has thrown at them that they have retreated into the ramparts of their minds. It's dark and quiet and lonely, but so very safe. They put up a veneer of strength in solace and adopt a slogan of "proud to be going it alone" or "rugged individualism" that has been celebrated by our culture for so long, but it is so utterly false. Their lives lean on shaking beams beneath a foundation they created from their own shattered hearts...
I'm sort of at the end of my rope and reaching for another as I continue to love these people and give them all I have to give. Beyond that, all I can think to do is sit and pray, and pray, and pray that God kicks down the walls these people have fought so hard to build around their hearts and try to prevent others from walking down a similar path. I hope you will pray with me and continue to hope for better things for all the lost and broken people working so hard to protect themselves rather than surrender to the abundant safety that only lies within the arms of our Savior.
Mental shut-ins, or agoraphobics of the mind as I think of them, constantly fail to reap the benefits of human intimacy. Worse yet, they lash out at those who get close enough to tempt them out of their safe, little worlds created in the vacuum of their obsessive thought life. We all create realities for ourselves based on how we perceive every aspect of life, be it pain, love, heartbreak, or happiness. We also tend to resist people (or even deities) who threaten to change the structure of these worlds we've created through our accumulated perceptions. We will become so self absorbed by our own realities that we will even begin to accept harmful things as familiar things. We alter the true characteristic of inherently good or bad things to fit our skewed worldview. For instance, if we are angry all the time we will just shift our view of anger so it becomes a source of comfort rather than a toxic emotion that degrades our souls over time. The same goes for love. If loving relationships constantly end in heartbreak or loss, then love must be an evil thing that needs to be avoided at all costs. It kills me to watch loved ones go through this because they allow pain to run so deep and their minds to be so corrupted that any source of light and truth appears manipulative and offensive.
Maybe the theme of this post isn't so much about the dangers of locking ourselves away in mental and emotional solitude, as much as it is about the tendency to rely on experience as a basis for truth. I once read that "experience is the mother of all deception". In the Wesleyan Quadrilateral, which many theologians use to develop doctrines of faith, there is a system of using Scripture, Tradition, Experience, and Reason to formulate a belief system. It's what I try to employ in my life as much as possible. The way it is supposed to work is more like a pyramid than a quadrilateral. Scripture is supreme and ranks 1st above everything else. Tradition comes in 2nd as it is the "living faith of the dead" (not 'the dead faith of the living' as it has become in many denominations *cough*Catholicism*cough*). Experience is at the bottom, but nonetheless very important. Finally, Reason is supposed to be used throughout the other three sections of the pyramid, sort of like a common thread holding it all together. No piece of the pyramid should be implemented without a great deal of rational thought. That is why experience is so tricky because it is so so so subjective. Yet we, as individuals in our nature, tend to tip the scales in favor of our own personal, subjective experiences rather than scripture and tradition outweighing experience by several tons. The more we dwell on our experiences, shut out the traditions of believers who have thrived before us, and ignore the Word of God, the more we will be apt to slip into the abyss of our own prideful mindset that dictates just how profoundly intelligent all of our views are on everything under the sun.
I do love, with all my heart, several people in this world who have been so damaged by what this life has thrown at them that they have retreated into the ramparts of their minds. It's dark and quiet and lonely, but so very safe. They put up a veneer of strength in solace and adopt a slogan of "proud to be going it alone" or "rugged individualism" that has been celebrated by our culture for so long, but it is so utterly false. Their lives lean on shaking beams beneath a foundation they created from their own shattered hearts...
I'm sort of at the end of my rope and reaching for another as I continue to love these people and give them all I have to give. Beyond that, all I can think to do is sit and pray, and pray, and pray that God kicks down the walls these people have fought so hard to build around their hearts and try to prevent others from walking down a similar path. I hope you will pray with me and continue to hope for better things for all the lost and broken people working so hard to protect themselves rather than surrender to the abundant safety that only lies within the arms of our Savior.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Remain Changed
A good friend of mine recently told me how unsatisfied he was with his job. I wanted to look him straight in the face and reiterate the fact that I work as a background actor. Unsatisfying is in the job description, as well as "Must be as unnoticeable as possible" and "Should feel comfortable being demeaned by all manner of coworkers, including but not limited to small children." However, I felt comparing my humble position to his prestigious employment wouldn't help raise his spirits any. He makes great money, works in exciting environments, and is constantly challenged to come up with innovative solutions to dynamic problems. It's a dream job in many ways. However, it's his first job working outside of a Christian organization. This may not sound like a big deal but it is to him, and I completely understand. It's hard going to work each day when your job carries with it no deeper meaning, no clear goal to advance the Kingdom of God. For someone who has spent their whole life working in a Churchesque setting, it is truly like being a fish out of water.
People use their faith as an excuse to avoid doing all sorts of things, such as swearing, drinking, working on weekends, going certain places or even being in relationships. To be quite honest, I don't think our faith is as restrictive as we've made it out to be (Note: when I reference "faith" I'm focusing on American, evangelical Christianity). Mark Driscoll uses the analogy of God giving us a spacious yard to play in and simply telling us to "Have fun, but be careful going into the street", but then we came along and built fence upon fence with our rules and restrictions until our religion turned God's yard into something more like a prison. We were scared of what it meant to be so close to the street and so far from the safety of the house. As a result, hardly anyone nowadays wants to come play in the restrictive yard of the Christians, and the Christians are too afraid to go play in anybody else's yard due to their exposure to the street.
I think Satan likes to twist our faith into fear as much as possible. He wants to make us so unsure of ourselves and the ways in which we are serving God that we become paralyzed by indecision. "I don't know what I want to do for a career, I just want to serve God." "It's a great opportunity, but I just don't know if it's God's will for my life." "I'm just living here until I figure out what God's calling for me is." As a recent college graduate, I hear stuff like this from my friends constantly. To be honest, I've said things just like this in the past as well. What I've learned the hard way is that there is no temporary aspect of God's will. He doesn't work in the short term. His plan transcends time, there is no beginning nor end, it is only now. We, however, do not have the luxury of His foresight. We are bound by time and all too often we obsess over it.
Okay, right now you may be thinking those are three completely unrelated paragraphs. Trust me, they have everything to do with each other. My friend is unsure of his place in life because he can't point to a mission statement in his company's profile that clearly defines their goal to advance the Kingdom of God. Due to his company's lack of religious ties, he feels as though he is outsides of God's grand mission in the World. He is used to playing in the yard clearly devoted to staying within God's will and now that he is in the much bigger, more diverse yard of the secular community he feels unsure of himself. There are so many people around him who run carelessly into the street. For the first time, he is witnessing people freely wreck their lives by choosing to run from the Lord. Like a man who is used to being in prison all his life, he doesn't know what to do on the outside. He is Brooks Hatlen...
My friend's faith is obvious. He wouldn't hesitate to tell you he's a believer. That's what makes it hard when he tells people what he does for a living. His basic job description has no reference to the Great Commission, so he has to write it in there himself. That's hard to do sometimes because we don't usually enjoy being liberal with our faith because liberal faith is often the most heavily scrutinized by other believers. 1 Corinthians 7:17-24 says,
"Nevertheless, each person should live as a believer in whatever situation the Lord has assigned to them, just as God has called them. This is the rule I lay down in all the churches. Was a man already circumcised when he was called? He should not become uncircumcised. Was a man uncircumcised when he was called? He should not be circumcised. Circumcision is nothing and uncircumcision is nothing. Keeping God's commands is what counts. Each person should remain in the situation they were in when God called them. Were you a slave when you were called? Don't let it trouble you—although if you can gain your freedom, do so. For the one who was a slave when called to faith in the Lord is the Lord's freed person; similarly, the one who was free when called is Christ's slave. You were bought at a price; do not become slaves of human beings. Brothers and sisters, each person, as responsible to God, should remain in the situation they were in when God called them."
God calls people to live and work in almost every imaginable occupation. The book of Esther is all about a woman of God who is randomly selected to be part of King Xerxes harem and eventually becomes the Queen of Persia and saves the entire Jewish race. Can you think of anyplace a young Jewish girl would feel more out of place and far from God than in King Xerxes bedroom? Somehow we've gotten so caught up in the false clarity we get from the black and white, religious rules and restrictions that we become scared of what life looks like in color. What if we sought to be Christians such as Esther, Christians who live and work in places that seem so contrary to our nature? What if we were Christians who stayed put, who stood firm right where God took such great care to place us? Paul wrote that he "became all things to all men" so that he may save as many people as possible (1Cor9:22). He also urged us to imitate him (1Cor4:16), making it clear that it is our duty to be in as many diverse places ministering to as many diverse people as possible. We may have to fortify our conscience to do so, but it's a necessary step towards being the most effective modern day disciples we can be.
I watched a documentary the other day called Holly Rollers, which is about a group of card-counting, Christian Blackjack players who profit from gambling in order to support their ministries (they don't believe it's gambling but rather a science). They would take weekend trips to Vegas, Atlantic City, Reno, Tahoe, etc. and make hundreds of thousands of dollars in a team composed of investors, managers, and players. It was fascinating, to say the least. What intrigued me the most was that one of the men became so disgusted by all that the Casino lifestyle represented that he eventually had to quit the team and return to full time ministry in the Church. While I empathize with his decision, part of me felt like Christians do this way too often. We get overwhelmed by watching the secular community live such meaningless lives that we revert back to the familiar ways of our Christian bubbles. I think we should instead be trying to overwhelm the meaningless lives of the secular community with beauty and the purpose with which we live our lives. There's something special about being in the minority. There's something wonderful about sneaking the mission of God into a place that has nothing to do with the mission of God. We are frequently driven out of those places not because of unbelievers, but because of our own fear, doubt, and insecurity.
We are where we are for a very specific reason. God never brings us anywhere without a divine purpose. Just like comedy, with God's will timing is everything. While this life may seem like a cruel joke sometimes or that there is no possible way God could intended for us to be where we are, it's probably only because we aren't paying attention. Let's stay put for a second. God changed us and is continually changing us so that we can be a catalyst right where we are and everywhere we go.
People use their faith as an excuse to avoid doing all sorts of things, such as swearing, drinking, working on weekends, going certain places or even being in relationships. To be quite honest, I don't think our faith is as restrictive as we've made it out to be (Note: when I reference "faith" I'm focusing on American, evangelical Christianity). Mark Driscoll uses the analogy of God giving us a spacious yard to play in and simply telling us to "Have fun, but be careful going into the street", but then we came along and built fence upon fence with our rules and restrictions until our religion turned God's yard into something more like a prison. We were scared of what it meant to be so close to the street and so far from the safety of the house. As a result, hardly anyone nowadays wants to come play in the restrictive yard of the Christians, and the Christians are too afraid to go play in anybody else's yard due to their exposure to the street.
I think Satan likes to twist our faith into fear as much as possible. He wants to make us so unsure of ourselves and the ways in which we are serving God that we become paralyzed by indecision. "I don't know what I want to do for a career, I just want to serve God." "It's a great opportunity, but I just don't know if it's God's will for my life." "I'm just living here until I figure out what God's calling for me is." As a recent college graduate, I hear stuff like this from my friends constantly. To be honest, I've said things just like this in the past as well. What I've learned the hard way is that there is no temporary aspect of God's will. He doesn't work in the short term. His plan transcends time, there is no beginning nor end, it is only now. We, however, do not have the luxury of His foresight. We are bound by time and all too often we obsess over it.
Okay, right now you may be thinking those are three completely unrelated paragraphs. Trust me, they have everything to do with each other. My friend is unsure of his place in life because he can't point to a mission statement in his company's profile that clearly defines their goal to advance the Kingdom of God. Due to his company's lack of religious ties, he feels as though he is outsides of God's grand mission in the World. He is used to playing in the yard clearly devoted to staying within God's will and now that he is in the much bigger, more diverse yard of the secular community he feels unsure of himself. There are so many people around him who run carelessly into the street. For the first time, he is witnessing people freely wreck their lives by choosing to run from the Lord. Like a man who is used to being in prison all his life, he doesn't know what to do on the outside. He is Brooks Hatlen...
My friend's faith is obvious. He wouldn't hesitate to tell you he's a believer. That's what makes it hard when he tells people what he does for a living. His basic job description has no reference to the Great Commission, so he has to write it in there himself. That's hard to do sometimes because we don't usually enjoy being liberal with our faith because liberal faith is often the most heavily scrutinized by other believers. 1 Corinthians 7:17-24 says,
"Nevertheless, each person should live as a believer in whatever situation the Lord has assigned to them, just as God has called them. This is the rule I lay down in all the churches. Was a man already circumcised when he was called? He should not become uncircumcised. Was a man uncircumcised when he was called? He should not be circumcised. Circumcision is nothing and uncircumcision is nothing. Keeping God's commands is what counts. Each person should remain in the situation they were in when God called them. Were you a slave when you were called? Don't let it trouble you—although if you can gain your freedom, do so. For the one who was a slave when called to faith in the Lord is the Lord's freed person; similarly, the one who was free when called is Christ's slave. You were bought at a price; do not become slaves of human beings. Brothers and sisters, each person, as responsible to God, should remain in the situation they were in when God called them."
God calls people to live and work in almost every imaginable occupation. The book of Esther is all about a woman of God who is randomly selected to be part of King Xerxes harem and eventually becomes the Queen of Persia and saves the entire Jewish race. Can you think of anyplace a young Jewish girl would feel more out of place and far from God than in King Xerxes bedroom? Somehow we've gotten so caught up in the false clarity we get from the black and white, religious rules and restrictions that we become scared of what life looks like in color. What if we sought to be Christians such as Esther, Christians who live and work in places that seem so contrary to our nature? What if we were Christians who stayed put, who stood firm right where God took such great care to place us? Paul wrote that he "became all things to all men" so that he may save as many people as possible (1Cor9:22). He also urged us to imitate him (1Cor4:16), making it clear that it is our duty to be in as many diverse places ministering to as many diverse people as possible. We may have to fortify our conscience to do so, but it's a necessary step towards being the most effective modern day disciples we can be.
I watched a documentary the other day called Holly Rollers, which is about a group of card-counting, Christian Blackjack players who profit from gambling in order to support their ministries (they don't believe it's gambling but rather a science). They would take weekend trips to Vegas, Atlantic City, Reno, Tahoe, etc. and make hundreds of thousands of dollars in a team composed of investors, managers, and players. It was fascinating, to say the least. What intrigued me the most was that one of the men became so disgusted by all that the Casino lifestyle represented that he eventually had to quit the team and return to full time ministry in the Church. While I empathize with his decision, part of me felt like Christians do this way too often. We get overwhelmed by watching the secular community live such meaningless lives that we revert back to the familiar ways of our Christian bubbles. I think we should instead be trying to overwhelm the meaningless lives of the secular community with beauty and the purpose with which we live our lives. There's something special about being in the minority. There's something wonderful about sneaking the mission of God into a place that has nothing to do with the mission of God. We are frequently driven out of those places not because of unbelievers, but because of our own fear, doubt, and insecurity.
We are where we are for a very specific reason. God never brings us anywhere without a divine purpose. Just like comedy, with God's will timing is everything. While this life may seem like a cruel joke sometimes or that there is no possible way God could intended for us to be where we are, it's probably only because we aren't paying attention. Let's stay put for a second. God changed us and is continually changing us so that we can be a catalyst right where we are and everywhere we go.
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