Intersection

I've been slowly making my way through a book by N.T. Wright for several months now, and I just might finish it someday.  My snail's pace isn't because I don't enjoy the book, but more because life has a way of filling up.  It's actually been quite good - it's a very "big picture" look at God, the world, and the church.  Also it's another reminder of how distorted our view of God's Story has become in western evangelicalism.      

The main thrust of the book is a journey to follow a thread that runs all throughout scripture: namely the idea that God's primary purpose in creation is the bringing together of Heaven and Earth for all eternity.  The Garden of Eden, the Jewish temple, the person of Jesus, and even the church all serve as "points of intersection" between heaven and earth - the places where the spiritual and physical realms dramatically and gloriously collide.  Perhaps the most clear picture of all is found in the conclusion of the Book of Revelation, when the heavenly Jerusalem touches down and God's eternal throne is established on the earth.  From there, Eternity spills into time and the whole earth is made new and put to rights.    

That's a lot different than the idea of "going to heaven."

How could such a foundational doctrine be so blatantly ignored (or simply misunderstood) in our churches?  Why have I grown up in the church my entire life and never heard this stuff until my twenties?  What would be different if we preached that God was coming back to make the world right again, and that you and I are the precious first-fruits of that resurrection?  All of the sudden there is room in the story for justice, for beauty, and for restoration.

Maybe the most pleasant surprise is the newfound freedom to actually enjoy the earth and all its humanity.  It's not just a godforsaken rock that will one day burn (and in the meantime must be avoided and ignored).  It's a good creation - one that will be made right; one that will have its groans for justice and goodness and love answered some day.  I don't need to feel like a pagan for enjoying the green grass or a hot meal or for having skin.

The challenge that Wright issues is a call to live life as a down-payment of the New Day Coming.  The message we carry as believers should serve to drag God's future into our present - to literally pull eternity into time - until Heaven and Earth collide and we discover what wholeness looks like.  

  

Still Alive...

I guess it's been quite a while since I've written.  I guess I just haven't felt very inspired to put pen to paper (or fingers to keys) these days.  Same old, same old.  But there are a few things happening in my life:

1.  I'm switching jobs in the very near future (about a week).  VERY excited about it too.  I'll be working for a professional brass instrument repair/production shop called the BAC Horn Doctor.  They specialize in professional trombones and other vintage brass.  Right up my alley.  It should be fun.

2.  I'm going backpacking!  This is an enormously exciting thing!  I'll be meeting up with three of my best friends on earth next weekend in the ozark mountains for some catching up and camping.  It's been several months since I've seen them, and I'm also really needing some time away from city life.  Good for the soul.

3.  I'm engaged!  (just kidding... still single)

Duality

He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous alike.

-Matthew 5:45

The range of humanity is absolutely enormous.  The capacity for good and evil within our race can make your head spin.  The same species that has landed a man on the moon, cured diseases, and written sonnets has also created a nuclear bomb, organized global sex-trade networks and human trafficking rings, and built concentration camps.  

Both good and evil proceed from this fragile human frame we all share.  Both Mother Teresa and Adolf Hitler found themselves trapped inside skin and blood and bones.  Michelangelo and the unibomber breathed the same air into the same pair of lungs.  Billy Graham and Osama Bin Laden both have to eat.  

I'm not trying to label "good people" versus "bad people."  More often than not we see examples of extreme good present right along with extreme evil in the same individual.  Some of the most gifted artists in history have lead some of the most depressed and suicidal lives imaginable.  Charlie Parker, a legend among jazz musicians, died alone in a hotel room after a lifestyle of heroin abuse (the coroner estimated him to be between 55 and 60 years old, when in reality he was only 34).  Vincent Van Gogh tragically ended his own life by firing a bullet through his heart.  The apostle Paul baptized believers in his lifetime and also slaughtered them like animals.  And on a more personal note, I was shocked today to discover that a former teacher of mine (who had been a very positive influence throughout high school) had been arrested around this time last year in a sex-related public indecency scandal.

And then there's you and me.  

It's examples like these that clearly expose our condition as humans.  We're fractured and above all inconsistent.  We bless and curse in the same breath.  We build up one minute, and tear down the next.  Integrity is lacking.  We each have it in us to be murderers, adulterers, and liars.  We also have it in us to be the very sons and daughters of God - the most beautifully creative and peacefully satisfied people for whom creation itself yearns.  

If anything, it makes me take a second look at how I think I'm performing.  My own light will never erase my darkness, and by the same token my darkness will never disqualify my light.  Neither extreme carries as much weight as I think it does.  We all need a savior.  We all need re-birth.

In the meantime, God is kind to all.  He patiently extends one hand to a drunkard and the other hand to a choir boy.  In this earth, the wheat grows up along with the tares, and the sun shines on both good and evil men.     

 

Violence

I feel like I've been bumping into the theme of violence in a lot of different places lately - blogs, books, music, and preaching.  Seems to be a hot issue, too.  I first really started thinking about it when I picked up a copy of Derek Webb's latest solo album, The Ringing Bell.  Much of the content of the record centers around the idea that violence is our natural tendency - that it's the easiest path to walk down - but that Jesus wasn't joking around when he stressed the need to love our enemies regardless of who they are.  I've also heard some sermons lately touching on the "Blessed are the Peacemakers" section of the Sermon on the Mount.  

Then just last night I was reading in a book by the brilliant N.T. Wright, who was saying how even the Jewish mindset of the coming Messiah was fundamentally linked to the expectation of violence.  One of the primary assumptions about the Christ was that he was to immediately deliver Israel from their hostile neighbors, once and for all, through a violent and bloody war waged on their behalf.  When Jesus came on the scene, he found himself among a people who were ready for a fight - ready to be fought for.  How greatly ironic then for Jesus to bring a message of peace - a message that Israel was in fact called to love her enemies, turn the other cheek, and lay down her life.  And if his words weren't enough to cause a stir, Jesus then practices what he preaches and gives his life on a cross, blowing every expectation of how the Messiah would do things.  He rebukes Peter for using violence to fight against the cup of His Father (as he cuts off the guard's ear in the garden) and warns him of the dangers of living by the sword.  Rather than kill, Jesus lets himself be killed.  

There's something powerful in the contrast between violence and meekness.  Something about taking the bullet if it's the only way to avoid fighting sin with sin.  Something about the backward ways of Kingdom-living that aren't always successful, but are always faithful.

I think the desire for violence is something that wears many masks in our day, and because it has so many sophisticated disguises (including church language), it goes unnoticed and unacknowledged more often than not.  I wonder if my desires for things like "divine justice" and "righteous judgement" also have cravings for good old fashioned violence mixed in.

There are no easy answers with this subject, but I think that a lot of us could use a bit of a reminder that the peacemakers are indeed blessed, and that self-sacrificing meekness is still the way of the cross.   

The Joys of Autumn

It has been pointed out to me that I get way more excited about seasonal activities than the average joe. Take the Fourth of July, for instance. It was raining this year, and some of my friends were ready to break out George Foreman's Lean Mean Fat-Reducing Grilling Machine and call it a night. No, sir. Not on my watch. I insisted that my burger be treated right: prepared atop a traditional charcoal flame - outside - with a Sousa march playing in the background. So, met with chuckles and rolling eyes from my companions, I took my burger, braved the thunderstorm, and grilled the stars and stripes out of the thing. I was wet at the end, but my burger tasted like America.

That being said, my favorite season (by far) is autumn. When I woke up this morning and felt cold wind flirting with me through my window, I was more than a little pleased. It was perfect weather all day long, actually. I took a very long walk this afternoon (in a sweater!), and it struck me just how many memories something like the crisp air can trigger in me.

Images of middle school youth retreats came flooding back - the nights at Camp America where so many of us were introduced to Jesus of Nazareth and found out what loving Him looked like. I thought of cold mornings when Ben would pick me up at 5AM, a Caedmon's Call record playing in his car, to go and pray around the High School. Then there were the fall evenings of golden leaves and a game of disc golf with Ryan (I was never good at the game, but of course that's never why I went). Late-in-the-season cookouts at the Maglich house and impromptu bonfires at Hueston Woods rank high on my list as well. With the arrival of autumn it was also pretty much a given that we would block off at least one long weekend and escape down to Red River Gorge. There's nothing better than waking up in a tent to frozen toes and frosty breath with five or ten of your closest friends.

I could go on, as I haven't even mentioned corn mazes, pumpkin patches, hay-rides, or steaming hot apple cider yet, but I'll spare you. Suffice it to say that I am gearing up for some seasonal bliss in the very near future.

Erosion

I don't know that there has ever been a time in my life when I've felt less like a Christian.  And I don't say that because I'm suddenly in the scandalous habit of hanging out in bars, fishing for a one night stand.  I'm not.  As a matter of fact, I'm at home spending quality time with some oreos and a glass of milk.  

What I mean is, I've never felt so detached from the values and the practices of biblical Christianity.  Maybe it's just this transitional stage of life I'm in, getting on my feet (or trying to, as the case may be...) and encountering for the first time what "grown-up life" is all about.  Unfortunately, most of it's about rent and insurance and groceries and cars and working overtime.  By its very nature, my life has gotten much more "worldly" in the past six months, and I'm feeling the effects.  There are those who would tell me that God is still very present in my workplace and that I just need to look for Him in new ways.  And they're right.  I know that a "regular job" can be a great ministry.  I know that God is still present in this season.

But there's still something about it all that feels a lot like erosion; like the gradual chipping away of the Kingdom in my heart.  

I was venting some of this to a dear friend of mine a few weeks back, and he pointed me to the passage in Mark where Jesus tells the parable of the sower and the seed.  I can really see myself in the soil that had the thorns growing in it.  The worries of the world, the deceitfulness of riches, and the desires for other things are all knocking on my door daily, and I've been staring back at them through the peephole.

Jesus warned us that life has a way of choking the word and making it unfruitful.  I don't want to be a disappointed, burnt-out "twenty-something."  I don't want my heart to be a casualty.  I want to feel like I'm the good soil again.

One thing's for sure:  I have a lot more compassion for the people I used to look down on.  I can remember many years ago my friends and I getting fed up with the "older generation" in my home church because it seemed like they just didn't have the energy or desire to pursue the "Deep Things of God" with us passionate younger folks in the youth group.  They were so passive... so worldly.  We were pretty arrogant at times.  

And now I find myself on the other side of the equation.  Now I'm the hard working simpleton who struggles to read his Bible every week.  God's a good shepherd for letting me see both sides (and hopefully taking the good from both perspectives).  

He is patient and He is kind.  This season will pass in time, and I know that I'll continue learning what it really looks like to live a Godly life.     

Direction and Trust

I wonder if I'll know when to take the next step. Will the curtain drop down and cleanly separate act two from act three? Will there be definition as my life continues?

My tendency thus far has been to take the words of the Lord and put them on like handcuffs. In the name of "faithfulness," I cling onto to yesterday's yoke and last year's inspirations. I stay up late and wonder if I'm still bound to the words that were spoken to me years ago.

I know that God leaves me room to change, but there's still something in me that hesitates to move on after I feel that a certain amount of direction has been provided.

Is something as fickle as my heart really a sufficient compass down this road?

I wonder if, when the time comes and the season does change, I will feel a sense of closure or if I will simply have to make a decision and move on. I suspect the latter.

I heard a story once about a man who came to Mother Teresa and asked for prayer. When she asked him for his request, the man replied that he needed clarity. She looked at him sternly and informed the man that she was unwilling to pray for clarity in his life. Flustered and confused, the man explained that he had come to her because she always seemed to have a sense of direction and clarity concerning her own life and her surroundings. Laughing, she corrected the man and stated that she had never once experienced clarity in her life - but that she had always possessed trust.

In the end, being able to trust is infinitely more valuable than having a moment of clarity.