Andy loves watching Veggie Tales. And, well, who am I kidding: so do Joe and I. We love the music and the humor, and love that solid messages are conveyed through the stories that they share. I try very hard to not have much t.v. on during the day--an occasional episode of "Play With Me, Sesame" or Veggie Tales, and that's it. And, as a result, I have discovered that Andy's imagination is running wild in a beautiful way. He's remarkably verbal, loves to engage in hands-on activities, and has developed a sense of wonder and joy that t.v. can never offer. (Ok, to be fair and honest, we also went through a ridiculously long phase when Andy wanted to watch the training scenes from Rocky 2 and Rocky Balboa [the 6th one], but that was because he loved the music so much, and he never actually stuck around to watch, as he was too busy running and attempting one-armed push-ups. Still I'm glad we've moved on from that. And we have a cd with the Rocky soundtrack in the car, just in case the need arises within him again).
Annnnnyway, one of our favorite Veggie Tales songs (and, actually, I don't think we've actually seen the accompanying show--I think we've just heard this song several times on one of our cds), is called "God is Bigger", and its premise is that the monsters who we fear are lurking behind every door and in every shadow of our bedroom at night might be scary, but that God is bigger than all of those things, and so, we need not fear. (I tried to find a good youtube version, but it came up surprisingly short, though that may be because this particular song is around 15 years old).
You know, that's the thing about Veggie Tales (not unlike the Muppet Show, I suppose): it is marketed as a child's show, and is intended for very young viewers, but the messages come through in a way that speaks loudly and clearly--perhaps, even, most loudly and clearly, to adults. Perhaps that's because we, as cynical, 'realistic', overly intellectualized (in some cases) adults need to hear these messages most strongly. As a child, if what I feared was the boogeyman, then the emotion of that fear was very real and deep-seeded. But, it was incredibly easy for me to grasp the concept that God Is Bigger. And, if Mom or Dad told me that that's true, because I hung on to their every word and trusted them unswervingly at that stage, then, darnit, it was True.
But today, I sit back and sometimes find myself really struggling with that concept. It was easy for me to reconcile that God was bigger than the boogeyman, but it's much, much harder to believe that God is bigger than cancer or global malnutrition or endless war and protesting or the countless acts of hate that occur everywhere, all the time. The world in which we live is truly depressing when we sit back and look at it. And if you read my previous post, you know that I whole-heartedly believe that we're stuck in the same cyclical rut that the folks who found manna with Moses and Aaron were in.
But here's the thing: FAITH.
It's the giant, can't-wrap-your-head-around-it burdens, such as I've listed above, that demand our faithfulness. It's easy (or, at least, easier) to believe that God is bigger than little things. It is much harder to grasp the concept that God is bigger than the biggest things.
It's hard to believe for at least a few reasons (I'm sure I'll leave some out) (And, by the way, I'm just going to use cancer here because it's the Giant Annoying Thing in my life right now and it's the thing with which I'm struggling most at this point...and it's my blog :) though, I also want to make VERY clear that I don't currently struggle with all of the challenges-to-faith that I'm going to attempt to unpack a bit in the sentences that follow. That doesn't make them less true, though.):
If God is bigger than cancer, then why does cancer still exist? Does God like cancer? Does God not love me? Why does God let bad things happen to good people? What good can possibly come from this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad disease?
Yeah...these questions are toughies, to say the least. Here is how I reconcile all of these questions with a staunch belief that God is not only bigger than cancer, but also that He loves us abundantly and unswervingly:
1. Cancer still exists because, sometimes, there's just poop in the world. Sometimes we make choices that contribute to our disposition for cancer. Sometimes it just happens. Our physical bodies were never guaranteed to last forever, and, to be perfectly blunt, while I think cancer absolutely sucks and I hate it, if cancer isn't responsible for taking the life of people that I know and love, then something else will. We all die. It's a terribly sad time when we lose someone that we love. And so, honestly, it pisses us off when cancer or some other stupid lurking thing gets in the way of our ability to experience "normalcy" in our lives because the very existence of cancer cells is abnormal. And the crap that cancer patients and their families must go through is abnormal. And the loss of someone who has, in whatever capacity, been a part of our lives, due to cancer, is abnormal and so, so sad. But, I'm discovering more and more that the sadness that I will feel when, for example, my parents die (whether from cancer or not), will be more about ME than about THEM. I will miss them so incredibly much. I love my parents and, while every day of our life hasn't been, the best ever, I am constantly grateful for who they are and for who they've worked so hard to help me to become. Their absence from my life will be difficult, to say the least. The way I understand "normal" includes them--has always included them--in my life. Even at the most challenging, tense and painful moments in my relationship with my parents, at the end of the day, they were still HERE. I really and truly ought to be so joyful when my parents die. I know that their faith in Jesus Christ and, more importantly, not what their faith is in, but what Jesus has done for them because of his love, will mean that my parents will get to hang out in communion with God when they depart from this world. I mean, Scripture (ok, New Testament Scripture) is simply covered in the Truth that our treasure, which we receive through Christ's sacrifice, comes not here and now, but in Heaven. Truly, death is painful for those who still remain alive on this earth, but, for the one who dies, it is beautiful. (As a side note, when I was talking with someone recently about the reality of Dad's current illness, the conversation moved onward toward a talk about death, at which point I noted that, on the day of Dad's death--whenever that might happen to be--God probably won't let anyone else die, as Dad will have a list that's about 5 miles long full of questions that he's been wanting to ask God for years, and, I figure, God knows He's gonna be tied up all day with all of that stuff, and He won't want to keep anyone else waiting.) :)
2. No. God does not 'like' cancer. He hates for his beloved (you know, US) to be in pain. He hates for us to suffer. While the Old Testament gives us plenty of examples to contradict that statement, because images of God's wrath and revenge abound, part of Jesus coming to this earth and dying for us was so that God didn't have to punish us for our sins anymore. But, let me be clear: that doesn't mean there aren't still consequences--whether positive or negative--associated with every choice that we make. I kind of understand this whole thing by thinking about the SAT and the ACT. When I, along with many others, began to think about college options, I knew that one of the factors that would contribute to my acceptance at any institution would be the scores I received for the SAT and ACT, two standardized tests used to measure various aptitudes. While the content of the two tests differed greatly, another significant difference was in the scoring. For the SAT, when you answered correctly, you got a point. When you answered a question INCORRECTLY, you LOST points. For the ACT, as with the vast majority of tests, you earned a point for a correct answer and, for incorrect answers, you didn't RECEIVE points, but you didn't LOSE any, either. You simply just got a 0. For the SAT, you could achieve NEGATIVE points. For the ACT, the worst you could ever do was a ZERO.
How does that relate? Well, Old Testament God is more like the SAT. Not only did we have consequences that were the DIRECT result of our sinful actions. We also had the ADDITIONAL punishments that God rained upon us in response to our sinfulness. However, in Jesus' life, death and resurrection, that second component was eliminated. We're living in the "ACT" time now: we still have consequences, yes, but God no longer imposes additional punishment. Jesus ALREADY PAID that price. Make sense? I hope so.
3. Oh my goodness. God loves you. God loves you, and He loves you in immeasurable ways, and He loves you though you don't deserve it, and though you might not believe it, or Him, and He loves you EXACTLY the way you are AT THIS VERY MOMENT, no matter how broken or confused or failed you may believe yourself to be. God desires a relationship with you BECAUSE He loves you. SO STINKIN' MUCH! I just don't even know how to begin to convey the reality of His love. I feel like I can barely understand it, and have only reached the point of "barely" since having my own child. Let me attempt to convey this sense, though (and I apologize, as the beginning of this is, well, slightly crass):
When I peed on the stick that ultimately revealed a plus sign on it that early January morning in 2008, I loved that child with every fiber of my being. I knew nothing of him at that point, of course, but I loved him, just the same. As he grew within me, I discovered that, so too, did my love--and this continues to be true, despite the fact that I continue to be certain that I couldn't love him any more if I tried. Ah, but how the heart is ever-expanding. When I finally met Andy in the open, I was overwhelmed--in part, because suddenly I had this teeny-tiny little baby who was REALLY relying on me, but I was more overwhelmed by my love for him. I already felt great pain and sorrow, knowing that this child would sin, and that he would feel great pain and loss and fear and worry and agony. And, since then, as Andy grows up right before my eyes, I know that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, there is literally nothing that he could do to make me stop loving him, or to even love him less. I mean it: NOTHING. I wince to think about the day that will come (it's probably inevitable) when Andy is so angry with me that he tells me he hates me. Oh, the pain that that will bring forth. But, let's get back to God: how often do we tell him--either by word or deed (or both!!!)--that we hate Him. Or that He doesn't matter. Or that He can't possibly understand. Or that He's not as important as other stuff?! And yet, in a way that is even larger than the way that I love my son (which, again, is ridiculously hard to conceptualize) God just keeps on loving us. He will wait for us. He will cry for us. He will be available for us. God's love never, ever ends. It doesn't matter what you've done in your life. It doesn't matter how many mistakes you've made. It doesn't matter who you've hurt, or how badly. To God, the reality is this: I LOVE YOU! I love you and I love you and I love you. No matter what. I couldn't love you anymore, and I won't love you any less. I love you.
4. I don't know why, exactly God lets bad things happen to good people. I am not privy to the larger plan that I believe God has. And, this is annoying to me, because I like to be in control and I like to know what's going on and I like to be able to plan accordingly. Also, I think it sucks when great people undergo horrible stuff (and, also, I think it sucks when horrible people seem to get exactly what they desire, often at the cost of the good people). But, here's the thing: if we say that we believe in God, and if we say that we believe that God uses all things together, according to His purpose, and if we say that we think the Scripture's right and true when it says that God knows every aspect of our lives, individually and corporately, then we have to trust NOT that the bad stuff happens for a reason, but that God uses the best AND WORST points in our lives to create us into the BEST that we can be. Without access to God's daily planner, I can't really say much more than that, but that is PRECISELY where faith comes in. Oh, and, by the way, if we DON'T believe that those things are true of God, then we might as well stop wasting our time away with worshiping Him, praying to Him, etc. But, I don't buy that--not for a second--I believe that God is real, and that He is exactly who He claims to be...and more.
And God makes it easy on us. For Him to do unbelievably great, grand and wonderful things, He doesn't require that we have perfect, unerring faith. In Scripture, it says that faith as small as a MUSTARD SEED is sufficient for moving MOUNTAINS. Have you ever seen a mustard seed? I mean, the thing is SO stinkin' SMALL!!! We hardly have to have any faith at all...maybe even just a passing breath of it, and God will use that and work with it. And, sometimes, if we lack faith entirely, God will use the mustard seed-sized faith of someone ELSE to work in and through us and to move those mountains.
Of course, when God moves mountains--and I think that He does...constantly...(perhaps we don't even see some of the mountains in our lives, as He's already dealt with them for us)--but, anyway, when God moves mountains, He may not always move them the way we wish He would. God's answers to our prayers aren't always what we want. But they are always, always what we need. Does it make it easier for us to deal with pain when someone says "oh, but it's what you NEED"? Of course not. You'd lose lots of friends if that was your response to their suffering. Pain is pain. Doubt and worry are very real and not to be taken lightly. But my firm belief is that, as we continue to connect with God, to grow in relationship with Him, and to understand more and more about who He is, and about who He calls us to be, the easier it will be for us to deal with the challenges that we face. Whenever we can arrive at the point in our lives when our will is only and entirely in accord with God's, we will also have arrived at the point where we can trust in God's love and knowledge and power, even in the midst of our pain, and know that, truly, He has our best interests at heart and knows exactly what He's doing.
God is bigger than our most painful pains, our most worrisome worries, our most regrettable regrets, and, lest we forget, He's also bigger than our most praise-worthy achievements, our most joyful joys, and our most loving love. Why would we want anything other than to dwell in that reality? To believe in that Truth? To know God inasmuch as we are able, and to do as He asks us to do, knowing that He is trustworthy and that He loves us beyond all measure?
And I started out thinking this was going to be a short post........
2.27.2011
2.17.2011
In A Nutshell (A very large nutshell).
Ok, so, I know I said that there would be two additional posts to follow my previous two, in order to deal with disagreements in faithful interpretation of Scripture, and perhaps I will still do that in the days to come. However, I have just finished reading the book of Joshua and reading Psalms 78-81, and, in so doing, I was struck by some things that I believe are really important. Basically, this is my whittled down understanding of, well, everything. Indulge me, for a moment (or a few moments, given the typical length of my blog entries), as I take us through on a little journey through the relationship between God and humanity, and speak briefly about what I understand to be the point of it all...
God.
Ok, so, first, we have God (the Father, the one who's depicted with a white flowing beard, YHWH, Jehovah). So, God has always been around--God exists outside of time, outside of space and, of course, outside of the scope of our understanding of such things. In seeking to understand the very nature and being of God, we realize that it's impossible, and all other metaphysical sorts of questions seem simplistic in comparison. But, anyway, God, at whatever point in reality and time, is like, "Hey, I want to put together a planet. I want to create some beings to live there. That seems fun, and they'll be able to serve and worship me, which would be pretty neat. I think I'll make the earth on which they live a viable place for sufficiency. I'll make sure they can eat and drink and rest and all that jazz, and there won't ever be any problems as long as they listen to me." So, God creates our earth. (By the way, whatever you may think in the evolution vs. creation debate, to me, it doesn't matter--they don't have to be mutually exclusive entities in my mind. As I've said in other blogs, it drives me nuts that, so often, we think that "science" and "faith" can't co-exist, let alone correlate.)
So, Earth is here, and God's like, "That's awesome. I'm really pleased with the results. I especially love the humans I made--I'm going to go ahead and just let them take care of the land and the animals and plants on the Earth. I created them with the capacity to do so and, of course, I'll be here for them whenever they need me. They've gotta love and serve me, since I made them...right?! Who else would they trust??"
Annnnnnd then, there's that whole sin thing. That whole business of eating the fruit of the tree--the one stinkin' tree that we weren't supposed to touch--and life was a mess for the rest of us. It's the first example of God saying, "Hey, all you have to do is listen to me, and life will be great" and us saying, "Yeaaaaah, I'm gonna go with a 'no' on that one." We tend to judge Adam and Eve, but are we really any different?
Ok, so, God is frustrated because He's only created two people, and already, these two people have found a way to mess up. He realizes that, perhaps, we're not so capable of tending to the things that He's given us, but He hasn't given up on us yet. Adam and Eve are banished from the Garden of Eden, but are allowed to continue living. They do have consequences for their disobedience, of course, but God continues to be present and available to them.
And repeat.
See, over and over and over again, the Old Testament has stories of God saying, "Hey guys!!! I'm here!!!! LISTEN--that's ALL you have to do is LISTEN to me!!!" And people saying, "Um...I'm pretty sure I've got this one, God" or "I'm pretty sure that my statue of Baal has got this" or whatever, and refusing to listen and obey. So then God's like, "Well...ok, if these people don't want to listen to me, then they must face the consequences. Maybe that will help them understand!!!" And then something unpleasant happens--you know--war, famine, plagues, etc. And then, God's people are like, "Oh...yeah...hey God. Sooo, what's up with all the crap we're going through right now? Can you make it stop? We promise we'll be good and faithful. We promise we'll tell everyone about how awesome you are and about how you saved us and, you know, all the other stuff that we totally know is true." And God says, "Well, ok. I mean, I'm glad you're at least coming back to talk to me. And I love you dearly (which, ahem, is why I wanted you to obey me in the first place...don't you know I have a much better understanding of everything than all of you combined ever could?!), so sure, I'll save you from all this stuff. Trust me, I didn't like having to do it in the first place, but your disobedience warranted it. How else would you learn?!" And the people respond with, "Hooray! God you're great! Let's write a psalm and sing and dance and feast!" Five minutes later, "Man, life is awesome. I'm so glad we managed to do all of this!!!" (God in the background: "Wait...did I just hear that right? Are they taking credit for all of the good things they have?? Seriously, guys? Didn't we just go over this? And you're already disobeying me? AGAIN? Oy vey!!!) (Yes, apparently God speaks Yiddish in this retelling).
Fast forward for a little while.
God is really, really sick and tired of being ignored, betrayed, rejected, disobeyed, forgotten, denied, blamed, cursed, and all of the other things that humanity does at one point or another throughout the Old Testament. So, finally, He's like, "Ok, Jesus, now is the time. It's your turn. Maybe they're not getting it because I have been speaking to them through wind and through burning bushes and through donkeys and through prophets who only sometimes have any credibility with the people who hear their messages. If we just give them a real-life example of how to live--of what obedience looks like--then maybe they'll understand, and follow suit. But, if you just show up as an adult, then you'll have no credibility as a human, since you won't have gone through all of that crazy infant/childhood/adolescent business that comes with being a human. I know this woman--her name's Mary--and, of course, she's not perfect, but she's pretty great. She's a virgin, and I'm thinking that your grand entrance into this world is going to be via her womb. I've sent my angels to talk to her--and to her fiancé, Joseph--so that they know what's going on. Joseph's a little hesitant about the whole
thing, but he'll come around."
So, Jesus is on board with the whole plan, and, thus, we celebrate Christmas. He is born in crazy conditions in Bethlehem, goes through his "terrible twos" (though, without sinning or rebelling...imagine that!), loses his parents in the synagogue as a tween (but has a really good reason), probably feel embarrassed when his voice changes, needs to start shaving (or, would, perhaps, if he had a razor), and then we meet him again at around age 30. (Incidentally, I will be 30 this year. Big shoes to fill.)
Jesus has always known who he is, and has always known that his role on Earth is to demonstrate two things with unshakable consistency: obedience and love. He also knows that the only way that he can really help people understand these concepts is to tell people himself (he's heard about all of these other groups--Pharisees and Sadducees and such--who think they've got everything figured out, but they are way off base). But, no one likes to travel alone, so Jesus goes around and enlists some guys to travel with him. Twelve of them, to be exact. So these 12 guys are like, "Hey, we're not doing anything all that special, and this guy seems to know what's going on. Sure, I'll leave everything else to follow him. I kinda want to see where this goes!" And so, off they go, touring Israel, and attempting to deliver the messages that Jesus knows he's responsible for delivering: obedience and love. He sets an example, even among his own disciples, through his regular prayer time to connect with God, but also demonstrates these two truths: obedience and love--through miracles, through answering the barrage of questions he receives from the many and varied doubters, through the forgiveness of all sorts of people for their sins, through stories and parables and healings. I mean, if you want visual aids, Jesus is your guy. He consistently honors people who demonstrate love and obedience. He hangs out with people who have not received love and obedience from others, to ensure that they know they're just as entitled as everyone else. He is angered by blatant acts of disobedience and hate.
And, finally, God and Jesus have a little chat. They both know it's coming, of course (they've known from the start), but it's not a conversation that either one of them is real eager to have:
"Hey God, it's me. You know--your son--that whole fully human, fully God part of the Trinity."
"Yeah, yeah, Jesus, I know. You're part of me, duh."
"Yeah, so, hey...I was just wondering...you know that stuff that's coming up? That whole death-on-a-cross thing? Yeah...is there any way that I can get out of that? I mean, I'll do it if I have to, but I'm kinda hoping that there's another way out."
"Jesus, trust me...this is incredibly painful for me, too, but it's the only way. I just love everyone else too much--and I know you do, too--but someone has to face the consequences for all of this disobedience. And you're the only one qualified to pay for everyone else's disobedience since you don't have any of your own stuff for which to ask forgiveness."
"Yeah, I thought that's what you'd say. Well, okay. I'll do it. But I'm not going to like it!"
"Neither am I, Jesus...neither am I."
Jesus knows what's going on, and he knows he can't escape. So, he decides to eat dinner with his buddies one last time before he dies. He tries to explain what's going on but the guys just don't get it (and maybe it's better that way). One pal, Peter, is on to something, though, because he's like, "Dude, Jesus...man, I got your back, no matter what." Wincing a bit (and, perhaps, wishing he didn't know quite so much about everything), Jesus says, "Yeah, thanks for the sentiment, Pete, but you're actually going to tell people you don't even know me three times before that crazy rooster we hear every morning makes a sound. You just wait and see."
But, anyway, Jesus and his pals sit down to dinner...it's the same old stuff--bread and wine--and Jesus thinks to himself, "Hey! Maybe if I can associate love and obedience with bread and wine--stuff that these guys eat every single day--then they'll always be reminded that those are the important things to do." So, he breaks the bread and tells them that it's his body, and he drinks, then passes, the cup of wine, and tells them that it's his blood. And he says, "Every time you eat bread and every time you drink wine, think of me." The guys, still clueless, are like, "Ok, whatever you say, man." Eventually, they'll be grateful for this moment.
Then, of course, Judas Iscariot falls into the trap of disobedience in the way of greed and betrayl. He is a little short on cash, so he agrees to hand Jesus over for a little cushion for his bank account. Jesus is captured (and, has already called Judas out for this, by the way), and is taken in for questioning. No one likes his answers, despite the fact that they're true. How, after all, can this man, this Jesus, be the Savior? How can he be the Son of God when so many of the things that he does go against all of the laws and practices that generations of people have been perfecting (or, so they think)? Of course, at this point, God's probably just shaking His head, thinking, "You guys are missing the point. Again. If I weren't God and, therefore, all-knowing, I would've lost count how many times you've almost figured it out, but not really owned Truth and, here he is, Jesus, living this life that shows you what you need to know...and, even still...you think you know better. So. Sad."
Of course, we all know what happens. Jesus undergoes incredible amounts of torture and humiliation and pain and agony (and, according to one account, even tries one last time to see if God can modify The Plan to save Jesus from this stuff). And, in this act, Jesus gives us the undeniable, concrete, ultimate demonstration of the two things he's been trying to convey throughout his life: obedience and love. And, on the cross, he dies. He didn't deserve it. He lived a life that, in every sense of the word, was without shame, without hate, without disobedience: Jesus lived a life that was completely without sin. And no one else can claim that. Ever.
God said, "Hey guys. You guys are constantly searching for something. You're constantly trying to make things better. But the things that you seek--the things that you think would make your life better--they're all wrong. I've been here the whole time. Don't you remember? I made you--how could anyone know better than me what is best for you? You want to know love? Instead of requiring that you pay all of consequences for the wrongs that you've done (and you've done a lot of things wrong)--and, well, frankly, the consequence for all of that is death--instead of requiring that you die, Jesus went ahead and did it for you. He wasn't real excited about it--it was actually excruciatingly painful--but that's love. Real love. It is self-sacrificing. Love does what everything else cannot. I want so desperately to be with you, and to share in life with you, that all of your wrongdoings are wiped out. Expunged. Forgotten. I really hope you can understand that."
Three days later, we get another major "Where were you when...?" type of moment. Jesus, who was just witnessed by hundreds at his execution, cannot be found. He's not in his tomb anymore, and no one can account for his body. "Oh, wait...that's him over there!" is the eventual cry of people who, through various means (depending on the account) come to learn that Jesus is alive. God's like, "Yes, I (well, really, YOU) needed Jesus to die to pay the consequences for your inability to love and obey well. But, also, I--and Jesus, who is God, too--am bigger than death. Do you believe us NOW?!"
**Cricket cricket**
Enter the Holy Spirit, Stage Right.
See, after Jesus rose from the dead, there were a whole bunch of people who finally came to believe in the Truths that He lived and that God has been trying to get through the stubborn minds and hearts of people for thousands of years. But, even still, we weren't getting it. And so, when Jesus was ready to leave again, He was like, "Welp, I'm headed back to Heaven now, folks, but I can tell that you need all the help you can get here on Earth. Here's the Holy Spirit--I know, I know, you can't see it, but believe me, it's there. The Holy Spirit is effective because it can live within you. You can access it at any time. You can rely on it to help you do things that, apart from it--apart from me--apart from God, you are incapable of doing. Take advantage of the Holy Spirit, everyone--trust me, you're gonna need it."
And, of course, the stories that follow in Scripture give plenty of evidence that we repeat all of the very same things that we had up to that point. We disobey. We hate. We get so caught up in the rules and regulations that we forget that, when God gave them to us, they were intended as means to an end, rather than an end in itself. Those rules (if we choose to see them as such) are really just more specific examples of What Not To Do when what we seek is to be loving and obedient.
Fast forward, again, to today.
Not unlike many teenagers think when their parents try to advise them, there is a tendency to think "Oh, the Bible doesn't apply to us. We're going through totally different things than they did. It can't possibly relate. If we were to talk to, say, Moses or Paul, they just wouldn't understand. We have so many different things in our culture today."
Wrong.
If it isn't evident by this point in this (told-you-it-would-be) lengthy blog, the problem is that we continue to do exactly what everyone else did before us. We disobey. We refuse to love. Sure, that manifests itself in different ways, but I am neither more nor less innocent than you if the underlying realities of disobedience and hate are even a small part of my life (and, of course, though I wish they weren't, they are).
But, lest you be disheartened, scroll back up to the part where Jesus dies. That counted for me and you too, you know.
And, perhaps the part where we disobey and hate the most is in this: we forget--or refuse to believe--or ignore--that God's love is for everyone. Jesus died for everyone. He didn't just die for people who believed in Him. He didn't just die for people who were getting things right. On the contrary, the whole purpose behind his death--the demonstration of his love and obedience--was wholly and completely to die for people who were getting everything wrong.
The wrongest people to ever exist are still covered by Jesus' death.
My last two posts ask--and seek to answer--questions about how we can attempt to appropriately respond to this reality, once we can finally understand--if even on a limited basis--its magnitude. And, I stand by the things that I said (at least, until someone can help me understand things even more clearly). But, in the end, it all boils down to this--the message that God has been trying to convey in every way possible throughout the existence of humanity--OBEY GOD. LOVE GOD.
We can't change anyone else. Even Jesus, the perfect example of love and obedience, didn't change everyone during his time on Earth. But we can ask for the Holy Spirit to dwell within us, in an effort to change ourselves. Love and obedience. That, my friends, is the point.
God.
Ok, so, first, we have God (the Father, the one who's depicted with a white flowing beard, YHWH, Jehovah). So, God has always been around--God exists outside of time, outside of space and, of course, outside of the scope of our understanding of such things. In seeking to understand the very nature and being of God, we realize that it's impossible, and all other metaphysical sorts of questions seem simplistic in comparison. But, anyway, God, at whatever point in reality and time, is like, "Hey, I want to put together a planet. I want to create some beings to live there. That seems fun, and they'll be able to serve and worship me, which would be pretty neat. I think I'll make the earth on which they live a viable place for sufficiency. I'll make sure they can eat and drink and rest and all that jazz, and there won't ever be any problems as long as they listen to me." So, God creates our earth. (By the way, whatever you may think in the evolution vs. creation debate, to me, it doesn't matter--they don't have to be mutually exclusive entities in my mind. As I've said in other blogs, it drives me nuts that, so often, we think that "science" and "faith" can't co-exist, let alone correlate.)
So, Earth is here, and God's like, "That's awesome. I'm really pleased with the results. I especially love the humans I made--I'm going to go ahead and just let them take care of the land and the animals and plants on the Earth. I created them with the capacity to do so and, of course, I'll be here for them whenever they need me. They've gotta love and serve me, since I made them...right?! Who else would they trust??"
Annnnnnd then, there's that whole sin thing. That whole business of eating the fruit of the tree--the one stinkin' tree that we weren't supposed to touch--and life was a mess for the rest of us. It's the first example of God saying, "Hey, all you have to do is listen to me, and life will be great" and us saying, "Yeaaaaah, I'm gonna go with a 'no' on that one." We tend to judge Adam and Eve, but are we really any different?
Ok, so, God is frustrated because He's only created two people, and already, these two people have found a way to mess up. He realizes that, perhaps, we're not so capable of tending to the things that He's given us, but He hasn't given up on us yet. Adam and Eve are banished from the Garden of Eden, but are allowed to continue living. They do have consequences for their disobedience, of course, but God continues to be present and available to them.
And repeat.
See, over and over and over again, the Old Testament has stories of God saying, "Hey guys!!! I'm here!!!! LISTEN--that's ALL you have to do is LISTEN to me!!!" And people saying, "Um...I'm pretty sure I've got this one, God" or "I'm pretty sure that my statue of Baal has got this" or whatever, and refusing to listen and obey. So then God's like, "Well...ok, if these people don't want to listen to me, then they must face the consequences. Maybe that will help them understand!!!" And then something unpleasant happens--you know--war, famine, plagues, etc. And then, God's people are like, "Oh...yeah...hey God. Sooo, what's up with all the crap we're going through right now? Can you make it stop? We promise we'll be good and faithful. We promise we'll tell everyone about how awesome you are and about how you saved us and, you know, all the other stuff that we totally know is true." And God says, "Well, ok. I mean, I'm glad you're at least coming back to talk to me. And I love you dearly (which, ahem, is why I wanted you to obey me in the first place...don't you know I have a much better understanding of everything than all of you combined ever could?!), so sure, I'll save you from all this stuff. Trust me, I didn't like having to do it in the first place, but your disobedience warranted it. How else would you learn?!" And the people respond with, "Hooray! God you're great! Let's write a psalm and sing and dance and feast!" Five minutes later, "Man, life is awesome. I'm so glad we managed to do all of this!!!" (God in the background: "Wait...did I just hear that right? Are they taking credit for all of the good things they have?? Seriously, guys? Didn't we just go over this? And you're already disobeying me? AGAIN? Oy vey!!!) (Yes, apparently God speaks Yiddish in this retelling).
Fast forward for a little while.
God is really, really sick and tired of being ignored, betrayed, rejected, disobeyed, forgotten, denied, blamed, cursed, and all of the other things that humanity does at one point or another throughout the Old Testament. So, finally, He's like, "Ok, Jesus, now is the time. It's your turn. Maybe they're not getting it because I have been speaking to them through wind and through burning bushes and through donkeys and through prophets who only sometimes have any credibility with the people who hear their messages. If we just give them a real-life example of how to live--of what obedience looks like--then maybe they'll understand, and follow suit. But, if you just show up as an adult, then you'll have no credibility as a human, since you won't have gone through all of that crazy infant/childhood/adolescent business that comes with being a human. I know this woman--her name's Mary--and, of course, she's not perfect, but she's pretty great. She's a virgin, and I'm thinking that your grand entrance into this world is going to be via her womb. I've sent my angels to talk to her--and to her fiancé, Joseph--so that they know what's going on. Joseph's a little hesitant about the whole
thing, but he'll come around."
So, Jesus is on board with the whole plan, and, thus, we celebrate Christmas. He is born in crazy conditions in Bethlehem, goes through his "terrible twos" (though, without sinning or rebelling...imagine that!), loses his parents in the synagogue as a tween (but has a really good reason), probably feel embarrassed when his voice changes, needs to start shaving (or, would, perhaps, if he had a razor), and then we meet him again at around age 30. (Incidentally, I will be 30 this year. Big shoes to fill.)
Jesus has always known who he is, and has always known that his role on Earth is to demonstrate two things with unshakable consistency: obedience and love. He also knows that the only way that he can really help people understand these concepts is to tell people himself (he's heard about all of these other groups--Pharisees and Sadducees and such--who think they've got everything figured out, but they are way off base). But, no one likes to travel alone, so Jesus goes around and enlists some guys to travel with him. Twelve of them, to be exact. So these 12 guys are like, "Hey, we're not doing anything all that special, and this guy seems to know what's going on. Sure, I'll leave everything else to follow him. I kinda want to see where this goes!" And so, off they go, touring Israel, and attempting to deliver the messages that Jesus knows he's responsible for delivering: obedience and love. He sets an example, even among his own disciples, through his regular prayer time to connect with God, but also demonstrates these two truths: obedience and love--through miracles, through answering the barrage of questions he receives from the many and varied doubters, through the forgiveness of all sorts of people for their sins, through stories and parables and healings. I mean, if you want visual aids, Jesus is your guy. He consistently honors people who demonstrate love and obedience. He hangs out with people who have not received love and obedience from others, to ensure that they know they're just as entitled as everyone else. He is angered by blatant acts of disobedience and hate.
And, finally, God and Jesus have a little chat. They both know it's coming, of course (they've known from the start), but it's not a conversation that either one of them is real eager to have:
"Hey God, it's me. You know--your son--that whole fully human, fully God part of the Trinity."
"Yeah, yeah, Jesus, I know. You're part of me, duh."
"Yeah, so, hey...I was just wondering...you know that stuff that's coming up? That whole death-on-a-cross thing? Yeah...is there any way that I can get out of that? I mean, I'll do it if I have to, but I'm kinda hoping that there's another way out."
"Jesus, trust me...this is incredibly painful for me, too, but it's the only way. I just love everyone else too much--and I know you do, too--but someone has to face the consequences for all of this disobedience. And you're the only one qualified to pay for everyone else's disobedience since you don't have any of your own stuff for which to ask forgiveness."
"Yeah, I thought that's what you'd say. Well, okay. I'll do it. But I'm not going to like it!"
"Neither am I, Jesus...neither am I."
Jesus knows what's going on, and he knows he can't escape. So, he decides to eat dinner with his buddies one last time before he dies. He tries to explain what's going on but the guys just don't get it (and maybe it's better that way). One pal, Peter, is on to something, though, because he's like, "Dude, Jesus...man, I got your back, no matter what." Wincing a bit (and, perhaps, wishing he didn't know quite so much about everything), Jesus says, "Yeah, thanks for the sentiment, Pete, but you're actually going to tell people you don't even know me three times before that crazy rooster we hear every morning makes a sound. You just wait and see."
But, anyway, Jesus and his pals sit down to dinner...it's the same old stuff--bread and wine--and Jesus thinks to himself, "Hey! Maybe if I can associate love and obedience with bread and wine--stuff that these guys eat every single day--then they'll always be reminded that those are the important things to do." So, he breaks the bread and tells them that it's his body, and he drinks, then passes, the cup of wine, and tells them that it's his blood. And he says, "Every time you eat bread and every time you drink wine, think of me." The guys, still clueless, are like, "Ok, whatever you say, man." Eventually, they'll be grateful for this moment.
Then, of course, Judas Iscariot falls into the trap of disobedience in the way of greed and betrayl. He is a little short on cash, so he agrees to hand Jesus over for a little cushion for his bank account. Jesus is captured (and, has already called Judas out for this, by the way), and is taken in for questioning. No one likes his answers, despite the fact that they're true. How, after all, can this man, this Jesus, be the Savior? How can he be the Son of God when so many of the things that he does go against all of the laws and practices that generations of people have been perfecting (or, so they think)? Of course, at this point, God's probably just shaking His head, thinking, "You guys are missing the point. Again. If I weren't God and, therefore, all-knowing, I would've lost count how many times you've almost figured it out, but not really owned Truth and, here he is, Jesus, living this life that shows you what you need to know...and, even still...you think you know better. So. Sad."
Of course, we all know what happens. Jesus undergoes incredible amounts of torture and humiliation and pain and agony (and, according to one account, even tries one last time to see if God can modify The Plan to save Jesus from this stuff). And, in this act, Jesus gives us the undeniable, concrete, ultimate demonstration of the two things he's been trying to convey throughout his life: obedience and love. And, on the cross, he dies. He didn't deserve it. He lived a life that, in every sense of the word, was without shame, without hate, without disobedience: Jesus lived a life that was completely without sin. And no one else can claim that. Ever.
God said, "Hey guys. You guys are constantly searching for something. You're constantly trying to make things better. But the things that you seek--the things that you think would make your life better--they're all wrong. I've been here the whole time. Don't you remember? I made you--how could anyone know better than me what is best for you? You want to know love? Instead of requiring that you pay all of consequences for the wrongs that you've done (and you've done a lot of things wrong)--and, well, frankly, the consequence for all of that is death--instead of requiring that you die, Jesus went ahead and did it for you. He wasn't real excited about it--it was actually excruciatingly painful--but that's love. Real love. It is self-sacrificing. Love does what everything else cannot. I want so desperately to be with you, and to share in life with you, that all of your wrongdoings are wiped out. Expunged. Forgotten. I really hope you can understand that."
Three days later, we get another major "Where were you when...?" type of moment. Jesus, who was just witnessed by hundreds at his execution, cannot be found. He's not in his tomb anymore, and no one can account for his body. "Oh, wait...that's him over there!" is the eventual cry of people who, through various means (depending on the account) come to learn that Jesus is alive. God's like, "Yes, I (well, really, YOU) needed Jesus to die to pay the consequences for your inability to love and obey well. But, also, I--and Jesus, who is God, too--am bigger than death. Do you believe us NOW?!"
**Cricket cricket**
Enter the Holy Spirit, Stage Right.
See, after Jesus rose from the dead, there were a whole bunch of people who finally came to believe in the Truths that He lived and that God has been trying to get through the stubborn minds and hearts of people for thousands of years. But, even still, we weren't getting it. And so, when Jesus was ready to leave again, He was like, "Welp, I'm headed back to Heaven now, folks, but I can tell that you need all the help you can get here on Earth. Here's the Holy Spirit--I know, I know, you can't see it, but believe me, it's there. The Holy Spirit is effective because it can live within you. You can access it at any time. You can rely on it to help you do things that, apart from it--apart from me--apart from God, you are incapable of doing. Take advantage of the Holy Spirit, everyone--trust me, you're gonna need it."
And, of course, the stories that follow in Scripture give plenty of evidence that we repeat all of the very same things that we had up to that point. We disobey. We hate. We get so caught up in the rules and regulations that we forget that, when God gave them to us, they were intended as means to an end, rather than an end in itself. Those rules (if we choose to see them as such) are really just more specific examples of What Not To Do when what we seek is to be loving and obedient.
Fast forward, again, to today.
Not unlike many teenagers think when their parents try to advise them, there is a tendency to think "Oh, the Bible doesn't apply to us. We're going through totally different things than they did. It can't possibly relate. If we were to talk to, say, Moses or Paul, they just wouldn't understand. We have so many different things in our culture today."
Wrong.
If it isn't evident by this point in this (told-you-it-would-be) lengthy blog, the problem is that we continue to do exactly what everyone else did before us. We disobey. We refuse to love. Sure, that manifests itself in different ways, but I am neither more nor less innocent than you if the underlying realities of disobedience and hate are even a small part of my life (and, of course, though I wish they weren't, they are).
But, lest you be disheartened, scroll back up to the part where Jesus dies. That counted for me and you too, you know.
And, perhaps the part where we disobey and hate the most is in this: we forget--or refuse to believe--or ignore--that God's love is for everyone. Jesus died for everyone. He didn't just die for people who believed in Him. He didn't just die for people who were getting things right. On the contrary, the whole purpose behind his death--the demonstration of his love and obedience--was wholly and completely to die for people who were getting everything wrong.
The wrongest people to ever exist are still covered by Jesus' death.
My last two posts ask--and seek to answer--questions about how we can attempt to appropriately respond to this reality, once we can finally understand--if even on a limited basis--its magnitude. And, I stand by the things that I said (at least, until someone can help me understand things even more clearly). But, in the end, it all boils down to this--the message that God has been trying to convey in every way possible throughout the existence of humanity--OBEY GOD. LOVE GOD.
We can't change anyone else. Even Jesus, the perfect example of love and obedience, didn't change everyone during his time on Earth. But we can ask for the Holy Spirit to dwell within us, in an effort to change ourselves. Love and obedience. That, my friends, is the point.
2.10.2011
How the heck do we do that?
Ok, so, I realize that my last post made an assertion that we need to be people for whom their identity in Christ is so evident that hypocrisy literally cannot be attributed to us.
I also realize that we are completely incapable of achieving this on a perpetual basis and, as I said in that post, if we were perfect, we wouldn't have needed Jesus, anyway.
I still don't think I'm wrong that we ought to set our sights on that goal, no matter how lofty it may seem.
But, as with many things ("I'm going to write seven bestsellers this year!"), it's a lot easier said than done. I'm certainly not there yet (so, yes, feel free to label me a hypocrite--it's true, though I wish it weren't), but there are some things that I have found help me to understand a bit more of what living this way might be about:
1. Give sacrificially: I want to start by saying that I am incredibly grateful to my parents, who, from a very young age, taught me that giving is a really important part of faith. You can, of course, read Scriptures to support that, but I would say that most people, regardless of faith, believe that generosity is a positive trait, and something toward which we ought to strive. It wasn't until Joe and I got married, though, that I've really started to get a grasp on sacrificial giving (and, also, it was at this point that I was first really held accountable for living into the financial commitments I made to the church, in particular).
There's this whole tithing business to which we're called. It is not suggested, it is commanded that we give back a portion (10%) of what we have--and that it be the "first fruits." In other words, we give back to God first, and then we have the other money to do what we will (though, the hope would be that we're honoring God with how we spend both the first and last dollar). There are lots of ways to understand tithing: is it based on net or gross income? Is it just money to your home church, or do other faith-based entities to whom you give "count" when you seek to account for your 10%? Is 10% enough, or is just the baseline for what we should give?
Joe and I have spent a lot of time talking and praying about this, and we've tried to ask for help from others whose giving practices we perceive to be faithful, and here's what we have determined:
A. We give based on our gross earnings, not our net. So, when all is said and done, we end up giving about 16.5% of what comes into our bank account, though it's only about 11% of our gross income.
B. We give 10% to our local church's general fund first. Then, we have a few other organizations to whom we commit money, with the goal that, each year, we'll be able to increase not only the amount (based on raises, etc.) that we give, but also the percentage that we give.
C. We try to give until it hurts, because that's how we understand "sacrificial": if it's easy, then it's not sacrificial. We understand that, for different people, this means different things--though we do think that working toward a goal of giving 10% is an important one, recognizing that it can be hard to go from 0-10% quickly. We do this financially (sometimes, it seems really tempting to spend the money that we designated as "giving" money on other things: refinishing the bathroom, taking a vacation, or whatever). But, we also try to give in other ways. We try to donate our time to various local mission (and, less frequently, though equally important, to domestic and international missions). We commit to donating our (overabundant) possessions, and assemble several bags of "stuff" that someone else could really use, over the course of a year. This year, our plan is to survey everything we have once a month and, each month, fill at least one bag with things to be donated. Yes, some of the things that we give away are things that we no longer like/don't fit well/whatever, but even in this area, we've found that there's a way to be sacrificial. For example, there might be a new, tags-on shirt that I could easily sell in a consignment shop or on-line or whatever, but I just donate it. In short (well...no, not really short), we try to find ways to be giving in every area of life.
2. Scripture: Yes, we need to read the Bible, and should do so frequently. But, we should also work toward wanting to read the Bible. And I know that there are some parts that come across as rather dry (have you seen all that Levitical law?!), or really frustrating, or just plain hard to understand, but it's also true that the Bible comes alive more and more when we read it more and more. Also, Jesus is called "The Living Word", so it stands to reason that, to understand Jesus as living Word, we ought to understand Scripture, the written Word.
But, more than reading, we need to absorb Scripture. Let it really sink in. Read footnotes, refer to the related texts that are mentioned in the margins, ask questions, underline the verses (or, if you're like some of my friends who are very anti-writing in books, write on a post-it note that you keep with the passage in question). A lot of times, I find that I need to read less Scripture quantitatively so that I can get more out of it qualitatively. And, it seems like I can read a passage 300 times and still find something new each time, especially depending on where I happen to be in life at a given moment. And, though it can be a slow process, we really ought to read the Bible in its entirety, and even read some history books, geology books, maps, etc., to help us understand the context of the things that we read. I believe that this helps us to more responsibly comprehend how to apply the things that we read. Plus, that stuff is pretty darn fascinating.
And, if we absorb the Scripture, then we would be foolish to not apply it. This, however, is where things get tricky, because no one can seem to agree on a lot of what Scripture means by what it says--how do we understand "love"? How do we understand the tensions that can exist between "love" and "justice", "compassion" and "accountability", etc.? I want to set this conversation aside, for the most part, for 2 future blogs: one that deals with this question in a larger sense (Paul and his buddies deal with this extensively), and also, I want to look, specifically, at the incredibly sensitive issues relating to interpersonal relationships (both hetero- and homosexual), gender identity and even the question of marriage (and, yes, I realize that, in so doing, I might say things with which you disagree vehemently, and I welcome the opportunity for conversation...I think it's my responsibility to grow in understanding, which often comes as a significant byproduct of disagreements, when dealt with grace, trust and openness). But, coming back to the beginning of the paragraph, we need to apply what we read...for the things that are easy to understand, we have little excuse, frankly. It's clear that we're not supposed to lie, steal, boast, be unfaithful, etc. And, for the things that we don't understand, as I've mentioned, it's up to us to actively seek out understanding.
3. Do something--anything--above and beyond for someone else every day (and don't always have the recipient be the same person). I don't know what a regular day looks like in your life, but I also don't think that it matters much. Choosing to do just one thing that's just a bit special each day is a really great thing, I've found (though, being honest, I haven't actually done it every day...I'm getting better, though). Now, to be clear, I know that sometimes we can do things for others without realizing it, but what's important here, I think, is the intentionality behind the sentiment. And, no, my regular day-to-day care of Andy doesn't count here. Having dinner ready for Joe doesn't count, either. But, taking a few minutes to make a cd for someone, or to write a card (or even a Facebook message!), or holding multiple sets of double doors for a stressed out mom trying to control her unwieldy stroller, even though you might be in a rush to get somewhere else, are all things that can make a significant difference in the life of another. Again, the point is not to see how much emotion you can elicit from the other person--it's about our growth in doing intentional acts of kindness. If you're like me, you'll find that it feels really good to not spend so much time focusing on yourself, too. (Though I have only done this a handful of times, it is a really great thing to be able to genuinely give in some way to someone who has hurt/wronged/forgotten you. Doing this does not excuse the wrongs that they have done, but it may help you to deal with--and move on from--the pain by exercising grace and compassion).
4. Do something anonymous for someone else as often as possible. At work, with somewhat refreshing frequency, someone will come through the drive-thru line and pay for the person behind them. And that person will pay it forward by paying for the person behind them, and so on and so on. I have also known people who pay the tolls for someone behind them on the Turnpike. I've even known a few families who, in the midst of significant financial crises, were blessed by the receipt of envelopes jam-packed with money/coupons/etc. It's fun to be on the giving side of things when we get to see the response of the recipient. But, I think that giving anonymously and not waiting around to see how they respond is really valuable, too. We don't need to be praised for what we do. We need to work towards lives of humility, and this is one way that we can figure out what that really means. When we do things with our name connected, we receive direct praise, when we do things anonymously, but observe the positive results that it merits, that can allow us to have an inflated sense of self-pride (not that the things being done in these cases aren't good or important or valuable--they definitely are!!!). When we do things without knowing the result, we are doing things in a way that is genuinely altruistic. Now, I realize that Scripture doesn't spend a ton of time talking about the things that Jesus did before he was recognized by the crowds with whom he interacted, but I also realize that we're probably not so privy to the things that Jesus may have none anonymously because, well, they were anonymous. How would the Gospel writers know about them?!
5. Pray. I have finally gotten to the point where I can just talk to God like we're just buddies, catching up (except I have to apologize more to God than to do to most of the others in my life). I was stuck for a long time, both because I thought that my prayers needed to sound somewhat eloquent, and also because it is hard to be honest in prayer, because I'm so stinkin' imperfect. But, as I continue to sit more and more comfortably in the reality that God already knows all of that stuff, and that he both loves and forgives me, and that being dishonest in one prayer only means there's something else for which I need to ask forgiveness is the next prayer, I become better and better at this kind of interaction (and I find that I am able to gain more and more from it, as God responds to us as we are, and so, if "who I am" is someone who is honest about my sin, then God will respond accordingly, while, if "who I am" is someone who chooses to ignore/avoid my sins, then there's much less to work with. Granted, I firmly believe that God can--and will--do anything with anyone, but I still think that my ability to respond is directly related to my openness. Plus, sometimes, I just really want to vent, and no one else wants to hear about it, or, I don't want anyone else to hear about it. God's really great in those moments, too.
6. Talk about your faith. And not just with people who you think identify closely with your beliefs (though that's important, too). This doesn't have to all be lumped under the scary term of "evangelism", as it tends to be understood these days, either. I feel like so many people think that evangelism is all about handing out tracts, overwhelming total strangers with stories about your life that have no context and, expecting said strangers to think that they should believe what you do because you have interesting stories (that may or may not be anything like what they, themselves, have experienced). Now, let me be clear: I do think that there's a real need for people who can actively engage in conversation with people--even strangers--and who can talk about faith. But, I also think that, sometimes (often?), we miss the point: it's a conversation and that means that the "evangelizer" ought not dominate (I can't imagine that this is very effective, anyway). Plus, it's important to remember that anyone can be convinced of anything. If I can convince you that one thing is true, then the next person to come by can just as easily un-convince you. It's not up to us to change the minds, or hearts of the people with whom we interact. But, it seems to me that, if we say that our identity is in Jesus Christ, then that reality ought to be a part of our conversations--it's certainly a part of the context in which we talk about other things, and, thus, it's helpful and important to talk about it. I have had the great joy of being able to have this sort of conversation on many occasions at work. I really value the atmosphere that exists at my store, as there's an attitude of acceptance and compassion and even of genuine interest in the varying perspectives that the employees hold (and, trust me, they are widely varied). This is a huge gift.
7. Doubt. Ask questions. Repeat. I think we're all foolish plenty of times in our lives, and that this especially manifests itself when we pretend to know everything about our faith--and the faith of others. This attitude is responsible for lots and lots of pain, violence, anger, war, etc. I mentioned above that it's important to continuously grow in our understanding, and that sometimes that can be fostered through the disagreements that we have with others. The other thing that I adamantly hold to be true (which seems ironic) is that doubt is the other part of our faith that helps us to grow. Faith, of course, is defined by the very fact that we can't witness the reality of the thing in its fullness, but that we believe it to be entirely true, anyway. But, our faith in the things that we can't see can be strengthened exponentially by seeking to understand the things that we can see. The very premise of God is too large for us to grasp, but we are more capable of understanding God's magnitude by understanding elements of who God claims to be (which is part of what I think God was thinking in giving us Jesus Christ, by the way). But, doubt is critical to this, as it is to the study of anything. Doubt is the basis for science, after all (which is why I have an incredibly hard time understanding why there's so much tension between science and faith--in my experience, they seem to feed off of each other, not be mutually exclusive bases for one's perspective). If we just believe something to be true, we don't necessarily feel the need to pursue it further. If, on the other had, we find that doubt some--or all--of something, then we will study, measure, sort and question until we can arrive at a reasonable conclusion. Of course, if we all use differing evidence to support our conclusions, then it holds that we will invariably disagree, but, to me, that just means that more studying, measuring, sorting and questioning is in order!
With that being said, I think I'll end this ridiculously lengthy posting here, as it seems that these notions of doubt and study will segue will into the two future postings that I have promised...
I also realize that we are completely incapable of achieving this on a perpetual basis and, as I said in that post, if we were perfect, we wouldn't have needed Jesus, anyway.
I still don't think I'm wrong that we ought to set our sights on that goal, no matter how lofty it may seem.
But, as with many things ("I'm going to write seven bestsellers this year!"), it's a lot easier said than done. I'm certainly not there yet (so, yes, feel free to label me a hypocrite--it's true, though I wish it weren't), but there are some things that I have found help me to understand a bit more of what living this way might be about:
1. Give sacrificially: I want to start by saying that I am incredibly grateful to my parents, who, from a very young age, taught me that giving is a really important part of faith. You can, of course, read Scriptures to support that, but I would say that most people, regardless of faith, believe that generosity is a positive trait, and something toward which we ought to strive. It wasn't until Joe and I got married, though, that I've really started to get a grasp on sacrificial giving (and, also, it was at this point that I was first really held accountable for living into the financial commitments I made to the church, in particular).
There's this whole tithing business to which we're called. It is not suggested, it is commanded that we give back a portion (10%) of what we have--and that it be the "first fruits." In other words, we give back to God first, and then we have the other money to do what we will (though, the hope would be that we're honoring God with how we spend both the first and last dollar). There are lots of ways to understand tithing: is it based on net or gross income? Is it just money to your home church, or do other faith-based entities to whom you give "count" when you seek to account for your 10%? Is 10% enough, or is just the baseline for what we should give?
Joe and I have spent a lot of time talking and praying about this, and we've tried to ask for help from others whose giving practices we perceive to be faithful, and here's what we have determined:
A. We give based on our gross earnings, not our net. So, when all is said and done, we end up giving about 16.5% of what comes into our bank account, though it's only about 11% of our gross income.
B. We give 10% to our local church's general fund first. Then, we have a few other organizations to whom we commit money, with the goal that, each year, we'll be able to increase not only the amount (based on raises, etc.) that we give, but also the percentage that we give.
C. We try to give until it hurts, because that's how we understand "sacrificial": if it's easy, then it's not sacrificial. We understand that, for different people, this means different things--though we do think that working toward a goal of giving 10% is an important one, recognizing that it can be hard to go from 0-10% quickly. We do this financially (sometimes, it seems really tempting to spend the money that we designated as "giving" money on other things: refinishing the bathroom, taking a vacation, or whatever). But, we also try to give in other ways. We try to donate our time to various local mission (and, less frequently, though equally important, to domestic and international missions). We commit to donating our (overabundant) possessions, and assemble several bags of "stuff" that someone else could really use, over the course of a year. This year, our plan is to survey everything we have once a month and, each month, fill at least one bag with things to be donated. Yes, some of the things that we give away are things that we no longer like/don't fit well/whatever, but even in this area, we've found that there's a way to be sacrificial. For example, there might be a new, tags-on shirt that I could easily sell in a consignment shop or on-line or whatever, but I just donate it. In short (well...no, not really short), we try to find ways to be giving in every area of life.
2. Scripture: Yes, we need to read the Bible, and should do so frequently. But, we should also work toward wanting to read the Bible. And I know that there are some parts that come across as rather dry (have you seen all that Levitical law?!), or really frustrating, or just plain hard to understand, but it's also true that the Bible comes alive more and more when we read it more and more. Also, Jesus is called "The Living Word", so it stands to reason that, to understand Jesus as living Word, we ought to understand Scripture, the written Word.
But, more than reading, we need to absorb Scripture. Let it really sink in. Read footnotes, refer to the related texts that are mentioned in the margins, ask questions, underline the verses (or, if you're like some of my friends who are very anti-writing in books, write on a post-it note that you keep with the passage in question). A lot of times, I find that I need to read less Scripture quantitatively so that I can get more out of it qualitatively. And, it seems like I can read a passage 300 times and still find something new each time, especially depending on where I happen to be in life at a given moment. And, though it can be a slow process, we really ought to read the Bible in its entirety, and even read some history books, geology books, maps, etc., to help us understand the context of the things that we read. I believe that this helps us to more responsibly comprehend how to apply the things that we read. Plus, that stuff is pretty darn fascinating.
And, if we absorb the Scripture, then we would be foolish to not apply it. This, however, is where things get tricky, because no one can seem to agree on a lot of what Scripture means by what it says--how do we understand "love"? How do we understand the tensions that can exist between "love" and "justice", "compassion" and "accountability", etc.? I want to set this conversation aside, for the most part, for 2 future blogs: one that deals with this question in a larger sense (Paul and his buddies deal with this extensively), and also, I want to look, specifically, at the incredibly sensitive issues relating to interpersonal relationships (both hetero- and homosexual), gender identity and even the question of marriage (and, yes, I realize that, in so doing, I might say things with which you disagree vehemently, and I welcome the opportunity for conversation...I think it's my responsibility to grow in understanding, which often comes as a significant byproduct of disagreements, when dealt with grace, trust and openness). But, coming back to the beginning of the paragraph, we need to apply what we read...for the things that are easy to understand, we have little excuse, frankly. It's clear that we're not supposed to lie, steal, boast, be unfaithful, etc. And, for the things that we don't understand, as I've mentioned, it's up to us to actively seek out understanding.
3. Do something--anything--above and beyond for someone else every day (and don't always have the recipient be the same person). I don't know what a regular day looks like in your life, but I also don't think that it matters much. Choosing to do just one thing that's just a bit special each day is a really great thing, I've found (though, being honest, I haven't actually done it every day...I'm getting better, though). Now, to be clear, I know that sometimes we can do things for others without realizing it, but what's important here, I think, is the intentionality behind the sentiment. And, no, my regular day-to-day care of Andy doesn't count here. Having dinner ready for Joe doesn't count, either. But, taking a few minutes to make a cd for someone, or to write a card (or even a Facebook message!), or holding multiple sets of double doors for a stressed out mom trying to control her unwieldy stroller, even though you might be in a rush to get somewhere else, are all things that can make a significant difference in the life of another. Again, the point is not to see how much emotion you can elicit from the other person--it's about our growth in doing intentional acts of kindness. If you're like me, you'll find that it feels really good to not spend so much time focusing on yourself, too. (Though I have only done this a handful of times, it is a really great thing to be able to genuinely give in some way to someone who has hurt/wronged/forgotten you. Doing this does not excuse the wrongs that they have done, but it may help you to deal with--and move on from--the pain by exercising grace and compassion).
4. Do something anonymous for someone else as often as possible. At work, with somewhat refreshing frequency, someone will come through the drive-thru line and pay for the person behind them. And that person will pay it forward by paying for the person behind them, and so on and so on. I have also known people who pay the tolls for someone behind them on the Turnpike. I've even known a few families who, in the midst of significant financial crises, were blessed by the receipt of envelopes jam-packed with money/coupons/etc. It's fun to be on the giving side of things when we get to see the response of the recipient. But, I think that giving anonymously and not waiting around to see how they respond is really valuable, too. We don't need to be praised for what we do. We need to work towards lives of humility, and this is one way that we can figure out what that really means. When we do things with our name connected, we receive direct praise, when we do things anonymously, but observe the positive results that it merits, that can allow us to have an inflated sense of self-pride (not that the things being done in these cases aren't good or important or valuable--they definitely are!!!). When we do things without knowing the result, we are doing things in a way that is genuinely altruistic. Now, I realize that Scripture doesn't spend a ton of time talking about the things that Jesus did before he was recognized by the crowds with whom he interacted, but I also realize that we're probably not so privy to the things that Jesus may have none anonymously because, well, they were anonymous. How would the Gospel writers know about them?!
5. Pray. I have finally gotten to the point where I can just talk to God like we're just buddies, catching up (except I have to apologize more to God than to do to most of the others in my life). I was stuck for a long time, both because I thought that my prayers needed to sound somewhat eloquent, and also because it is hard to be honest in prayer, because I'm so stinkin' imperfect. But, as I continue to sit more and more comfortably in the reality that God already knows all of that stuff, and that he both loves and forgives me, and that being dishonest in one prayer only means there's something else for which I need to ask forgiveness is the next prayer, I become better and better at this kind of interaction (and I find that I am able to gain more and more from it, as God responds to us as we are, and so, if "who I am" is someone who is honest about my sin, then God will respond accordingly, while, if "who I am" is someone who chooses to ignore/avoid my sins, then there's much less to work with. Granted, I firmly believe that God can--and will--do anything with anyone, but I still think that my ability to respond is directly related to my openness. Plus, sometimes, I just really want to vent, and no one else wants to hear about it, or, I don't want anyone else to hear about it. God's really great in those moments, too.
6. Talk about your faith. And not just with people who you think identify closely with your beliefs (though that's important, too). This doesn't have to all be lumped under the scary term of "evangelism", as it tends to be understood these days, either. I feel like so many people think that evangelism is all about handing out tracts, overwhelming total strangers with stories about your life that have no context and, expecting said strangers to think that they should believe what you do because you have interesting stories (that may or may not be anything like what they, themselves, have experienced). Now, let me be clear: I do think that there's a real need for people who can actively engage in conversation with people--even strangers--and who can talk about faith. But, I also think that, sometimes (often?), we miss the point: it's a conversation and that means that the "evangelizer" ought not dominate (I can't imagine that this is very effective, anyway). Plus, it's important to remember that anyone can be convinced of anything. If I can convince you that one thing is true, then the next person to come by can just as easily un-convince you. It's not up to us to change the minds, or hearts of the people with whom we interact. But, it seems to me that, if we say that our identity is in Jesus Christ, then that reality ought to be a part of our conversations--it's certainly a part of the context in which we talk about other things, and, thus, it's helpful and important to talk about it. I have had the great joy of being able to have this sort of conversation on many occasions at work. I really value the atmosphere that exists at my store, as there's an attitude of acceptance and compassion and even of genuine interest in the varying perspectives that the employees hold (and, trust me, they are widely varied). This is a huge gift.
7. Doubt. Ask questions. Repeat. I think we're all foolish plenty of times in our lives, and that this especially manifests itself when we pretend to know everything about our faith--and the faith of others. This attitude is responsible for lots and lots of pain, violence, anger, war, etc. I mentioned above that it's important to continuously grow in our understanding, and that sometimes that can be fostered through the disagreements that we have with others. The other thing that I adamantly hold to be true (which seems ironic) is that doubt is the other part of our faith that helps us to grow. Faith, of course, is defined by the very fact that we can't witness the reality of the thing in its fullness, but that we believe it to be entirely true, anyway. But, our faith in the things that we can't see can be strengthened exponentially by seeking to understand the things that we can see. The very premise of God is too large for us to grasp, but we are more capable of understanding God's magnitude by understanding elements of who God claims to be (which is part of what I think God was thinking in giving us Jesus Christ, by the way). But, doubt is critical to this, as it is to the study of anything. Doubt is the basis for science, after all (which is why I have an incredibly hard time understanding why there's so much tension between science and faith--in my experience, they seem to feed off of each other, not be mutually exclusive bases for one's perspective). If we just believe something to be true, we don't necessarily feel the need to pursue it further. If, on the other had, we find that doubt some--or all--of something, then we will study, measure, sort and question until we can arrive at a reasonable conclusion. Of course, if we all use differing evidence to support our conclusions, then it holds that we will invariably disagree, but, to me, that just means that more studying, measuring, sorting and questioning is in order!
With that being said, I think I'll end this ridiculously lengthy posting here, as it seems that these notions of doubt and study will segue will into the two future postings that I have promised...
2.03.2011
When We Say We're "Christian"
As I begin this, I honestly don't know if its headed in the direction of diatribe or apologetic, but I was looking at a few Facebook profiles recently, and was struck by the frequency with which people refer to themselves as "Christian." I was struck, too, by people who seem to refuse that term, favoring "Follower of Christ" or something along those lines. Now, for the purposes of this particular entry, I don't want to debate the differences that people see in those two terms, nor do I wish to support one or the other. Since it's faster to type, and since it's overwhelmingly used to describe a certain group of people, I'll just stick with "Christian" for today.
I'm not passing judgment on a single individual, regardless of what you post on Facebook regarding your religion. Let's just get that out of the way.
But here's what troubles me: when we say we're "Christians", what do we mean? What should we mean? How can we identify people who are authentically Christians (not because we should, but if we, perhaps, could...)? I think I just struggle with this because it's really easy to say that we are (or aren't) something, but we may not actually be it.
Here's an analogy that I realize is loaded with holes, but I think it still demonstrates this point for the moment: say I were to tell you that I am a South African citizen. I might look like I could be from South Africa. I might have even studied all of South Africa's history, I might have read all of the works of South Africa's greatest poets, I might have even visited South Africa on several occasions. These things are all well and good, but the ability to recite the population/GDP/DMB songs doesn't a South African citizen make.
My point is this: we can read the Bible daily, we can learn all of the hymns, we can go to church, etc., but those things, while of great importance (and don't misunderstand me to be saying anything to minimize any of these things), are not sufficient in their ability to make me a Christian. In fact, some of the most well-read Bible scholars I've met are adamantly UN-Christian. They value the Bible as an important historical document (which it is), and some will concede that there's probably some larger force, but will also say that, perhaps, that force may not exclusively be God as Christians understand God to be. Or, there's no God at all, but if I really need something like that to help me get through the day, then they dare not take it away from me (but, secretly, I'm crazy, and wasting a lot of time worshiping nothing, rather than living my life, over which, in their view, I have exclusive control).
And, allow me to be very honest here, even at the expense of sounding a shade heretical: there is stuff in the Bible that is incredibly hard to believe. I'm not saying it's not true, but it seems totally outside the realm of possibility. For instance, have you READ Numbers 22? Balaam and his...talking donkey?! Really? That just seems so completely ridiculous. And, there are inconsistencies: In one part of Genesis, Noah is told to take sets of 2 animals aboard the ol' ark. Later, he's told to take 7 pairs of some types of animals. Now, without venturing into the world of "infallibility" versus "inerrancy", let it just be said that scholars have noticed this, and have asked the same questions. And yet, even with all of this, lots of people claim Christianity in their own lives.
I think that, perhaps, we ought to look at things that we can rule out as "defining Christians" to help arrive at an answer. I've already mentioned that reading the Bible, going to church, knowing hymns, etc. doesn't make us Christian. I don't think anyone would disagree that one's "status" cannot be determined based on their decision to celebrate Christmas and/or Easter. It's also true that we're not born into Christianity (even if we're born into a Christian family). And, really, even if we know the right answers that the Bible offers (the wage of sin is death, the only way to the Father is through the Son, grace is given freely, Jesus wins, etc.), this still does not mean that we can call ourselves Christians.
It's easy to know. It's much harder to believe. And it's harder, still, to live a life that reflects these beliefs, which we take from a millennia-old text, attempt to understand in the context of our own lives, and hope to convey to others who often think we're:
crazy/stupid/naive/misguided/judgmental/closed-minded/hypocritical/idiotic/wrong.
And it's even harder when we worry that they might be right.
I do think that grace plays a gigantic role, but it's a concept that I can't pretend to understand well enough to satisfactorily exposit upon it here (nor do I have the time). And, even if that's true, we're told that grace is available for everyone, even those who don't actually buy into it, and so there must be some sort of human response that allows someone to say, "Ok, I know all of the facts, I've read all of the history, I buy into the whole 'grace' thing, and I'm grateful for it, and here's how I want to show that all of this stuff actually matters to me."
Ephesians 2:8-9 says: 8For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God— 9not the result of works, so that no one may boast.
Doing good does not make us faithful. Doing good should be a byproduct of believing that the things that we hold to be true are important enough to live a life that reflects them. And this is where we fail so often. It's on this point, I think, that so many people are right to call us out as hypocrites (among other things). I'm not saying that I am any more capable of being perfect than you (and, were that true, then I wouldn't need God to save me anyway). We will all continue to make mistakes. And even the most diligent, careful reader probably has a few things wrong. But that's not the issue. The issue is this: if we acknowledge that the Bible, though having some ridiculous-hard-to-believe-and-or-understand-gobbledeegook, contains truths that are both life-changing and life-giving, but we live in a way that reflects belief in something (anything!) else, then people have every right to judge us. Because we are wrong. We may not think that we're wrong, because we still have the truth of Scriptures to fall back on, but that's the thing: the Scripture doesn't change. The Scripture doesn't become wrong. We do. But when we live in a way that demonstrates not only that Scripture doesn't change, but that we believe in its power exactly as it is (and I mean really live that way), then no one ought to be able to honestly utter a word to the contrary. And that, I think, is when we can at last say that we are Christian.
**P.S.: I plan to follow this up with at least 2 or 3 other entries. One will deal with the actual application of this assertion. Another will explore how to deal with the (very real) issue that you and I may both believe we're doing this well, but may have mutually exclusive ways of showing it. A third will look most specifically at how we (regardless of affiliation) look at homosexuality/gender identity/etc. You may not agree with me at all, but I hope you'll listen, and I hope you'll respond.**
I'm not passing judgment on a single individual, regardless of what you post on Facebook regarding your religion. Let's just get that out of the way.
But here's what troubles me: when we say we're "Christians", what do we mean? What should we mean? How can we identify people who are authentically Christians (not because we should, but if we, perhaps, could...)? I think I just struggle with this because it's really easy to say that we are (or aren't) something, but we may not actually be it.
Here's an analogy that I realize is loaded with holes, but I think it still demonstrates this point for the moment: say I were to tell you that I am a South African citizen. I might look like I could be from South Africa. I might have even studied all of South Africa's history, I might have read all of the works of South Africa's greatest poets, I might have even visited South Africa on several occasions. These things are all well and good, but the ability to recite the population/GDP/DMB songs doesn't a South African citizen make.
My point is this: we can read the Bible daily, we can learn all of the hymns, we can go to church, etc., but those things, while of great importance (and don't misunderstand me to be saying anything to minimize any of these things), are not sufficient in their ability to make me a Christian. In fact, some of the most well-read Bible scholars I've met are adamantly UN-Christian. They value the Bible as an important historical document (which it is), and some will concede that there's probably some larger force, but will also say that, perhaps, that force may not exclusively be God as Christians understand God to be. Or, there's no God at all, but if I really need something like that to help me get through the day, then they dare not take it away from me (but, secretly, I'm crazy, and wasting a lot of time worshiping nothing, rather than living my life, over which, in their view, I have exclusive control).
And, allow me to be very honest here, even at the expense of sounding a shade heretical: there is stuff in the Bible that is incredibly hard to believe. I'm not saying it's not true, but it seems totally outside the realm of possibility. For instance, have you READ Numbers 22? Balaam and his...talking donkey?! Really? That just seems so completely ridiculous. And, there are inconsistencies: In one part of Genesis, Noah is told to take sets of 2 animals aboard the ol' ark. Later, he's told to take 7 pairs of some types of animals. Now, without venturing into the world of "infallibility" versus "inerrancy", let it just be said that scholars have noticed this, and have asked the same questions. And yet, even with all of this, lots of people claim Christianity in their own lives.
I think that, perhaps, we ought to look at things that we can rule out as "defining Christians" to help arrive at an answer. I've already mentioned that reading the Bible, going to church, knowing hymns, etc. doesn't make us Christian. I don't think anyone would disagree that one's "status" cannot be determined based on their decision to celebrate Christmas and/or Easter. It's also true that we're not born into Christianity (even if we're born into a Christian family). And, really, even if we know the right answers that the Bible offers (the wage of sin is death, the only way to the Father is through the Son, grace is given freely, Jesus wins, etc.), this still does not mean that we can call ourselves Christians.
It's easy to know. It's much harder to believe. And it's harder, still, to live a life that reflects these beliefs, which we take from a millennia-old text, attempt to understand in the context of our own lives, and hope to convey to others who often think we're:
crazy/stupid/naive/misguided/judgmental/closed-minded/hypocritical/idiotic/wrong.
And it's even harder when we worry that they might be right.
I do think that grace plays a gigantic role, but it's a concept that I can't pretend to understand well enough to satisfactorily exposit upon it here (nor do I have the time). And, even if that's true, we're told that grace is available for everyone, even those who don't actually buy into it, and so there must be some sort of human response that allows someone to say, "Ok, I know all of the facts, I've read all of the history, I buy into the whole 'grace' thing, and I'm grateful for it, and here's how I want to show that all of this stuff actually matters to me."
Ephesians 2:8-9 says: 8For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God— 9not the result of works, so that no one may boast.
Doing good does not make us faithful. Doing good should be a byproduct of believing that the things that we hold to be true are important enough to live a life that reflects them. And this is where we fail so often. It's on this point, I think, that so many people are right to call us out as hypocrites (among other things). I'm not saying that I am any more capable of being perfect than you (and, were that true, then I wouldn't need God to save me anyway). We will all continue to make mistakes. And even the most diligent, careful reader probably has a few things wrong. But that's not the issue. The issue is this: if we acknowledge that the Bible, though having some ridiculous-hard-to-believe-and-or-understand-gobbledeegook, contains truths that are both life-changing and life-giving, but we live in a way that reflects belief in something (anything!) else, then people have every right to judge us. Because we are wrong. We may not think that we're wrong, because we still have the truth of Scriptures to fall back on, but that's the thing: the Scripture doesn't change. The Scripture doesn't become wrong. We do. But when we live in a way that demonstrates not only that Scripture doesn't change, but that we believe in its power exactly as it is (and I mean really live that way), then no one ought to be able to honestly utter a word to the contrary. And that, I think, is when we can at last say that we are Christian.
**P.S.: I plan to follow this up with at least 2 or 3 other entries. One will deal with the actual application of this assertion. Another will explore how to deal with the (very real) issue that you and I may both believe we're doing this well, but may have mutually exclusive ways of showing it. A third will look most specifically at how we (regardless of affiliation) look at homosexuality/gender identity/etc. You may not agree with me at all, but I hope you'll listen, and I hope you'll respond.**
2.01.2011
Life Happens.
It's been more than two months since I last wrote on here, but those two months provided quite enough on my plate, thank you very much.
At the front of my mind is, of course, my dad. He is not well--metastatic colon cancer is not the greatest thing on the planet, that's for sure. And, in the month since we first learned of his diagnosis (well, at least, since we learned about the tip of that iceberg), I have spent a lot of time thinking about what this means in my life, in my parents' lives, etc.
I have found that, with each passing day (and sometimes, with each passing moment), I am confronted with a new perspective--a new set of emotions--a new starting point from which I approach this situation. Here are a few:
1. Sometimes, I feel guilty. In 2007, I had the good fortune to spend a couple of weeks in Malawi, Africa. It takes turns with a handful of others for Poorest Country in the World...not something toward which anyone aspires, I'm sure. While there, I encountered lots and lots of people who rarely eat, rarely have clean water, face a multitude of diseases (HIV/AIDS, hepatitis and malaria, to name a few) and who can expect their life to end (if they're lucky) around the age of 50. These people seemed to attend funerals nearly as frequently as we Americans go to work. Prospects are bleak for those folks. And yet, despite the fact that their lives are perpetually in danger, there is an overwhelming sense of joy and peace and hopefulness. There was jubilance at every turn. Faith abounds. Love prevails. I almost forgot to be depressed about the circumstances in which these people live because their happiness was so great, despite such significant challenges. And yet, here I am, back in my ridiculously cushy life, with an overabundance of everything. Who am I? Who am I to be afraid, or to be disheartened or to be angry about Dad's predicament? Where's my faith, my hope, my joy, my peace? Don't misunderstand me--I don't think there's a single thing wrong with the fact that I have cried more in a month than I had in the sixth months prior, combined (at least). I don't think there's a single thing wrong with being sad. But I do feel some guilt about the fact that these people--my Malawian friends--taught me incredible things about life, and about how we ought to approach even the greatest mountains that we encounter--and it has taken me almost four years to pay attention to the gift that they gave.
2. Sometimes, I feel grateful. There are a lot of people in the world who don't have what I have. I have a husband and son who love me dearly, and who will stop at nothing to provide the comfort and support I need during this time, and during all of the other times, too. I have a sister with whom I share the most ridiculous--and most important--parts of life--and who, together with her family, is also incredibly loving and supportive and kind and generous. And my parents--my mom, who, for me, has always been the textbook example of strength, and my dad, who has, likewise, been the textbook example of compassion. Put that group together, add the very significant and exceedingly important attribute of faithfulness, and it makes quite an enviable crowd. On top of that, I have countless friends who are literally spread out all over the world who have offered every type of help possible. People just love my family and me. It's overwhelming, really. And it's humbling. And inspiring. Some of the people who have reached out to me are friends that I haven't seen in more than a decade...and, as for Dad...he's heard from people he hasn't seen for 42 years!!! I think that all of this is a true testament to the kind of people that my parents are, and the kind of people that they sought to raise in my sister and me.
3. Sometimes, I just feel sad. I believe fully in the power of prayer. I believe that remaining hopeful and faithful is as important a treatment as any sort of doctor-prescribed therapy, and I'm even pretty good at living into this, and encouraging others to do the same--mostly. And I am aware of the fact that pain is a part of life, and that people--even parents--do get older, and are faced with significant medical challenges, and will die someday. I'm even aware of the fact that none of us knows the number of our days, none of us knows the future, and that God has it all figured out, thus making us foolish for spending a lot of time worrying about it. But, even still, I am sometimes just overwhelmed by sadness. Often, it's because it's hard to see Dad not currently be able to do all of the things that used to come so naturally. It's hard to watch Mom absorb the burden of Dad's illness in so many ways, and to not have a support system that's able to help each day (though, I must say, as mentioned in #2, our support system is great, and I know my parents are both incredibly grateful for the generosity of so many people). It's hard to think that my son might not have the opportunity to know his Papa the way I do. It's hard to hear a 6-week sermon series in church about being fearless, and have it followed by songs that, in the first 3 weeks have included: "Trust and Obey", "His Eye is on the Sparrow" and "Amazing Grace" (though, to be fair, the sermons have been great, and the songs are completely relevant...they just also happen to be tearjerkers...and if "In the Garden", "Old Rugged Cross" or "How Great Thou Art" is in the bulletin for this week, I might as well just sit in the library near the sanctuary, rather than attempt to sit in an actual pew). On some occasions, crying has felt therapeutic. On others, it feels like I'm just emptying out the ol' tear ducts to make space for more fluid.
4. Sometimes, I feel angry. And, this is an incredibly unfair way to feel, when you see why I have experienced some anger, but in the spirit of honesty and transparency, it has definitely been on the spectrum of emotions of late. Here's the thing--a lot of really well-meaning people have attempted to offer their support, as I've mentioned. And the vast majority of it has been incredibly helpful and meaningful. And, I would even go so far as to say that all of the things that people have said are true. But, I'm really sick of being told that "Everything Happens For A Reason." Yes, I believe that God is in control, and that God is capable of doing things beyond our wildest dreams, and that God can, and does, have purpose behind each and every thing that we do or experience. But, come on, people. Is that really the best comfort you can offer? To me, it feels like you didn't know what to say, so you read that line off of a bumper sticker, and repeated it back. I'd much rather that, if you don't know what to say, you just don't say anything (you really don't need to--I'm not offended)...or, if you feel like you must say something, then say you're sorry...or ask how I'm feeling...or how Dad and Mom are feeling. Also, a lot of people are trying very hard to help me feel as if I--and, more importantly, my parents--are not alone in our suffering. Again, this is true, and it's something for which we're unspeakably grateful. However, it is not helpful for you to tell me about the 38 people you've known who have all battled this same disease, with these same symptoms, and who have died. Mostly, that just makes me more sad, more worried, and distracts me from the faith and hope to which I must cling. Maybe that's rude and ungrateful sounding; I hope not, though. I genuinely appreciate people's intentions, and know that their concern is deep and authentic. I just had to get that off my chest.
So, I guess that I haven't really mentioned any of the other things in my life over the past couple of months, and there have been other things. This is certainly the biggest, though. I, and my family, will accept any and all of your prayers as we continue to plow ahead on this untraveled road.
At the front of my mind is, of course, my dad. He is not well--metastatic colon cancer is not the greatest thing on the planet, that's for sure. And, in the month since we first learned of his diagnosis (well, at least, since we learned about the tip of that iceberg), I have spent a lot of time thinking about what this means in my life, in my parents' lives, etc.
I have found that, with each passing day (and sometimes, with each passing moment), I am confronted with a new perspective--a new set of emotions--a new starting point from which I approach this situation. Here are a few:
1. Sometimes, I feel guilty. In 2007, I had the good fortune to spend a couple of weeks in Malawi, Africa. It takes turns with a handful of others for Poorest Country in the World...not something toward which anyone aspires, I'm sure. While there, I encountered lots and lots of people who rarely eat, rarely have clean water, face a multitude of diseases (HIV/AIDS, hepatitis and malaria, to name a few) and who can expect their life to end (if they're lucky) around the age of 50. These people seemed to attend funerals nearly as frequently as we Americans go to work. Prospects are bleak for those folks. And yet, despite the fact that their lives are perpetually in danger, there is an overwhelming sense of joy and peace and hopefulness. There was jubilance at every turn. Faith abounds. Love prevails. I almost forgot to be depressed about the circumstances in which these people live because their happiness was so great, despite such significant challenges. And yet, here I am, back in my ridiculously cushy life, with an overabundance of everything. Who am I? Who am I to be afraid, or to be disheartened or to be angry about Dad's predicament? Where's my faith, my hope, my joy, my peace? Don't misunderstand me--I don't think there's a single thing wrong with the fact that I have cried more in a month than I had in the sixth months prior, combined (at least). I don't think there's a single thing wrong with being sad. But I do feel some guilt about the fact that these people--my Malawian friends--taught me incredible things about life, and about how we ought to approach even the greatest mountains that we encounter--and it has taken me almost four years to pay attention to the gift that they gave.
2. Sometimes, I feel grateful. There are a lot of people in the world who don't have what I have. I have a husband and son who love me dearly, and who will stop at nothing to provide the comfort and support I need during this time, and during all of the other times, too. I have a sister with whom I share the most ridiculous--and most important--parts of life--and who, together with her family, is also incredibly loving and supportive and kind and generous. And my parents--my mom, who, for me, has always been the textbook example of strength, and my dad, who has, likewise, been the textbook example of compassion. Put that group together, add the very significant and exceedingly important attribute of faithfulness, and it makes quite an enviable crowd. On top of that, I have countless friends who are literally spread out all over the world who have offered every type of help possible. People just love my family and me. It's overwhelming, really. And it's humbling. And inspiring. Some of the people who have reached out to me are friends that I haven't seen in more than a decade...and, as for Dad...he's heard from people he hasn't seen for 42 years!!! I think that all of this is a true testament to the kind of people that my parents are, and the kind of people that they sought to raise in my sister and me.
3. Sometimes, I just feel sad. I believe fully in the power of prayer. I believe that remaining hopeful and faithful is as important a treatment as any sort of doctor-prescribed therapy, and I'm even pretty good at living into this, and encouraging others to do the same--mostly. And I am aware of the fact that pain is a part of life, and that people--even parents--do get older, and are faced with significant medical challenges, and will die someday. I'm even aware of the fact that none of us knows the number of our days, none of us knows the future, and that God has it all figured out, thus making us foolish for spending a lot of time worrying about it. But, even still, I am sometimes just overwhelmed by sadness. Often, it's because it's hard to see Dad not currently be able to do all of the things that used to come so naturally. It's hard to watch Mom absorb the burden of Dad's illness in so many ways, and to not have a support system that's able to help each day (though, I must say, as mentioned in #2, our support system is great, and I know my parents are both incredibly grateful for the generosity of so many people). It's hard to think that my son might not have the opportunity to know his Papa the way I do. It's hard to hear a 6-week sermon series in church about being fearless, and have it followed by songs that, in the first 3 weeks have included: "Trust and Obey", "His Eye is on the Sparrow" and "Amazing Grace" (though, to be fair, the sermons have been great, and the songs are completely relevant...they just also happen to be tearjerkers...and if "In the Garden", "Old Rugged Cross" or "How Great Thou Art" is in the bulletin for this week, I might as well just sit in the library near the sanctuary, rather than attempt to sit in an actual pew). On some occasions, crying has felt therapeutic. On others, it feels like I'm just emptying out the ol' tear ducts to make space for more fluid.
4. Sometimes, I feel angry. And, this is an incredibly unfair way to feel, when you see why I have experienced some anger, but in the spirit of honesty and transparency, it has definitely been on the spectrum of emotions of late. Here's the thing--a lot of really well-meaning people have attempted to offer their support, as I've mentioned. And the vast majority of it has been incredibly helpful and meaningful. And, I would even go so far as to say that all of the things that people have said are true. But, I'm really sick of being told that "Everything Happens For A Reason." Yes, I believe that God is in control, and that God is capable of doing things beyond our wildest dreams, and that God can, and does, have purpose behind each and every thing that we do or experience. But, come on, people. Is that really the best comfort you can offer? To me, it feels like you didn't know what to say, so you read that line off of a bumper sticker, and repeated it back. I'd much rather that, if you don't know what to say, you just don't say anything (you really don't need to--I'm not offended)...or, if you feel like you must say something, then say you're sorry...or ask how I'm feeling...or how Dad and Mom are feeling. Also, a lot of people are trying very hard to help me feel as if I--and, more importantly, my parents--are not alone in our suffering. Again, this is true, and it's something for which we're unspeakably grateful. However, it is not helpful for you to tell me about the 38 people you've known who have all battled this same disease, with these same symptoms, and who have died. Mostly, that just makes me more sad, more worried, and distracts me from the faith and hope to which I must cling. Maybe that's rude and ungrateful sounding; I hope not, though. I genuinely appreciate people's intentions, and know that their concern is deep and authentic. I just had to get that off my chest.
So, I guess that I haven't really mentioned any of the other things in my life over the past couple of months, and there have been other things. This is certainly the biggest, though. I, and my family, will accept any and all of your prayers as we continue to plow ahead on this untraveled road.
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