It's no wonder the world is confused by Christians. So much of the time what we say we believe is so utterly different than the way we live, it's enough to give anyone a headache. The other day, a lady at the church where I work was proofing something, and said, "I want to make sure we get his named spelled right. After all, our names are our most precious possessions." Really? Hmm, I thought Christ was. I guess I was wrong. Newsflash! Attention all Christians (and any non-Christians left listening to this mess): despite what the Bible teaches and regardless of what you've always believed, Christ is no longer the most precious, most valuable thing in your life. Instead, you may now value your name, given by your fallible, sinful parents more than you do the Incarnate Word of God. Of course, if the woman who so carelessly made that comment read this post she'd probably say, "Well, I didn't really mean that," (so you're insincere) or "I meant our most precious earthly possession," (in which case you still got it wrong!).
Here's the thing: we confuse the world around us when we make statements like that, and they really do matter. I mean, we either believe this stuff we're talking about, or we don't. I just want to get to the place where Christ is so valuable and precious to me that I wouldn't have to worry about making a statement like that, because it wouldn't happen.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
Good Grief
I am so thankful for Charles Schultz. If you don't recognize that name right away, he's the guy who drew and wrote the Peanuts comic strip. You know, Linus, Charlie Brown, and Snoopy. Over the past week I've been feeling very "Charlie Brown-ish," and today somebody asked me what does "Charlie Brown-ish" feel like. I actually think one of the classic Peanuts moments captures what I'm feeling best. It's one of the great running gags of all time. Lucy promises Charlie Brown that she'll hold the football for him so he can kick it. He doubts her, but she convinces him that she will in fact hold it for him. . . this time! So, trusting Charlie Brown, gets way back, runs as hard as he can toward the ball, and every, single time Lucy pulls the ball away just as Charlie's about to kick it. His legs go out from under him, and he flys through the air, yelling, and screaming, and falls flat on his back, usually to have Lucy come over and say something sarcastic to him. 
It's so great because it happens over and over again, and I always laugh. Here's the thing: this is what I feel like right now. It's not biblical, in my head I know it's not the truth, but right now I am in a constant state of either flying through the air, or being on my back. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but I just never realized that life could be one, big "Lucy." I'm ready for a new game. This football thing is killing me!
Say Goodnight, Peter Pan
I just finished reading The Brothers Karamazov, and I was reminded once again as to why I love this book so much. It takes me a long time to read it; the version I have is about 776 pages long. Of course being that long, there's room for a little bit of everything: love stories, mysteries, and lots and lots of sub-plots.
Here's the thing that seemed to strike me more this time than before, it's the idea of a hero. In the "From the Author" section at the beginning of the book, Dostoevsky says that Aloysha Karamazov is the hero of his story. I mean, this is every English major's dream: the author telling you, very clearly, who the hero of the story is. Funny thing, though, is that when I read it, I don't see it. In fact, the first time I read the book, I almost completely forgot that Aloysha was suppose to be the hero. It's not that he's a minor character by any means. It's just that he doesn't fit my pre-conceived notions of what the hero of a book should be like, act like, etc. This time, I read through it trying to make the case for Aloysha as the hero, and even in that it just seemed so odd to me that I would have to work to prove that a character was the hero. I mean, come on, Dostoevsky, why not make it a little more obvious?
But, then it struck me that maybe, just maybe, the genius of it all, the reality of it, lies in the fact that Aloysha isn't the obvious choice for hero. In fact, there isn't really an obvious choice in the entire 776 pages. I think about that in the Christian life too. So often it isn't the obvious people who are heroically living out the Christian life. It's the woman with terminal cancer who's praising the God who ordained she should be dying. It's the man whose covenant son was arrested the night before and still gets up to read his Bible the next morning. It's the person who can't tell you where in the Bible it says it but knows really well how to "rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep." Even the ultimate hero of the ultimate story was a carpenter who rode a donkey.
I guess Dostoevsky was right after all. Aloysha is the hero of the story. Maybe to understand that you just have to give up the fairy tales. The book's gotten longer and more involved. Talking mice, pumpkins, and white horses just seem too simple for grown-ups.
Here's the thing that seemed to strike me more this time than before, it's the idea of a hero. In the "From the Author" section at the beginning of the book, Dostoevsky says that Aloysha Karamazov is the hero of his story. I mean, this is every English major's dream: the author telling you, very clearly, who the hero of the story is. Funny thing, though, is that when I read it, I don't see it. In fact, the first time I read the book, I almost completely forgot that Aloysha was suppose to be the hero. It's not that he's a minor character by any means. It's just that he doesn't fit my pre-conceived notions of what the hero of a book should be like, act like, etc. This time, I read through it trying to make the case for Aloysha as the hero, and even in that it just seemed so odd to me that I would have to work to prove that a character was the hero. I mean, come on, Dostoevsky, why not make it a little more obvious?
But, then it struck me that maybe, just maybe, the genius of it all, the reality of it, lies in the fact that Aloysha isn't the obvious choice for hero. In fact, there isn't really an obvious choice in the entire 776 pages. I think about that in the Christian life too. So often it isn't the obvious people who are heroically living out the Christian life. It's the woman with terminal cancer who's praising the God who ordained she should be dying. It's the man whose covenant son was arrested the night before and still gets up to read his Bible the next morning. It's the person who can't tell you where in the Bible it says it but knows really well how to "rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep." Even the ultimate hero of the ultimate story was a carpenter who rode a donkey.
I guess Dostoevsky was right after all. Aloysha is the hero of the story. Maybe to understand that you just have to give up the fairy tales. The book's gotten longer and more involved. Talking mice, pumpkins, and white horses just seem too simple for grown-ups.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
I Beg to Differ
I have no problems really, putting aside differences with fellow Christians whose theology and doctrine varies greatly from mine. As long as we hold common beliefs in some core, key issues, we may not be able to go to the same church, but we can love each other and move forward in significant ways.
But here's the thing - no offense to those who believe differently - I gotta tell you that over the past few days I've been reminded of why I'm so very thankful that the Bible teaches that my salvation, my ultimate standing before God is in no way dependent on me, my actions, what I think, or even what I'm believing in the moment. 'Cause I gotta tell you, with the way my thoughts and feelings have been in the last 36 hours or so, if I had to add to this the worry that I might be drifting farther and farther away from God, potentially to lose my salvation, it would be way too much to handle. What a blessing to serve a God who wants and commands me to pursue him with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength, but who also holds onto to me and doesn't let go in those moments, like now, when I'm absolutely don't.
But here's the thing - no offense to those who believe differently - I gotta tell you that over the past few days I've been reminded of why I'm so very thankful that the Bible teaches that my salvation, my ultimate standing before God is in no way dependent on me, my actions, what I think, or even what I'm believing in the moment. 'Cause I gotta tell you, with the way my thoughts and feelings have been in the last 36 hours or so, if I had to add to this the worry that I might be drifting farther and farther away from God, potentially to lose my salvation, it would be way too much to handle. What a blessing to serve a God who wants and commands me to pursue him with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength, but who also holds onto to me and doesn't let go in those moments, like now, when I'm absolutely don't.
Hopeful Babies
Last night I got together with a group of guys who are reading through C. S. Lewis' Mere Christianity. We meet at a pub here in town, drink beer, smoke pipes, and talk about theology.) I'm not sure who that throws off more, the non-Christians who see us do it, or the Christians who think there's a good chance we could be going to hell because we're doing it.) At any rate, part of last night's reading included a chapter on hope. Here's what Lewis says about it
The Christian says, 'Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, then; is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that other country and to help others to do the same.'
Here's the thing I love about this paragraph: the certainty with which he talks about things hoped for. Food, swimming, sex, these are all things that are real, there is potential, real potential that the hope can be met. It's not the same kind of hope that says, "I hope/wish/desire to fly like Superman." That's not hope, it's fantasy. It can't really be hope because, the entire time you're saying it, in the back of your mind you know it cannot come true. It can't be, and hope was made for things that are certain. Christians hope for Heaven, they hope for an end to suffering and death and pain and sin, and when we talk about hoping for these things and think and pray with hope about these things, it should be with the idea that they'll actually happen. That it's as real as the potential for a baby to get food that's crying. Now, a lot has to happen for that baby to get the food and much depends on forces outside the baby. All he can really do is cry. And maybe for us, maybe that's what we should do as well, keep crying. Crying because the desire is real. Crying because the pain is great. Crying because we are unhappy. But also crying because we know our crying can actually be silenced and our hope come to sight, becuase we know that what we desire is real.
The Christian says, 'Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, then; is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that other country and to help others to do the same.'
Here's the thing I love about this paragraph: the certainty with which he talks about things hoped for. Food, swimming, sex, these are all things that are real, there is potential, real potential that the hope can be met. It's not the same kind of hope that says, "I hope/wish/desire to fly like Superman." That's not hope, it's fantasy. It can't really be hope because, the entire time you're saying it, in the back of your mind you know it cannot come true. It can't be, and hope was made for things that are certain. Christians hope for Heaven, they hope for an end to suffering and death and pain and sin, and when we talk about hoping for these things and think and pray with hope about these things, it should be with the idea that they'll actually happen. That it's as real as the potential for a baby to get food that's crying. Now, a lot has to happen for that baby to get the food and much depends on forces outside the baby. All he can really do is cry. And maybe for us, maybe that's what we should do as well, keep crying. Crying because the desire is real. Crying because the pain is great. Crying because we are unhappy. But also crying because we know our crying can actually be silenced and our hope come to sight, becuase we know that what we desire is real.
Tomorrow
Over the past several weeks I've had indirect experiences with three instances where someone has died "unexpectedly." All three were young people, two died in their sleep, one while working in the middle of the day. In all three cases there has been a lot of shock and surprise about what happened and justifiably so, I guess. But, here's the thing, while I understand that the death can be surprising in the sense that it wasn't on the schedule for the day, can any death really be unexpected? I mean, we walk around and experience death on a daily basis. People die. Young, old, healthy, sick, rich, poor, it's pretty indiscriminate. On top of that we have clear indication from the Bible that one of the punishments for mankind's rebellion against God is physical death. We have passage after passage that talk about God's sovereign control over the universe, life and death, and verses that warn us not to assume that we will go here and there and sell and make a profit, because we do not know what tomorrow will bring. And even with all that, Christians seem to fall into the mindset of the world in not really believing that death is going to happen. Not really believing that at any moment, God can and may demand the life he gave you back.
It just seems to me the extent to which I'm shocked by an unexpected death is a pretty good indicator of my lack of belief about what the Bible teaches and what I say I believe. In one sense, no death is unexpected. We have been given fair warning. The question I have to keep asking myself is, how would I live differently if I really believed the things I know about that fact?
It just seems to me the extent to which I'm shocked by an unexpected death is a pretty good indicator of my lack of belief about what the Bible teaches and what I say I believe. In one sense, no death is unexpected. We have been given fair warning. The question I have to keep asking myself is, how would I live differently if I really believed the things I know about that fact?
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Only 172 Shopping Days Left!
This isn't the kind of thing that I wanted to start posting on my blog, but it just says so much about me, that I figured it made sense to post it: today marks my annual week of listening to Christmas music in July. Every year, the week after the Fourth of July, I allow myself one week to listen to as much Christmas music as I can! It's fun, and that's about the only reason I have for doing it. So, here's the thing: if you happen to pull up next to me at a stop light this week, and you think, "What's that he's singing? It looks like. . . j-joy to the world?! Nooooo, can't be." Yep, sure can! Merry Christmas. At least for this week.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)