Understand?

Radley and I were talking today. Well, okay, being that Radley's a dog, the conversation tended to be mostly one-sided. At any rate, there I was a grown man jabbering away to a four-month-old puppy who didn't understand a bit of what I was saying. Thing is though, sometimes I talk to Radley, and he knows exactly what I'm saying. "Sit." Got it. "Stay." Loud-and-clear. "Come here." 10-4. When I say those simple things, Radley not only understands but actually responds. Not today, though. Today was way, way over his head. Oh sure, there were a few times I would say something that sounded familiar, and he would cock his head to one side like he was getting it, but in reality, I wasn't talking on his level, about familiar things like sitting and staying, and he was totally lost.

Here's the thing: I really think that's how it is with God and me so much of the time. I mean, there are a few things he's been over and over with me, and I feel like when he says them in his Word, I really get what he's saying. "You're sinful." Got it. "I'm holy." Loud-and-clear. "Tell others about me." 10-4. When he says those things, man, I'm right with him, following almost the entire conversation. Then, there are other times, when I'm sitting there like a four-month-old puppy. "This suffering really is for your good." "My plan is to send you half-way around the world, away from family and friends." "I don't love anyone else in the entire universe more than I love you." There may be words that sound familiar, and at times I'll cock my head, trying to understand, but in reality, he's the infinite God of the universe, I'm a finite human being, and I'm just lost.

There's a wonderful word called "condescension," and it's the idea that God lowers himself in all kinds of ways to make, at least parts of his character and will accessible to us as humans. He does this through creation, he did it through his Son coming earth, and he does it through his Word. All intended to make the wonders and mysteries of an infinite God a little clearer to us pups. It's one of those words that brings tears to my eyes almost everytime I see it in a song or hear it talked about, because without God's condescension to man, we'd know nothing about him, never understand anything he was talking about, and never get to know him and love him more.

The Essentials

I made my monthly trek to Wal-Mart today to stock up on groceries for the month. It's not really "for the month," 'cause there's always something else I have to get more of later, but it's when I buy most of what I'll need to cook over the next thirty days. As I was standing at the register, while the cashier rug up my order, I was struck by the fact that, judging from what I had piled on the conveyor belt waiting to be scanned, along with what was already in bags quickly filling my buggy, it was hard to believe the economy is really as bad as everyone says it is. I mean, it was a little hard to look at my steak, pork chops, two bottles of wine, cans of beans, frozen vegetables, and lots of etc., and think that we're at a point in this country of having to "cut back." In my case, I'm on the lower end of the middle class circles I run in, and I can still afford more food than most families around the world can buy in a year. (Actually, if the facts and statistics hold true, it was probably more food than the girl ringing me up could afford as well.) And even if I find myself in abject poverty tomorrow - the poor in the U.S. still have more resources available to them than the average working person in most of the world.

Now, here's the thing: this didn't make me feel guilty. Feeling guilty about being born in America, in middles class hovers very near telling God he doesn't know what he's doing, and I'm just not ready to go there yet. No, instead it just made me grateful. Grateful in the fact that it would take me about six trips back-and-forth from the car to get all the sacks brought in the house, and grateful that it would take me about thirty minutes to put everything away. And hopefully, hopefully grateful when it gets to the middle of the month, and I'm whining about the fact that there's nothing to eat!

Q & A

I've never asked for feedback on anything I've ever posted on this blog, but I've got a question, and I need your help. So, here's the thing: give me a brief answer to the following two questions:

What is the church?

Why does the church matter?

Didn't See That Comin'

Here's the thing that's funny (interesting, not ha-ha) to me: of all the posts I've written on this blog, the one about the e-mail and text messages has gotten a lot of response from folks. Mostly that's come from people talking to me about, saying I'm too uptight (which is true), etc., but it's just amazing to me that this is the post that's struck a chord, or maybe a nerve, with folks. I'm always fascinated as to what grabs people's attention. I think the things we get worked up about, passionate about, scared about, etc. say a lot about who we are as individuals and a society or culture. I haven't totally decided what the "excitment" over this post says about us, but it is pretty interesting to me that this is the one, more than any I think I've written, that's sparked a good many comments, both on and off the blog.

Little Hampsters

Do you ever have those moments during the day when you're working and you just kind of stop and realize that everything you're working on, everything you're investing time and energy into is one day going to be burnt up? I had one of those moments today. I was responding to e-mail, and my mind just ran with the fact that there's all this infrastructure, all this organization, all these wheels that spin on many different levels, and every level has its own stressors, joys, and harships, and yet one day, when Christ returns, it's just going to all fall apart and be consumed.

Here's the thing: it's healthy for me to think like this every once in a while, and probably more often than I even think. Not because work here on earth is unimportant. (I'm supposed to be doing everything to the glory of God.) Not because I need to become a monk and isolate myself from everything in the world except the study of Scripture and prayer. (Although there are some days when that life seems very appealing.) No, instead, having those thoughts reminds me not to take it all so seriously. All the hype, all the "urgent" things that my life seems to be built around so often, I need to put in perspective. They may last another 45-50 years or so for me, and they could go on another 1000 or 2000 years after I'm gone, but at some point, in the future, at a very real and historical time and place, they will all stop, and a new heaven and new earth will begin. Hopefully that perspective doesn't make me lazy or suicidal. Hopefully, it makes me more of a realist and maintain better balance.

Let Me Know

Okay, here's the thing I'm confused about: sometimes I get group e-mails or text messages from people, asking a broad question to the group, or needing input or information on something, and the tag line usually is something like, "Hey, if you want to go," or "Hey, if you have any input on this, please let me know." Then, if I don't respond because I don't want to go or I don't have any input on whatever it is, they'll e-mail or text me later with something like, "Hey, didn't hear from you on this and just wanted to make sure you aren't coming," or "Hey, didn't hear from you on this and just wanted to make sure you didn't have anything to add."

Whoa, wait a minute, didn't you say in the earlier e-mail that if I wanted to go or had input I should respond? Doesn't my lack of response clue you in that I don't want to go or don't have anything to add to whatever it is? I'm confused. How is it that I now have to e-mail you to tell you I don't want to go or don't have anything to say, when your original requirement was that I only e-mail you if I did want to go or did have input?! You're changing the rules on me in mid-stream here. Now, if the original line had been something like, "Please let me know whether you're going or not," or "Please let me know whether you have anything to add to this or not," I would have known I was supposed to respond either way.

Now I've got to e-mail you back anyway, and I'm very confused and slightly frustrated.

Leaves a Bad Taste

A few weeks ago my roommate bought his dog, Radley, a nice new water tank. I call it a tank, because that's exactly what it looks like: a mini-water cooler that lets water into the bowl as Radley drinks. It's a pretty great invention. Now, remember, my roommate bought this for Radley so that he'd have clean drinking water, anytime he wants it. Radley doesn't have to worry about ever running out; everytime he goes to the bowl to drink, there's water.

Now, here's the thing: one of Radley's favorite things to do is go lay down in the front yard, right by the faucet and try to lick any water that might be dripping out of the faucet. Because the hose is attached, he has to work really hard to get even the smallest drop out, and there's no guarantee that there'll be water there when he goes over there. But, almost every time he's in the front yard, he's over at that faucet trying hard to get a few drops of water that tastes like old, outdoor pipes.

I'm going to leave it to you, reader, to make the spiritual connection.

Two Mirrors, Please.

I was talking with someone over the weekend about John Edwards' affair. Maybe you haven't heard the story. If you haven't, it's tragic. We use the word "affair" because it's pretty benign, pretty harmless, cute almost, but the reality is that this married man had sex with a woman who was not his wife. He committed what the Bible calls adultery, and that is devastating. But, anyway, I was telling the person how, even though I don't agree with John Edwards on most things politically, I always really admired his commitment to his wife, his family, the way he really seemed to love and value being a husband and dad. The person I was talking to replied," And now, don't you just think all that was a show." My response was, "No, because I know myself, and I know that I can say I believe one thing and then act in a way that indicates I believe quite another."

See, here's the thing, if my actions dictated my beliefs, I'd be in real trouble, because there are days when what I say and do would mean that I believe lying is okay, hatred is fine, and even some moments when there isn't a God at all. I mean, it's easy to jump on John Edwards, call him a fake, and chalk him up as just another politician who said one thing and did another, but I have a hard time doing that. Maybe because I see much of myself in John Edwards, and I hope and pray that, like me, his beliefs are steady and firm even when his actions don't quite match up.