Dear Blog,
I realize that I have been a bit distant as of late, but I hope you have not been feeling the tinge of resentment toward me. Good things have been happening! Good things that perhaps are too new and too exciting for me to share as of yet. You must admit that you cannot keep nary even a tiny secret, my old friend. Be assured, however, that though my attentions that have been focused elsewhere, my affection for you is not lacking nor waning.
I am happy to report that I have established a weekly meeting with my writing partner. Progress is occurring, albeit slowly and uncertainly. Unfortunately, it means that any time I would normally spend writing to you is being spent writing to that end. I hope to share with you soon news of great progress!
Until then my friend,
Nathan
Showing posts with label reflect. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reflect. Show all posts
Monday, November 21, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
reassurances
Not sure if I know how to accept this...
A poet has written, "the desire to feel loved is the last illusion: let it go and you will be free." Just as the sunrise of faith requires the sunset of our former unbelief, so the dawn of trust requires letting go of our spiritual consolations and tangible reassurances. Trust at the mercy of the response it receives is a bogus trust. All is uncertainty and anxiety. In trembling insecurity the disciple pleads for proofs from the Lord that her affection is returned. If she does not receive them, she is frustrated and starts to suspect that her relationship with Jesus is all over or that it never even existed.It could be that this constant craving for reassurance and requited love is one cause of my often frustrated faith. However, I cannot agree that the desire to be loved is something that we need to be weened from. People who have conditioned themselves to not seek love perhaps have done so as a defense mechanism because they felt unlovable. I believe that it is one of the basic yearnings of the soul and to be detached from that desire is to be something less than human. Thoughts?
If she does receive consolation, she is reassured, but only for a time. She presses for further proofs - each one less convincing than the one that went before. In the end the need to trust dies of pure frustration. What the disciple has not learned is that tangible reassurances, however valuable they may be, cannot create trust, sustain it, or guarantee any certainty of its presence. Jesus calls us to hand over our autonomous self in unshaken confidence. When the craving for reassurances is stifled, trust happens.
-Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel
Friday, September 2, 2011
extravagent worship v.2
So I gave the message I was prepping for last week, but I ended up rewriting half of it. I completely skimmed over the WHY of extravagent worship the first time. I guess my motivations have evolved considerably over the last couple of years. It also took a bit of work to tailor the message to its audience, but I relish the opportunity to speak specifically to the heart of people.
A realization that comes most poignantly to me through preaching is that the pulpit is no pedestal. A preacher stands apart from his audience, facing them, with the cross behind him. As if he has the backing of God Himself. But he has no special knowledge, no elevated level of holiness, no increased amount of blessing. All he has is the attention of the crowd for a few short minutes.
Standing between the cross and the crowd, there is no other time when it is more evident to me that my proper position is on my hands and knees. It is a terrible day when a man begins to feel that his rightful place is in front of the people and not among them.
Extravagent Worship
Set the scene:
• Near the end of Jesus’ ministry
• 3 years with the disciples
• Right before Judas went to betray Jesus
• Right before the Last Supper
• Right before the cross
• Last few days to be with disciples
Jesus knows what was going to happen; he tells them repeatedly that he is going to leave them soon.
Springtime in Israel. A cool evening. Jesus, disciples, a few guests. Relaxing after a meal.
The Nard she pours is a rare spice from the Himalayas and was very expensive. A typical alabaster jar was thin and not more than 6 or 8 inches high. One of them said it was worth more than a year’s wages. It is probably her most treasured possession. She may have kept it with her at all times, maybe wearing it around her neck. Something to be savored a little bit at a time. But instead of a sprinkling, she snaps the neck off the jar and empties it on Jesus. So this would be like a 40,000 dollar bottle of Chanel or Calvin Klein, or AXE body spray, sprayed completely out. Can you imagine? When the disciples saw this, one of them says,
"Why this waste of perfume? It could have been sold for more than a year's wages and the money given to the poor." And they rebuked her harshly.
I have to say I probably would have responded the same way. They could have done a lot of good with that money, or at least used the perfume slowly in sane amounts. I mean, be practical Mary. We do need be practical in order to manage our responsibilities and survive as students, and as employees, and as Christians. To be practical and efficient is to be a good steward of what God has given us.
But this is something so completely different, and Jesus recognized it. What Jesus saw in Mary was LOVE. And when someone is in love, practicality goes out the window. If you have ever loved someone like that, you know what I’m talking about. And if you haven’t, you still know it when you see it, because it is just insane. What Mary felt about Jesus was irrational, overwhelming, and looked crazy to the people witnessing it. But that is how love is supposed to work. A girl wouldn’t say to her boyfriend, “Boyfriend, thank you for loving me so efficiently.” Jesus understands this and calls her act of worship beautiful.
"Leave her alone," said Jesus. "Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me…You will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her."
Jesus shows us that worship is not about practicality, it is about EXTRAVAGANCE. In few other situations would it be beautiful to use a $40,000 bottle of perfume like that. It is not about the amount of money. The kind of worship that pleases God is the kind that is able to at times ignore practicality to tell Him that He is worthy of all glory and every glory. When I talk about worship, I don’t mean singing Jesus songs or coming to church. It is something more personal, something more inward than outward. It includes all the things we do at church, but is not limited to it. When we worship extravagantly we are telling God that He is our real treasure. We are saying that our earthly treasures come from Him anyway and that we value the giver more than the gift.
Practicality is about returns, but extravagance does not care. There are two ways to fix a car. One way is to fix it for functionality, to replace what is broken just to get it running. This is the most efficient way. The second way is to restore it, to meticulously make sure that every nut and bolt is shiny, even polishing the underside that no one will ever see. Very few people will be able to appreciate the time and effort that goes into it. But that car becomes more than just transportation; it becomes a treasure to its owner. So how do we treat our relationship with God? Do we just make sure that we have enough faith to get us through the week, or do we allow it to become personal, and passionate, and beautiful?
This is our daily relationship with Jesus. Spending time with God is not about getting the biggest return for our investment. It’s not about fulfilling a spirituality quota, or checking off another thing on the to-do list. But that’s how we treat it sometimes, if we even get that far. Or we show up to church every week because that’s what Christians do, but the other 6 days of the week belong to us. Again, that isn’t how love works. Being in a relationship with someone is 7 days a week, 365 days a year. It means they are a part of your life, wherever you are.
So how does a practical relationship with God become an extravagant one? We can go back a couple chapters and look at the poor widow in Mark 12:41.
What I failed to cover the last time I gave this message I missed a very important point. We see now the kind of worship God desires from us, and a little bit of HOW. But the most important aspect is WHY? WHY does this woman decide to empty her most valuable possession on Jesus? WHY is this poor widow willing to give away what little she has to survive on?
See, Mary’s extravagant worship was not something she just decided to do on her own. It was a response. Jesus is in the business of loving the unlovable. What attracted people to him was that he was willing to associate with people that a man of his stature just wouldn’t. He was a teacher, a Rabbi, a prophet. Deserving of respect. Other men in his position would not have even gone near the house of Simon the Leper. Leprosy is a skin disease with no cure and lepers were considered unclean, sinful. They assumed that lepers did something to deserve their condition. They were less than human. Jesus could have stayed in any house in Bethany, but He chose Simon’s house. For Jesus to even walk inside is to say “Simon, though other men turn away from you in disgust, I acknowledge you as a human being, and I accept you as my friend.”
Mary, as a sinful woman, would have been shunned by society. She would have been used to being ignored, and looked down upon, and judged. Yet Jesus forgives her sins and welcomes her, even letting her touch him. Even just as a woman, she should never have entered the room where men were relaxing. Yet Jesus not only doesn’t rebuke her, he elevates her above the men in the room. This stuff was completely unheard of at the time. The important people were outraged by these kinds of things. Jesus was hated in polite society because he loved the unlovable. But the poor, the broken, the outcast, could only fall at his feet in worship.
And that’s what we are. Every single one of us; sinners, screw ups, unfaithful followers, men and women unworthy of God’s love. Yet he pours it out on us like expensive perfume from an alabaster jar. The vessel that was broken in order to deliver that love was Jesus himself, God’s most prized possession, sacrificed for us. Only this time, instead of Jesus being anointed for the cross…for death…we are anointed for life everlasting. Extravagant worship always comes at a cost, an expensive cost. But for Mary, her jar of expensive perfume was cheap in comparison to what Jesus had already given her. It was the only response she could have given. This is WHY extravagant worship is possible. Because God first loved US extravagantly.
So I will rejoin you now in lifting up a response to God, as forgiven sinners, as redeemed screw ups, as unworthy people trying to give up our alabaster jars in response to the alabaster jar broken for us on that cross 2000 years ago.
-Community 153-
August 28th, 2011
A realization that comes most poignantly to me through preaching is that the pulpit is no pedestal. A preacher stands apart from his audience, facing them, with the cross behind him. As if he has the backing of God Himself. But he has no special knowledge, no elevated level of holiness, no increased amount of blessing. All he has is the attention of the crowd for a few short minutes.
Standing between the cross and the crowd, there is no other time when it is more evident to me that my proper position is on my hands and knees. It is a terrible day when a man begins to feel that his rightful place is in front of the people and not among them.
Extravagent Worship
Set the scene:
• Near the end of Jesus’ ministry
• 3 years with the disciples
• Right before Judas went to betray Jesus
• Right before the Last Supper
• Right before the cross
• Last few days to be with disciples
Jesus knows what was going to happen; he tells them repeatedly that he is going to leave them soon.
Springtime in Israel. A cool evening. Jesus, disciples, a few guests. Relaxing after a meal.
Jesus Anointed at BethanyThe book of Mark does not identify the woman, but Luke says it was a “woman who had lived a sinful life” (possibly Mary Magdalene), and John says it was Mary sister of Martha and Lazarus. So this is either a sinful woman who turned from her ways and followed Jesus, or someone who saw Jesus raise her brother from the dead. In either case, Jesus has given her something that has changed her.
Mark 14:3-9
While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of a man known as Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head.
Some of those present were saying indignantly to one another, "Why this waste of perfume? 5It could have been sold for more than a year's wages and the money given to the poor." And they rebuked her harshly.
"Leave her alone," said Jesus. "Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her."
The Nard she pours is a rare spice from the Himalayas and was very expensive. A typical alabaster jar was thin and not more than 6 or 8 inches high. One of them said it was worth more than a year’s wages. It is probably her most treasured possession. She may have kept it with her at all times, maybe wearing it around her neck. Something to be savored a little bit at a time. But instead of a sprinkling, she snaps the neck off the jar and empties it on Jesus. So this would be like a 40,000 dollar bottle of Chanel or Calvin Klein, or AXE body spray, sprayed completely out. Can you imagine? When the disciples saw this, one of them says,
"Why this waste of perfume? It could have been sold for more than a year's wages and the money given to the poor." And they rebuked her harshly.
I have to say I probably would have responded the same way. They could have done a lot of good with that money, or at least used the perfume slowly in sane amounts. I mean, be practical Mary. We do need be practical in order to manage our responsibilities and survive as students, and as employees, and as Christians. To be practical and efficient is to be a good steward of what God has given us.
But this is something so completely different, and Jesus recognized it. What Jesus saw in Mary was LOVE. And when someone is in love, practicality goes out the window. If you have ever loved someone like that, you know what I’m talking about. And if you haven’t, you still know it when you see it, because it is just insane. What Mary felt about Jesus was irrational, overwhelming, and looked crazy to the people witnessing it. But that is how love is supposed to work. A girl wouldn’t say to her boyfriend, “Boyfriend, thank you for loving me so efficiently.” Jesus understands this and calls her act of worship beautiful.
"Leave her alone," said Jesus. "Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me…You will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her."
Jesus shows us that worship is not about practicality, it is about EXTRAVAGANCE. In few other situations would it be beautiful to use a $40,000 bottle of perfume like that. It is not about the amount of money. The kind of worship that pleases God is the kind that is able to at times ignore practicality to tell Him that He is worthy of all glory and every glory. When I talk about worship, I don’t mean singing Jesus songs or coming to church. It is something more personal, something more inward than outward. It includes all the things we do at church, but is not limited to it. When we worship extravagantly we are telling God that He is our real treasure. We are saying that our earthly treasures come from Him anyway and that we value the giver more than the gift.
Practicality is about returns, but extravagance does not care. There are two ways to fix a car. One way is to fix it for functionality, to replace what is broken just to get it running. This is the most efficient way. The second way is to restore it, to meticulously make sure that every nut and bolt is shiny, even polishing the underside that no one will ever see. Very few people will be able to appreciate the time and effort that goes into it. But that car becomes more than just transportation; it becomes a treasure to its owner. So how do we treat our relationship with God? Do we just make sure that we have enough faith to get us through the week, or do we allow it to become personal, and passionate, and beautiful?
This is our daily relationship with Jesus. Spending time with God is not about getting the biggest return for our investment. It’s not about fulfilling a spirituality quota, or checking off another thing on the to-do list. But that’s how we treat it sometimes, if we even get that far. Or we show up to church every week because that’s what Christians do, but the other 6 days of the week belong to us. Again, that isn’t how love works. Being in a relationship with someone is 7 days a week, 365 days a year. It means they are a part of your life, wherever you are.
So how does a practical relationship with God become an extravagant one? We can go back a couple chapters and look at the poor widow in Mark 12:41.
Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.We can only start from wherever we are. We see over and over again in the gospels that Jesus cares less about the external circumstances of a person and more about their heart. These 2 pennies from this poor widow was no less extravagant than Mary’s expensive perfume. If you have never prayed in your life, a two word prayer could be as extravagant as two hours of prayer from someone else. If you have never read the bible before, reading for just 5 minutes a day could be equally as big a step. The point is that we give what we can, but God is always ushering us toward a fully committed relationship to Him. Toward a relationship where nothing else is more valuable to us. Toward an extravagant kind of worship.
Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”
What I failed to cover the last time I gave this message I missed a very important point. We see now the kind of worship God desires from us, and a little bit of HOW. But the most important aspect is WHY? WHY does this woman decide to empty her most valuable possession on Jesus? WHY is this poor widow willing to give away what little she has to survive on?
See, Mary’s extravagant worship was not something she just decided to do on her own. It was a response. Jesus is in the business of loving the unlovable. What attracted people to him was that he was willing to associate with people that a man of his stature just wouldn’t. He was a teacher, a Rabbi, a prophet. Deserving of respect. Other men in his position would not have even gone near the house of Simon the Leper. Leprosy is a skin disease with no cure and lepers were considered unclean, sinful. They assumed that lepers did something to deserve their condition. They were less than human. Jesus could have stayed in any house in Bethany, but He chose Simon’s house. For Jesus to even walk inside is to say “Simon, though other men turn away from you in disgust, I acknowledge you as a human being, and I accept you as my friend.”
Mary, as a sinful woman, would have been shunned by society. She would have been used to being ignored, and looked down upon, and judged. Yet Jesus forgives her sins and welcomes her, even letting her touch him. Even just as a woman, she should never have entered the room where men were relaxing. Yet Jesus not only doesn’t rebuke her, he elevates her above the men in the room. This stuff was completely unheard of at the time. The important people were outraged by these kinds of things. Jesus was hated in polite society because he loved the unlovable. But the poor, the broken, the outcast, could only fall at his feet in worship.
And that’s what we are. Every single one of us; sinners, screw ups, unfaithful followers, men and women unworthy of God’s love. Yet he pours it out on us like expensive perfume from an alabaster jar. The vessel that was broken in order to deliver that love was Jesus himself, God’s most prized possession, sacrificed for us. Only this time, instead of Jesus being anointed for the cross…for death…we are anointed for life everlasting. Extravagant worship always comes at a cost, an expensive cost. But for Mary, her jar of expensive perfume was cheap in comparison to what Jesus had already given her. It was the only response she could have given. This is WHY extravagant worship is possible. Because God first loved US extravagantly.
So I will rejoin you now in lifting up a response to God, as forgiven sinners, as redeemed screw ups, as unworthy people trying to give up our alabaster jars in response to the alabaster jar broken for us on that cross 2000 years ago.
-Community 153-
August 28th, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
progress
I can't say unplugging has been easy, or that I've been as consistent as I hoped, but it has been helping a bit. I am starting to recapture a bit of the inner monologue that had been seeking to be replaced with outer distraction. The longer commute and busier work pretty much wipe me out by the time I get home. The temptation to veg is sometimes overwhelming.
Tonight I am working on a message that I am giving on Sunday. I'm just going to recycle something I wrote a few years ago, but I've been putting off refreshing myself on it.
Tonight I am working on a message that I am giving on Sunday. I'm just going to recycle something I wrote a few years ago, but I've been putting off refreshing myself on it.
Monday, August 15, 2011
unplug
After spending three weeks on the road for work, I have realized how unfocused I really am these days. Even with few of the usual distractions in my lonely hotel room, I maybe got in one productive night. That night was cancelled out by a different night wasted watching Jersey Shore reruns.
I want to be better. I have so many things I want to work on.
I am self-instituting a ban on all distractions after 9:00 PM on weekdays. 9:00 PM will be my creating/renewing time. If you see me online/being a bum after 9:00 feel free to get all up in my face about it.
Things to do in said time:
I want to be better. I have so many things I want to work on.
I am self-instituting a ban on all distractions after 9:00 PM on weekdays. 9:00 PM will be my creating/renewing time. If you see me online/being a bum after 9:00 feel free to get all up in my face about it.
Things to do in said time:
Monday, June 20, 2011
it's complicated
Father's Day this year was pretty pleasant. I drove home on Saturday for dinner but my mom had a wedding reception to attend, so it was just me and my dad. Out of all the places we could have eaten, he wanted KFC. Original recipe. From one specific KFC, because the other one wasn't as good. We were the only ones that evening celebrating Father's Day with fried chicken. Then he wanted to use a couple Baskin Robbins coupons that he had been holding onto for years so we did that. It was still pretty early and the sun was out when we got home, so we spent an hour or so washing and waxing my car. My job is still pretty new, so we had more than usual to talk about. Altogether unusually pleasant. Which is strange because a matter of months ago I had all but given up on the relationship and thought him the worst person in the world. Odd thing how family dynamics ebb and flow.
I am writing this, however, at 4:30 AM after having woken up in a sweat. I dreamed that my father was acting like the worst person in the world again. Like teeth clenchingly, screaming cuss fest bad. So bad that I woke up angry and out of breath. I remember specifically recalling in the dream that Father's Day was only two days ago and had gone well. I walked out to the living room for some water and felt I should write this out, perhaps against my better judgement. The 5:00 AM world is still half-enveloped in a cloud of haze, both outside my window and in my mind. Anyway, I know that one of the keys to this complicated relationship is the dropping of all expectations and a love that is blind to flaws. It is difficult because of so much past disappointment and circumstance and I hope I have at least a few more Father's Days to figure it out. I guess this would be a good time to pray a little before I drift back to sleep and maybe to more pleasant dreams.
I am writing this, however, at 4:30 AM after having woken up in a sweat. I dreamed that my father was acting like the worst person in the world again. Like teeth clenchingly, screaming cuss fest bad. So bad that I woke up angry and out of breath. I remember specifically recalling in the dream that Father's Day was only two days ago and had gone well. I walked out to the living room for some water and felt I should write this out, perhaps against my better judgement. The 5:00 AM world is still half-enveloped in a cloud of haze, both outside my window and in my mind. Anyway, I know that one of the keys to this complicated relationship is the dropping of all expectations and a love that is blind to flaws. It is difficult because of so much past disappointment and circumstance and I hope I have at least a few more Father's Days to figure it out. I guess this would be a good time to pray a little before I drift back to sleep and maybe to more pleasant dreams.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
love as we know it
I am convinced that the core of the human heart contains an inherent desire to be known. This need is independent of culture, class, wealth, religion and race. The entire basis of social interaction rests upon this compulsion and every relationship exists in its pursuit. To strangers, we express ourselves with what we wear, what we drive, where we are seen. To acquaintances, we express ourselves with shared interests, favorite books and movies, with knowledge. As friends, we share inside jokes, experiences, and struggles. As spouses, we share everything. The more intimate the relationship, the more we allow ourselves to be known. The more we allow ourselves to be known, the more potentially satisfying the relationship.
Love as we know it balances between being known and being accepted. We are ever gauging whether or not we will be accepted for what we reveal. As imperfect and sometimes ugly people, there is always a fear that we will lose the acceptance of our friends, family, coworkers, etc. Our past, our flaws, our weirdness, are sources of shame to be hidden from the world. We hide behind attractive masks so no one else would know how we really look. Yet what resides in the dark recesses of our hearts yearns to be brought into light. The pinnacle of human relationship is one in which sinful people fully understand and fully accept each other in all their ugliness.
Still, there are physical limits to crawling inside the skin of another. Only in a divine relationship can we be fully known inside and out. Only in a divine relationship can we be fully loved under the light of our faults. But only in a divine relationship do we have to relate from opposite sides of heaven. Anyone who has wrestled with God understands both the potential satisfaction and terrible difficulty in being loved by Him.
Love as we know it balances between being known and being accepted. We are ever gauging whether or not we will be accepted for what we reveal. As imperfect and sometimes ugly people, there is always a fear that we will lose the acceptance of our friends, family, coworkers, etc. Our past, our flaws, our weirdness, are sources of shame to be hidden from the world. We hide behind attractive masks so no one else would know how we really look. Yet what resides in the dark recesses of our hearts yearns to be brought into light. The pinnacle of human relationship is one in which sinful people fully understand and fully accept each other in all their ugliness.
Still, there are physical limits to crawling inside the skin of another. Only in a divine relationship can we be fully known inside and out. Only in a divine relationship can we be fully loved under the light of our faults. But only in a divine relationship do we have to relate from opposite sides of heaven. Anyone who has wrestled with God understands both the potential satisfaction and terrible difficulty in being loved by Him.
“I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty.”
Isaiah 6:5
Friday, May 6, 2011
vengeance and reconciliation
It has been nearly a week since the FBI's most wanted terrorist was found and killed. Along with the drunk college students pouring out of DC area bars following President Obama's address that night, most of the country seemed to be celebrating the news. And why not celebrate? After ten years, billions of dollars, and hundreds of thousands of lives, we located the man who became the face of terrorism worldwide. A man who coordinated the most devastating attack on American soil in history. A man who took the lives of three thousand innocent men and women in one morning. We got him. Good job America. Justice has been served. Time to party.
Except that attitude didn't sit right with me. The phrase that came to mind was Pyrrhic victory. But looking beyond all the political, financial and personal baggage accrued over the last ten years, essentially we were celebrating the death of a human being. It felt wrong, no matter what atrocities he committed. It is easy to compare this week's pictures of cheering Americans to the pictures of cheering crowds in the Middle East following 9-11. Justice is such a convoluted concept. Who has the right to claim life in exchange for another? There is no changing the past. We should be better than that. We should substitute reconciliation for vengeance. That is the only path toward peace in this world.
A day later I posted a status update to Facebook:
After thinking over replies from friends in very different situations, I saw some validity in the search for justice. It is easy for me to downplay it because I am so far removed. For those who have seen the war first hand or lost loved ones, it must be infinitely more difficult. Ideally, we would be able to completely forgive those who trespass against us, but when we have been deeply wronged or hurt, the desire for justice is nearly insatiable.
I received a couple of emails yesterday which reminded me of a deep wound, one which I have all but learned to ignore. One which has shaped the last ten years of my life and my view of God. One which leaves me gasping for air at times. One which I still dream about. Without resolution, there remain residues of helplessness and frustration.
I want justice. It is an immature, irrational desire, but recognizing it doesn't suppress it. Even if reconciliation were a viable option, I don't know if I could follow through. I know that forgiveness is an open door to the cage of bitterness, but I do not want to forgive. I want to be avenged. I'd rather watch the source of my pain go down in flames than bring healing. It is all kinds of wrong, but the desire for justice is stronger and simpler than the desire for reconciliation.
I imagine it is similar to what America is experiencing. After a decade of fear, fighting, and ridiculous airport security, we have destroyed the perceived source of our troubles. Unfortunately, close and personal pain does not see reason, it seeks relief. It is our weakness that bids us to seek justice, but I would be a fool to think myself above it. Sometimes we as a country and we as individuals are unable to be any better. It is up to the best of us to resist those urges. Lead us with strong hands.
Except that attitude didn't sit right with me. The phrase that came to mind was Pyrrhic victory. But looking beyond all the political, financial and personal baggage accrued over the last ten years, essentially we were celebrating the death of a human being. It felt wrong, no matter what atrocities he committed. It is easy to compare this week's pictures of cheering Americans to the pictures of cheering crowds in the Middle East following 9-11. Justice is such a convoluted concept. Who has the right to claim life in exchange for another? There is no changing the past. We should be better than that. We should substitute reconciliation for vengeance. That is the only path toward peace in this world.
A day later I posted a status update to Facebook:
After thinking over replies from friends in very different situations, I saw some validity in the search for justice. It is easy for me to downplay it because I am so far removed. For those who have seen the war first hand or lost loved ones, it must be infinitely more difficult. Ideally, we would be able to completely forgive those who trespass against us, but when we have been deeply wronged or hurt, the desire for justice is nearly insatiable.
I received a couple of emails yesterday which reminded me of a deep wound, one which I have all but learned to ignore. One which has shaped the last ten years of my life and my view of God. One which leaves me gasping for air at times. One which I still dream about. Without resolution, there remain residues of helplessness and frustration.
I want justice. It is an immature, irrational desire, but recognizing it doesn't suppress it. Even if reconciliation were a viable option, I don't know if I could follow through. I know that forgiveness is an open door to the cage of bitterness, but I do not want to forgive. I want to be avenged. I'd rather watch the source of my pain go down in flames than bring healing. It is all kinds of wrong, but the desire for justice is stronger and simpler than the desire for reconciliation.
I imagine it is similar to what America is experiencing. After a decade of fear, fighting, and ridiculous airport security, we have destroyed the perceived source of our troubles. Unfortunately, close and personal pain does not see reason, it seeks relief. It is our weakness that bids us to seek justice, but I would be a fool to think myself above it. Sometimes we as a country and we as individuals are unable to be any better. It is up to the best of us to resist those urges. Lead us with strong hands.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
well that turned into a rant rather quickly
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.
-William Cowper, “Light Shining out of Darkness”
The man who wrote these words lived a tragic life. His mother died when he was six. He was in love with his cousin at a young age but was barred from marrying her by her father. Neither ever married. He suffered from severe depression his entire life, attempting suicide multiple times. During some of his breakdowns, he was convinced that he was damned to hell for eternity and believed that God was asking him to take his own life as a sacrifice. He died as he lived, hopeless and despairing.
But out of this tragic figure flowed poetry which has lifted souls to soaring heights for centuries. This hymn has reduced me to tears on more than one occasion. What a fascinating human being. His writing is made all the more beautiful by knowing his background. People are drawn to this kind of person. One of his closest friends was pastor and reformed slave trader John Newton, who penned “Amazing Grace.” John Piper, when preparing a lecture on him, wrote:
“I devoted about three days from waking till sleeping to William Cowper, besides leisurely reading of his poetry up till that time. Those three days I was almost entirely outside myself as it were. Now and then I "came to" and became aware that I had been absorbed wholly in the life of another. But most of the time I was not self-conscious. I was not thinking about me at all.”So often are beautiful lives carved out of unfortunate circumstances. Out of struggle, and longsuffering, and pain. As Christians, there is often pressure to be cheerful and rejoicing at all times. “Smile, Jesus loves you!” Well, sometimes, I don’t freaking feel like it. Is that okay? Sometimes the futility of life and the weight of the world take its toll. Sometimes it is hard to feel the way we are "supposed" to feel. Sometimes what we know in our heads refuses to travel the twelve inches down to our hearts. Some people are able to ignore those doubts or, even better, bear them with some otherworldly display of grace. I am not one of those people.
Is it beneficial to hide how we feel? I mean, it is not realistic to respond to every "How are you?" with "Oh God the world is eating my face," but some people are so practiced at faking happiness that they convince even themselves of it. Maybe that is where happiness comes from to begin with. But how much weight does that brand of happiness carry? The Jesus I picture is a burdened, heavy hearted individual, aware of the weight of his responsibility. I find that quality to greatly magnify the beauty of his existence.
I wonder if William Cowper or any number of artists would trade away their suffering if it meant the loss of their art. If it meant living carefree but trivial lives. Sometimes I wonder if I purposely dwell on the darker facets of existence in an attempt to imbue some kind of deeper meaning into what I do. So far I have only discovered that I cannot force myself to be an optimist, or an extrovert. What end will come from who I am I do not yet know.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
good friday
God is dead.
That’s how it feels sometimes. On this night some two thousand years ago, God died. Mocked, beaten, killed. As the sun set over that hill in Jerusalem, God’s fragile body hung limp and lifeless against the knurled bark he was bound to. For those who knew him and followed him, who loved him, this was the end. The man they believed was their savior, their king, their only hope, was gone. Everything they knew for the last three years, everything they were so sure of, died on that tree. What could they do now? Where would they go? How could they follow him to heaven if he was dead? Maybe he was misleading them. Maybe he was just wrong, like so many others who claimed to have answers to life’s mysteries. Their sleep must have been fitful that night, if they got to sleep at all.
The morning arrives. No voice booming from above, no caverns of fire opening up from below. Just the regular morning busyness out in the street. Birds chirp, children play, men prepare for the day. The previous day’s events seem like a dream, like they couldn’t have happened. Like they didn’t happen. Except that for the last three years, every morning, the disciples knew there would be a plan for that day. Somewhere to go, something to do, someone to follow. Now there was no one. No direction, no guidance. No purpose. No hope.
The only consolation left to them was each other. No one else could understand the loss they felt. Eleven souls adrift in murky, uncertain seas. Being together was their only, but significant, comfort. Each one encouraged the others to be stronger than they felt themselves. Some cried. They told stories of the last three years. Some were funny and they forced a weak smile. Mostly though, they felt betrayed. He often talked about his death, but none of them imagined it like this. At least, not so soon. With so many promises unfulfilled. With no final instructions.
But the miracles which opened their minds and the words which scorched their hearts flashed in memory. They could all but dismiss what they experienced as genuine and true. But what could they do now? He was the source of it all. They were just observers. Witnesses. They couldn’t continue his work themselves. Unsure of their future and of their faith, the disciples discussed their options. They had to go on. What did they do before all of this started?
People say that the disciples’ return to fishing was a result of their lack of faith. Symbolic of their failure to continue as disciples. Upon experiencing loss, we tend to return to the familiar, seeking some kind of anchor to regain a semblance of bearing. I do not fault them for this. The alternative would have been to give up altogether. I can only imagine the amount of courage and strength it took to even leave the house. They were failures and fools in the eyes of the entire city. Their savior, crucified like a criminal. The combined pain of shame and purposelessness must have been crippling. It is the kind of pain that rends the most vital of men numb and bedridden. But they continued the best that they were able, with torn hearts and clouded minds.
There are periods when all earnest followers of Jesus are introduced to this situation. When God feels distant, silent, or dead. Personal tragedy, bad church experiences, failed relationships, loneliness. The world is filled with circumstances that make us feel like God has forgotten us. We remember how he had set fire to our lives in the past, but that past feels disconnected. Like it belongs to someone else. We feel hopeless and purposeless, like the disciples without Jesus. Unsure of our future and our faith.
How can we continue? We must, because the alternative is not an option. We cannot deny the muffled screams from the part of our souls that knows there is no going back. Our experiences with God, however muted, has changed us forever. We must do our jobs, serve at our churches, and seek out fellow lost souls. We must not stop. There are others who feel abandoned by God, others who are waiting for him to return. As long as there are others, it is possible to go on.
Those three days between Friday and Sunday must have felt like an eternity to the disciples, but it came. They did not know when it would come, or if it would come, but it came. They did their best to pray to a God who had died before their eyes. Those could only have been confused, angry prayers. No more than cries out to the darkness. But it was enough. These eleven broken men were redeemed and their impact continues to be felt two thousand years later.
As we go through stages in our lives between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, we must remember what happened to those who experienced it first. God had to die in order to be raised. He leaves us in order to return to us in the most glorious of ways. At least, I hope so. Until then I guess.
That’s how it feels sometimes. On this night some two thousand years ago, God died. Mocked, beaten, killed. As the sun set over that hill in Jerusalem, God’s fragile body hung limp and lifeless against the knurled bark he was bound to. For those who knew him and followed him, who loved him, this was the end. The man they believed was their savior, their king, their only hope, was gone. Everything they knew for the last three years, everything they were so sure of, died on that tree. What could they do now? Where would they go? How could they follow him to heaven if he was dead? Maybe he was misleading them. Maybe he was just wrong, like so many others who claimed to have answers to life’s mysteries. Their sleep must have been fitful that night, if they got to sleep at all.
The morning arrives. No voice booming from above, no caverns of fire opening up from below. Just the regular morning busyness out in the street. Birds chirp, children play, men prepare for the day. The previous day’s events seem like a dream, like they couldn’t have happened. Like they didn’t happen. Except that for the last three years, every morning, the disciples knew there would be a plan for that day. Somewhere to go, something to do, someone to follow. Now there was no one. No direction, no guidance. No purpose. No hope.
The only consolation left to them was each other. No one else could understand the loss they felt. Eleven souls adrift in murky, uncertain seas. Being together was their only, but significant, comfort. Each one encouraged the others to be stronger than they felt themselves. Some cried. They told stories of the last three years. Some were funny and they forced a weak smile. Mostly though, they felt betrayed. He often talked about his death, but none of them imagined it like this. At least, not so soon. With so many promises unfulfilled. With no final instructions.
But the miracles which opened their minds and the words which scorched their hearts flashed in memory. They could all but dismiss what they experienced as genuine and true. But what could they do now? He was the source of it all. They were just observers. Witnesses. They couldn’t continue his work themselves. Unsure of their future and of their faith, the disciples discussed their options. They had to go on. What did they do before all of this started?
People say that the disciples’ return to fishing was a result of their lack of faith. Symbolic of their failure to continue as disciples. Upon experiencing loss, we tend to return to the familiar, seeking some kind of anchor to regain a semblance of bearing. I do not fault them for this. The alternative would have been to give up altogether. I can only imagine the amount of courage and strength it took to even leave the house. They were failures and fools in the eyes of the entire city. Their savior, crucified like a criminal. The combined pain of shame and purposelessness must have been crippling. It is the kind of pain that rends the most vital of men numb and bedridden. But they continued the best that they were able, with torn hearts and clouded minds.
There are periods when all earnest followers of Jesus are introduced to this situation. When God feels distant, silent, or dead. Personal tragedy, bad church experiences, failed relationships, loneliness. The world is filled with circumstances that make us feel like God has forgotten us. We remember how he had set fire to our lives in the past, but that past feels disconnected. Like it belongs to someone else. We feel hopeless and purposeless, like the disciples without Jesus. Unsure of our future and our faith.
How can we continue? We must, because the alternative is not an option. We cannot deny the muffled screams from the part of our souls that knows there is no going back. Our experiences with God, however muted, has changed us forever. We must do our jobs, serve at our churches, and seek out fellow lost souls. We must not stop. There are others who feel abandoned by God, others who are waiting for him to return. As long as there are others, it is possible to go on.
Those three days between Friday and Sunday must have felt like an eternity to the disciples, but it came. They did not know when it would come, or if it would come, but it came. They did their best to pray to a God who had died before their eyes. Those could only have been confused, angry prayers. No more than cries out to the darkness. But it was enough. These eleven broken men were redeemed and their impact continues to be felt two thousand years later.
As we go through stages in our lives between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, we must remember what happened to those who experienced it first. God had to die in order to be raised. He leaves us in order to return to us in the most glorious of ways. At least, I hope so. Until then I guess.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
moving parts
In a couple days, I will be moving in with a friend who just bought a condo. For one year and six months, I have been living by myself. These are my reflections.
I don't like living by myself. At first, after sharing an apartment with four other guys, it was a breath of fresh air to be on my own. So much easier to keep the kitchen and bathroom clean. And I could finally set up all my music gear and do some decorating. And no more falling asleep to the sounds of Smash Brothers in the living room. It felt great to move beyond college life.
However, it was an exceedingly difficult transition. Not only was I forced to reevaluate the more important aspects of life, I had to do it stone cold alone. All the structure that sustained my previous life had crumbled. It was like a bridge that had lost its main supports. The roadway still functioned, but it was without strength. For a while, the trains kept chugging across and the bridge was suspended by my sheer force of will. I could not hold out forever though, and through the months, good habits deteriorated into bad habits.
Most noticeably, my inner life has suffered and I find myself less frequently intellectually and emotionally stimulated. External distractions have taken over. Instead of reading, or exercising, or writing, I pop in a DVD and numb myself in endless entertainment. I fear the ease of becoming awash in a sea of empty commercialism and consumerism is the greatest temptation of this generation.
I am looking forward to flipping past the last pages of this chapter of my life. It has been 18 months of limbo, a period which, though not altogether pleasant, nor altogether over, had to happen the way that it has. I have always admired and emulated the Lone Ranger mentality, yet again finding that it works best on the silver screen. We cannot function as islands indefinitely. Discipline runs thin without guidance, will weakens without direction, and freedom loses meaning without boundaries.
I am still searching for somewhere that feels like home. I am hopeful that this next step is a few miles closer than the last one.
I don't like living by myself. At first, after sharing an apartment with four other guys, it was a breath of fresh air to be on my own. So much easier to keep the kitchen and bathroom clean. And I could finally set up all my music gear and do some decorating. And no more falling asleep to the sounds of Smash Brothers in the living room. It felt great to move beyond college life.
However, it was an exceedingly difficult transition. Not only was I forced to reevaluate the more important aspects of life, I had to do it stone cold alone. All the structure that sustained my previous life had crumbled. It was like a bridge that had lost its main supports. The roadway still functioned, but it was without strength. For a while, the trains kept chugging across and the bridge was suspended by my sheer force of will. I could not hold out forever though, and through the months, good habits deteriorated into bad habits.
Most noticeably, my inner life has suffered and I find myself less frequently intellectually and emotionally stimulated. External distractions have taken over. Instead of reading, or exercising, or writing, I pop in a DVD and numb myself in endless entertainment. I fear the ease of becoming awash in a sea of empty commercialism and consumerism is the greatest temptation of this generation.
I am looking forward to flipping past the last pages of this chapter of my life. It has been 18 months of limbo, a period which, though not altogether pleasant, nor altogether over, had to happen the way that it has. I have always admired and emulated the Lone Ranger mentality, yet again finding that it works best on the silver screen. We cannot function as islands indefinitely. Discipline runs thin without guidance, will weakens without direction, and freedom loses meaning without boundaries.
I am still searching for somewhere that feels like home. I am hopeful that this next step is a few miles closer than the last one.
"I wish'd to live without committing any fault at any time; I would conquer all that either natural inclination, custom, or company might lead me into. As I knew, or thought I knew, what was right and wrong, I did not see why I might not always do the one and avoid the other. But I soon found that I had undertaken a task of more difficulty than I had imagined. While my care was employ'd in guarding against one fault, I was often surprised by another; habit took the advantage of inattention; inclination was sometimes too strong for reason. I concluded, at length, that the mere speculative conviction that it was our interest to be completely virtuous, was not sufficient to prevent our slipping."
-Benjamin Franklin, The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
There is probably no Christian to whom God has not given the uplifting experience of genuine Christian community at least once in his life. But in this world such experiences can be no more than a gracious extra beyond the daily bread of Christian community life. We have no claim upon such experiences, and we do not live with other Christians for the sake of acquiring them. It is not the experience of Christian brotherhood, but solid and certain faith in brotherhood that holds us together. That God has acted and wants to act upon us all, this we see in faith as God's greatest gift, this makes us glad and happy, but it also makes us ready to forego all such experiences when God at times does not grant them. We are bound together by faith, not by experience.
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer, "Life Together"
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer, "Life Together"
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
a little lunchtime reading...
Been feeling a bit dry and stagnant. Waiting for the next steps....
"God's impressions within and his word without are always corroborated by his providence around, and we should quietly wait until those three focus into one point...If you do not know what you ought to do, stand still until you do. And when the time comes for action, circumstances, like glowworms, will sparkle along your path; and you will become so sure that you are right, when God's three witnesses concur, that you could not be surer though an angel beckoned you on."[via Dallas Willard, Hearing God]
"The circumstances of our daily life are to us an infallible indication of God's will, when they concur with the inward promptings of the spirit and with the Word of God. So long as they are stationary, wait. When you must act, they will open, and a way will be made through oceans and rivers, wastes and rocks."
-Frederick B. Meyer, The Secret of Guidance
Friday, July 16, 2010
the kids aren't alright
His parents loved to argue. Well, maybe they didn't love to, but they sure had gotten a lot of practice at it. He must have learned a lot about arguing from them. When he was little, he would join in, just so they wouldn't be alone in the company of yelling and tears. He would scream until his little voice went hoarse and cry until his little eyes refused to release tears. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't. Sometimes they would stop fighting for a while and tell him that it wasn't his fault, that he was more important than whatever they were disagreeing upon. Sometimes they wouldn't. The two big voices and one little voice screaming in unison was quite a cacophony to behold. Once in a while, a smashed glass or a hole in the wall would bring a night's exertion to a close. He wondered what the neighbors thought, or if they cared at all. As he grew older, he learned to retreat when the voices rose, like his younger brother had always done. Sometimes, he thought that his brother learned things faster than him. Closed doors and television muffled most of the noise, but he would still cry to himself until silence blanketed the night. Stay together for the kids, they deserve a normal childhood.
It was different during college. Better, maybe. Being a little further away helped. His parents seemed to get along better. Maybe they had more space to figure things out. Teenagers around the house are stressful after all. Still, empty nest syndrome led to many phone calls and frequent weekend visits. Once every few months, though, he would open the door to a tension so thick that he could suffocate in it. They would pretend that everything was fine. They would go out to lunch and ask how classes were going, about dorm life. Smile, with honey in their voices. But their stiff interaction and dead eyes gave them away as plain as day. It wasn't fine. He wanted to scream. Sometimes he did. "Stop pretending!" It was worse than the yelling and crying. At least that stuff was real. Now they were just camouflaging their wounds with mud. Smile for the kids, they aren't home that much anymore.
He doesn't want to hide anymore. He never did. He still prefers to stand in the middle of the highway until traffic dies down or crushes him. On the worst days, he thinks he'd rather be crushed. At least he wouldn't have to worry about the tornado just around the bend, waiting to tear things apart. But anything is better than pretending. Pretending is building a castle in the sand. Pretending is putting on a thicker jacket and thinking you are bulletproof. No one wants to pretend, but dodging bullets is tiring. It's easier to close the door, turn on the television, and pretend that all is right with the world. He still curls up and cries silently to himself until silence blankets the night. Pull it together for the kids, you're the grown up now.
It was different during college. Better, maybe. Being a little further away helped. His parents seemed to get along better. Maybe they had more space to figure things out. Teenagers around the house are stressful after all. Still, empty nest syndrome led to many phone calls and frequent weekend visits. Once every few months, though, he would open the door to a tension so thick that he could suffocate in it. They would pretend that everything was fine. They would go out to lunch and ask how classes were going, about dorm life. Smile, with honey in their voices. But their stiff interaction and dead eyes gave them away as plain as day. It wasn't fine. He wanted to scream. Sometimes he did. "Stop pretending!" It was worse than the yelling and crying. At least that stuff was real. Now they were just camouflaging their wounds with mud. Smile for the kids, they aren't home that much anymore.
He doesn't want to hide anymore. He never did. He still prefers to stand in the middle of the highway until traffic dies down or crushes him. On the worst days, he thinks he'd rather be crushed. At least he wouldn't have to worry about the tornado just around the bend, waiting to tear things apart. But anything is better than pretending. Pretending is building a castle in the sand. Pretending is putting on a thicker jacket and thinking you are bulletproof. No one wants to pretend, but dodging bullets is tiring. It's easier to close the door, turn on the television, and pretend that all is right with the world. He still curls up and cries silently to himself until silence blankets the night. Pull it together for the kids, you're the grown up now.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
living together
"We thank God for giving us brethren who live by His call, by His forgiveness, by His promise. We do not complain of what God does not give us; we rather thank God for what He does give us daily. And is not what has been given us enough: brothers, who will go on living with us through sin and need under the blessing of His grace? Is the divine gift of Christian fellowship anything less than this, any day, even the most difficult and distressing day? Even when sin and misunderstanding burden the communal life, is not the sinning brother still a brother, with whom I, too, stand under the Word of Christ? Will not his sin be a constant occasion for me to give thanks that both of us may live in the forgiving love of God in Jesus Christ? Thus the very hour of disillusionment with my brother becomes incomparably salutary, because it so thoroughly teaches me that neither of us can ever live by our own words and deeds, but only by that one Word and Deed which really binds us together- the forgiveness of sins in Jesus Christ."
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together
Monday, May 24, 2010
what already?
I caught myself trying to write something profound yesterday while I really wanted to be engrossed in prayer. Fail. Here's what came out:
I am sitting in the food court at the mall on a Sunday afternoon. It is nearing that golden hour when the sun streaming in though the skylit ceiling mixes with the artificial lamps in a way that it is difficult to tell which is which. Justin Beiber is singing on the multiple overhead flat screen TVs. The catchy pop complements the din of fast food cooking and shoppers shopping.I was pondering identity and what it means to find your identity in Christ. I think we can only discover our own character against the backdrop of His. It is a fool's errand to search for an identity apart from God. We have no worth, no value, no significance, in and of ourselves. Even the terrifying creatures of heaven, much more than mere flesh and blood like us, cower before His throne.
Who am I?
Whenever the living creatures give glory, honor and thanks to him who sits on the throne and who lives for ever and ever, the twenty-four elders fall down before him who sits on the throne, and worship him who lives for ever and ever. They lay their crowns before the throne and say:
"You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created to have their being."
Revelations 4:9-11
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
conflicted
Dear Blog,
This is post number two-hundred-one in you. In the last two-and-a-half years, you have become many things to me. You have been a soapbox to proclaim with, a pulpit to preach from, a stage to perform on, an ear to complain to, and a community that is never more than an internet connection away.
But looking inward with honest eyes, I fear I may have at times made you a substitute for Someone Else who also wants to be all those things to me. The response from you is just so tangible, what with your comments system, post count, and verbatim memory of everything I bring to you. You allow the world to glimpse a portion of me, however profound or superficial I choose to be.
It is a farce.
You, Blog, and your Followers, see only what I let you see, filtered through lenses of social and spiritual correctness. It is easy for me to hide from you the conflict in my heart and the weaknesses that envelop me daily. Your 'edit post' button haunts me.
For all the advantages that you offer, dear friend, you will never know more of me than what I allow you to know. You will never see the full reality of my truly flawed character. This Someone Else, for all his lacking in tangibility and instant gratification, intimately knows my ugliness, yet will never recoil. He is deserving of my best because he loves me at my worst.
I am unsure of how this will affect our relationship in the future, but I need you to know that it is easy for me to make of you more than what you should be. You are only one of many immediately attractive alternatives to the only source of lasting comfort and acceptance. I regret to follow-up the previous letter with one of such a somber tone, but I hope you understand the gravity of what is at stake. My hope is that you would support my pursuit of a greater good.
Apologies,
Nathan
This is post number two-hundred-one in you. In the last two-and-a-half years, you have become many things to me. You have been a soapbox to proclaim with, a pulpit to preach from, a stage to perform on, an ear to complain to, and a community that is never more than an internet connection away.
But looking inward with honest eyes, I fear I may have at times made you a substitute for Someone Else who also wants to be all those things to me. The response from you is just so tangible, what with your comments system, post count, and verbatim memory of everything I bring to you. You allow the world to glimpse a portion of me, however profound or superficial I choose to be.
It is a farce.
You, Blog, and your Followers, see only what I let you see, filtered through lenses of social and spiritual correctness. It is easy for me to hide from you the conflict in my heart and the weaknesses that envelop me daily. Your 'edit post' button haunts me.
For all the advantages that you offer, dear friend, you will never know more of me than what I allow you to know. You will never see the full reality of my truly flawed character. This Someone Else, for all his lacking in tangibility and instant gratification, intimately knows my ugliness, yet will never recoil. He is deserving of my best because he loves me at my worst.
I am unsure of how this will affect our relationship in the future, but I need you to know that it is easy for me to make of you more than what you should be. You are only one of many immediately attractive alternatives to the only source of lasting comfort and acceptance. I regret to follow-up the previous letter with one of such a somber tone, but I hope you understand the gravity of what is at stake. My hope is that you would support my pursuit of a greater good.
Apologies,
Nathan
Monday, April 26, 2010
an africa update
I finally stopped putting off those phone calls and got my retest pushed up. Just dropped off the sample this morning. It is once again out of my hands. Also have a Peace Corps dinner this weekend where the current nominees meet each other and returnees. Not sure what to expect, but a former coworker from UCLA who is going gives high praise.
On another note, I am realizing once again how obsessed I am with managing everything. I feel unsettled when things are not in order. I'll rip things apart if they are just slightly out of alignment. Hence things like this. Must worry less, rejoice more. Less Martha, more Mary.
P.S. - Yums.
P.P.S. - Read this blog. Buy these pretties.
On another note, I am realizing once again how obsessed I am with managing everything. I feel unsettled when things are not in order. I'll rip things apart if they are just slightly out of alignment. Hence things like this. Must worry less, rejoice more. Less Martha, more Mary.
P.S. - Yums.
P.P.S. - Read this blog. Buy these pretties.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
khristos voskrese
Easter service was wonderful. Not that we should ever go beyond the cross, but Protestant (or Evangelical?) Christianity is great at proclaiming the death and crucifixion of Christ, but it is sometimes lacking in proclaiming the resurrection. I myself tend to be more comfortable with the sorrow of Good Friday than the rejoicing of Easter Sunday. Must rejoice more.
Seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.
Jeremiah 29:7
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