Back From the Wilds

For those of you who are still unwittingly subscribed to the RSS feed, this may come as a bit of a shock. Many things in life are cyclical, and after many years of wandering around the web trying to find a good home for my thoughts, I have circled back around again to this first humble home.

I am carrying with me quite a knapsack of things picked up through my travels, not the least of which is a website of my very own, of which this little blog will eventually be just a small part.

In the meantime, welcome back. In the intervening four years since I have last posted here, there have been several major changes in my life, as is likely the case for anyone out there reading this. you will likely hear about some of them in the posts ahead. I don't know that I have gotten a whole lot wiser, nor my insights deeper, but my perspective has certainly changed on many things. I hope you still find it as entertaining or thought-provoking as ever.

A Little Advice From Adam

Well mister, if you're going to walk on water
Could you drop a line my way?

The Counting Crows from their song Omaha

As is often the case, I have no idea what Adam Duritz is really singing about. One of the things I appreciate about the music of the Counting Crows is that while I rarely know specifically what is at stake in a song, the emotions that underlie the muddy lyrics still come through. I resonate with this style of music for the simple reason that my emotions do not always lead to coherent expression. As a person who spends a lot of time in his head, it is good for me to remember that some things aren’t always logical.

I do not know what, if any, faith Adam Duritz professes. I don’t know why he is referencing an act only performed successfully by one Individual in history. (All activities of the Basilisk lizard not withstanding….come on, we all watched the nature documentaries when we were little) For me, though, these lines almost perfectly encapsulate what it feels like to live the Christian life.

If those of us claiming the title of Christian are in fact supposed to be “Christ Followers” there is one little problem. We are not divine. In my wildly imperfect state, I ask myself how I am supposed to be like a God who does things I could never do. The balance of my time is spent floundering around instead of performing miracles. I am a person soaked with inadequacy, and yet, week after week I am bombarded with pastors, friends and books telling me that I need to give my best for Christ, and to be Jesus to the masses that do not know Him.

Sometimes I think the best I can do for Christ is ask for a little help. I have a feeling he is just waiting for a simple request that isn’t saturated with false humility, human agendas and greedy striving. (All of which I am perpetually guilty of.)

I am beginning to think that we humans are the only ones that really expect us to be like Christ. After all, He is the one who told us He wanted to live and work through us, not the other way around. Maybe an outstretched hand is what He is really hoping for.

"Quintili Vare, legiones redde!"

Isaiah 29:13
The Lord says: "These people come near to me with their mouth and honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. Their worship of me is made up only of rules taught by men.

'Quintilius Varus, give me back my legions!'

These words were cried out in desperation 1997 years ago by Augustus Caesar upon receiving word of one of the greatest military disasters to ever besmirch the glory of Rome.

On September 9, 9AD Publius Quintilius Varus lead three Roman legions (more than 16,000 men) to battle in the Teutoburg Forest in Germania. He was marching to the supposed assistance of the local prince Arminius who had asked for his help. Varus had been tricked, and would pay with his life.

Arminius and other local warlords had talked Varus into spreading out his forces in what would be termed today as a police action. Feigning loyalty and weakness, they begged Varus to send his troops to quell robbery and insurrection among their own people. In repsonse to their last request for help, Varus packed up his remaining troops and marched into the close, damp woods.

The legions were slaughtered. Slowed by their heavy equipment in the soggy forest, they were attacked and defeated by a local guerrilla force inferior in numbers, training and discipline. Quintilius Varus committed suicide on the last day of the battle, and his severed head was shipped back to Rome.

The loss shocked the Roman world. Augustus was distraught, walking the corridors of the imperial palace at night calling out for the return of his legions as though he were mourning the death of a child.

The unthinkable had occurred. The mightiest military force in all the world had been brutally and unmercifully crushed on a far flung battlefield by a ragtag group of scruffy, ignorant, barbaric tribesmen. Their most effective weapon had been, simply, Roman pride.

As our troops continue to fight prolonged battles against unruly populaces across the world, we must ask ourselves if this same story is so unthinkable today.

On this, our National Day of Prayer, we are called to stop and go to God with our prayers of behalf of our nation, our military, our leaders and ourselves. To my mind, there is only one prayer that is of any great pertinence and value. It is the prayer for humility.

Little else need be said as we sit before our creator. I need not lift my voice (as I am often guilty of doing) in prideful accolades of my own piety. I need not go to Him touting our virtue and asking Him to preserve our institutions, our endeavors or our nation because of its surpassing holiness. I need only seek from him the gift of a humble heart.

Should he answer that prayer, then and only then will we see the healing of our land that we say we so earnestly desire. May I have the courage to pray that prayer and boldy face its consequences.

2 Chronicles 7:14
if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.

Broken Books

In Christian circles (made mostly of squares) there is a lot of talk about brokenness. The word is aproached with either breathless anticipation or particular dread.
Until recently, I had spent my life in the latter camp. Living an idyllic life provided me the narrow perspecive that said pain was to be avoided at all costs. A clammy, churning dread would start to writhe in me when I heard people sing about brokenness or preach on its virtues.
August of 2004 provided me with an univited horror that moved me firmly from the side of those saying 'what if?' and put me in the crowd saying 'what now?' (the details of that incident need not be related here)
Now, a little over a year and a half later, I feel as though my head is beginning to clear. Like closing your eyes and looking into the sun, it has taken some time for the color to come back into my world. As I have begun to sort the lessons and find my bearings in a world that ought to feel familiar, there are a few new realizations I have come to possess.
Not surprisingly, thoughts about brokenness are among them. The feeling in my gut could never have hinted at how excruciating the Lord's forming hand could be. I could not have expected that the 'brokenness' so blithely sung about would be the spiritual breaking of my spine.
It is not like the breaking of my physical spine, though. This lesson of the Lord has not left me crippled and useless. It is like breaking the spine of a book.
We have all seen such a volume, the wonderful smelling old sort of book that you have to pick up gingerly to keep the pages in. When you open it, it will always flop submissivly to the same page, revealing the gap in its spine with a few threads still hanging on in the breech. One wonders who loved that part of the story so much to press it open past the pages' will.
This is the sort of breaking I have seen. It was as though the pages of my life were spilled out, and I had no capacity to put them back together again. I cannot always choose what people will see when they look inside now. The stories on the pages at the breaking point have been told more often than I would like. It is as though Someone inexplicably desires that horrific part of the story to be read over and over.
Now I need a cover to hold me together. Everything is there inside me, but what holds me together is from the outside, not the center. This is how I have come to praise the Lord through this time. I have found that the nature of his breaking is, as promised, not to cripple, but to highlight.
I doubt I will ever understand why He makes and takes life as He does. He may not restore all that He breaks here in this world, but He will hold them together if you ask. That, for me, is enough.

Change

For those of you who have passed this way before, you may have noticed the lack of postings for the past weeks.

A large part of this is due to my boss resigning. Due to the nature of our working relationship, (Which is to say I am her secretary or, if you will, 'man-retary.') her departure makes the future quite turbulent and the present no less complicated. As a result, postings could be few and far between for the next several weeks.

It is possible this could lead to a change of desks, a change of careers or a change of cities. Whatever the future holds, I know that God has landed me on my feet through many changes and a couple of tragedies in my life. He has looked out for me without fail. In faith I can say this time is no exception. Facing this truth as an imminent reality rather than just a concept is sobering as well as humbling. He is a great God. I am thankful of the privilege to serve Him, albeit poorly. (And depending how these next weeks go, perhaps very poorly.)

Shedding light on a little darkness

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.

John 1:1-5

While the world did not understand the Light, I think there are many of us who do not understand the darkness. This is not a deficiency of intellect or a problem of pometency to understand. It is an unwillingness to behold that which is truly dark. Make no mistake, all of us -regardless of religion or creed- can recognize evil when we see it, if we are willing to open our eyes.

Thanks to David Berge and the folks at Christianity Today, I have been presented with a glimpse of just what this darkness is, and I thought I would pass it on to you. (Read the article before continuing. The rest of the post won't make sense otherwise.)

I find that after all the sermons I have heard regarding the care that Christ takes in my small concerns, and the efficacy of the Cross to cover my minor transgressions I have begun to believe that these are all that Christ died for. Truth be told, he did not die only for unpaid parking tickets and to bring me a peace that it will all be ok when my Illini don't beat North Carolina. My perspective on Christ and the world he came to save have been regrettably limited as a result.

His gracious Salvation may extend down to the minutae of my life, but His blood was poured out for so much more. There are evils in this world far greater than anything that has yet touched my life or the lives of most Americans. The scope of the capacity for evil that man can display is staggering. Consequently, the scope of the restorative and healing power of Christ is mind blowing.

My prayer is not that you take them out of the world

but that you protect them from the evil one.

John 17:15

Christ does not wish us to be taken from this world becuase it falls to us to help destroy the darkness as we carry His light in us. Looking at the happenings in Uganda we can see properly what some of the darkness looks like. Perhaps by understanding the darkness a little more I can begin to see a little more of what he wants me to do.

Too Old to be Holy

" A child kicks its legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life.
Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, Do it again; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough... It is possible that God says every morning, Do it again, to the sun; and every evening, Do it again, to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike: it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we."

G. K. Chesterton on the age of God

Visions of an old, stodgy God, complete with white beard, golden halo and James Earl Jones voice are very common among Christians. I am beginning to believe they are almost as heretical as the impressions of heaven as a place of puffy clouds and harps. (Among my basis for this belief is my general distaste for harp music. I wouldn't last five minutes in Hollywood's heaven.)

C. S. Lewis, in his Space Trilogy presents many characters of divine nature. Among them are a couple that is posited as an Adam and Eve and a man who after several encounters with angels, and one with the Devil in the flesh, is transformed into an almost demi-god like status. One of the common elements of these characters is their inability to be labeled as a certain age. Beginning the series as an unsuspecting, middle aged British man of no particular physical advantage, Ransom finds himself enlivened and almost made younger with each encounter with the divine. While it may be easy to dismiss this as allegoric fantasy, I am beginning to question whether there may yet be validity to this position. Perhaps it is possible that rather than always sobering, true encounters with God should be enlivening, rejuvinating experiences.

It is no secret that the life we live in this world is less than ideal. As my friend Kelsey Young recently pointed out to me, we learn to love a love that hurts in this life. We who have loved in this world can hardly conceive of a love that is completely good, completely rewarding, completely lived out. So often I move right past Jesus' teaching about being like little children to enter the Kingdom. How hard it is in our society to believe that innocence is valued by God. Having known sin, we have lost our innocence, and in the bargain come to an unfortunate assumption. Believing that we are wiser to the ways of the world, we believe we are wiser to the ways of God. He tells us that His ways and thoughts are higher than ours. We are the ones who presume that this only means lofty, quiet, stuffy thoughts. Perhaps He was thinking of things that seem to simple for us to believe.

Chesterton, I think, is on to something. Children are not only strong enough to exult in monotony, but also in adventure. We who have grown older now count the cost. We, the knowing, unfortunately find ourselves in the gap between knowing the cost of adventure, or love, and not knowing the reward, in which God is always proven to be worthwhile. We are loathe to risk the adventure of true love because we are too cognizant, and too often reminded, of the pain that comes from the inevitable loss in this life.

We could all stand to be a little younger in our thinking. We think the innocent foolish for their lack of understanding about consequence. Perhaps we have forgotten that while understanding follows the limits of innocence, God is still beyond the limits of understanding.