I recently watched a video of a message delivered by Tom Honey, a vicar in the Church of England. His message is a reflection on the 2004 tsunami, and how God can allow such tragedies. If you would like to watch the video you can see it at this link.
http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/view/id/112
He briefly discusses the paradoxes and difficulties in nailing down God’s place in tragedy. Does he cause it, allow it to happen, use it to test us? Ultimately the idea that God suffers along with us engages Honey and propels the rest of his message. He takes God’s participation in our suffering (and our rejoicing) to suggest the possibility that God is not an agent as we are agents. “What if God doesn’t act,” he asks. He suggests instead that God is IN things, like “the loving soul of the universe, an indwelling compassionate presence underpinning and sustaining all things, the infinitely complex network of relationships and connections that make up life, the natural cycle of life and death, the incredible intricacy and magnificence of the natural world, the collective unconscious, the soul of the human race.”
Honey’s view includes a god without consciousness. He says, “To have faith in this god would be more like trusting an essential benevolence in the universe and less like believing a system of doctrinal statements.” Following this god would involve seeking the god within and cultivating your own “inwardness.” Our inwardness is “the me that remains when I gently put aside my passing emotions and ideas and preoccupations.” That sounds quite Buddhist to me. With the little understanding I have of paganism and Buddhism, I would say his theology mixes the two.
It is difficult to counter Honey’s arguments because he doesn’t actually use any arguments to make his point. He simply suggests the possibility of a god like this. Though the god that he is describing is clearly not the God of Christ. That being said he does raise a question that I think we all need to wrestle with. If God is in control, why does he allow tragedies like the tsunami? We can say that we live in a fallen world where natural disasters occur. I agree with that, and I agree that the world (earth) is in need of redemption just as we are (McKnight’s fourth restored relationship of atonement). We could say that God takes what the evil one means for ill and redeems it for good (the ransom fishhook theory of atonement suggests this). But none of these arguments, even with the truth that they contain, answer the most difficult question. If we truly believe that God has the power to control the wind and the waves, why would he allow a tragedy like the tsunami to occur? If we are going to examine and really engage in our faith, it is a question we must ask, isn’t it? I don’t have a great answer, but then again neither did Job.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
The Search To Belong By Joseph Myers
The Search To Belong (TSTB) is a book about our need to belong, how it manifests in our lives, and some basic misunderstandings about belonging. It is clear from reading TSTB that we are missing some key pieces of belonging in church today. Myers views are based on the communication theories of Edward T. Hall. Hall says that we communicate in four spaces, public, social, personal, and intimate, and Myers uses that framework to view belonging. Public belonging is based on a mutual connection to a third party. (41) For example I belong with millions as a die-hard (and often) fan of the Chicago Cubs. Social belonging is where we share a piece or small picture of who we are. (46) Examples of this kind of belonging are conversations that involve questions like, “Tell me about yourself.” Personal belonging is when we share private thoughts, experiences, and feelings with someone. These are the people we would call “close friends.” (47-50) Intimate belonging happens when we share the “naked truth” of ourselves with someone. (50) An example of this is marriage, but intimate space is not restricted to marriage.
TSTB suggests that we need a healthy harmony of belonging in each of the four spaces. One is not more important than the other, and if we lack belonging in even one space we will feel like we are missing something. Myers continues to suggest that connections in each of the spaces happen naturally and organically, and that we cannot force these connections to happen. He suggests, and at this point in my reflection I agree, that there are two major mistakes we as the church have made regarding groups. First, we push the intimacy space as if it is the end-all-be-all, that our goal for every group and relationship should be intimacy. Myers suggests that we all need a harmony that includes all four spaces to have a healthy sense of belonging. Second, too often we try to manufacture belonging, especially intimacy. Which makes sense given the first mistake. When we do this we run the risk of actually hurting people by setting unrealistic expectations. Instead we must be content to allow people to connect in and with our churches in all four spaces, and all we can do is create an environment that will give people the opportunity to connect in each of the four spaces.
TSTB is somewhat but not completely counter to a book we read earlier this semester about how consumer culture influences the church (Consuming Religion by Vincent Miller). That book suggested increasing agency, or ownership, as a way to counter a consumer approach to church. Myers may agree with this view, but he would clearly suggest that increased agency cannot be manufactured. All we can do is create an environment for people to choose it.
I find myself wrestling with TSTB and discipleship. It’s probably well known by now that I agree wholeheartedly with Dallas Willard that being a disciple of Jesus is at the core of our lives. Everything else comes after being a disciple. So I wonder how we engage in discipleship in all four spaces? How do I do this in my own life, being a disciple in public, social, personal, and intimate spaces with Jesus, and how do we encourage or facilitate discipleship in each of the four spaces in our communities? I don’t have answers at the moment, but perhaps some of the conversation here will help shake out some thoughts.
TSTB suggests that we need a healthy harmony of belonging in each of the four spaces. One is not more important than the other, and if we lack belonging in even one space we will feel like we are missing something. Myers continues to suggest that connections in each of the spaces happen naturally and organically, and that we cannot force these connections to happen. He suggests, and at this point in my reflection I agree, that there are two major mistakes we as the church have made regarding groups. First, we push the intimacy space as if it is the end-all-be-all, that our goal for every group and relationship should be intimacy. Myers suggests that we all need a harmony that includes all four spaces to have a healthy sense of belonging. Second, too often we try to manufacture belonging, especially intimacy. Which makes sense given the first mistake. When we do this we run the risk of actually hurting people by setting unrealistic expectations. Instead we must be content to allow people to connect in and with our churches in all four spaces, and all we can do is create an environment that will give people the opportunity to connect in each of the four spaces.
TSTB is somewhat but not completely counter to a book we read earlier this semester about how consumer culture influences the church (Consuming Religion by Vincent Miller). That book suggested increasing agency, or ownership, as a way to counter a consumer approach to church. Myers may agree with this view, but he would clearly suggest that increased agency cannot be manufactured. All we can do is create an environment for people to choose it.
I find myself wrestling with TSTB and discipleship. It’s probably well known by now that I agree wholeheartedly with Dallas Willard that being a disciple of Jesus is at the core of our lives. Everything else comes after being a disciple. So I wonder how we engage in discipleship in all four spaces? How do I do this in my own life, being a disciple in public, social, personal, and intimate spaces with Jesus, and how do we encourage or facilitate discipleship in each of the four spaces in our communities? I don’t have answers at the moment, but perhaps some of the conversation here will help shake out some thoughts.
A Community Called Atonement by Scot McKnight (Part 2)
In ACCA McKnight seeks to bring all of the metaphors, moments, and stories of atonement together not necessarily into a single viewpoint, but rather under a single umbrella, so that each can influence a holistic view of atonement. His assumption is that each view brings truth to the conversation, but none are sufficient in themselves.
The umbrella that McKnight suggests is “identification for incorporation.” Very simply put, Jesus became human in order to identify with us, and because he identified with us we can be incorporated into him. We can have union with Christ. McKnight writes, “He identifies with us all the way down to death in order that we might be incorporated into him. To be incorporated “in Christ” is not only a personal relationship with Jesus Christ but also a personal relationship with his people.” (108)
McKnight concludes his discussion of atonement by looking at its application. He details the application of atonement in fellowship (a community known by love), justice (Biblical justice, not necessarily political justice), mission (the church is responsible to participate in atonement), scripture (scripture speaks into our lives to transform us into doers of good), and finally baptism, Eucharist, and prayer (each of these contributes to engagement in identification for incorporation).
Coming from a perspective where I agree with Willard that discipleship is central to atonement, I have a little difficulty with McKnight’s concluding section. I appreciate his willingness to explore the application of atonement. Without this we become so influenced by the individualistic nature of our culture that atonement becomes commodified and shallow. He suggests numerous times that we participate in the atonement of others. However, I wrestle with his use of the word atonement here. Do we really participate in atonement, or do we assist is pointing the way to Christ? I think my fear is that this language could be misunderstood or lead us to lose the centrality of discipleship (the restored relationship with God) in atonement. Perhaps I am swinging the pendulum too far in response to my concern that we are making other important things too central to the Gospel.
Ultimately I agree with McKnight. Second Corinthians 5:18-20 is clear that we do have some role to play in the reconciliation (atonement) of the world. Though Christ does the actual work of atonement, we play a role as his ambassadors. Our actions, as McKnight writes, can open the floodgates of relationship “for humans to be restored to God, to self, to others, and to the world.” (126) Though I believe Paul encourages us to keep discipleship at the center with his exhortation to “Be reconciled to God.” (2 Co 5:20)
The umbrella that McKnight suggests is “identification for incorporation.” Very simply put, Jesus became human in order to identify with us, and because he identified with us we can be incorporated into him. We can have union with Christ. McKnight writes, “He identifies with us all the way down to death in order that we might be incorporated into him. To be incorporated “in Christ” is not only a personal relationship with Jesus Christ but also a personal relationship with his people.” (108)
McKnight concludes his discussion of atonement by looking at its application. He details the application of atonement in fellowship (a community known by love), justice (Biblical justice, not necessarily political justice), mission (the church is responsible to participate in atonement), scripture (scripture speaks into our lives to transform us into doers of good), and finally baptism, Eucharist, and prayer (each of these contributes to engagement in identification for incorporation).
Coming from a perspective where I agree with Willard that discipleship is central to atonement, I have a little difficulty with McKnight’s concluding section. I appreciate his willingness to explore the application of atonement. Without this we become so influenced by the individualistic nature of our culture that atonement becomes commodified and shallow. He suggests numerous times that we participate in the atonement of others. However, I wrestle with his use of the word atonement here. Do we really participate in atonement, or do we assist is pointing the way to Christ? I think my fear is that this language could be misunderstood or lead us to lose the centrality of discipleship (the restored relationship with God) in atonement. Perhaps I am swinging the pendulum too far in response to my concern that we are making other important things too central to the Gospel.
Ultimately I agree with McKnight. Second Corinthians 5:18-20 is clear that we do have some role to play in the reconciliation (atonement) of the world. Though Christ does the actual work of atonement, we play a role as his ambassadors. Our actions, as McKnight writes, can open the floodgates of relationship “for humans to be restored to God, to self, to others, and to the world.” (126) Though I believe Paul encourages us to keep discipleship at the center with his exhortation to “Be reconciled to God.” (2 Co 5:20)
A Community Called Atonement by Scot McKnight (Part 1)
A Community Called Atonement (ACCA) is looking for a comprehensive view of atonement. He suggests that we limit ourselves when we insist on one explanation or metaphor of atonement. Each biblical metaphor, McKnight would say, carries weight but each is also insufficient on its own. He likens atonement theology to golf. Each metaphor is a different club. You wouldn’t play an entire round with a putter or wedge, and in the same way we should be willing to engage different views of atonement depending on the circumstance.
I’d like to engage a bit in McKnight’s definition of atonement. McKnight says atonement is “God’s act of resolving sin and bringing humans back home to their relationship with God, with self, with others, and with the world.” (36) There are four relationships that are restored in atonement, a person with God, self, others, and the world. McKnight may not like this, but I think I would demonstrate this view of atonement as a three-tiered cake. The bottom tier is a restored relationship with God, the second is a restored relationship with self, and the third is restored relationships with others and the world. (If I am honest I am still unsure how the relationship with the world fits.) The restored relationship with God is the foundation. None of the other relationships can be restored beyond the extent that our relationship with God has been restored. In other words my relationship with self can only be restored to the extent that my relationship with God has, and my relationship with others can only be restored to the extent that my relationship with self has been restored.
I’d like to engage a bit in McKnight’s definition of atonement. McKnight says atonement is “God’s act of resolving sin and bringing humans back home to their relationship with God, with self, with others, and with the world.” (36) There are four relationships that are restored in atonement, a person with God, self, others, and the world. McKnight may not like this, but I think I would demonstrate this view of atonement as a three-tiered cake. The bottom tier is a restored relationship with God, the second is a restored relationship with self, and the third is restored relationships with others and the world. (If I am honest I am still unsure how the relationship with the world fits.) The restored relationship with God is the foundation. None of the other relationships can be restored beyond the extent that our relationship with God has been restored. In other words my relationship with self can only be restored to the extent that my relationship with God has, and my relationship with others can only be restored to the extent that my relationship with self has been restored.
The Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard
Willard’s main point throughout The Divine Conspiracy (TDC) is that the church has missed the core of the gospel of Jesus. It is not about what happens after death or some social cause. The gospel is about the Kingdom of God, and the Kingdom is here now in its accessibility through discipleship to Jesus. At its center, the gospel is the call to be a disciple of Jesus, and the point of being a disciple is not to white-knuckle our way into obedience, but rather to be transformed so that we become the kind of people who naturally act as Jesus would if he were living our life.
From the start Willard addresses the commodification of faith. He suggests that we treat the person of Jesus as a “more or less magical creature” and his words as dogma or law. (xiii) When we think of the words of Jesus as dogma and law, Willard says, we view them disconnected from “the way things really are: (from) truth and reality.” (xiii)
The spirit of bricolage is also present in TDC. Bricolage is the practice of removing a custom or belief from a culture and using it for some benefit divorced from its original intent. Doing spiritual or religious practices solely for the status they give me in Christian community is most definitely bricolage. Willard drives home the point that spiritual practices are matters of the heart. When we use them as a means of gaining reputation or esteem they are devoid of their intent and will have no impact on our real lives.
Forgive my broad-brush strokes in this final thought, but while reading TDC I began to wonder if the emerging church has much more in common with the modern church than we may like to admit. The emerging church has given great emphasis to serving the poor, the widows, and the orphans, but I wonder if this has become the gospel of the emerging church. Obviously these things are right and good and necessary, but in our emphasis on these issues have we also dodged the core of the gospel as our predecessors have in their emphasis on life-after-death destinations? Serving poor, as Willard writes, cannot “guide and empower me to be the person I know I ought to be.” (12) It seems the church in modernity and post-modernity share a fetish for outward actions. The modern church says, “Go to church. Believe you are a sinner and that Jesus saves you from the eternal destination of sin. Then you can go to heaven.” The postmodern church rightly identifies missing elements in the modern church and pushes for it to have an impact on the world in very real and tangible ways, but could the emerging church be characterized as saying, “Serve the poor. Be a friend to your neighbor and the man living on the street. Then you are a real Christian.” Has the emerging church, like church it is responding to, missed the core of the gospel, discipleship?
From the start Willard addresses the commodification of faith. He suggests that we treat the person of Jesus as a “more or less magical creature” and his words as dogma or law. (xiii) When we think of the words of Jesus as dogma and law, Willard says, we view them disconnected from “the way things really are: (from) truth and reality.” (xiii)
The spirit of bricolage is also present in TDC. Bricolage is the practice of removing a custom or belief from a culture and using it for some benefit divorced from its original intent. Doing spiritual or religious practices solely for the status they give me in Christian community is most definitely bricolage. Willard drives home the point that spiritual practices are matters of the heart. When we use them as a means of gaining reputation or esteem they are devoid of their intent and will have no impact on our real lives.
Forgive my broad-brush strokes in this final thought, but while reading TDC I began to wonder if the emerging church has much more in common with the modern church than we may like to admit. The emerging church has given great emphasis to serving the poor, the widows, and the orphans, but I wonder if this has become the gospel of the emerging church. Obviously these things are right and good and necessary, but in our emphasis on these issues have we also dodged the core of the gospel as our predecessors have in their emphasis on life-after-death destinations? Serving poor, as Willard writes, cannot “guide and empower me to be the person I know I ought to be.” (12) It seems the church in modernity and post-modernity share a fetish for outward actions. The modern church says, “Go to church. Believe you are a sinner and that Jesus saves you from the eternal destination of sin. Then you can go to heaven.” The postmodern church rightly identifies missing elements in the modern church and pushes for it to have an impact on the world in very real and tangible ways, but could the emerging church be characterized as saying, “Serve the poor. Be a friend to your neighbor and the man living on the street. Then you are a real Christian.” Has the emerging church, like church it is responding to, missed the core of the gospel, discipleship?
Postings from school
Many of you know that I am currently enrolled in Seminary with George Fox Evangelical Seminary in Portland, Oregon. I’ve been learning a lot and my thinking of spirituality and the church is being stretched greatly. Since this blog is supposed to be about me sharing what I am thinking about and learning in life, I suppose it makes sense to share some of what I am learning in seminary here. Most likely it’ll come in spurts. You’ll get a bunch of posts in a short time concerning school and then nothing for a while. But like everything else, I hope it encourages and challenges your thinking.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
The Simple Definition
If it’s okay with you, I’d like to ask another question to get us closer to a definition of the abundant life. If it’s not okay – well – I guess you should stop reading, because I’m going to ask it anyway. If this was a magical Harry Potter genie blog, and it could grant you three wishes, what would you wish for? And don’t give me that wish for more wishes crap.
I would ask for a long life with a good family. I would wish for a job doing ministry where I can use the gifts God has given me to make a difference in people’s lives, and I would wish for enough money to be comfortable financially but also enough to give away. What were your wishes?
Now comes the much more difficult question. Why did you wish for each of those things? Take each of your wishes and ask why you want it, then take you answer and ask why you want that until you distill the wish down to a basic core desire in your life. I’ll show you what I mean with my wishes.
Wish 1: A long life with a good family
Why do I want a long life with a good family? Well I’ve always wanted to be married and I’ve always wanted to have kids. Why have I always wanted a wife and kids? Ultimately I realize that beneath my desire for a good family is the desire to be loved and to love well. So the core desire is love.
Wish 2: A ministry job
Why do I want a ministry job? I want a ministry job because I want a job that I love doing. Why do I want a job that I love doing? I want a job that I love because that is something that brings me joy. Having a job that I love and doing it well brings me a lot of joy. So the core desire here is joy.
Wish 3: Enough money to be comfortable
Why do I want enough money to be comfortable? It’s because I don’t want to have to worry about money. Why don’t I want to worry about money? It’s because I want the peace of not needing to worry about anything. So the core desire is peace.
What three core desires did you come up with? I’m guessing a lot of you found ones similar to mine. I believe love, joy, and peace are three desires hardwired into our design. And I think there are more. I think we all desire a life of patience, or a life that isn’t so rushed and busy. I think we all desire a life of kindness. We all want people to treat us with kindness and fairness. Do you see where this is going?
Paul says in his letter to the Galatians, “I advise you to live according to your new life in the Holy Spirit…When the Holy Spirit controls our lives he will produce this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control”. These fruits characterize our new lives. The life of the Holy Spirit is immersed in these characteristics; it swims in them. These are characteristics of the abundant life given to us as followers of Jesus, and this, in my opinion is a very simple definition of the abundant life.
I would ask for a long life with a good family. I would wish for a job doing ministry where I can use the gifts God has given me to make a difference in people’s lives, and I would wish for enough money to be comfortable financially but also enough to give away. What were your wishes?
Now comes the much more difficult question. Why did you wish for each of those things? Take each of your wishes and ask why you want it, then take you answer and ask why you want that until you distill the wish down to a basic core desire in your life. I’ll show you what I mean with my wishes.
Wish 1: A long life with a good family
Why do I want a long life with a good family? Well I’ve always wanted to be married and I’ve always wanted to have kids. Why have I always wanted a wife and kids? Ultimately I realize that beneath my desire for a good family is the desire to be loved and to love well. So the core desire is love.
Wish 2: A ministry job
Why do I want a ministry job? I want a ministry job because I want a job that I love doing. Why do I want a job that I love doing? I want a job that I love because that is something that brings me joy. Having a job that I love and doing it well brings me a lot of joy. So the core desire here is joy.
Wish 3: Enough money to be comfortable
Why do I want enough money to be comfortable? It’s because I don’t want to have to worry about money. Why don’t I want to worry about money? It’s because I want the peace of not needing to worry about anything. So the core desire is peace.
What three core desires did you come up with? I’m guessing a lot of you found ones similar to mine. I believe love, joy, and peace are three desires hardwired into our design. And I think there are more. I think we all desire a life of patience, or a life that isn’t so rushed and busy. I think we all desire a life of kindness. We all want people to treat us with kindness and fairness. Do you see where this is going?
Paul says in his letter to the Galatians, “I advise you to live according to your new life in the Holy Spirit…When the Holy Spirit controls our lives he will produce this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control”. These fruits characterize our new lives. The life of the Holy Spirit is immersed in these characteristics; it swims in them. These are characteristics of the abundant life given to us as followers of Jesus, and this, in my opinion is a very simple definition of the abundant life.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
How often do we use words and phrases in the church without necessarily knowing what we are saying? How often are words thrown around without definitions? Eventually we all learn to speak the language without actually knowing what we are saying.
I know this happened to me. In my early church life, I knew all the right words to say. I would repeat things I heard my dad or the pastor say. I noticed how people responded when I used certain words or phrases in certain contexts and I would use them again in the same context.
The interesting thing is I didn’t do it intentionally. I wasn’t trying to sound a certain way or act a certain way. I think inside I actually thought that’s what it meant to be a Christian. “Turn it over to God.” “I know God has a plan for my life.” “Jesus is always with me.” I said these things without really entering into what I was saying. Did I really believe that Jesus was always with me? What does it mean to turn something over to God? Do I really believe God has a plan for me, and what would it look like for me to live like He does?
In my (not so) recent posts we were discussing the idea that Jesus’ mission is to give you and me “abundant life.” I would hate for us to fall into the trap of using a phrase without knowing what it means, so what is this abundant life? Stop for a minute and think about life. Think about the word. What does it mean to be alive? Is it merely breathing, heart pumping, and brain activity; sitting up and taking nourishment, on the green side of the grass? Is that what it means to be alive? I suppose in one sense that it does. But I don’t quite think it encapsulates the abundant life.
Too often I think the English language fails us. I don’t know any other languages really well, but it seems like most languages use multiple words to describe the nuance of an idea or a thing when English uses only one. I suppose I can appreciate the efficiency, but I can’t help but feel that we lose some meaning and depth of understanding. For example, there are multiple Greek words for “love.” Eros is romantic love, phileo is brotherly love or the love of a friend. Agape of course is an unconditional love. In English we have… love.
In Greek, the language of the New Testament, there are multiple words for “life.” One, psuke, is used when speaking of physical, breath, heart, and brain activity. Interestingly, this is not the word for life Jesus uses when talking about His mission. When He speaks about bringing life, He uses “zoe.” Zoe implies a full life, and life of abundance. In fact, one of the connotations of zoe is great riches. So when Jesus said He came to bring abundant life, He meant an abundant wealth of life. Maybe that’s a bit redundant, but I suppose it makes the point.
Okay, so the abundant life is a rich life, a full life, but that still doesn’t define it. That still doesn’t tell us what it means. What do you think when you hear that someone led a full life? Or better yet, when someone is described as “full of life?” What are some words you would use to describe someone full of life? Seriously, stop and do this.
Here are a few of mine: playful, fun, easy going, simple (not too busy), caring, helpful, kind, funny, passionate, free-spirited, willing to take risks. I suppose the list could go on. Were there similar words on your list? What would you add?
I think this describes the abundant life. I really do. If we were to talk about someone who is living the abundant life, I think these words would describe him or her. “Hey,” you’re probably saying, “that’s a description, not a definition.” You got me. You’re right; a description is not definition. I suppose I’ll have to attempt a definition in my next post.
I know this happened to me. In my early church life, I knew all the right words to say. I would repeat things I heard my dad or the pastor say. I noticed how people responded when I used certain words or phrases in certain contexts and I would use them again in the same context.
The interesting thing is I didn’t do it intentionally. I wasn’t trying to sound a certain way or act a certain way. I think inside I actually thought that’s what it meant to be a Christian. “Turn it over to God.” “I know God has a plan for my life.” “Jesus is always with me.” I said these things without really entering into what I was saying. Did I really believe that Jesus was always with me? What does it mean to turn something over to God? Do I really believe God has a plan for me, and what would it look like for me to live like He does?
In my (not so) recent posts we were discussing the idea that Jesus’ mission is to give you and me “abundant life.” I would hate for us to fall into the trap of using a phrase without knowing what it means, so what is this abundant life? Stop for a minute and think about life. Think about the word. What does it mean to be alive? Is it merely breathing, heart pumping, and brain activity; sitting up and taking nourishment, on the green side of the grass? Is that what it means to be alive? I suppose in one sense that it does. But I don’t quite think it encapsulates the abundant life.
Too often I think the English language fails us. I don’t know any other languages really well, but it seems like most languages use multiple words to describe the nuance of an idea or a thing when English uses only one. I suppose I can appreciate the efficiency, but I can’t help but feel that we lose some meaning and depth of understanding. For example, there are multiple Greek words for “love.” Eros is romantic love, phileo is brotherly love or the love of a friend. Agape of course is an unconditional love. In English we have… love.
In Greek, the language of the New Testament, there are multiple words for “life.” One, psuke, is used when speaking of physical, breath, heart, and brain activity. Interestingly, this is not the word for life Jesus uses when talking about His mission. When He speaks about bringing life, He uses “zoe.” Zoe implies a full life, and life of abundance. In fact, one of the connotations of zoe is great riches. So when Jesus said He came to bring abundant life, He meant an abundant wealth of life. Maybe that’s a bit redundant, but I suppose it makes the point.
Okay, so the abundant life is a rich life, a full life, but that still doesn’t define it. That still doesn’t tell us what it means. What do you think when you hear that someone led a full life? Or better yet, when someone is described as “full of life?” What are some words you would use to describe someone full of life? Seriously, stop and do this.
Here are a few of mine: playful, fun, easy going, simple (not too busy), caring, helpful, kind, funny, passionate, free-spirited, willing to take risks. I suppose the list could go on. Were there similar words on your list? What would you add?
I think this describes the abundant life. I really do. If we were to talk about someone who is living the abundant life, I think these words would describe him or her. “Hey,” you’re probably saying, “that’s a description, not a definition.” You got me. You’re right; a description is not definition. I suppose I’ll have to attempt a definition in my next post.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Vision Of My Heart
If I were to describe my spiritual journey of the last few years I would tell you it has been marked by an increasing awareness of my woundedness. In the last four or five years the Holy Spirit has taken me deeper into my life to show me the wounds to my heart, where they have come from, and how they impact the way I live. This season has been an incredible time of awareness. The most influential realization of this time is that I believe a lie. I believe that at my core there is something wrong with me. This belief, this lie, influences the way I think, what that I say and do, and my emotions. This lie influences – no, it kills my Life.
Recently I have become increasingly frustrated with the lie. I have come to a certain amount of awareness of the lie, its origins and affects, but this awareness hasn't changed anything. The awareness hasn't allowed me to move on, to conquer the lie. Awareness does not equal healing. Or as my buddy John Eldredge puts it, "Understanding does not equal healing. Clarity does not equal restoration. Many men understand their wounds; can talk about them with great clarity. Yet, they remain unfinished men, haunted by their memories, crippled by the wounds."
Looking at the road I travel it becomes clear that God has me turning a corner. If the last few years have been a time of heightened awareness, I suspect in the next years He will lead me into greater healing. I had a meeting with a spiritual mentor last week, and it was through his direction that I had the following experience.
In front of me as if through a window I see a desert, dry and parched. It is desolate; it is hot. There is no living thing anywhere, and the name of this desert if Death. It is what I believe God has for me in life, and I can feel this in the pit of my stomach. It is the reality in which I live.
Now God is standing beside me. He steps forward, places a hand on the window, and begins to rub at it. The desert begins to wipe away as if it has been painted on the window, and as he wipes the desert away a lush and beautiful forest is revealed beyond the window. The forest is green and full. A gentle, refreshing breeze flows through the leaves. This forest is alive; it is full of life.
After wiping the last bit of desert from the window God says, "This is your heart. Your eyes have been wounded. You see a barren desert where there is a beautiful, flourishing forest. Your heart is a beautiful forest overflowing with life."
Father, give me new eyes to see what my heart truly is.
Recently I have become increasingly frustrated with the lie. I have come to a certain amount of awareness of the lie, its origins and affects, but this awareness hasn't changed anything. The awareness hasn't allowed me to move on, to conquer the lie. Awareness does not equal healing. Or as my buddy John Eldredge puts it, "Understanding does not equal healing. Clarity does not equal restoration. Many men understand their wounds; can talk about them with great clarity. Yet, they remain unfinished men, haunted by their memories, crippled by the wounds."
Looking at the road I travel it becomes clear that God has me turning a corner. If the last few years have been a time of heightened awareness, I suspect in the next years He will lead me into greater healing. I had a meeting with a spiritual mentor last week, and it was through his direction that I had the following experience.
In front of me as if through a window I see a desert, dry and parched. It is desolate; it is hot. There is no living thing anywhere, and the name of this desert if Death. It is what I believe God has for me in life, and I can feel this in the pit of my stomach. It is the reality in which I live.
Now God is standing beside me. He steps forward, places a hand on the window, and begins to rub at it. The desert begins to wipe away as if it has been painted on the window, and as he wipes the desert away a lush and beautiful forest is revealed beyond the window. The forest is green and full. A gentle, refreshing breeze flows through the leaves. This forest is alive; it is full of life.
After wiping the last bit of desert from the window God says, "This is your heart. Your eyes have been wounded. You see a barren desert where there is a beautiful, flourishing forest. Your heart is a beautiful forest overflowing with life."
Father, give me new eyes to see what my heart truly is.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Sorry for multiple posts of quotes. I promise I will get back to posting some original work relating to the abundant life soon. That being said, below is an excerpt from Wes Seeliger's book "Western Theology," with adaptations by Brennan Manning as found in his "Lion and Lamb: The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus," p.37ff
This absolutely speaks to my heart about following Jesus. I hope it speaks to your as well.
There are two views of life and two kinds of people. Some see life as a possession to be carefully guarded. They are SETTLERS. Others see life as a fantastic, wild, explosive gift. They are PIONEERS. The visible church is an outfit with an abundance of settlers and a few pioneers. The invisible church is the fellowship of pioneers. To no one's surprise there are two kinds of theology. Settler theology and pioneer theology. Settler theology is an attempt to answer all the questions, define and housebreak some sort of "Supreme Being," establish the status quo on Golden Tablets in cinemascope. Pioneer Theology is an attempt to talk about what it means to receive the strange gift of life and live! The pioneer sees theology as a wild adventure, complete with indians, saloon girls, and the haunting call of what is yet to be.
The Wild West offers a stage for picturing these two types of theology. Settlers and Pioneers use the same words but that is where it stops. To see what I mean--read on.
THE CHURCH
IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the church is the courthouse. It is the center of town life. The old stone structure dominates the town square. Its windows are small. This makes the thing easy to defend, but quite dark inside. Its doors are solid oak. No one lives there except pigeons and they, of course, are most unwelcome.
Within the thick, courthouse walls, records are kept, taxes collected, trials held for bad guys. The courthouse runs the town. It is the settler's symbol of law, order, stability, and most important--security, The mayor's office is on the top floor. His eagle eye scopes out the smallest details of town life.
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the church is the covered wagon. It is a house on wheels--always on the move. No place is its home. The covered wagon is where the pioneers eat, sleep, fight, love, and die. It bears the marks of life and movement--it creaks, is scarred with arrows, bandaged with bailing wire. The covered wagon is always where the action is. It moves in on the future and doesn't bother to glorify its own ruts. The old wagon isn't comfortable, but the pioneers could care less. There is a new world to explore.
GOD
IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--God is the mayor. The honorable Alpha O. Mega, chief executive of Settler City. He is a sight to behold--dressed like a dude from back East, lounging in an over-stuffed chair in his courthouse office. He keeps the blinds drawn. No one sees or knows him directly, but since there is order in the town who can deny he is there? The mayor is predictable and always on schedule.
The settlers fear the mayor but look to him to clear the payroll and keep things going. The mayor controls the courthouse which in turn runs the town. To maintain peace and quiet the mayor sends the sheriff to check on pioneers who ride into town.
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--God is the trail boss. He is rough and rugged-full of life. He chews tobacco, drinks straight whiskey.The trail boss lives, eats, sleeps, fights with his men. Their well being is his concern. Without him the wagon wouldn't move--the pioneers would become fat and lazy. Living as a free man would be impossible. The trail boss often gets down in the mud with the pioneers to help push the wagon which frequently gets stuck. He slugs the pioneers when they get soft and want to turn back. His fist is an expression of his concern.
JESUS
IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--Jesus is the sheriff. He is the guy who is sent by the mayor to enforce the rules. He wears a white hat--drinks milk--outdraws the bad guys. He saves the settlers by offering security. The sheriff decides who is thrown in jail. There is a saying in town that goes like this--those who believe the mayor sent the sheriff and follow the rules won't stay in Boot Hill when it comes their time.
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--Jesus is the scout. He rides out ahead to find out which way the pioneers should go. He lives all the dangers of the trail. The scout suffers every hardship, is attacked by the Indians, feared by the settlers. Through his actions and words he shows the true spirit, intent, and concern of the trail boss. By looking at the scout, those on the trail learn what it really means to be a pioneer.
THE HOLY SPIRIT
IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the Holy Spirit is a saloon girl. Her job is to comfort the settlers. They come to her when they feel lonely or when life gets dull or dangerous. She tickles them under the chin and makes everything O.K. again. The saloon girl squeals to the sheriff when someone starts disturbing the peace. (Note to settlers: the whiskey served in Settler City Saloon is the non-spiritous kind.)
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the Holy Spirit is the buffalo hunter. He rides along with the wagon train and furnishes fresh, raw meat for the pioneers. The buffalo hunter is a strange character--sort of a wild man. The pioneers never can tell what he will do next. He scares the hell out of the settlers. Every Sunday morning, when the settlers have their little ice cream party in the courthouse, the buffalo hunter sneaks up to one of the courthouse windows with his big black gun and fires a tremendous blast. Men jump, women scream, dogs bark. Chuckling to himself, the buffalo hunter rides back to the wagon train.
THE CHRISTIAN
IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the Christian is the settler. He fears the open, unknown frontier. He stays in good with the mayor and keeps out of the sheriff's way. He tends a small garden. "Safety First" is his motto. To him the courthouse is a symbol of security, peace, order, and happiness. He keeps his money in the bank. The banker is his best friend. He plays checkers in the restful shade of the oak trees lining the courthouse lawn. He never misses an ice cream party.
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the Christian is the pioneer. He is a man of risk and daring--hungry for adventure, new life, the challenge of being on the trail. He is tough, rides hard, knows how to use a gun when necessary. The pioneer feels sorry for the town folks and tries to tell them about the joy and fulfillment of a life following the trail. He dies with his boots on.
THE CLERGYMAN IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the clergyman is the bank teller. Within his vaults are locked the values of the town. He is suspicious of strangers. And why not? Look what he has to protect! The bank teller is a highly respected man in town. He has a gun but keeps it hidden behind his desk. He feels he and the sheriff have a lot in common. After all, they both protect the bank.
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the clergyman is the cook. He doesn't furnish the meat--he just dishes up what the buffalo hunter provides. This is how he supports the movement of the wagon. He never confuses his job with that of the trail boss, scout or buffalo hunter. He sees himself as just another pioneer who has learned to cook. The cook's job is to help the pioneers pioneer.
THE BISHOP
IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the bishop is the bank president. He rules the bank with an iron hand. He makes all the decisions, tells the tellers what to do, and upholds the image of the bank. The settlers must constantly be reassured of the safety of their values. The bank president watches the books like a hawk. Each day he examines all deposits and withdrawals. The bank president is responsible for receiving all new accounts. This is called "the laying on of hands."
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the bishop is the dishwasher. He does the chores so the cook can do his job. He supports the cook in every way possible. Together the cook and dishwasher plan the meals and cook the food provided by the buffalo hunter. They work as an interdependent team in all matters related to cooking. Humming while he works, the dishwasher keeps the coffeepot going for the pioneers. Though the dishwasher has an humble task he is not resentful. All pioneers realize that each man's job is equally important. In fact, in the strange ways of the pioneer community, he is greatest who serves most. (A bishop is the servant of the servants of God. If the servants of God are cooks, what else would a bishop be?)
In SETTLER THEOLOGY, faith is trusting in the safety of the twon: obeying the laws, keeping your nose clean, believing the mayor is in the courthouse. In PIONEER THEOLOGY, faith is the spirit of adventure. The readiness to move out. To risk everything on the trail. Obedience to the restless voice of the trail boss.
In SETTLER THEOLOLGY, sin is breaking one of the town's ordinances. In PIONEER THEOLOGY, sin is wanting to turn back.
In SETTLER THEOLOGY,salvation is living close to home and hanging around the courthouse. In PIONEER THEOLOGY, salvation is being more afraid of sterile town life than of death on the trail. The joy of the thought of another day to push on into the unkown. It is trusting the trail boss and following his scout while living on the meat provieded by the buffalo hunter.
The settleers and pioneer portray in cowboy movie language the people of the law and the people of the Spirit. In the time of the historical Jesus, the guardians of the ecclesiastical setup, the scribes and Pharisees and Saduces]es, had esconded themselves in the courthoyuse and ensaved themselves to the law. This not only enhanced their prestige in society, it also gave them a sense of security....Some men want to be slaves...Jesus wanted to liberate his people from the law--from all laws...
..If we are not experiencing what Paul calls "the glorilous freedom," then we must acknowledge that we are not fully under the sway of His Spirit
This absolutely speaks to my heart about following Jesus. I hope it speaks to your as well.
There are two views of life and two kinds of people. Some see life as a possession to be carefully guarded. They are SETTLERS. Others see life as a fantastic, wild, explosive gift. They are PIONEERS. The visible church is an outfit with an abundance of settlers and a few pioneers. The invisible church is the fellowship of pioneers. To no one's surprise there are two kinds of theology. Settler theology and pioneer theology. Settler theology is an attempt to answer all the questions, define and housebreak some sort of "Supreme Being," establish the status quo on Golden Tablets in cinemascope. Pioneer Theology is an attempt to talk about what it means to receive the strange gift of life and live! The pioneer sees theology as a wild adventure, complete with indians, saloon girls, and the haunting call of what is yet to be.
The Wild West offers a stage for picturing these two types of theology. Settlers and Pioneers use the same words but that is where it stops. To see what I mean--read on.
THE CHURCH
IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the church is the courthouse. It is the center of town life. The old stone structure dominates the town square. Its windows are small. This makes the thing easy to defend, but quite dark inside. Its doors are solid oak. No one lives there except pigeons and they, of course, are most unwelcome.
Within the thick, courthouse walls, records are kept, taxes collected, trials held for bad guys. The courthouse runs the town. It is the settler's symbol of law, order, stability, and most important--security, The mayor's office is on the top floor. His eagle eye scopes out the smallest details of town life.
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the church is the covered wagon. It is a house on wheels--always on the move. No place is its home. The covered wagon is where the pioneers eat, sleep, fight, love, and die. It bears the marks of life and movement--it creaks, is scarred with arrows, bandaged with bailing wire. The covered wagon is always where the action is. It moves in on the future and doesn't bother to glorify its own ruts. The old wagon isn't comfortable, but the pioneers could care less. There is a new world to explore.
GOD
IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--God is the mayor. The honorable Alpha O. Mega, chief executive of Settler City. He is a sight to behold--dressed like a dude from back East, lounging in an over-stuffed chair in his courthouse office. He keeps the blinds drawn. No one sees or knows him directly, but since there is order in the town who can deny he is there? The mayor is predictable and always on schedule.
The settlers fear the mayor but look to him to clear the payroll and keep things going. The mayor controls the courthouse which in turn runs the town. To maintain peace and quiet the mayor sends the sheriff to check on pioneers who ride into town.
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--God is the trail boss. He is rough and rugged-full of life. He chews tobacco, drinks straight whiskey.The trail boss lives, eats, sleeps, fights with his men. Their well being is his concern. Without him the wagon wouldn't move--the pioneers would become fat and lazy. Living as a free man would be impossible. The trail boss often gets down in the mud with the pioneers to help push the wagon which frequently gets stuck. He slugs the pioneers when they get soft and want to turn back. His fist is an expression of his concern.
JESUS
IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--Jesus is the sheriff. He is the guy who is sent by the mayor to enforce the rules. He wears a white hat--drinks milk--outdraws the bad guys. He saves the settlers by offering security. The sheriff decides who is thrown in jail. There is a saying in town that goes like this--those who believe the mayor sent the sheriff and follow the rules won't stay in Boot Hill when it comes their time.
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--Jesus is the scout. He rides out ahead to find out which way the pioneers should go. He lives all the dangers of the trail. The scout suffers every hardship, is attacked by the Indians, feared by the settlers. Through his actions and words he shows the true spirit, intent, and concern of the trail boss. By looking at the scout, those on the trail learn what it really means to be a pioneer.
THE HOLY SPIRIT
IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the Holy Spirit is a saloon girl. Her job is to comfort the settlers. They come to her when they feel lonely or when life gets dull or dangerous. She tickles them under the chin and makes everything O.K. again. The saloon girl squeals to the sheriff when someone starts disturbing the peace. (Note to settlers: the whiskey served in Settler City Saloon is the non-spiritous kind.)
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the Holy Spirit is the buffalo hunter. He rides along with the wagon train and furnishes fresh, raw meat for the pioneers. The buffalo hunter is a strange character--sort of a wild man. The pioneers never can tell what he will do next. He scares the hell out of the settlers. Every Sunday morning, when the settlers have their little ice cream party in the courthouse, the buffalo hunter sneaks up to one of the courthouse windows with his big black gun and fires a tremendous blast. Men jump, women scream, dogs bark. Chuckling to himself, the buffalo hunter rides back to the wagon train.
THE CHRISTIAN
IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the Christian is the settler. He fears the open, unknown frontier. He stays in good with the mayor and keeps out of the sheriff's way. He tends a small garden. "Safety First" is his motto. To him the courthouse is a symbol of security, peace, order, and happiness. He keeps his money in the bank. The banker is his best friend. He plays checkers in the restful shade of the oak trees lining the courthouse lawn. He never misses an ice cream party.
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the Christian is the pioneer. He is a man of risk and daring--hungry for adventure, new life, the challenge of being on the trail. He is tough, rides hard, knows how to use a gun when necessary. The pioneer feels sorry for the town folks and tries to tell them about the joy and fulfillment of a life following the trail. He dies with his boots on.
THE CLERGYMAN IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the clergyman is the bank teller. Within his vaults are locked the values of the town. He is suspicious of strangers. And why not? Look what he has to protect! The bank teller is a highly respected man in town. He has a gun but keeps it hidden behind his desk. He feels he and the sheriff have a lot in common. After all, they both protect the bank.
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the clergyman is the cook. He doesn't furnish the meat--he just dishes up what the buffalo hunter provides. This is how he supports the movement of the wagon. He never confuses his job with that of the trail boss, scout or buffalo hunter. He sees himself as just another pioneer who has learned to cook. The cook's job is to help the pioneers pioneer.
THE BISHOP
IN SETTLER THEOLOGY--the bishop is the bank president. He rules the bank with an iron hand. He makes all the decisions, tells the tellers what to do, and upholds the image of the bank. The settlers must constantly be reassured of the safety of their values. The bank president watches the books like a hawk. Each day he examines all deposits and withdrawals. The bank president is responsible for receiving all new accounts. This is called "the laying on of hands."
IN PIONEER THEOLOGY--the bishop is the dishwasher. He does the chores so the cook can do his job. He supports the cook in every way possible. Together the cook and dishwasher plan the meals and cook the food provided by the buffalo hunter. They work as an interdependent team in all matters related to cooking. Humming while he works, the dishwasher keeps the coffeepot going for the pioneers. Though the dishwasher has an humble task he is not resentful. All pioneers realize that each man's job is equally important. In fact, in the strange ways of the pioneer community, he is greatest who serves most. (A bishop is the servant of the servants of God. If the servants of God are cooks, what else would a bishop be?)
In SETTLER THEOLOGY, faith is trusting in the safety of the twon: obeying the laws, keeping your nose clean, believing the mayor is in the courthouse. In PIONEER THEOLOGY, faith is the spirit of adventure. The readiness to move out. To risk everything on the trail. Obedience to the restless voice of the trail boss.
In SETTLER THEOLOLGY, sin is breaking one of the town's ordinances. In PIONEER THEOLOGY, sin is wanting to turn back.
In SETTLER THEOLOGY,salvation is living close to home and hanging around the courthouse. In PIONEER THEOLOGY, salvation is being more afraid of sterile town life than of death on the trail. The joy of the thought of another day to push on into the unkown. It is trusting the trail boss and following his scout while living on the meat provieded by the buffalo hunter.
The settleers and pioneer portray in cowboy movie language the people of the law and the people of the Spirit. In the time of the historical Jesus, the guardians of the ecclesiastical setup, the scribes and Pharisees and Saduces]es, had esconded themselves in the courthoyuse and ensaved themselves to the law. This not only enhanced their prestige in society, it also gave them a sense of security....Some men want to be slaves...Jesus wanted to liberate his people from the law--from all laws...
..If we are not experiencing what Paul calls "the glorilous freedom," then we must acknowledge that we are not fully under the sway of His Spirit
Monday, April 16, 2007
George MacDonald Sermon On Life
This isn't my typical kind of post, but below is a abridged version of a sermon from George MacDonald's Unspoken Sermons Second Series on the Abundant Life.
In a word, He came to supply all our lack-from the root outward; for what is it we need but more life? What does the infant need but more life? What does the bosom of his mother give him but life in abundance? What does the old man need, whose limbs are weak and whose pulse is low, but more of the life which seems ebbing from him? Weary with feebleness, he calls upon death, but in reality it is life he wants. It is but the encroaching death in him that desires death.
Never a cry went out after the opposite of life from any soul that knew what life is. Why does the poor, worn, out-worn suicide seek death? Is it not in reality to escape from death?-from the death of homelessness and hunger and cold; the death of failure, disappointment, and distraction; the death of the exhaustion of passion; the death of madness-of a household he cannot rule; the death of crime and fear of discovery? He seeks the darkness because it seems a refuge from the death which possesses him. He is a creature possessed by death; what he calls his life is but a dream full of horrible phantasms.
'More life!' is the unconscious prayer of all creation, groaning and travailing for the redemption of its lord, the son who is not yet a son. Is not the dumb cry to be read in the faces of some of the animals, in the look of some of the flowers, and in many an aspect of what we call Nature?
The life the Lord came to give us is a life exceeding that of the highest undivine man, by far more than the life of that man exceeds the life of the animal the least human. More and more of it is for each who will receive it, and to eternity. The Father has given to the Son to have life in himself; that life is our light. We know life only as light; it is the life in us that makes us see. All the growth of the Christian is the more and more life he is receiving. At first his religion may hardly be distinguishable from the mere prudent desire to save his soul; but at last he loses that very soul in the glory of love, and so saves it; self becomes but the cloud on which the white light of God divides into harmonies unspeakable.
Death can be the cure for nothing, the cure for everything must be life-that the ills which come with existence, are from its imperfection, not of itself-that what we need is more of it. We who are, have nothing to do with death; our relations are alone with life. The thing that can mourn can mourn only from lack; it cannot mourn because of being, but because of not enough being. We are vessels of life, not yet full of the wine of life; where the wine does not reach, there the clay cracks, and aches, and is distressed. Who would therefore pour out the wine that is there, instead of filling to the brim with more wine! All the being must partake of essential being; life must be assisted, upheld, comforted, every part, with life. Life is the law, the food, the necessity of life. Life is everything.
Let us in all the troubles of life remember-that our one lack is life-that what we need is more life-more of the life-making presence in us making us more, and more largely, alive. When most oppressed, when most weary of life, as our unbelief would phrase it, let us bethink ourselves that it is in truth the inroad and presence of death we are weary of. When most inclined to sleep, let us rouse ourselves to live. Of all things let us avoid the false refuge of a weary collapse, a hopeless yielding to things as they are. It is the life in us that is discontented; we need more of what is discontented, not more of the cause of its discontent. Discontent, I repeat, is the life in us that has not enough of itself, is not enough to itself, so calls for more. He has the victory who, in the midst of pain and weakness, cries out, not for death, not for the repose of forgetfulness, but for strength to fight; for more power, more consciousness of being, more God in him.
If we will but let our God and Father work his will with us, there can be no limit to his enlargement of our existence, to the flood of life with which he will overflow our consciousness. We have no conception of what life might be, of how vast the consciousness of which we could be made capable. Many can recall some moment in which life seemed richer and fuller than ever before; to some, such moments arrive mostly in dreams: shall soul, awake or asleep, infold a bliss greater than its Life, the living God, can seal, perpetuate, enlarge? Can the human twilight of a dream be capable of generating or holding a fuller life than the morning of divine activity? Surely God could at any moment give to a soul, by a word to that soul, by breathing afresh into the secret caves of its being, a sense of life before which the most exultant ecstasy of earthly triumph would pale to ashes! If ever sunlit, sail-crowded sea, under blue heaven flecked with wind-chased white, filled your soul as with a new gift of life, think what sense of existence must be yours, if he whose thought has but fringed its garment with the outburst of such a show, take his abode with you, and while thinking the gladness of a God inside your being, let you know and feel that he is carrying you as a father in his bosom!
There is nothing for man worthy to be called life, but the life eternal-God's life, that is, after his degree shared by the man made to be eternal also. For he is in the image of God, intended to partake of the life of the most high, to be alive as he is alive. Of this life the outcome and the light is righteousness, love, grace, truth; but the life itself is a thing that will not be defined, even as God will not be defined.
This life, this eternal life, consists for man in absolute oneness with God and all divine modes of being, oneness with every phase of right and harmony. It consists in a love as deep as it is universal, as conscious as it is unspeakable; a love that can no more be reasoned about than life itself-a love whose presence is its all-sufficing proof and justification, whose absence is an annihilating defect: he who has it not cannot believe in it: how should death believe in life, though all the birds of God are singing jubilant over the empty tomb! The delight of such a being, the splendour of a consciousness rushing from the wide open doors of the fountain of existence, the ecstasy of the spiritual sense into which the surge of life essential, immortal, increate, flows in silent fullness from the heart of hearts-what may it, what must it not be, in the great day of God and the individual soul!
In a word, He came to supply all our lack-from the root outward; for what is it we need but more life? What does the infant need but more life? What does the bosom of his mother give him but life in abundance? What does the old man need, whose limbs are weak and whose pulse is low, but more of the life which seems ebbing from him? Weary with feebleness, he calls upon death, but in reality it is life he wants. It is but the encroaching death in him that desires death.
Never a cry went out after the opposite of life from any soul that knew what life is. Why does the poor, worn, out-worn suicide seek death? Is it not in reality to escape from death?-from the death of homelessness and hunger and cold; the death of failure, disappointment, and distraction; the death of the exhaustion of passion; the death of madness-of a household he cannot rule; the death of crime and fear of discovery? He seeks the darkness because it seems a refuge from the death which possesses him. He is a creature possessed by death; what he calls his life is but a dream full of horrible phantasms.
'More life!' is the unconscious prayer of all creation, groaning and travailing for the redemption of its lord, the son who is not yet a son. Is not the dumb cry to be read in the faces of some of the animals, in the look of some of the flowers, and in many an aspect of what we call Nature?
The life the Lord came to give us is a life exceeding that of the highest undivine man, by far more than the life of that man exceeds the life of the animal the least human. More and more of it is for each who will receive it, and to eternity. The Father has given to the Son to have life in himself; that life is our light. We know life only as light; it is the life in us that makes us see. All the growth of the Christian is the more and more life he is receiving. At first his religion may hardly be distinguishable from the mere prudent desire to save his soul; but at last he loses that very soul in the glory of love, and so saves it; self becomes but the cloud on which the white light of God divides into harmonies unspeakable.
Death can be the cure for nothing, the cure for everything must be life-that the ills which come with existence, are from its imperfection, not of itself-that what we need is more of it. We who are, have nothing to do with death; our relations are alone with life. The thing that can mourn can mourn only from lack; it cannot mourn because of being, but because of not enough being. We are vessels of life, not yet full of the wine of life; where the wine does not reach, there the clay cracks, and aches, and is distressed. Who would therefore pour out the wine that is there, instead of filling to the brim with more wine! All the being must partake of essential being; life must be assisted, upheld, comforted, every part, with life. Life is the law, the food, the necessity of life. Life is everything.
Let us in all the troubles of life remember-that our one lack is life-that what we need is more life-more of the life-making presence in us making us more, and more largely, alive. When most oppressed, when most weary of life, as our unbelief would phrase it, let us bethink ourselves that it is in truth the inroad and presence of death we are weary of. When most inclined to sleep, let us rouse ourselves to live. Of all things let us avoid the false refuge of a weary collapse, a hopeless yielding to things as they are. It is the life in us that is discontented; we need more of what is discontented, not more of the cause of its discontent. Discontent, I repeat, is the life in us that has not enough of itself, is not enough to itself, so calls for more. He has the victory who, in the midst of pain and weakness, cries out, not for death, not for the repose of forgetfulness, but for strength to fight; for more power, more consciousness of being, more God in him.
If we will but let our God and Father work his will with us, there can be no limit to his enlargement of our existence, to the flood of life with which he will overflow our consciousness. We have no conception of what life might be, of how vast the consciousness of which we could be made capable. Many can recall some moment in which life seemed richer and fuller than ever before; to some, such moments arrive mostly in dreams: shall soul, awake or asleep, infold a bliss greater than its Life, the living God, can seal, perpetuate, enlarge? Can the human twilight of a dream be capable of generating or holding a fuller life than the morning of divine activity? Surely God could at any moment give to a soul, by a word to that soul, by breathing afresh into the secret caves of its being, a sense of life before which the most exultant ecstasy of earthly triumph would pale to ashes! If ever sunlit, sail-crowded sea, under blue heaven flecked with wind-chased white, filled your soul as with a new gift of life, think what sense of existence must be yours, if he whose thought has but fringed its garment with the outburst of such a show, take his abode with you, and while thinking the gladness of a God inside your being, let you know and feel that he is carrying you as a father in his bosom!
There is nothing for man worthy to be called life, but the life eternal-God's life, that is, after his degree shared by the man made to be eternal also. For he is in the image of God, intended to partake of the life of the most high, to be alive as he is alive. Of this life the outcome and the light is righteousness, love, grace, truth; but the life itself is a thing that will not be defined, even as God will not be defined.
This life, this eternal life, consists for man in absolute oneness with God and all divine modes of being, oneness with every phase of right and harmony. It consists in a love as deep as it is universal, as conscious as it is unspeakable; a love that can no more be reasoned about than life itself-a love whose presence is its all-sufficing proof and justification, whose absence is an annihilating defect: he who has it not cannot believe in it: how should death believe in life, though all the birds of God are singing jubilant over the empty tomb! The delight of such a being, the splendour of a consciousness rushing from the wide open doors of the fountain of existence, the ecstasy of the spiritual sense into which the surge of life essential, immortal, increate, flows in silent fullness from the heart of hearts-what may it, what must it not be, in the great day of God and the individual soul!
Friday, April 6, 2007
The Real Good News
A few years ago I was sitting on my back porch looking over the beautiful scenery that is the historic district of Elgin, Illinois reading a book that flipped my understanding of Jesus on its ear. It was as if I never knew him. I felt like I would probably feel if someone told me Santa Claus or the Great Pumpkin didn’t exist. It was like I was meeting Jesus for the first time all over again.
If I asked you to sum up the mission of Jesus in a sentence or two, what would you say? Seriously, don’t breeze by this. Stop reading for a moment and think about Jesus’ mission. If you had to sum it up in a sentence or two, what would you say?
Most of you probably said, “To die for our sins,” or “To pay the price for my sins, so that when I die I can go to heaven.” Or maybe you said, “The Messiah came as a substitutionary sacrifice to redeem man and transform our fallen natures to holiness to allow blessed access to Heaven.” If you said that last one give your brain the break that it probably needs from seminary right now and engage you heart.
If you asked 100 Christians to sum up the mission of Jesus I’d bet dollars to doughnuts that that ninety-five would essentially say Jesus came to forgive our sins so that we can go to heaven when we die. Was that you? There’s no shame if it was. You’re in good company, but boy howdy have I got some good news for you. (I’m serious this time.)
Jesus gives a whole other explanation of his mission. He said, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10) What did you say, Jesus? What was you mission? Why did you come? To give us life? Abundant life?
Jesus says His mission is to bring life to a people who didn’t have it. He didn’t say, “I came that once they die they may to go heaven and begin eternal life.” He came to bring you life, and the real good news, my friend, is that eternal life doesn’t wait until heaven to start.
2 Corinthians 5:17 says that, “Anyone who is in Christ is a new creation, the old has gone and the new has come.” Notice the tense Paul uses. He didn’t write, “Anyone who is in Christ will be a new creation when they die, the old will go and the new will come in heaven.” He understood that Jesus intends for us to have abundant life now, beginning the moment we take Him as Messiah.
Jesus didn’t die so that we can experience eternal life after an earthly death. He died so we can experience eternal life, period. If it was only about atonement we would celebrate Good Friday as the key holiday on the Christian calendar, the day our debt was paid. But that’s not our most important holiday. That right is reserved for Easter, the day Jesus demonstrated LIFE, not death!
Too many of us hold the idea that eternal life begins once we die, that our salvation is nothing more than glorified fire insurance. Too many of us live with our bags packed, just waiting for that day when our eternal, abundant life can begin.
Oh of course Good Friday is necessary, but it is not the end. Mourn this Friday in the knowledge that our Messiah had to suffer an excruciating death for my sins and yours. But celebrate this Easter Sunday that after Jesus died to pay for our sin, He rose from the dead proving that not even death can overcome the abundant life He brings.
If I asked you to sum up the mission of Jesus in a sentence or two, what would you say? Seriously, don’t breeze by this. Stop reading for a moment and think about Jesus’ mission. If you had to sum it up in a sentence or two, what would you say?
Most of you probably said, “To die for our sins,” or “To pay the price for my sins, so that when I die I can go to heaven.” Or maybe you said, “The Messiah came as a substitutionary sacrifice to redeem man and transform our fallen natures to holiness to allow blessed access to Heaven.” If you said that last one give your brain the break that it probably needs from seminary right now and engage you heart.
If you asked 100 Christians to sum up the mission of Jesus I’d bet dollars to doughnuts that that ninety-five would essentially say Jesus came to forgive our sins so that we can go to heaven when we die. Was that you? There’s no shame if it was. You’re in good company, but boy howdy have I got some good news for you. (I’m serious this time.)
Jesus gives a whole other explanation of his mission. He said, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10) What did you say, Jesus? What was you mission? Why did you come? To give us life? Abundant life?
Jesus says His mission is to bring life to a people who didn’t have it. He didn’t say, “I came that once they die they may to go heaven and begin eternal life.” He came to bring you life, and the real good news, my friend, is that eternal life doesn’t wait until heaven to start.
2 Corinthians 5:17 says that, “Anyone who is in Christ is a new creation, the old has gone and the new has come.” Notice the tense Paul uses. He didn’t write, “Anyone who is in Christ will be a new creation when they die, the old will go and the new will come in heaven.” He understood that Jesus intends for us to have abundant life now, beginning the moment we take Him as Messiah.
Jesus didn’t die so that we can experience eternal life after an earthly death. He died so we can experience eternal life, period. If it was only about atonement we would celebrate Good Friday as the key holiday on the Christian calendar, the day our debt was paid. But that’s not our most important holiday. That right is reserved for Easter, the day Jesus demonstrated LIFE, not death!
Too many of us hold the idea that eternal life begins once we die, that our salvation is nothing more than glorified fire insurance. Too many of us live with our bags packed, just waiting for that day when our eternal, abundant life can begin.
Oh of course Good Friday is necessary, but it is not the end. Mourn this Friday in the knowledge that our Messiah had to suffer an excruciating death for my sins and yours. But celebrate this Easter Sunday that after Jesus died to pay for our sin, He rose from the dead proving that not even death can overcome the abundant life He brings.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Good News!
I’ve got some good news for you! Excited? Maybe that doesn’t quite get your hopeful juices flowing. Maybe statements like these roll off your back because you’ve have been bombarded with “You may have already won ” emails/letters, and “Win a free Xbox 360!!” web-site banners. Maybe you’ve heard statements like these so much that they have lost all sense of meaning and excitement. Much like a lot of the language we use to describe the wonder of the Gospel. Words like personal relationship with Jesus, born-again, and even Christianity have taken on so much baggage you can hardly find the real meaning anymore. That or we’ve used the words on such a surface level so long that we use them without even knowing what they mean. Our language is in need of Ty PENnington and an Extreme Word Makeover. I apologize for the detour through Sesame Street.
I’ve got some good news for you! Did that do anything different for you this time? Dang. Let’s try something else. Imagine your best friend telling you he or she has good news for you. I imagine hearing that from my wife and I can almost feel the excitement as I write this. Do you feel a burst of excitement at the words “good news?” Do you feel that same burst of excitement when someone mentions the Gospel, church, or the mission of Jesus? I don’t think most people do. Honestly that makes me sad. Sad because something that should be as basic as what Jesus came to accomplish has taken on all sorts of baggage that we often can’t see through the murky waters to discern the right and true purpose of the event that time itself is defined by.
When Jesus spoke of his mission he chose to refer to it as the “gospel.” The Greek word used in the New Testament for “gospel” is literally translated as “good news.” So the people of Israel heard Jesus often say something akin to, “I have some good news for you!” I think if someone of Jesus’s ilk told me he had good news for me I would be pretty stoked. But for some reason when the church talks about the good news today the world doesn’t hear that and that makes me sad.
It’s sad to me that over time we have done so much damage to the message of Jesus that in general the world hears a message of bigotry and hypocrisy. It’s sad to me that the world hears the message of Jesus as a list of rules and “thou shall nots.” It’s sad to me that the world hears the message of Jesus as something it is not.
What do you hear when you think of the message of Jesus? Is it good news for you? Seriously. Don’t just answer the “right” answer and move on. Engage your heart in the question. When you think of the message of Jesus what does your heart hear? Freedom or shackles? Love or anger? Inclusiveness or exclusiveness? Authenticity or hypocrisy?
Honestly I think we have gotten the message of Jesus so mixed and mucked up that many in the church don’t even know what it is anymore.
I’ve got some good news for you! Did that do anything different for you this time? Dang. Let’s try something else. Imagine your best friend telling you he or she has good news for you. I imagine hearing that from my wife and I can almost feel the excitement as I write this. Do you feel a burst of excitement at the words “good news?” Do you feel that same burst of excitement when someone mentions the Gospel, church, or the mission of Jesus? I don’t think most people do. Honestly that makes me sad. Sad because something that should be as basic as what Jesus came to accomplish has taken on all sorts of baggage that we often can’t see through the murky waters to discern the right and true purpose of the event that time itself is defined by.
When Jesus spoke of his mission he chose to refer to it as the “gospel.” The Greek word used in the New Testament for “gospel” is literally translated as “good news.” So the people of Israel heard Jesus often say something akin to, “I have some good news for you!” I think if someone of Jesus’s ilk told me he had good news for me I would be pretty stoked. But for some reason when the church talks about the good news today the world doesn’t hear that and that makes me sad.
It’s sad to me that over time we have done so much damage to the message of Jesus that in general the world hears a message of bigotry and hypocrisy. It’s sad to me that the world hears the message of Jesus as a list of rules and “thou shall nots.” It’s sad to me that the world hears the message of Jesus as something it is not.
What do you hear when you think of the message of Jesus? Is it good news for you? Seriously. Don’t just answer the “right” answer and move on. Engage your heart in the question. When you think of the message of Jesus what does your heart hear? Freedom or shackles? Love or anger? Inclusiveness or exclusiveness? Authenticity or hypocrisy?
Honestly I think we have gotten the message of Jesus so mixed and mucked up that many in the church don’t even know what it is anymore.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
These Things Are Easy!
Recently an amazingly profound thought occurred to me, I mean really profound. Seriously, when you read this you’re going to be so mad that you didn’t think of it. You ready? God made me.
Pretty sweet huh? Yeah. God made me, and He made you too. I bet you’ve never heard that before. Okay so maybe you’ve heard that before. Maybe you already knew that. Maybe this isn’t so profound, and maybe I’m a no good hack. Or maybe we’ve heard this simple truth so many times that like so many other tenets of the way we have lost the wonder and depth of the thing.
Sometimes I think we gloss over some of these common truths. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, God made me, He loves me, yadda, yadda, yadda.” We hear and say these things so often without thinking that they lose the mystery, wonder, depth, and even scandalous nature of the truth. Too often in my opinion we don’t let the simplest truths soak into our heads and more importantly our hearts.
Last night I was getting set to tell kids that God designed them for a purpose, and for some reason the simple truth of that statement set in. God designed us; God designed me. I thought of Psalm 139:13, “You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb.”
If you’re anything like me you’ve always thought God in His infinite foreknowledge placed that passage in the Bible to combat the pro-choice vote. But don’t write the passage off too easily. Think about it for a second, God made you.
I don’t mean God created the physical laws by which you were made. “Johnny, when a daddy loves a mommy…” or he threw a ball of dirt and clay together like the like the god of The Far Side, “These things are easy!” I mean God made you. Let it sink in. God made you.
I’m not theologian, so I apologize to the grand profession of theologianism for this next section. Could it be possible that God was literally knitting you together in your mom’s tummy? I don’t know if it’s good theology to speak in these terms, but is it possible? Did God literally, uniquely, and individually create me? Were his anthropomorphized fingers working to form my body, my personality, my desires, my passions, my very spirit and soul?
I have to be honest; I think that might be what this verse is saying. I’m sorry for stealing your pro-life demonstrating verse, but this stuff is really getting to me. God made me! How amazing is that?!? He decided to give me brown hair instead of blonde. He decided to give me my grandpa’s gift for telling stories. He decided to make me relatively athletic.
Before my mom and dad ever thought of a second child God planned for me to be 5’10’’. He made me to enjoy reading, nature, and hot chocolate. He made me to be a passionate man, and he made me to be extra passionate about truth, masculinity, and justice.
And he made you too! Let that sink in again. What do you look like? What do you enjoy? What is important to you? What makes you come alive? God made you that way.
Pretty sweet huh? Yeah. God made me, and He made you too. I bet you’ve never heard that before. Okay so maybe you’ve heard that before. Maybe you already knew that. Maybe this isn’t so profound, and maybe I’m a no good hack. Or maybe we’ve heard this simple truth so many times that like so many other tenets of the way we have lost the wonder and depth of the thing.
Sometimes I think we gloss over some of these common truths. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, God made me, He loves me, yadda, yadda, yadda.” We hear and say these things so often without thinking that they lose the mystery, wonder, depth, and even scandalous nature of the truth. Too often in my opinion we don’t let the simplest truths soak into our heads and more importantly our hearts.
Last night I was getting set to tell kids that God designed them for a purpose, and for some reason the simple truth of that statement set in. God designed us; God designed me. I thought of Psalm 139:13, “You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb.”
If you’re anything like me you’ve always thought God in His infinite foreknowledge placed that passage in the Bible to combat the pro-choice vote. But don’t write the passage off too easily. Think about it for a second, God made you.
I don’t mean God created the physical laws by which you were made. “Johnny, when a daddy loves a mommy…” or he threw a ball of dirt and clay together like the like the god of The Far Side, “These things are easy!” I mean God made you. Let it sink in. God made you.
I’m not theologian, so I apologize to the grand profession of theologianism for this next section. Could it be possible that God was literally knitting you together in your mom’s tummy? I don’t know if it’s good theology to speak in these terms, but is it possible? Did God literally, uniquely, and individually create me? Were his anthropomorphized fingers working to form my body, my personality, my desires, my passions, my very spirit and soul?
I have to be honest; I think that might be what this verse is saying. I’m sorry for stealing your pro-life demonstrating verse, but this stuff is really getting to me. God made me! How amazing is that?!? He decided to give me brown hair instead of blonde. He decided to give me my grandpa’s gift for telling stories. He decided to make me relatively athletic.
Before my mom and dad ever thought of a second child God planned for me to be 5’10’’. He made me to enjoy reading, nature, and hot chocolate. He made me to be a passionate man, and he made me to be extra passionate about truth, masculinity, and justice.
And he made you too! Let that sink in again. What do you look like? What do you enjoy? What is important to you? What makes you come alive? God made you that way.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Emotional Wasteland
I remember times when I was younger desiring to feel something. For the most part I think I was and am well in touch with my emotions, but there were times when I had this desire to feel. It was almost like a hunger, like I hadn't felt any emotion in a while, so I wanted to... needed to… feel something.
I remember thinking it was an artist thing. I took great pride then thinking that I was an Artist, capital A. I thought the desire for emotion was somehow connected my love of writing poetry. I don’t write poetry much anymore, but I wrote a lot in those days. My poems were almost exclusively love poems. More appropriately love lost or love can’t have or yuck you’re a not my type get away from me poems. I don’t remember writing any happy love poems. I honestly don’t think there was a single happy poem in the bunch. I recognized that the good ones came from a place of deep emotion, so I thought the desire for emotion was for the sake of “my work.” I saw pain as my muse and I guess at times I even felt rejected by her.
I’m realizing as I type that there are two consistent themes in this story, a desire to feel and a desire for love. There were two important desires going on in me in those moments, but they both had root in the same event. When I was about three years old my parents got a divorce. This instilled in me a desire that I suppose we all have, but I suspect it was/is less a healthy desire and more a broken obsession in my life, the desire to be loved. I know my parents love me in their own way, but when you’re a kid of divorce (isn’t it interesting that we refer to ourselves as children of divorce as if divorce is our parent) there is always an underlying question about your parent’s love. They stopped loving each other, could they stop loving me? Didn’t they love me enough to stay together? Am I unlovable?
The other thread is the need to feel. Like I said, at the time I thought the desire was more for the sake of the poetry, but I think now that my soul was crying out to feel what I didn’t or couldn’t feel when I was three. No three-year-old is capable of dealing with the pain of divorce. So you don’t feel it; the feelings are too strong for your little spirit so you stuff it way down until it comes out sideways. You get angry at other things. A generally peaceful kid punches another boy on the playground at his daycare (interestingly, a place he felt abandoned) because he got on his tricycle. Eventually when you are older you begin to realize that you don’t feel deeply. Or maybe you feel deeply and it scares you.
I think those poems were incredibly helpful at the time. They helped me to get in touch with some deeper emotions and do something about them. Now as a thirty-year-old I understand myself a little better, so those feelings of grief and loss aren’t as easy to deal with in an abstract way. Or maybe it’s just that the time has come to deal with it head on. I don’t know. I’m sorry for the rambling post this time, but maybe with this perspective it make a little more sense why I have such difficulty engaging with my story.
I remember thinking it was an artist thing. I took great pride then thinking that I was an Artist, capital A. I thought the desire for emotion was somehow connected my love of writing poetry. I don’t write poetry much anymore, but I wrote a lot in those days. My poems were almost exclusively love poems. More appropriately love lost or love can’t have or yuck you’re a not my type get away from me poems. I don’t remember writing any happy love poems. I honestly don’t think there was a single happy poem in the bunch. I recognized that the good ones came from a place of deep emotion, so I thought the desire for emotion was for the sake of “my work.” I saw pain as my muse and I guess at times I even felt rejected by her.
I’m realizing as I type that there are two consistent themes in this story, a desire to feel and a desire for love. There were two important desires going on in me in those moments, but they both had root in the same event. When I was about three years old my parents got a divorce. This instilled in me a desire that I suppose we all have, but I suspect it was/is less a healthy desire and more a broken obsession in my life, the desire to be loved. I know my parents love me in their own way, but when you’re a kid of divorce (isn’t it interesting that we refer to ourselves as children of divorce as if divorce is our parent) there is always an underlying question about your parent’s love. They stopped loving each other, could they stop loving me? Didn’t they love me enough to stay together? Am I unlovable?
The other thread is the need to feel. Like I said, at the time I thought the desire was more for the sake of the poetry, but I think now that my soul was crying out to feel what I didn’t or couldn’t feel when I was three. No three-year-old is capable of dealing with the pain of divorce. So you don’t feel it; the feelings are too strong for your little spirit so you stuff it way down until it comes out sideways. You get angry at other things. A generally peaceful kid punches another boy on the playground at his daycare (interestingly, a place he felt abandoned) because he got on his tricycle. Eventually when you are older you begin to realize that you don’t feel deeply. Or maybe you feel deeply and it scares you.
I think those poems were incredibly helpful at the time. They helped me to get in touch with some deeper emotions and do something about them. Now as a thirty-year-old I understand myself a little better, so those feelings of grief and loss aren’t as easy to deal with in an abstract way. Or maybe it’s just that the time has come to deal with it head on. I don’t know. I’m sorry for the rambling post this time, but maybe with this perspective it make a little more sense why I have such difficulty engaging with my story.
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