Through the Mist

Seeds of Faith

2012-02-09T07:51:00.001-05:00

"I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day." - Paul the Apostle, 2 Timothy 1:11

I read this passage recently and was struck by the relationship between knowledge of God and faith (trust) in Him. Paul has suffered greatly and is faced with the stark reality of martyrdom because of his role in the early church, yet he approaches it almost nonchalantly. His confidence to continue in the face of such hardship and opposition springs from "entrusting" his whole life to God. And his ability to trust God and be "convinced" of his reliability comes from knowing him ("I know whom I have believed (trusted).")

I was reminded of a line from a worship song based on Psalm 9: "O Most High, those who know you trust you." The kind of "knowing" referred to here is not a theological or intellectual knowledge, but a relational one. It's hard to trust a stranger, no matter how highly recommended they come. But as you get to know them personally, walking with them over time, seeing them in a variety of situations, hearing what is in their heart, learning their personality, you are able to make judgments on their trustworthiness. If the person is trustworthy, you will learn to trust them more and more over time.

It is the same with God. The only way to trust God more is to get to know him more. This takes time and discipline and effort and patience--it is not something we can muster up overnight. I think it is actually a cycle: The more we know God, the more we trust him; the more we trust him, the more we see him work and the deeper our knowledge of him becomes; this leads us to the next level of trust, which opens the door to further knowledge. All of this begs the proverbial chicken/egg origin question: Which comes first, trust or knowledge?

I think the answer is...both.

Mustard Seeds

Jesus said that mountain-moving faith (trust) starts out the size of a tiny mustard seed. Paul in the first chapter of Romans says that all people have been given the opportunity (through Creation) to know that God exists. So (to mix metaphors) perhaps the ovum of that most basic level of knowledge (there must be something or someone Greater who has put all of this here) joins with the smallest seed of trust (I will risk reaching out to Him or Her or It), to bring to life the embryo of our relationship with God. Perhaps there is a gestation period where knowledge and trust are knit together by the Holy Spirit, growing slowly and tentatively in an unseen place until they are ready to become functional in the outer world. Perhaps we could refer to the process of this spiritual embryo becoming a fully functioning outward faith, as being "born again" (See John 3:1-8).

Somehow, what begins as an quiet idea, a few private thoughts about God, a whispered half-believing prayer or a quiet moment of surrender, becomes a spark of life that grows and grows into a sturdy and functional faith. If you're brand new to spirituality and all you have is a tentative idea there is a God and that maybe he hears your prayers, that's all it takes to start the journey. Nourish those seeds of faith and knowledge, and then get ready--you never know what will be born in you in the next few months.

However it all works, there is no doubt that trusting God and knowing him are intertwined. Do you want to know God more? Then take the next baby-step of trusting him. Do you want to trust him more? Then reach out and ask him to help you get to know him better (warning - this may involve concrete action on your part, such as reading your Bible, attending church or gleaning off someone you feel knows God better than you). Once it gets moving, the knowledge-trust cycle will grow in you, so that someday, when you face hardship or suffering or even your own death, you'll be able to say, "I know God, I trust him, and everything is going to be okay."

"The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” - John 3:8

"And without faith [trust] it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe [trust] that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him." - Hebrews 11:6

Stoked

2012-01-30T15:36:00.000-05:00

There's one word that captures how I feel after the five-day personal retreat I just returned from: stoked. No, I didn't pick up surfer lingo while I was gone (I went to Maryland, not California). I'm referring to the actual definition of stoke, "to feed fuel to and tend a fire." If my spiritual life can be viewed as a fire burning inside of me, the process of getting away for a few days and giving it much-needed attention is one of the best ways to see if burn brighter and hotter.

However, on my retreat one of the messages I heard loud and clear is that extended retreats are NOT the key to a healthy spiritual life. They're valuable, but the real key to getting and staying "stoked" spiritually is feeding the fire on a daily basis, not an annual one. Like most people, though, I struggle with setting aside time for God each day. Between parenting and my ministry "work" and household duties and a seemingly endless list of other to-do's and activities, it's hard to find the time. And when I do, it's often hurried and shallow - a few quick prayers for the church and people I care for, a few Scriptures, a few pages in a book and then I'm gone. No wonder my relationship with God lacks the depth and intimacy I long for and have known in the past.

I've been aware of this lack for a long time. One of my solutions has been to try (and I emphasize that word, try) to set aside a block of a few hours during the week for prayer and solitude. My rationale was that if I couldn't do a little every day, I could do a lot every few days. Let me use the analogy of heating with wood to explain why this wasn't the magic solution I hoped for:

The wood stove is a tyrant within our house, requiring constant care and attention. Neglecting this is its own punishment. Fellow wood-heat-warriors know the sinking feeling of going to load the stove and finding only a few weak, pitiful, fading embers. Rather than the relatively quick process of loading fresh wood on hot coals and seeing new flames erupting within a minute or two, it goes something like this:

Add two small pieces of wood, close the door, pray for a miracle. Come back half an hour later to discover only a hissing sound and wisps of smoke. In desperation, ball up some newspaper, throw it on top and light it, hoping it will give it the "boost" it needs. It seems to! Flames! Come back fifteen minutes later to find it has died down again. Repeat this process at least once. Get angry. Give up. Begin to build a fire from scratch, complete with kindling and newspaper, trying to work around the smouldering splits from the first attempt. Embers light newspaper unexpectedly before you're done, nearly burning the little hairs off your fingers. Add some more newspaper. Successfully get kindling going. Keep an eye on it until it is going good, about another half hour, then load more wood and damper it down.

What could have been a simple process that took a few minutes becomes an exercise in frustration that takes over an hour (this is especially fun at 11:00 p.m.). It doesn't take long to figure out that the best way to heat with wood is not by lighting and relighting and relighting, but by regularly stoking (feeding and tending) the fire to keep it burning. It's the same in our spiritual lives. It's a lot easier and less frustrating to keep feeding and tending our spiritual fire on a daily basis than to have to relight it every week, month or year.

There's another lesson here. When am I in greatest danger of neglecting the wood stove: on a day when it's minus thirty and windy, or on a day when the sun is shining and the snow begins to melt? The warmer and sunnier the day, the more likely I am to forget to stoke the fire. The colder the day, the quicker the room temperature drops to help me remember my great and constant need for the heat of the stove. Spiritually speaking, this is why it is much easier to pursue God during times of hardship or crisis than when everything is hunky-dory.

Keeping the fire going, literally or figuratively, requires discipline and a cultivated habit of regular stoking. Discipline is something I am not very good at. Finding the time to take a mini-retreat every day will require me to cultivate the habit of getting up earlier (gasp!) something I am also not very good at. But the frustration of constant re-lighting, and the frigid room temperature in my soul have combined to convince me that something must change, and that it will be worth the sacrifice and effort.

I have to get going. I have to stoke my wood stove.

(Really, I do have to load it up. That's not just a cute ending, it's the story of my life.)

"Run Away!"

2012-01-25T08:35:00.002-05:00

Recently, while watching on of my favourite religious films, I was reminded that a better way of calling your troops to "retreat!" is simply to shout "run away!" While it doesn't sound as dignified, the Monty Python and the Holy Grail method does get straight to the point: when things aren't going well, the best thing is to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible. Whether it's because chickens and cows are being hurled at you by taunting Frenchmen, or a fierce rabbit is killing your friends, there comes a time when "run away!" is the only thing you have left to yell.

This week I am taking an extended planning and prayer retreat, or as I am thinking of calling it, a personal "run away!" As I've mentioned in a previous post, there are certain things in my life and ministry that need to change. To continue without addressing these changes would be to admit defeat. So I'm packing my bags, getting out of Dodge, and going on a quest. It's not a quest for the Holy Grail ("I already got one!"), but for a new perspective.

I learned a long time ago about my need for regular times of retreat. If I'm going to thrive in the role God has called me to, I need to regularly take a day or half-day to escape the office busy-work and spend focused time praying, reading, journal-ling, thinking and listening for whatever God wanted to say to me. For me this means hitting the hiking trail, borrowing a kayak or warming up John's cabin in the woods. Besides the spiritual refreshment that provides, many significant moments of clarity (including clear confirmation of my call to plant a church in Huntsville) have come during "run away" days.

However, sometimes a day is not enough time to let the hum of life settle down so that I can really listen to God's voice and to what is going on in my own heart. Sometimes I need multiple days of solitude, silence, and fasting to let things come into focus. A physical change of scenery is also important, as it seems to encourage a change of mental perspective as well. There is something very powerful that happens over one of these extended retreats, something like a jar of muddy water slowly settling into clarity.

It isn't easy. It takes planning and sacrifice, both on my own part and on the part of my family and church. But it is worth it for all involved if I can come back a better husband, father, friend, leader and pastor.

It would probably be even harder for you, but I can almost guarantee it would be just as worthwhile. Even if its just a morning or afternoon once a month where you get away from your house with a Bible and a journal, I think there are ways that we can hear God's voice when we retreat that we are just not able to in the noise of everyday life. Maybe you could even take a whole day or multiple days once in a while. But let me challenge you to make "running away" to God a regular activity in your own life. In the words of Isaiah, "in repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength." (Isaiah 30:15)

Please pray for me while I'm gone, and in my absence be sure to watch Monty Python for further spiritual insights...

Hardship = Training

2012-01-23T08:53:00.001-05:00

Why do things have to be so hard? Especially when I'm trying to live my life for God and his purposes, why are there so many obstacles? Why do things always seem to go wrong just when I want them to go right? Why can't ________ [marriage/parenting/ministry/work/emotional, physical, mental health/relationships] be easier?

There are a lot of spiritual-sounding answers to those questions. For instance:

It must be something I've done. God is punishing me, paying me back for the bad thing I did last week, or last month, or last year. I'm just reaping what I sowed.

That sounds reasonable, but it isn't in line with Christian theology. That theory is actually closer to the idea of karma, that ruthless theory of that says every action, good or bad, returns to us in some way. In Christianity, grace trumps karma every time. God does not punish the prodigal who has wandered, but welcomes him/her with open arms, throws a party and leaves the past behind (Luke 15). No doubt there are negative consequences to our actions (that is why our loving Father warns us against them) . But the connection is usually a clear, natural cause/effect, not some nebulous idea of God paying us back.

Another proposed answer is this:

God wants me to be always happy, healthy and comfortable, so anything that stretches me or causes me frustration or pain must come from the Devil. He's resisting the good things God is doing in my life and so he should be prayed against, rebuked, cast out and put in his place.

Again, there are elements of truth to this. I do believe God has an Enemy, and when we align ourselves with God and the good he is doing in this world, we are sure to experience resistance. It's practically guaranteed in the Scriptures. But the most common instructions when it comes to how to face spiritual attacks are to "stand firm." Simply refusing to allow the resistance to throw us off track is a victory in and of itself.

I believe there is a better, more positive answer to the question "why does life get hard?"

"Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children." Hebrews 12:7

Many of us would read that passage and assume it is talking about the first idea presented (karma), because we read the word "discipline" as if it meant something close to "punishment." The Greek word actually describes the whole process of raising and instructing a child, including all aspects of teaching and providing opportunities for growth. It's about much more than just punishing bad behaviour. It's about training for good behaviour and character development.

God allows hardship in our lives so that we can learn and grow. Just as athletes endure the pain of tough workouts to hone their skill and strength, we are to endure the tough times in life as training. It's not a punishment to pay us back for past wrongs. It's not because the devil is getting the upper hand and invading the comfortable life we were meant to live. It's not a sign that God has forgotten about us or that he doesn't love us.

In fact, the passage in Hebrews says it is quite the opposite. A parent who is over-protective and who is more concerned with their child's comfort than their development shows less love than a parent who allows them to be "disciplined" or trained. God loves us as we are, but he loves us too much to leave us that way.

I don't know what you're facing, but I know things haven't been particularly easy for me lately. As of today, I'm changing my perspective on that. I'm going to spend less time whining and complaining and wondering why things have to be so hard, and more time looking for the lessons I need to learn and accepting the spiritual "workout" as a sign that God loves me and is still training me to be more like Jesus.

"Our parents disciplined [trained] us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines [trains] us for our good, that we may share in his holiness. No discipline [training] seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees." Hebrews 12:10-12

Do you have any lessons you've learned through hardship? Has God used tough times to develop your character? Feel free to share in the comment section.

Note:
You may be experiencing things that are so hard that the explanation "God must be teaching me a lesson," seems trite and shallow and brings more anger than comfort. That's okay. Some things just happen because we live in a world where really bad, evil, painful, unjust things happen. It's not the way God designed it, and his promise is that someday he will put an end to those things once and for all. He doesn't cause those things to happen. But he can help you walk through them, and he can redeem them so that some good does come out of them.

Redesign

2012-01-17T13:20:00.000-05:00

Recently I completely redesigned this blog.

I decided I would re-enter the strange world of blogging again, mostly as a way to document some of the personal journey I'm on right now. I'm in the midst of some seismic shifts when it comes to how I approach my life and ministry at MCC, and I wanted to include friends and people at MCC in what I'm learning.

I hadn't blogged for over 3 years, and when I revisited the old one, I didn't like the look and feel. It was so...2008. My intention was to start a fresh blog for a new day, but in the process of figuring out how to get a new blog up and running, I reviewed my old posts. They weren't as bad as I had expected. In fact, it would have been a shame to delete them as I had at first considered. The content was okay, but it needed to be framed in a new template.

That is an excellent analogy for what is going on in my ministry right now. The old content is fine. I'm very proud of MCC and the things that make it unique. I am humbled at what I've seen God do here in the past few years, and the loving, growing, generous, fun church community that has sprung up out of nothing. So much of who we are and what we do is working well.

But for it to continue growing and being healthy, I need to approach it with a new template. Major shifts need to occur within my ministry. Since I started in pastoral ministry over 12 years ago, a certain skill set and approach have served me very well. Especially in the process of church planting, God has used my ability to be a "generalist" and get my hands dirty developing excellence in many areas of ministry. However, for us to be a healthy church and for me to be a healthy leader, this must change.

For a while now, I've been trying to tweak things here and there without a major overhaul. It hasn't worked. I am clear now that to move into the futurethings in my life and ministry need to change drastically, just like the look of this blog. This doesn't mean MCC will suddenly become completely different place. It doesn't mean that I change my personality or "voice" or ministry style. In fact, from an outside perspective the changes might not even be all that noticeable. But in my overall approach to my role at MCC and the daily use of my time, a complete redesign needs to take place.

Exactly what this looks like, I'm not yet sure. I know it has a lot to do with letting go of control and letting others take responsibility. I know it has to do with spending time developing and investing in leaders like I never have before. I know it means intentionally handing off (or letting the ball drop on) many things I am currently doing so that I can focus on the more important things I have been habitually neglecting. I know it means developing systems and strengthening structures to take us into the future. And I know that like all growth it will mean stretching, discomfort and hard work. It would be much easier to do nothing and keep the 2008 version indefinitely, but the stakes are too high to do that.

Last night I watched "From the Sky Down," a documentary on the making of the album Achtung Baby by U2. I was struck by many of the similarities between that stage of their artistic development and my current situation. Bono said of it, "You have to reject one expression of the band before you get to the next, and in between you have nothing. You have to risk it all." That's exactly what I'm feeling, and one of the reasons I'm taking the first few weeks of 2012 to buckle down and think this stuff through. My hope and prayer is that, just as U2's time in Berlin re-imagining their music became a defining moment in their career, these few weeks will shape and transform how I lead and approach ministry for years to come.

My plan is to continue to document these changes and what I'm learning here, and to use this blog as a forum for interaction and input. Feel free to comment and ask questions!

Taking Hope for Granted

2008-12-04T09:57:00.001-05:00

Well, I suppose I should get back to blogging after a couple (yikes, over three) months absence. The start of the church over the last few months has kept me quite busy. It has been hard work, but very rewarding...and fun, too, most of the time!

This week is the first week in Advent, with the theme, "Hope." I think this is one of those things that goes overlooked in our lives--those who have hope often don't even realize it, and those who are without hope cover it up with determination, resignation and a commitment to do whatever necessary to stay in control. But true hope--a sense that the future is going to be bright--is something that can't be fabricated or based on ourselves. It has to spring from somewhere, and for me it springs from my trust in God.

Maybe we think that hope is something we don't need if everything is going okay--that it's just for those in crisis or a desperate situation. Hope shines like a light in their darkness, but it isn't something we need in the brightness of everyday living. But what if hope is what brings light into our lives? What if no matter how good the present is, if we have no sense of confidence in the future, it brings a sort of darkness into our lives? Those who have no sense of God's existence and/or his kindness and love toward them have no solid foundation to rest their future confidence upon, and for them hope is often transient. Thus the prevalence of a "live for the moment, because you don't now what tomorrow holds," mentality in our society.

The biggest area I think I take this for granted is in the area of my own death. I really don't think much about death because it doesn't worry me. Though I don't understand exactly what will happen when I die or how the whole afterlife works, I have this inner confidence that I will be okay. Because I have seen God take care of me in so many ways in this life, I have a natural assurance that he will continue to take care of me as I pass out of it. This is hope, something that has grown naturally out of walking with God over the years.

It's the same with this whole economy thing. Now, maybe I'd feel different if I was a business-owner, but I have a real sense of peace in this growing crisis. Even if we experience a second Great Depression, even if I lose my house and all I have, there is hope in that future. I believe that none of it surprises God and that he will be just as present in my life then as he is now. The writer of Hebrews described hope as an "anchor for our souls," something that keeps us in place and steady no matter what was happening around us.

In all kinds of little ways, hope forms an undercurrent life that I so often take for granted. And this hope is really rooted in Christmas, about which the angels proclaimed, "Good will toward men on whom God's favour rests." Hope springs out of believing that God has my best in mind, that he loves me enough to come for me and make things right--the truths that are at the heart of this season. So as I reflect on Hope this first week of Advent, I'm grateful for the stability and security that this oft-overlooked spiritual substance brings to me.

Connecting With God

2008-08-19T11:51:00.001-04:00

I had an "aha" moment in a conversation with someone this morning. I was talking about how one of the goals of our new church will be helping people connect with God, and she explained that she didn't really know what that meant. Because of her prior church background, the first thing that came to mind when I talked about connecting with God was feeling guilt.

Very interesting. It is amazing how much I take for granted, having spent so much time in church-world. We often throw around thoughts like "connecting with God" or "experiencing God" or "having a relationship with God" as if they were self-evident or self-explanatory. It suddenly dawned on my how wrong that is. This idea is a big deal--in fact, it is at the centre of the Christian message--however, it is by no means self-evident. In a world where the idea of spirituality is vague and all-encompassing, talking about connecting to God can mean so many things to so many people. So...just for fun, I'll do my best to explain what I mean when I talk about it.

Part of connecting with God means to somehow sense that he is really out there. I think most people have had this feeling--whether at a church service or with playing with children or out under the stars at night. It is hard to describe, but there is a feeling that comes that seems to indicate that there is Something or Someone out there, and that it/he/she is closer than we had previously thought. The feeling could be ignored or explained as a simple emotional anomoly or a moment of deep clarity--but I think that most people have a sense that it is some sort of connection to another Being. Many people seek after this "spiritual" sense and want to surround themselves with it in the same way we surround ourselves with water when we swim, or let the breeze dance across our face on a summer day.
However, though the Bible affirms this ability to sense the Presence of God, and even uses the metaphors of water and wind to describe him, it goes beyond simply seeking those impersonal encounters. The God of Jesus is a personal Being. We can be refreshed by water, but we don't communicate with it. We feel and breathe the air, but we don't have a relationship with it. God is not an impersonal, universal life force, but an actual "person" who is capable of thoughts, emotions, willpower, communication and who has a definite character. Because God is a person, and humans are persons, we connect with him in a relational way. To connect with God the way Jesus did means to relate to him personally, much the way we would relate to a loving, involved Father.
Of course, there is one problem. God is invisible. And, at least in my experience, his voice is inaudible. And he can't be physically touched or measured. So...how on earth do you relate to a Person like that!?
From our standpoint, that of talking to God, the relationship is a matter of faith. When we reach out to God through spoken prayers, unspoken prayers, written prayers, sung prayers or however else we seek to express our hearts to him, we have to trust that there is really Someone there who hears us. We have to come to the point where we believe that he cares deeply for us, and that he is actually interested in what we have to say. This faith starts out as a tiny seed of barely believing, but over time as the relationships grows (based on past experiences) the trust grows with it.
The other side of the relationship, that of God communicating with us, is a bit more difficult to control or explain. So far, the only people that I know of that hear God's voice audibly on a regular basis are (or should be) in the asylum. However, millions of otherwise normal, intelligent people claim to hear God's voice every day in an inaudible way, speaking mysteriously yet clearly into their lives. Sometimes this might happen through an inner thought or feeling that has the distinct sense of coming from somewhere "outside." Sometimes it might be through a sign or coincidence that is hard to ignore. Sometimes it might be through another person who "delivers" a message from God without even knowing it. Often God speaks through the Bible, bringing along just the right verse or passage that hits home with a particular life situation or problem we are facing.
However it happens, if God is going to communicate with us, it is up to him to do so. We can't force it, control it or earn it. We simply have to be open to it, asking him to speak and waiting and watching for a reply. And like two people who speak different languages trying to learn how to communicate, what starts out awkward and confusing will grow more natural and meaningful as time goes by.
So when I talk about helping people connect with God, this is what I'm referring to: sensing his presence, talking to him through honest, heartfelt prayer, and keeping our ears and eyes open to what he might be saying to us. From a historical sense, Christianity puts God coming to earth in human form (as Jesus) as the ultimate human-divine interaction. In Jesus, humanity was able to see God "with skin on," so that we could understand him and relate to him in a way that is concrete and more easily grasped. And from a theological standpoint, the Bible makes it clear that our imperfections and the way we've all turned away from God have had a separating effect on our relationship with him. But through Christ's death and ressurection, he has reconciled us to our Creator. It is only because of Christ and through him that we have the ability and privilege of "boldly" approaching God "with confidence." This is the heart of the Christian "good news" or gospel: that God is seeking a relationship with us and has overcome every barrier, at great personal sacrifice, to connect with us in a real and personal way.

"Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." Hebrews 4:16

"Going" to Church

2008-07-30T13:57:00.000-04:00

I had a conversation last night with someone who had been a follower of Jesus for a while, but resisted the idea of needing to "go to church." I think Jesus would agree with his resistance.

Not that church is a bad thing. In fact the New Testament assumes church will be a part of the life of a Christ-follower. But the idea of "going to" a church is absolutely foreign to it. When it talks about church, it talks about belonging to it. The biblical idea of church is not something you attend (like a performance), but something you are a part of (like a club). Of course there would not be much point to a club without meetings, and so worship services, home group meetings and other gatherings become the visible expression of the inner unity that people who belong (or are beginning to belong) to a church have. But ultimately the church is the people, not the meeting.

The best analogy that the leaders in the early Christian movement could come up with to describe a church was the metaphor of the human body. The church is a highly organized, complex, organic structure in which every part plays a different role and every part is needed. One part can't declare independence or say it doesn't need the others, because each one is vital. The different parts of the body are deeply affected by each others' pains and pleasures. And all parts of the body work together to accomplish many things, just as the whole church is needed to have an impact on the world around it.

"You are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it." (I Corinthians 12:27). The apostle Paul goes beyond just comparing the way the church works to the way the human body works. He says that the church really is Christ's body in some mysterious way--his physical presence, touch and ability to accomplish his mission in the world today. We can no longer live independently or on our own, but as part of the body, we work alongside the other parts to follow the direction of the Head, who is Christ himself.

Can you see how far we've strayed from this idea to get to the place where we view church as something you "attend" in order to "get fed" or get your heaven-points from God? I can see the early apostles giving us blank stares while we try to describe church that way. Can you imagine your hand saying that your body was just something it attended on Sundays?

Now, I do believe that church services are important. I think they are one of the most important ways to incorporate new people into the body, and attending them is an important expression of our unity and "togetherness." But attendance should not be the primary goal for the church or the individual. Belonging is the primary goal--becoming a part of an interdependent, caring community that works together to accomplish the mission of Jesus in their community and in the world. This is church in its truest form--something extremely valuable in a world that is increasingly disjointed and disconnected.

Do All Roads Lead to God?

2008-07-02T09:16:00.000-04:00

This is really one of the biggest questions facing people today, and it constantly comes up in conversations I have with people here in Huntsville. As a culture, we’ve moved past the days of intolerance and prejudice in which we looked down on and even persecuted differing perspectives. We value tolerance, acceptance and the ability to get along with people who are different than us—equality within diversity. But how does this relate to religion? Is it possible to actually believe one religion is “the true path,” or is that just ignorance and arrogance—something akin to spiritual bigotry?

I don’t think it is prideful or outdated to really believe in one path to God. In fact, I think it is natural and necessary to true faith in any religion (though as a side-note, I think it is equally necessary to listen to, understand and respect other viewpoints). I have often heard the analogy that people seeking God are like blind men feeling an elephant. One feels the leg and thinks and elephant is like a tree, one feels the trunk and thinks it is like a snake, and so on. In a similar manner, this view says, each religion is just feeling one part of God and mistakenly thinking it is the whole. Another analogy compares religions to paths up a mountain…each may be very different, but they all get you to the same peak in the end.

These views make a lot of sense if God is impersonal and un-knowable, a mysterious higher power or force who is beyond the grasp of mere mortals. They also make sense if religions were designed and made up by people for people. If each spiritual path is simply another expression of humankind’s search for a Being who is beyond our comprehension, then it would truly be arrogant to assume that ours is the “right” path.

The problem with this view (and the analogies mentioned earlier) is that it covertly sets itself up as another “religion,” assuming itself to be correct and the other views to be wrong. None of the major religions present themselves as simply “another way to connect to a mysterious force.” Each religion presents itself as the “correct” way to connect to a very particular higher power. Therefore, the person who believes that all of them are “right” is really assuming that each of them (to some degree or another) is “wrong.” People who hold to this view (called “relativism" or "universalism") essentially believe that they are the seeing people in the room of blind men, standing back and shaking theirs heads while the others try to talk about something they know nothing about.

This “new religion of relativism” has at its foundation the following beliefs: God is an impersonal force, essentially unknowable and distant; religion is something akin to feeling around in the dark, trying to connect to something that is unreachable; spirituality is mostly about self-betterment and something akin to therapy (so each person has their own path and needs and should do whatever works for them); and human beings are so limited in their ability to create a proper worldview or a correct conception for God, that any claim to have universal, absolute truth is arrogant.

Compare this to Christianity, which has at its core some of these beliefs: God is a personal Being, who is actively pursuing a connection to us; religion should be based on “revelation” (what God has revealed to us), not on our constantly-changing ideas and fads; true spirituality is about having a personal relationship with God, based on His ideas, instructions and active involvement in our lives; and that though our current understanding of the world and God is very limited (a dim reflection), we can hold firmly to the “truth” He has revealed to us without apology or continual doubt.

If you compare those core beliefs, it is obvious that relativism and Christianity are really incompatible. And though I am not an authority on other religions, I believe it to be true for most of them, too. That is why I said earlier that claiming one way is best, true or right is natural or even necessary to true faith--though this view should never be held in conceit or condescension. So take a look at what you really believe about God, and understand that even if your opinion is that you have “no opinion,” you still have underlying core beliefs (such as “God is unknowable.”) If religion is about us doing our best to reach out for God, then it is arrogant to say that “our way is the right way.” But if (as Christianity claims) true religion is about a loving God reaching out for us, then it is absolutely okay for that God to say His way is the right way—and to invite all people into it.

Dis-ease

2008-06-17T12:31:00.000-04:00

I had a concept hit me from two sources the other day, and found it insightful and interesting. We all talk about following our dreams, finding fulfillment and meaning, searching for significance. But is that really possible? Isn't our desire for total fulfillment here in this life likely to continually be frustrated? I'm not trying to be cynical or pessimistic, but could reality be that we will never feel completed by anything this world has to offer us?

It seems to me that no matter what we buy, achieve, or contribute, no matter who we love or know, no matter how spiritual or religious we become, we still haven't found what we're looking for (as Bono said so well). There is a fundamental dis-ease to the human condition, one which causes us to crave something other, something more. Maybe because I'm somewhat young and naive, I still believe in the back of my mind that "if I just..." then I'll feel fulfilled--but maybe that day won't come until after this life is over.

Authors Mark Buchanan and Ronald Rolheiser have both reminded me this week that the Christian faith teaches that this world is corrupted. Our lives here will never reach perfect fulfillment, no matter how good and noble they are. We won't ever find the magic cure for what ails us, even if we are continually reconnected to God through Jesus. Yet there will come a day of perfect fulfillment, a day when all our tears and suffering will be wiped away. In that day there will no longer be the ache for something more or better. Though I find it easy to get focused on the aspects of life on this side of heaven (who likes to think of death, after all?), a fundamental part of following Jesus is hoping for a new day when everything is better.

I used to make fun of all the old hymns that essentially said, "Life sucks, I can't wait for heaven." And I still think that we ought to find what is good and beautiful and live full, meaningful, great lives. Just because we can't find complete fulfillment here doesn't mean we should give up on it altogether. But maybe we should stop expecting that eternal satisfaction is just around the corner, and start accepting the fact that while we're still in this life there will always be a little pain mixed in with the joy, a little loneliness with the relationships, a sense of failure even in our greatest accomplishments. Then we can allow hope to pull us forward into a time when things will be made right once and for all.

After all, as the apostle Paul said, if it was just for this life that we followed and hoped in Christ, then we would be truly pitiful.

Slaves no More

2008-05-30T16:28:00.000-04:00

Thanks to Mark Buchanan and his book, "The Rest of God," to keep me thinking about busy-ness, rest and especially the idea of Sabbath.

Anyone who knows a farmer knows their works is never done, especially at certain times of the year. That is what many of the ancient Israelites were, so they could get sucked into the endless busy-ness and to-do lists just as easily as we can today. They had the same forces working on their souls to cause them to base their identity solely on their accomplishments as many of us do. And yet God commanded them to essentially "waste" one day a week when they could've been harvesting or planting or tilling or watering, and just set it aside and rest. Interesting, foreign idea, eh?

In the version of the ten commandments we hear most often (found in Exodus), the rationale for Sabbath-keeping is because God rested on the seventh day of creation. What I didn't realize, though, is that in the other version given in Deuteronomy it gives a second rationale:

"Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the Lord your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Therefore the Lord your God has commanded you to observe the Sabbath." Deut. 5:15

Wow. It's like God is telling them that if they fail to observe Sabbath, if they failed to make time to just "be" and not "do," then they may as well have remained slaves in Egypt. Sabbath, then, is the ultimate expression of freedom. Our ruthless taskmasters 6 days a week--work, laundry, household to-do lists, homework, car repairs, and all the other nagging "shoulds" that constantly bombard us--lose their power over us if we can set them aside for 24 hours. If we can practice Sabbath we are our own masters, free people who have escaped the captivity of the "ought."

This is a big deal, isn't it? Who of us hasn't felt at one time or another that our life was out of control, and that we had simply become a slave to our obligations? So Sabbath isn't "just another rule" that God made up to burden us, but it is an incredible gift--an experience that leads to greater liberty. As Jesus said when he got in trouble with the legalists for snacking on some grain on the Sabbath, "People weren't made for the Sabbath, but the Sabbath was made for people."

So take a day and do what you want! Mow your lawn--but only if you enjoy it, not because it's long. Work on your car--but only if you have a hobby car in the shed. Spend time with your loved ones and friends, but don't let the day's plans become a burden. Cook a gourmet meal for your family--but only because you love it, not because they're hungry. And leave the dishes for tomorrow--they'll wait! After all, you're a free person, not a slave, right?

Human Doings

2008-05-27T12:00:00.000-04:00

Isn’t it amazing how much of our lives are wasted accomplishing things? I know that seems to be a contradictory statement, but unless life is really just a cosmic to-do list it seems we may be a little out of balance. The pace of life lately has become so frantic for me that it seems I go from one activity to another without any down time or reflection. From work to shopping to household chores to relationships (including my wife and kids), life can quickly become a series of tasks to check off the list. Ironically, even leisure activities, hobbies or vacation can become just one more thing we feel pressure to get done. So few of us actually spend time enjoying the simple beauty of existence that I think it would be more appropriate to call ourselves human “doings” than human “beings.”

Why do we feel such a need constantly accomplish something with our time? Why do we have a vague sense of uneasiness or guilt when we slow down enough to feel sun on our face, listen to the laughter of a child or settle into the hammock? I think it’s because we have identity issues. Somewhere deep inside we have a hard time thinking that we could be valued for anything more than what we accomplish at work, at home, or in our social circles. Without a firm sense that we are intrinsically worthwhile, we strive to make ourselves worthwhile by what we do.

How would things change if we could really root our identity in God's love for us? What if we lived our lives with a constant realization that we are far more valuable than what we get done in a given hour, day, year or lifetime? I think if we could get over our identity issues we could escape the prison of the to-do list and enter the freedom of sheer existence. I think if we could stop worrying about proving our value we could more easily see the value of everything and everyone around us.

Jesus addressed this whole issue as a failure to trust God to take care of us. Stop worrying, he says. Stop running after stuff. Take one day at a time. It doesn't all depend on you. God cares for you and will provide for you, so relax and enjoy life as the precious gift it was meant to be (paraphrased from Matthew 6). Approach life like a child--dependent, aware and full of wonder.

This is the idea of the Biblical concept of having a Sabbath day--one day in seven devoted to rest (think restoration). Sabbath is not a legalistic set of rules, but a gift, a privilege given to people by God to help us see that we are more than the sum of our accomplishments. I challenge us (myself included) to set aside 24 hours every week to just be. Be with your family. Be in nature. Be asleep. Be a child. Be in a good book or movie. Be aware of what is happening around you. Let go of the to-do lists (they are never-ending anyway), let go of obligations and "shoulds." For a whole day, do whatever you want to do, but nothing you need to do.

Let me know how it goes. I guess if the world stops turning as a result, we'll all find out...

Persistence

2008-01-23T11:55:00.000-05:00

Over the past few months I've been fighting with my cell-phone company to get my phone replaced. Without going into details, they sold me a phone that was incompatible with the plan I bought and ended up costing me extra money each month--obviously an unfair business practice. I have spent HOURS and HOURS on the phone with them trying to get the problem resolved through technical support. Each time they would ask me the same questions and treat me as if I was incompetent, and I would patiently walk through the steps with each new person trying to "help."After a couple of months of this, I did a few of my own tests and determined that it was certainly not my fault.

From that point on it was about calling customer service repeatedly, speaking to at least 5 supervisors and finally getting a team leader who was going to call me back within the hour to find out what phone I wanted. Except he never called me back. Which then became several more phone calls trying to track him down, as well as a trip into the local store to threaten cancellation of my account and then spend two hours on the "escalations" line there. This resulted in me finally obtaining the "helpful" team leaders' direct number and leaving repeated unreturned voice mails over the course of the next 10 days. Monday I called again, this time speaking to a sixth supervisor who finally gave me the replacement phone I wanted. Victory at last!

What motivated me to make so many calls? It was the injustice of it. That a company would sell me an incompatible phone/plan combination and then give me such poor service made me just about as angry as I ever get. I was unwilling to take no for an answer--I was ready to continue the calls for months until I got some sort of satisfactory solution.

About halfway through this process I read the Jesus' parable of the persistent widow (Luke 18:1-8), and I finally "got it." It's a tough parable, because it almost seems to liken God to an unjust judge who only dispenses justice when you bug him enough. But Jesus told it in order to teach us "always to pray and not give up." I finally understood that the parable is not about the judge, but about the widow. It isn't meant to teach us that God is like the judge, but that we are to be like the widow. The same persistence she showed with the judge is to be the persistence we show in prayer--not taking no for an answer, wanting something so badly that we keep asking again and again. The same attitude I showed in dealing with my cell phone company should be my attitude in prayer--not endlessly and meaninglessly repeating requests, but really going after them persistently. Often I ask half-heartedly, but God is teaching me to really decide what I want him to do and go after it with all I have, believing he will do it and not taking 'no' for an answer. Persistence is the key--keep on asking and you will receive, keep on seeking and you will find, keep on knocking and the door will be opened.