When I was a child, the Christ in Christmas was pretty hard to miss. We attended a denominational church and I went to a Protestant parochial school so pretty much all I had to do was wake up in the morning to be greeted from all sides by "the reason for the season."
We attended a midnight Christmas Eve service regularly. I remember that I once burned my fingers on the hot wax that dripped from the candle. We'd go home afterward and because it was now officially Christmas, I was allowed to open one present that had to be approved my mom.
Sometime in elementary school, I had to write a report about where Santa Claus came from. Looking back now and given my Christian school context, that hits me as a brilliant assignment. I was then and to some extent remain puzzled about how the giving of gifts to those we love became the central focus of Christmas. I suspect it was Charles Dickens that ratified the idea for us moderns but it had clearly been in play for centuries before.
The explanation given to me at school and home was that we give gifts to each other because of the gift God gave us of his son. I remember that connection hitting me as odd and even jarring. What possible connection was there between my Screaming Meemee rifle/grenade launcher and the 2nd chapter of Luke? What was the point?
The point was hinted at in the traditional, seasonal entertainment of the day. Movies like "It's a Wonderful Life" and "Miracle on 34th Street" pointed in the direction of transcendence with a quivering finger. It was as if they were more than just a little afraid to embrace the idea that a loving and just God might be more than just a deus ex machina plot device. Even the much older story of "A Christmas Carol" was oblique on the ultimate point. Still however, these stories recognized something that provided a hope for people in hurt and need. Hope and faith were somehow understood to be necessary even if their correct target was lost.
I've minimized the name of Christ in the preceding with a bit of hope that you,the reader, who I now address directly in the occasional style of Dickens, will have experienced a bit of the jangling that happens in me when I watch and read these stories of incomplete completion. The fact that George Bailey comes to recognize his value through revelation is...wonderful. Not meaning to be a Grinch but I think there's more to redemption than the restoration that happens to George. Come Monday, George Bailey will still have Potter and Uncle Billy to deal with. George has discovered that people surely love him. I hope though that doesn't represent anything like the sum of George's value. If it does, then all depends on George always being nice and doing the right thing. Not even Jimmy Stewart can pull that off.
This year I'm experiencing Advent in a form most similar to what I remember in my childhood. I've been attending morning prayer at an Anglican church as part of the fabric of Christmas observance. The season of Advent and it's core cause have supplanted morning news in my life. Tonight I will attend a service that contains only hymn singing and bible reading. I will attend Christmas Eve prayers tomorrow, anticipating a bit what the Book of Common Prayer, penned about 350 years ago has to say about that day. Much so far has been aimed in the direction of preparing myself through submission, confession and reflection for the observance of the Epiphany. This preparation is perhaps the primary point of the Advent season.
No "naughty and nice" lists have appeared and reindeer are conspicuous by their absence. This I find wildly refreshing. I also find it an invitation to smile a bit sadly as I respond to greetings of "Happy Holidays" with "Merry Christmas." At least I'm able to offer the Merry Christmas response these days without first clenching my teeth.
After a half century of life, I find less and less time for the pale substitutes that have invaded our culture, masquerading themselves as "the Christmas Spirit." They all fall short and leave me wanting for the reality of the one who gave everything imaginable each of us, yea verily, every one.
My prayer for myself this Advent is that I can be an overflowing vessel of the love of Christ and a witness to the reality of the presence of Christ in the lives of those with whom I am present. And one other thing, I hope desperately as those of us who know Christ shop, watch TV and get over tired with Christmas observances that we start to feel like something very very important might be missing. I pray that because our lives are the living Advent invitation to those who we meet. When we are present in Christ and in the season, it is Merry Christmas. When we are absent to our calling, it is only a well lit, tinsel covered happy holiday.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Friday, December 7, 2012
Santa Claus the Easter Bunny and Social Justice
Generally, the idea of Santa Claus is said to have had its origin in the life and work of St. Nicholas.
St. Nick it seems did a good many things but none of them had anything
to do with reindeer, presents and chimneys. As I write this, it is the
feast day of St. Nicholas. Probably as a result, I've heard the
following factoid regarding St. Nick about a half dozen times in the
last couple of days: "He slapped Arius." I think Arius probably
deserved it (you can Google it and discover why). In any case
though, that clearly doesn't have anything to do with him being kind to
Rudolph on Christmas Eve.
As a society, we've removed a lot of the reason and much of the heart and depth of Christmas. We've made it about shopping, presents, the "right" gift and of course Black Friday and Cyber Monday. The Christians among us (me for example) still observe the holiday as the observed birthday of Christ and perhaps even celebrate Advent. There is an ongoing, much ballyhooed "culture war" that involves whether we as a society will continue to remember the reason we celebrate Christmas or whether we will find the observance (now more than 2000 years old) so offensive that we must avoid mentioning the word Christmas because it contains the religious word Christ. Although I hate to admit it, this is likely a case where if you have to have the debate, you've already lost the point.
This only applies to the public forum of course. What we do personally we are free to hold. This is true even when holding to that which is unpopular costs us and even costs us dearly.
The clearer vision of what's going on with St. Nick and Christmas is found in the Easter Bunny. In this case, the Christian church deliberately co-opted a long standing pagan tradition. The problem with the Easter Bunny as opposed to St. Nick is that the "co-opting" had nothing discernible to do with the death and resurrection of Christ. Thus, once the reason for the holiday is forgotten as a matter of societal practice, the Easter Bunny continues without even an echo of its intent to reinforce the life and work of Christ. Even the faint echo of the original cause is lost, to society at least.
I've saved the most egregious example of this kind of distortion of purpose and intent for last. The greatest heathen in the pantheon of linguistic blasphemy is this: social justice.
Note that Christianity survived approximately 1,807 years without benefit of that phrase but somehow during that time, managed to far surpass anything the concept could hope to express. It was cooked up by the Jesuits sometime around 1840. During the years before we were all saved by the shiny new word, missionaries carrying the truth and love of Christ, healing and economic aid and every manner of good and sacrifice (sometimes unto death) were sent out. It was (and always has been - even absent special new words) a holistic Gospel that encompassed both the physical and spiritual well being; exactly as it was when Christ taught and lived it. And even as it still most often is now in the post social justice revelation era in which we find ourselves.
I've known a Jesuit or two and I suspect that if those boys had kept the phrase to themselves, we'd all still be OK. By OK, I mean we'd have a common understanding of what the goal of a social mission is...And we'd have that sort of clarity of mission because we'd recognize the love of Christ in those that sent us, those that traveled with as and those we eventually served.
Of course, this being a broken world, there have been many failures and abuses in the carrying forward of Christ's mission, regardless of the language used to describe it. However, any complete tally of virtue vs. trespass in this regard will result in only one conclusion. Namely, Christians have been stumbling along in their brokenness for 2000 years trying to live out the love and and care of their namesake. In that time, God has worked miracles large and small to bring the love of Christ to all mankind in both physical and spiritual realities.
It's not enough to address physical need but not embrace the broken in your best imitation of Christ's love. Both are necessary. Mother Teresa said this: “Today it is fashionable to talk about the poor. Unfortunately, it is not fashionable to talk with them.” On that path lies the point. Social justice is a legal and moral concept. It is fine as such. However, person to person, man to God and God to man it ignores the fundamental reason for any virtue of service. Namely, it ignores the healing, love and wonder of Jesus Christ. It ignores the reality and hope of redemption and completion implicit in the gift. The thing is, that kind of giving has to include an element of the self of the giver.
When I raise this point, I usually get a few different things played back to me: "Well it's just a word and we all know what it means." Actually we don't. It's been co-opted by everyone from Protestants to the Libertarians to the Green Party and virtually every other assembly of humanity that might ever have interest in helping someone else.
Another playback is: "It's just good to do something regardless of the reason." The problem here is that where the presence of man is, there also is his heart. When the heart of man is involved you don't just do something. You do it for a reason. In the kingdom of God, the heart of the individual always trumps the shadows dancing in front of us.
When I told my wife what I was going to write about today she said something to the effect of, "Oh, that's very efficient. You'll make everyone mad all at once and then you can just have one big apology for everyone." I have to say, that right there is a wise woman. You don't need to be afraid if you run into me when you're on a social justice mission or errand though. I don't correct grammar or spelling either any more unless asked and then I try to let it be a gentle thing.
Still though, my aspiration for this Christmas and Easter and always is that the great body of Christ can carry forward the present reality of his love and Spirit. My prayer is that we can communicate the reality that man doesn't live just by bread, but by the breath, will and love of the God that spoke us. I pray that I can carry that message in the warp and woof of my soul and my deepest inner being. And finally I pray that the love and nature of Christ so consumes me that its presence in me is unmistakable, even for those closest to me.
As a society, we've removed a lot of the reason and much of the heart and depth of Christmas. We've made it about shopping, presents, the "right" gift and of course Black Friday and Cyber Monday. The Christians among us (me for example) still observe the holiday as the observed birthday of Christ and perhaps even celebrate Advent. There is an ongoing, much ballyhooed "culture war" that involves whether we as a society will continue to remember the reason we celebrate Christmas or whether we will find the observance (now more than 2000 years old) so offensive that we must avoid mentioning the word Christmas because it contains the religious word Christ. Although I hate to admit it, this is likely a case where if you have to have the debate, you've already lost the point.
This only applies to the public forum of course. What we do personally we are free to hold. This is true even when holding to that which is unpopular costs us and even costs us dearly.
The clearer vision of what's going on with St. Nick and Christmas is found in the Easter Bunny. In this case, the Christian church deliberately co-opted a long standing pagan tradition. The problem with the Easter Bunny as opposed to St. Nick is that the "co-opting" had nothing discernible to do with the death and resurrection of Christ. Thus, once the reason for the holiday is forgotten as a matter of societal practice, the Easter Bunny continues without even an echo of its intent to reinforce the life and work of Christ. Even the faint echo of the original cause is lost, to society at least.
I've saved the most egregious example of this kind of distortion of purpose and intent for last. The greatest heathen in the pantheon of linguistic blasphemy is this: social justice.
Note that Christianity survived approximately 1,807 years without benefit of that phrase but somehow during that time, managed to far surpass anything the concept could hope to express. It was cooked up by the Jesuits sometime around 1840. During the years before we were all saved by the shiny new word, missionaries carrying the truth and love of Christ, healing and economic aid and every manner of good and sacrifice (sometimes unto death) were sent out. It was (and always has been - even absent special new words) a holistic Gospel that encompassed both the physical and spiritual well being; exactly as it was when Christ taught and lived it. And even as it still most often is now in the post social justice revelation era in which we find ourselves.
I've known a Jesuit or two and I suspect that if those boys had kept the phrase to themselves, we'd all still be OK. By OK, I mean we'd have a common understanding of what the goal of a social mission is...And we'd have that sort of clarity of mission because we'd recognize the love of Christ in those that sent us, those that traveled with as and those we eventually served.
Of course, this being a broken world, there have been many failures and abuses in the carrying forward of Christ's mission, regardless of the language used to describe it. However, any complete tally of virtue vs. trespass in this regard will result in only one conclusion. Namely, Christians have been stumbling along in their brokenness for 2000 years trying to live out the love and and care of their namesake. In that time, God has worked miracles large and small to bring the love of Christ to all mankind in both physical and spiritual realities.
It's not enough to address physical need but not embrace the broken in your best imitation of Christ's love. Both are necessary. Mother Teresa said this: “Today it is fashionable to talk about the poor. Unfortunately, it is not fashionable to talk with them.” On that path lies the point. Social justice is a legal and moral concept. It is fine as such. However, person to person, man to God and God to man it ignores the fundamental reason for any virtue of service. Namely, it ignores the healing, love and wonder of Jesus Christ. It ignores the reality and hope of redemption and completion implicit in the gift. The thing is, that kind of giving has to include an element of the self of the giver.
When I raise this point, I usually get a few different things played back to me: "Well it's just a word and we all know what it means." Actually we don't. It's been co-opted by everyone from Protestants to the Libertarians to the Green Party and virtually every other assembly of humanity that might ever have interest in helping someone else.
Another playback is: "It's just good to do something regardless of the reason." The problem here is that where the presence of man is, there also is his heart. When the heart of man is involved you don't just do something. You do it for a reason. In the kingdom of God, the heart of the individual always trumps the shadows dancing in front of us.
When I told my wife what I was going to write about today she said something to the effect of, "Oh, that's very efficient. You'll make everyone mad all at once and then you can just have one big apology for everyone." I have to say, that right there is a wise woman. You don't need to be afraid if you run into me when you're on a social justice mission or errand though. I don't correct grammar or spelling either any more unless asked and then I try to let it be a gentle thing.
Still though, my aspiration for this Christmas and Easter and always is that the great body of Christ can carry forward the present reality of his love and Spirit. My prayer is that we can communicate the reality that man doesn't live just by bread, but by the breath, will and love of the God that spoke us. I pray that I can carry that message in the warp and woof of my soul and my deepest inner being. And finally I pray that the love and nature of Christ so consumes me that its presence in me is unmistakable, even for those closest to me.
Monday, November 5, 2012
A Really Really Big Tent
Technically, very technically, Hildegard of Bingen (1098 – 17 September 1179) is not a saint. While she hasn't been formally canonized she has been beatified and made a doctor of the church. I'm told that that amounts to being a saint but isn't quite there. She does have her own feast day though so that pretty much validates it for me. She wrote music, had visions and advised high church leadership among a bunch of other stuff. One source called her a polymath. That's a great word that I hope you have fun looking up.
I once saw Johnathan Edwards described as a better Calvinist than Calvin, or at least a better reasoned one. He wrote a number of blistering sermons but two of my favorites of his are, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" and "On the Future and Just Punishment of the Wicked." I'll bet he had some great jokes to open his sermons so he could draw everyone in. I might be wrong be wrong about that though. He was a leading figure in The First Great Awakening in the United States. One contemporary said that he delivered his sermons to the bell rope at the back of his church down the center aisle from his pulpit. The contemporary said that after church, people often expected to see the bell rope charred and smoking from the intensity of his delivery.
Blaise Pascal in his early years was a curious combination of Stephen Hawking and Mick Jagger. One day, he encountered God and everything changed instantly and profoundly. It was such a huge thing for him that he wrote it down in a couple places. One of them was discovered to have been sewn inside his coat after he died. He died young, probably because he spent his money and health taking care of the desperately ill in Paris.
Joel Osteen has great hair, a TV show a smile that is hard to loathe (I know, I've tried) and is often criticized for not being complete in his delivery of the biblical message. He also has one of the biggest protestant churches in the known universe and seems to love God.
Robert Schuller built the Crystal Cathedral, the "Hour of Power" TV show and apparently a bunch of fairly unhealthy relationships. He's suing his old church right now for something like 5 million dollars. Of course, he's also had Henry Nouwen to the Crystal Cathedral, supported foreign missions and admits from time to time that he doesn't completely "get" God.
Mother Theresa was pretty much the gold standard of Christian reality in the 20th century. One of he quotes that I really like is to the effect of: "Killing a child because it is unwanted is a peculiar form of poverty." She confessed at one point to going a year, while living in poverty, caring for orphans and mentoring her staff, without being sure whether God actually existed.
I could go on like this for a very long time. I remember just enough of this stuff to be able to Google it endlessly. (Anybody want to hear the dirt between John Wesley and Zinzendorf?) However, this sort of bone jarring jerking to and fro from person to personage has a point other than winning a Red Bull off of one of your buddies after a particularly vicious church basketball game. The point is that the body of Christ covers a lot more ground than can be covered in one person, one church, one generation or even one millennium. The body of Christ because of the love and grace of Christ is about the biggest tent ever conceived. How big is it? Damn big.
Apparently it's a lot bigger than our memories or our tastes. I hear people complain about Osteen; I hear people dis Edwards; I hear people dis all Catholics that ever lived. Confession: I used to hear myself doing some of this sort of dis'sing from time to time.
I've pretty much stopped listening to this stuff and my great aspiration is to stop talking, thinking or fretting about it. Jesus, who invented all those people mentioned up there, is in charge of them. Not me. If you know the story of the Prodigal Son, look at it this way: Do you like the idea of being the older brother? I've discovered you have to shut up to avoid the possibility and even that doesn't help sometimes.
Occasionally, I'll decide that someone isn't the best influence on me. These days when that possibility presents itself I just stop listening to them. Recently and happily, I've discovered that my mouth isn't involved in listening. I don't have to run my cake hole to have an opinion or to move on with my life. Amazing. Who would have thought?
If you want to blame someone for all these broken people calling themselves Christians or Christian leaders, you better blame Jesus. He made them. I have to say though, I've tried that (although I didn't realize for years that I was actually blaming him when I'd whine about "those people"). From my experience, I'd have to say this is a singularly unsatisfactory approach to the problem.
Jesus' tent is humongous. It's also not at all subject to the rules and theology we think it should be. I'm pretty convinced there's an inside and an outside but apart from a few who are very close to me, I wouldn't hazard any guesses as to who's standing where. It's hard to come up with language that describes the size of Christ's grace and love and his ability to include absolutely everyone in it who wants to be included. I think the best I can do is this: It's so big, it hurts.
I once saw Johnathan Edwards described as a better Calvinist than Calvin, or at least a better reasoned one. He wrote a number of blistering sermons but two of my favorites of his are, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" and "On the Future and Just Punishment of the Wicked." I'll bet he had some great jokes to open his sermons so he could draw everyone in. I might be wrong be wrong about that though. He was a leading figure in The First Great Awakening in the United States. One contemporary said that he delivered his sermons to the bell rope at the back of his church down the center aisle from his pulpit. The contemporary said that after church, people often expected to see the bell rope charred and smoking from the intensity of his delivery.
Blaise Pascal in his early years was a curious combination of Stephen Hawking and Mick Jagger. One day, he encountered God and everything changed instantly and profoundly. It was such a huge thing for him that he wrote it down in a couple places. One of them was discovered to have been sewn inside his coat after he died. He died young, probably because he spent his money and health taking care of the desperately ill in Paris.
Joel Osteen has great hair, a TV show a smile that is hard to loathe (I know, I've tried) and is often criticized for not being complete in his delivery of the biblical message. He also has one of the biggest protestant churches in the known universe and seems to love God.
Robert Schuller built the Crystal Cathedral, the "Hour of Power" TV show and apparently a bunch of fairly unhealthy relationships. He's suing his old church right now for something like 5 million dollars. Of course, he's also had Henry Nouwen to the Crystal Cathedral, supported foreign missions and admits from time to time that he doesn't completely "get" God.
Mother Theresa was pretty much the gold standard of Christian reality in the 20th century. One of he quotes that I really like is to the effect of: "Killing a child because it is unwanted is a peculiar form of poverty." She confessed at one point to going a year, while living in poverty, caring for orphans and mentoring her staff, without being sure whether God actually existed.
I could go on like this for a very long time. I remember just enough of this stuff to be able to Google it endlessly. (Anybody want to hear the dirt between John Wesley and Zinzendorf?) However, this sort of bone jarring jerking to and fro from person to personage has a point other than winning a Red Bull off of one of your buddies after a particularly vicious church basketball game. The point is that the body of Christ covers a lot more ground than can be covered in one person, one church, one generation or even one millennium. The body of Christ because of the love and grace of Christ is about the biggest tent ever conceived. How big is it? Damn big.
Apparently it's a lot bigger than our memories or our tastes. I hear people complain about Osteen; I hear people dis Edwards; I hear people dis all Catholics that ever lived. Confession: I used to hear myself doing some of this sort of dis'sing from time to time.
I've pretty much stopped listening to this stuff and my great aspiration is to stop talking, thinking or fretting about it. Jesus, who invented all those people mentioned up there, is in charge of them. Not me. If you know the story of the Prodigal Son, look at it this way: Do you like the idea of being the older brother? I've discovered you have to shut up to avoid the possibility and even that doesn't help sometimes.
Occasionally, I'll decide that someone isn't the best influence on me. These days when that possibility presents itself I just stop listening to them. Recently and happily, I've discovered that my mouth isn't involved in listening. I don't have to run my cake hole to have an opinion or to move on with my life. Amazing. Who would have thought?
If you want to blame someone for all these broken people calling themselves Christians or Christian leaders, you better blame Jesus. He made them. I have to say though, I've tried that (although I didn't realize for years that I was actually blaming him when I'd whine about "those people"). From my experience, I'd have to say this is a singularly unsatisfactory approach to the problem.
Jesus' tent is humongous. It's also not at all subject to the rules and theology we think it should be. I'm pretty convinced there's an inside and an outside but apart from a few who are very close to me, I wouldn't hazard any guesses as to who's standing where. It's hard to come up with language that describes the size of Christ's grace and love and his ability to include absolutely everyone in it who wants to be included. I think the best I can do is this: It's so big, it hurts.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
The Many Kinds of Faith
Singer/songwriter John Hyatt said once that if he had a nickel for every time someone played his song, "Have a Little Faith in Me" at a wedding, he'd stop working. Even though he doesn't get a $.05 royalty for wedding performance, I'll still bet he's doing OK.
We can have faith in all kinds of people and things. We have faith in loved ones, team mates, people at work and/or their performance and in the 21st century we are encouraged to even have faith in products and brand names. Faith seems to be crawling around everywhere.
A lot of what we call faith if held up to the light is really hope. We hope our iWhatever does what it's supposed to, looks really cool and is universally loved and revered, perhaps in the hope that we will participate in the love and reverence a bit ourselves.
Hope is good. However, hope is not the same thing as faith.
There's a place in the bible that describes faith as "the substance of things hoped for." Many many books, chapters and sermons have been written about this passage. Putting all that aside for the moment, one thing that is incontrovertible from this construct is that "faith" is considered to be somewhat more substantial than hope. As an example, we might hope for Christmas presents but we have faith that Christ is the reason we celebrate Christmas.
Faith and hope can get real confused. We usually hope for good outcomes in situations we face, particularly challenging situations. That's natural and fine. Sometimes people tell us to have "faith" that everything will come out OK. That's fine too but it does raise the question as to what "OK" means, or maybe what it actually is. The potential confusion here is pretty easy to see if you imagine a child being told that the way to get good things is to "have faith" that he'll receive them. Back when I was a kid, that would likely result in me having faith that I'd get my 2nd hot fudge sundae. Apparently my mom had more sense than I had faith because I never got sundae number two.
We Christians use the word faith about every which way it can be used and then throw in a few just to make sure everything is covered. That's generally fine but it can result in some disappointment or confusion when events don't unfold in a way that's consistent with our hope. And that's usually because we have confused faith with hope.
Sometimes faith gets confused with expectation. Faith and expectation are pretty easy to differentiate as well. We have the expectation that the sun will come up tomorrow. We don't exercise faith for that.
There's a good example of faith at work in the concept of marriage. When we marry, we assume that our spouses will be faithful. In effect, we have faith in their faithfulness. That points to another word though that is more closely aligned with faith than the alternatives we've looked at so far. That word is confidence.
Confidence in the good of people (i.e. the faithfulness of a spouse) is akin to faith. Having confidence that someone will "do the right thing" is parallel to having faith in them. Confidence and faith both represent investments of heart.
When we talk about having faith in God, it's not so much that we have "faith" that he'll do this or that. Maybe we expect him to do a particular thing but maybe he has something else in mind. Maybe we'd like him to do something now but later seems better to him.
That's actually when we have to have faith. The title here is ironic because in all the universe there's really only one kind of faith, at least as it applies to God. Faith is this: Knowing, expecting, hoping, committing and living life in a way that's consistent with the idea that God is who he says he is. In addition, there is exactly one commentary on this doctrine that's appropriate. Namely, God is good. (The idea that God is good is really contained in the idea that God is who he says he is but sometimes it helps to throw in that second bit.)
Most of our pain that's of the self-inflicted kind, most of our railing at situations or other people derive from the idea that God isn't really and completely who he says he is. I talked briefly to a woman the other night who thought that bankers were evil and should be punished. I saw kind of problem with this, not because it's impossible that bankers could ever do anything wrong, but rather because this woman apparently felt a lot of angst about the "unfairness" of the things "they" had done. What was hidden just below the surface of her anger was, "How can this be? This will not stand! This is not fair AND everyone should think so." That's fine but God says that redressing such wrongs is his job.
Laws are there to prevent systematic victimization and certainly they must be followed and upheld but self-righteous vengeance is a poor substitute for justice. When we indulge in that kind of thinking (as I too often do), we de facto deny the idea that God is who he says he is and all the cascading truths like, he'll take care of the spiritual injustice of it. In the moment we take up the cudgel, we deny that God really is our champion.
I'm gradually getting better with the idea that God is who he says he is. It takes a long time and we have to learn to except a fact about ourselves someplace in this process. Namely, we are who he spoke us to be. The truth of that is a story that each of us shares with God...because he is who he says he is.
We can have faith in all kinds of people and things. We have faith in loved ones, team mates, people at work and/or their performance and in the 21st century we are encouraged to even have faith in products and brand names. Faith seems to be crawling around everywhere.
A lot of what we call faith if held up to the light is really hope. We hope our iWhatever does what it's supposed to, looks really cool and is universally loved and revered, perhaps in the hope that we will participate in the love and reverence a bit ourselves.
Hope is good. However, hope is not the same thing as faith.
There's a place in the bible that describes faith as "the substance of things hoped for." Many many books, chapters and sermons have been written about this passage. Putting all that aside for the moment, one thing that is incontrovertible from this construct is that "faith" is considered to be somewhat more substantial than hope. As an example, we might hope for Christmas presents but we have faith that Christ is the reason we celebrate Christmas.
Faith and hope can get real confused. We usually hope for good outcomes in situations we face, particularly challenging situations. That's natural and fine. Sometimes people tell us to have "faith" that everything will come out OK. That's fine too but it does raise the question as to what "OK" means, or maybe what it actually is. The potential confusion here is pretty easy to see if you imagine a child being told that the way to get good things is to "have faith" that he'll receive them. Back when I was a kid, that would likely result in me having faith that I'd get my 2nd hot fudge sundae. Apparently my mom had more sense than I had faith because I never got sundae number two.
We Christians use the word faith about every which way it can be used and then throw in a few just to make sure everything is covered. That's generally fine but it can result in some disappointment or confusion when events don't unfold in a way that's consistent with our hope. And that's usually because we have confused faith with hope.
Sometimes faith gets confused with expectation. Faith and expectation are pretty easy to differentiate as well. We have the expectation that the sun will come up tomorrow. We don't exercise faith for that.
There's a good example of faith at work in the concept of marriage. When we marry, we assume that our spouses will be faithful. In effect, we have faith in their faithfulness. That points to another word though that is more closely aligned with faith than the alternatives we've looked at so far. That word is confidence.
Confidence in the good of people (i.e. the faithfulness of a spouse) is akin to faith. Having confidence that someone will "do the right thing" is parallel to having faith in them. Confidence and faith both represent investments of heart.
When we talk about having faith in God, it's not so much that we have "faith" that he'll do this or that. Maybe we expect him to do a particular thing but maybe he has something else in mind. Maybe we'd like him to do something now but later seems better to him.
That's actually when we have to have faith. The title here is ironic because in all the universe there's really only one kind of faith, at least as it applies to God. Faith is this: Knowing, expecting, hoping, committing and living life in a way that's consistent with the idea that God is who he says he is. In addition, there is exactly one commentary on this doctrine that's appropriate. Namely, God is good. (The idea that God is good is really contained in the idea that God is who he says he is but sometimes it helps to throw in that second bit.)
Most of our pain that's of the self-inflicted kind, most of our railing at situations or other people derive from the idea that God isn't really and completely who he says he is. I talked briefly to a woman the other night who thought that bankers were evil and should be punished. I saw kind of problem with this, not because it's impossible that bankers could ever do anything wrong, but rather because this woman apparently felt a lot of angst about the "unfairness" of the things "they" had done. What was hidden just below the surface of her anger was, "How can this be? This will not stand! This is not fair AND everyone should think so." That's fine but God says that redressing such wrongs is his job.
Laws are there to prevent systematic victimization and certainly they must be followed and upheld but self-righteous vengeance is a poor substitute for justice. When we indulge in that kind of thinking (as I too often do), we de facto deny the idea that God is who he says he is and all the cascading truths like, he'll take care of the spiritual injustice of it. In the moment we take up the cudgel, we deny that God really is our champion.
I'm gradually getting better with the idea that God is who he says he is. It takes a long time and we have to learn to except a fact about ourselves someplace in this process. Namely, we are who he spoke us to be. The truth of that is a story that each of us shares with God...because he is who he says he is.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
This 'n That
Some of this (and that) are things I've written about before. Some of (this and) that are new things. Don't look for relatedness or coherence. I seldom do.
Forgiveness
The fake forgiveness ceremony:
"HEY! You stepped on my foot!"
"Oh! I'm sorry."
"That's all right. I forgive you."
Fake forgiveness is like a dance with 2 to n people. All the dancers have to agree to move in time to the same music and then actually take the energy to move. If any of the dancers happen to step on any feet during the forgiveness ceremony, everyone has to start over.
Real forgiveness:
Jesus, while hanging on the cross allowing himself to be the victim of all mankind said, "Father forgive them for they don't know what they're doing." He not only forgave us himself, he even argued a bit on our behalf. No one danced.
Real forgiveness is unilateral and exists without a response from anyone else. Real forgiveness is born in love (see below).
Anger
Being angry isn't a sin. It's what you do when your angry that potentially turns it into sin. In any case though, I don't think anger is ever fun or even pleasant. As someone once said, "Anger is like a headache. It's not wrong to have one but why would you want one?"
Sacrifice
Sacrifice is nearly always confusing for nearly everyone. Sacrifice gets confused with giving up food, sex, smoking, time, health, vigor, money, someone you love and almost anything you can think of. All it ever really is, is "giving up," as in surrendering. You can't surrender without actually surrendering something but the nature of the something usually matters little. Here are some phrases that indicate the initiation of surrender:
"I don't need this anymore."
"I still REALLY feel like I need this but I'll just leave it here."
"I REALLY like doing but I think I'll just sacrifice it."
Sacrifice is an act of will, often ongoing. Sometimes circumstances almost force it (i.e. having kids). However, sacrifice can never be forced. It is always a matter of will, a matter of choice.
Sometimes, maybe even often, depending on the nature of the sacrifice the sacrifice winds up not really feeling like sacrifice at all.
Having an opinion
Morality is important. Living according to it is important. Having an opinion is not.
Expressing an opinion
Much less important than actually having an opinion. Standing for morality though is important. That's not because it's my opinion though.
Life and Death
Both are very real and exist for everyone reading this. Those of us who believe in Christ believe there's a reason and reality associated with both. Most of us aren't quite clear on the reason though because we haven't read or maybe yet understood the book of Job. Many of us who follow Christ seem to get confused about death too.
My wife likens the death of a loved one who dies in Christ to them being given a ticket to Hawaii with unlimited food, snorkeling and other fun things and even some serious lanai lounging. The only kickers are that there isn't any cell service there and since they're going be very busy lanai lounging and doing fun things, you won't be able to talk to them until you get your ticket and can go there too. Yes, it's sad missing someone you still love. But they're OK. In fact, they're a lot better than just OK. They're getting really tan with no possibility of skin cancer, eating everything they want without getting fat and having great fun. How sad can you really be for either them or you?
Fear
Fear usually starts out as being very helpful. It can even help us to not go to Hawaii too soon. However, over time things fear turns into things we try to avoid because they're unpleasant and even painful. It can get so bad that we avoid everything, even parts of ourselves. Fear is fine for hot stoves, the bulls in Pamplona, the face of Half Dome, race car driving and any numbers of other activities. It's not so good for relationships and it has no place in the context of love. If you have fear in a relationship, it should probably be sacrificed. After the sacrifice, you might want to think about taking up something in it's place...maybe intention and purpose.
If you have fear about life and death, you should know that if you follow Christ you're going to Hawaii. In fact, you're on your way right now.
Love
Love goes on forever. It's the reason those who follow Christ don't die (sacrifice is in there too but it all starts with love - true sacrifice is always a kind of love). Since we weren't designed for the brokenness in the place we live, our love often gets disappointed. That can turn into fear if we're not careful. If we let it though, the perfect love of Christ will pretty much toss our fear under the nearest bus.
Sometimes we have to sacrifice something in the name of love. That's OK though because the love we get in return for the sacrifice completes life and transcends death. It's hard to imagine how you can accept that much love though if you're not able to sacrifice all of the hurts that have been done to you and give up your right (well - your right in your opinion anyway) to get even. Well in point of fact, it's not just hard to imagine, it's impossible.
I hope none of this makes you angry but if it does I hope you forgive me. I won't ask for forgiveness because you owe it to yourself and nothing to me and that's not just my opinion. That's forgiveness...and love. Most of all it's love.
Forgiveness
The fake forgiveness ceremony:
"HEY! You stepped on my foot!"
"Oh! I'm sorry."
"That's all right. I forgive you."
Fake forgiveness is like a dance with 2 to n people. All the dancers have to agree to move in time to the same music and then actually take the energy to move. If any of the dancers happen to step on any feet during the forgiveness ceremony, everyone has to start over.
Real forgiveness:
Jesus, while hanging on the cross allowing himself to be the victim of all mankind said, "Father forgive them for they don't know what they're doing." He not only forgave us himself, he even argued a bit on our behalf. No one danced.
Real forgiveness is unilateral and exists without a response from anyone else. Real forgiveness is born in love (see below).
Anger
Being angry isn't a sin. It's what you do when your angry that potentially turns it into sin. In any case though, I don't think anger is ever fun or even pleasant. As someone once said, "Anger is like a headache. It's not wrong to have one but why would you want one?"
Sacrifice
Sacrifice is nearly always confusing for nearly everyone. Sacrifice gets confused with giving up food, sex, smoking, time, health, vigor, money, someone you love and almost anything you can think of. All it ever really is, is "giving up," as in surrendering. You can't surrender without actually surrendering something but the nature of the something usually matters little. Here are some phrases that indicate the initiation of surrender:
"I don't need this anymore."
"I still REALLY feel like I need this but I'll just leave it here."
"I REALLY like doing but I think I'll just sacrifice it."
Sacrifice is an act of will, often ongoing. Sometimes circumstances almost force it (i.e. having kids). However, sacrifice can never be forced. It is always a matter of will, a matter of choice.
Sometimes, maybe even often, depending on the nature of the sacrifice the sacrifice winds up not really feeling like sacrifice at all.
Having an opinion
Morality is important. Living according to it is important. Having an opinion is not.
Expressing an opinion
Much less important than actually having an opinion. Standing for morality though is important. That's not because it's my opinion though.
Life and Death
Both are very real and exist for everyone reading this. Those of us who believe in Christ believe there's a reason and reality associated with both. Most of us aren't quite clear on the reason though because we haven't read or maybe yet understood the book of Job. Many of us who follow Christ seem to get confused about death too.
My wife likens the death of a loved one who dies in Christ to them being given a ticket to Hawaii with unlimited food, snorkeling and other fun things and even some serious lanai lounging. The only kickers are that there isn't any cell service there and since they're going be very busy lanai lounging and doing fun things, you won't be able to talk to them until you get your ticket and can go there too. Yes, it's sad missing someone you still love. But they're OK. In fact, they're a lot better than just OK. They're getting really tan with no possibility of skin cancer, eating everything they want without getting fat and having great fun. How sad can you really be for either them or you?
Fear
Fear usually starts out as being very helpful. It can even help us to not go to Hawaii too soon. However, over time things fear turns into things we try to avoid because they're unpleasant and even painful. It can get so bad that we avoid everything, even parts of ourselves. Fear is fine for hot stoves, the bulls in Pamplona, the face of Half Dome, race car driving and any numbers of other activities. It's not so good for relationships and it has no place in the context of love. If you have fear in a relationship, it should probably be sacrificed. After the sacrifice, you might want to think about taking up something in it's place...maybe intention and purpose.
If you have fear about life and death, you should know that if you follow Christ you're going to Hawaii. In fact, you're on your way right now.
Love
Love goes on forever. It's the reason those who follow Christ don't die (sacrifice is in there too but it all starts with love - true sacrifice is always a kind of love). Since we weren't designed for the brokenness in the place we live, our love often gets disappointed. That can turn into fear if we're not careful. If we let it though, the perfect love of Christ will pretty much toss our fear under the nearest bus.
Sometimes we have to sacrifice something in the name of love. That's OK though because the love we get in return for the sacrifice completes life and transcends death. It's hard to imagine how you can accept that much love though if you're not able to sacrifice all of the hurts that have been done to you and give up your right (well - your right in your opinion anyway) to get even. Well in point of fact, it's not just hard to imagine, it's impossible.
I hope none of this makes you angry but if it does I hope you forgive me. I won't ask for forgiveness because you owe it to yourself and nothing to me and that's not just my opinion. That's forgiveness...and love. Most of all it's love.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Letting Go
There are a lot of contradictory messages in life and there seems to be someone to carry the water for each of them. For example, some espouse pursuing greatness while others think that one should pursue passion and that greatness will follow. As with all such apparent contradictions, there will be those who have read both sets of books on the subject. To explain or to try to integrate the two camps, they'll simply put "sometimes..." in front of both constructs and call it a day. As in sometimes you have to pursue greatness and sometimes you have to pursue passion.
All these types of arguments tend to be about doing something or maybe hanging on through tough circumstances. I don't think they're bad (mostly), but there's a greater truth. The real chore is always binary. The real choice is whether to hang on or whether to let go.
And in that context it's almost always time to be letting go of something. Letting go is not about sometimes. Letting go is very important as is in fact one of the things that makes us human and gives us life.
Even hanging on is wrapped in a big package of letting go. If you're hanging on to something, presumably you're either trying to go wherever it goes or keep it from leaving. Inside that reality, choices exist. Do I hang on and leave everything behind? Do I choose to stop hanging on and let the person or opportunity go?
It's true that there are things pertaining to identity that represent the DNA of who you are that are important to hang on to. Faith and morality are examples of these as are family (where you came from) and even friends (at lest the close ones who you allow to participate in the unfolding definition of your identity). However the list is remarkably short.
Most things come and stay awhile and then must be released. That includes virtually all the stuff in your closet and garage and even includes your closet and garage. More distant friends will also be let go as they move away or move on. There just isn't enough of whatever to support all the stuff or enough time to support everyone. Some, must be let go.
It's counter intuitive, but we seem to hang on to pain with a grip that borders and occasionally transgresses into the desperate. Whether it's continuing to hate someone who wronged us years ago (hate's essentially the same thing as not forgiving) or our own feelings of inadequacy or even nursing a physical wound long since healed, we hang on to our catalog of things and crutches like grim death. Exactly like grim death as a matter of fact.
Our place here is not forever. That is what learning to let go teaches us.
All these types of arguments tend to be about doing something or maybe hanging on through tough circumstances. I don't think they're bad (mostly), but there's a greater truth. The real chore is always binary. The real choice is whether to hang on or whether to let go.
And in that context it's almost always time to be letting go of something. Letting go is not about sometimes. Letting go is very important as is in fact one of the things that makes us human and gives us life.
Even hanging on is wrapped in a big package of letting go. If you're hanging on to something, presumably you're either trying to go wherever it goes or keep it from leaving. Inside that reality, choices exist. Do I hang on and leave everything behind? Do I choose to stop hanging on and let the person or opportunity go?
It's true that there are things pertaining to identity that represent the DNA of who you are that are important to hang on to. Faith and morality are examples of these as are family (where you came from) and even friends (at lest the close ones who you allow to participate in the unfolding definition of your identity). However the list is remarkably short.
Most things come and stay awhile and then must be released. That includes virtually all the stuff in your closet and garage and even includes your closet and garage. More distant friends will also be let go as they move away or move on. There just isn't enough of whatever to support all the stuff or enough time to support everyone. Some, must be let go.
It's counter intuitive, but we seem to hang on to pain with a grip that borders and occasionally transgresses into the desperate. Whether it's continuing to hate someone who wronged us years ago (hate's essentially the same thing as not forgiving) or our own feelings of inadequacy or even nursing a physical wound long since healed, we hang on to our catalog of things and crutches like grim death. Exactly like grim death as a matter of fact.
Our place here is not forever. That is what learning to let go teaches us.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Esther
My theory is that there is a fairly finite catalog of sermons or homilies or whatever you choose to call the Sunday morning time where someone stands up and front and speaks while everyone else listens.
There are a lot of reasons this subject list tends to be closed ended. One reason is that while there's an infinite scope and variety of the experiences of people interacting with God, there's a finite number of stories in the bible. Another reason is that the theology that's popular at any given moment in time limits the perspective we have of God. Put that second one another way, it's probably not a good idea to assume that the Catholics of the late Middle Ages were all wrong and that the emerging Protestants were all right...You can reverse that if you're Catholic and the meaning will be virtually the same.
I think the biggest reason for a finite catalog of weekly inspiration though, is that those who have gotten comfortable with where they are with Christ tend to get a bit bored of the whole thing. Bored might be too strong but we could certainly say that most people don't wake up in the morning and feel challenged and inspired to ferret out a new revelation from old King James. Usually we're just happy to wake up again and have the hope that someone got up before us and made the coffee.
Thus, the Finite Sermon Catalog Syndrome usually leads to the Boring Bible Reading Corollary. That's the part where we imagine that the bible can no longer surprise us...And who wants to get up to read something that we "know" front to back? I think the truth is that the bible contains the capacity to give us slap across the mouth revelation, persistently and consistently if we'll just abandon our preconceived, boring preconceptions and accept the bible at it's word.
The book of Esther is a pretty good example of what I'm talking about. Somewhere down in the fourth chapter of Esther, her cousin Mordecai (who was her surrogate father) says: “Do not think that because you are in the king’s house you alone of all the Jews will escape. 14 For if you remain silent at this time, "... I think when we read this our sense of justice, our modern sensibilities and our "all's well that ends well" reflexes (albeit in this case, "all then ends badly") want to fill in something like, ..."you and all your house will be destroyed." Here's how Mordecai finishes that sentence: ..."relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?”
Mordecai appeals to one thing in Esther and it's something we in modern times have insulated ourselves from using every artifice of thought and theology we can muster. Mordecai appeals to who Esther was spoken by God to be.
I paid someone a compliment today. He's 60 something. I don't know him well but I do know that he has walked with God nearly all his life and unless all men and books do lie, he is a habitually nice guy. He thanked me for my compliment and said he was trying to do a better job of accepting compliments but that it was still hard. After a half century of knowing Christ, he still found it hard to accept that he's a beautiful creation, well worth compliment.
Mordecai is telling Esther that God's purpose will ultimately be fulfilled regardless of her choice. However, by choosing to align her life with what God spoke her to be, done at great personal risk, she fulfilled herself and saved her nation. But something else happens too. She created a story.
The story she created is the story of a partnership with God. The partnership made her a queen talked about throughout time. One day in heaven, I'll walk up to a campfire where a woman will be sitting, staring into the flames. I'll ask her name. She'll say, "Esther." In that moment I will know the story that she co-wrote with God, in the form of the person who risked everything to complete it. She will carry that story with her throughout eternity. Out of the story's overflow, a nation was saved.
I will also walk up to other campfires and learn other names. Likely, most of them will have echoes of Esther's story. They will be equal parts choosing away from fear and pain, offered and accepted grace and love. They will all be testimony to the God who like Esther, risked everything to partner with each story, with each soul.
And when they look at me and hear my name, they will know the same of me...and of you too if you so choose.
There are a lot of reasons this subject list tends to be closed ended. One reason is that while there's an infinite scope and variety of the experiences of people interacting with God, there's a finite number of stories in the bible. Another reason is that the theology that's popular at any given moment in time limits the perspective we have of God. Put that second one another way, it's probably not a good idea to assume that the Catholics of the late Middle Ages were all wrong and that the emerging Protestants were all right...You can reverse that if you're Catholic and the meaning will be virtually the same.
I think the biggest reason for a finite catalog of weekly inspiration though, is that those who have gotten comfortable with where they are with Christ tend to get a bit bored of the whole thing. Bored might be too strong but we could certainly say that most people don't wake up in the morning and feel challenged and inspired to ferret out a new revelation from old King James. Usually we're just happy to wake up again and have the hope that someone got up before us and made the coffee.
Thus, the Finite Sermon Catalog Syndrome usually leads to the Boring Bible Reading Corollary. That's the part where we imagine that the bible can no longer surprise us...And who wants to get up to read something that we "know" front to back? I think the truth is that the bible contains the capacity to give us slap across the mouth revelation, persistently and consistently if we'll just abandon our preconceived, boring preconceptions and accept the bible at it's word.
The book of Esther is a pretty good example of what I'm talking about. Somewhere down in the fourth chapter of Esther, her cousin Mordecai (who was her surrogate father) says: “Do not think that because you are in the king’s house you alone of all the Jews will escape. 14 For if you remain silent at this time, "... I think when we read this our sense of justice, our modern sensibilities and our "all's well that ends well" reflexes (albeit in this case, "all then ends badly") want to fill in something like, ..."you and all your house will be destroyed." Here's how Mordecai finishes that sentence: ..."relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?”
Mordecai appeals to one thing in Esther and it's something we in modern times have insulated ourselves from using every artifice of thought and theology we can muster. Mordecai appeals to who Esther was spoken by God to be.
I paid someone a compliment today. He's 60 something. I don't know him well but I do know that he has walked with God nearly all his life and unless all men and books do lie, he is a habitually nice guy. He thanked me for my compliment and said he was trying to do a better job of accepting compliments but that it was still hard. After a half century of knowing Christ, he still found it hard to accept that he's a beautiful creation, well worth compliment.
Mordecai is telling Esther that God's purpose will ultimately be fulfilled regardless of her choice. However, by choosing to align her life with what God spoke her to be, done at great personal risk, she fulfilled herself and saved her nation. But something else happens too. She created a story.
The story she created is the story of a partnership with God. The partnership made her a queen talked about throughout time. One day in heaven, I'll walk up to a campfire where a woman will be sitting, staring into the flames. I'll ask her name. She'll say, "Esther." In that moment I will know the story that she co-wrote with God, in the form of the person who risked everything to complete it. She will carry that story with her throughout eternity. Out of the story's overflow, a nation was saved.
I will also walk up to other campfires and learn other names. Likely, most of them will have echoes of Esther's story. They will be equal parts choosing away from fear and pain, offered and accepted grace and love. They will all be testimony to the God who like Esther, risked everything to partner with each story, with each soul.
And when they look at me and hear my name, they will know the same of me...and of you too if you so choose.
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