Re-Imagining Success

So I was working out the other day (stop laughing) and I was listening to some Eminem (I said stop laughing!).  Anyway, the following lyrics jumped out at me:

So tell me, what the hell is a fella to do?
For every million I make, another relative sues
Family fightin' and fussin' over who wants to invite me to supper
All the sudden, I got ninety-some cousins 

A half-brother and sister who never seen me
Or even bothered to call me until they saw me on TV
Now everybody's so happy and proud
I'm finally allowed to step foot in my girlfriend's house

I think Mr. Mathers makes a rather astute observation here.  As much as he's often reviled and demonized for his lyrical content, as soon as he became successful everyone wanted to be his friend.  And that got me to thinking. 

I feel like we often refer to material wealth as being the god of America.  But maybe that's not quite right.  Maybe we don't worship at the altar of greed and consumerism.  Maybe these things are just symptoms of a deeper reality.

I think what we really worship here in America (and probably around much of the world) is Success.  That is what we orient our lives around.  We structure everything to give ourselves the best chance of becoming successful.

We tell children to work hard and get good grades in school so they can go to a good college.  Then we tell them to work hard there so they can go to a good grad school or get a good job.  Then more working hard, more late hours, more meetings and more deadlines and more, more, more . . .

Then, if we're lucky, if we've worked hard enough, we earn the label of Success.  Our parents speak proudly of us to their friends, our peers look up to us, the mayor gives us the key to the city and throws a ticker tape parade . . . okay, maybe not, but it sure feels that way.

The big house, the nice cars, all the fancy gadgets?  I think those are just ways we broadcast our status of Success.  They let other people know that we've made it. 

And the church is not immune from worshiping at the altar of Success.  It may measure it in other ways: congregation size, number of services, quality of the worship team, the pastor's prestige, how nice the building is, how many programs are offered, etc.  But the goal is the same - to be successful.  It's all about which Christian author is selling the most books, which blogger is getting the most hits, which contempervant semi-worship soft rock band is getting the most plays on K-Love.

I started to wonder how Jesus' ministry would be defined using our standards of success? 

Well, he did very little of note for about 90% of his life.  That's generally frowned upon.

He did stir up quite a bit of buzz when he was in his early 30's, that's a plus.  However, much of it was negative.  And most of the negative stuff came from the most respected religious leaders of the day.  Big minus.

After feeding 5,000 men (plus maybe women and children) with some bread and fish, he acquired a large following of people.  Of course, then he told them to eat his flesh and drink his blood and they all left him.  It's almost like Jesus didn't realize the point was to have as many followers as possible.

He was called demon possessed and that never helps your ministry.  Also was called a glutton and a drunkard (if you're a baptist, that's even worse than being called demon possessed).  He was known to hang out with the wrong kind of people, especially some women of a certain profession that were sure to damage your reputation.  He was run out of town, people wanted to throw rocks at him, a crowd shouted for his death.

He was prosecuted as a criminal, abandoned by even his closest friends.

He died.  Alone.

And yet, what was Jesus' ministry if not the single greatest success in the history of the world?  That all of mankind was reconciled to God because of him.  That people saw Love walk before them, they spoke with Grace personified.

Jesus stated at least a couple times that he did whatever he saw his Father doing.  He didn't fail because he never pastored a large church or wrote a best-selling book or made an appearance on whatever the Christian version of Oprah is.  He succeeded because he walked in step with Father.

So I guess that brings us to an interesting question or two.  If our definition of success doesn't match God's definition, what are we trying to achieve?  If our pursuit of becoming successful is wildly different than a simple walk alongside our loving Father, where are we headed?  Is it possible that we find life and joy with Father in the midst of glorious failure?  Is it even possible that we've had it backwards all along, that it's actually in ceasing this crazy race to become successful that we find the freedom to move in rhythm with God's heart?

I know I'm not immune to the siren call of Success.  I often catch myself looking at my life and wondering what the hell I'm doing.  But for me, part of this journey has been letting go of defining success in terms of prestige, notoriety, wealth, or praise.  Instead, I'm slowly (very, very slowly) learning to see God working in the world around me, loving ordinary, beautiful, frustrating, wonderful people, and inviting me to join him.

I'm starting to think that sounds much better than being a success.

Porsches and Principles

I feel like I start a lot of these with "So lately I've been thinking . . . ."

So, um, recently I've been . . . musing . . . on some stuff.  In particular, I've been thinking about the role of principles in spirituality.

Principles can be useful tools.  They can help us understand how things work, or how best to achieve a desired outcome.  They can assist in revealing truth to us.

However, I believe there is a danger in becoming too reliant on principles to guide us through life.  I understand why, principles help us have an illusion of control.  If we master these three principles, or follow those four steps, we will end up exactly where we're aiming.  And if we find ourselves off track, we just need to go back and see which principle we're failing to correctly apply.

And I do think it's possible to read the words of Jesus, or of Paul or John, and come away with a set of instructions on how to live life.  But I'm pretty sure that misses the point.  Jesus kept saying he came to bring life, he didn't say much about handing out rules.  Jesus invited a lot of people to follow him, he didn't hand out many pamphlets with six easy steps to becoming a better Christian. 

Even wonderful things like grace or freedom can be reduced to a set or pinciples.  But that seems to diminish them in some way.

It's like having a Porsche in your driveway with no engine.  You can wash and wax that sucker 'til you can use the reflection to check your teeth, but it's not going anywhere with no engine.  And a car that doesn't go anywhere really isn't much of a car.  It's missing a vital piece, lacking it's main function.

We can pretty up our lives with a bunch of nice sounding principles.  We can even talk about love and grace and all that good stuff, but as long as it's just intellectual assent to some ideas, it's probably not going to change our lives.

I think the engine, the real agent of motion and change, that which really causes transformation and enlightenment, is not an idea.  I think it's a Person.  I think it's when we engage Jesus himself that we begin to come alive.  Jesus offered us something much better than a set of principles to live by.  He offers us life with Him.  It was said that he would be called Immanuel, God with us. 

Even Jesus didn't live by a set of principles.  He said that he only did what he saw his Father do.  The life Jesus modeled was not one of mastering rules and regulations, it is simply one that is constantly engaged with Father. 

And I know it's kind of scary to let go of explicit instructions for living life.  I know it's uncomfortable to set aside principles that promise to always have an answer for our questions.

Trying to simply engage Father in the midst of life can be a messy process.  We might hear things wrong.  We might make mistakes.  But I'm starting to believe that those are very beautiful mistakes.  I think a misstep when journeying with Father is so much better than jumping through hoops without him.

And maybe it's in that mess and confusion that we finally start to really see how good he is.  I generally don't have the first clue what I'm doing.  I often feel foolish, stumbling around like a drunk toddler.  But I am being won by his goodness.  I am being won by his love.  I'm learning that as I begin to walk with him, even tripping over my feet leads to a wonderful destination.

It leads straight into his loving arms.

Looking for Sunshine

It's amazing what a little unexpected nice weather can do.  I was driving into work this morning enjoying the 60-something degree temperature, the sun shining warmly, with The National providing the soundtrack.  It was enough to make me feel optimistic about beginning yet another week at a job that is stifling and unfulfilling.

It was nice because October/November is generally when I'm really hunkering down in preparation for six months of gloomy gray skies, biting winds, and having the sun set before I leave work.  Let's face it, Syracuse is a very depressing place for much of the year.  I'm not sure whether it's because of how I'm wired anyway, but I generally find it very difficult to combat the depression that accompanies our overlong winters.

And the really sad part is that I even have a hard time enjoying the little nice weather we get because the approach of winter is always in the back of my mind.  Actually, it's like that for more than just nice weather.  It seems that anytime something good happens, I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I have this idea that I always have to be prepared for the oncoming winter, whatever that may entail.  I keep myself from enjoying positive experiences in life because I'm convinced that as soon as I relax and don't stay vigilant, some catastrophe is going to sneak up on me.

I think I miss some wonderful opportunities to engage in the present because I'm so concerned with figuring out the future.  I miss a lot of sunshine because I'm too busy scanning the horizons for clouds.

I'm not sure how this is going to work out, but I think I'm going to try to be more intentional in simply engaging the present things that God is doing around me.  I want to focus more on people than on plans.  I fear that I will wake up one morning finding that much of my life has simply passed by because I was too distracted by "what if?" scenarios to actually live my life. 

For a while I've been trying to lose my agendas.  I want to learn to enjoy the journey instead of being so focused on the destination.  I've tried to have my conversations revolve more around the people involved than looking for an angle to insert my "message".

So this winter I'm going to make a conscious effort to look for the sunshine.  Instead of missing the good because I'm distracted or worried, I'm going to look for what God is doing in the midst of every situation.  At least, that's the goal.  I feel like this won't be a quick transition, but I feel it's important for me.  Instead of being beaten down by the gray, cold winter, I'm going to search for and enjoy every ray of sunshine I can find.

Now that I've written this post, watch this be the worst winter ever.

Crap, I'm doing it again.

D'oh! 
 

I Said Relax

There's a lot of pressure to have it all together.  To have all the answers.  To be able to anticipate questions and arguments and have a well-reasoned response all thought out.

This seems doubly so for Christians.  It seems you're labeled as a second-rate Christian if you don't have all your theological ducks in a row.  You better be able to whip out some Greek at a moment's notice if you want to persuade others that they should believe the same things you do.

There's a lot of people out there with books and soapboxes who are all too eager to tell you that they have all the answers and you just need to go along with everything they're telling you.  They've figured it out so you don't have to.  They have degrees and titles that should prove that they are much more qualified to decide what is true than you will ever be.

Christianity has become a race to have all the answers.  He who can quote some obscure 9th century theologian has the last word.  If you can't prove your point with at least 37 verses to back you up, you probably shouldn't say anything at all.

But it's kind of funny.  You see, there were a whole bunch of guys who knew a ton of theology when Jesus was around.  They knew so much about God that when God himself showed up in front of them . . . they didn't recognize him at all.  Actually, his identity was so foreign that they hated him.

How is that?  How is it that those people who knew so much stuff about God could be so wrong about who he was?  Is it possible that we can get so focused on having all the answers, on memorizing all the rules, on being able to argue everyone else under the table, that we miss God himself in the midst of it?

What was Jesus's invitation again?  Was it, "Come and study me?"  Was it "Learn my teachings so you can teach others?"  He invited people to follow him.  He gathered a group of disciples around him to walk with him through life.

Do you ever stop to think why Jesus had disciples?  If it was just so his message would be spread, why not just write a book?  If knowledge was the point, that seems like the logical step.

But he surrounded himself with plain, ordinary people.  And he told them that because they saw him, they saw the Father.  He didn't come to reveal theology, he came to reveal God.  Those who knew a lot about God missed him because they missed the point.  It was never knowing about him.  It was always about knowing him

And if having all the answers and getting everyone to agree with you was so important, what the heck was Jesus doing?  People would ask him questions and he would give them answers that were carefully crafted to confound them.  He spoke in parables that people didn't understand.  He said things that caused the crowds to say "This is a hard teaching" and then leave him.

Jesus didn't find his value in proving to others that he knew a lot.  In fact, he didn't find his value in anything he did or said.  John the Baptist baptized Jesus before he had done anything we would call "ministry".  Yet his Father could not resist proclaiming “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”

So what does that all mean?  I think it means we get to relax.  We get to stop stressing and just enjoy the unfolding of Father's affection and grace.  We can sink into the reality of who God is, our eyes opening up to a greater revelation of him.  We no longer have to be governed by the pressure of knowing everything, we are simply invited to know the One who loves us more than anything we can imagine.

The Insufficiency of Law

This being election season and all, I've been thinking a bit about the divisiveness and power struggles that accompany this whole event.  Obviously there are a lot of reasons for this, but I wonder if one of the underlying issues is the expectation that the enactment of certain laws can transform society.  We vote for certain people to issue (or retract) laws that will in turn (we think) change people's behaviors so we can live in our ideal society.

But why this reliance on law?  Why this belief that if we can get people to act a certain way (under threat of punishment), all of our problems will be solved?

The Old Testament is full of stories of Israel straying from God, returning to Him, then straying again.  I'll admit that I used to judge them a bit for their unfaithfulness.  It seemed incredible to me that a nation could have their God intervene so strongly on their behalf, even erecting monuments in remembrance, then seemingly forgetting all about it just a generation or two later.

Courtesy of http://www.bartcop.com/2895.htm

The book of Hosea has always captured me.  In it, God instructs the prophet Hosea to marry a whore to illustrate His relationship with Israel.  He shows how He has pursued Israel even though they were unfaithful to Him, refusing to repent even as He tried to show them His love.

I wondered how that could be possible.  How could they forget so quickly what God had done for them?

Lately I've been wondering if maybe one of the lessons we can learn from the Old Testament is that the law was never sufficient for lasting change.  That a people could not be won for good by a set of external rules and commands.

In fact, even in the Old Testament, God was promising that one day He would take away their hearts of stone and replace them with hearts of flesh.  He promised that the law would in fact be written on their hearts, that their very DNA would be rewritten.  It seemed that a transition was needed from a system of external restraints to a brand new inward reality.

And then when God came Himself to accomplish all that was needed for the complete transformation of reality, those who were best versed in the law didn't know Him.  Doesn't that seem incredible?  And maybe shouldn't that be a clue that the Law was never enough?  When God came, the same God who gave them the Law they loved so much, they didn't even recognize Him.  In fact, they hated Him.

Why did they hate the Lawgiver?  Well, it may be because their power over others derived from their command of the law.  When the Lawgiver came to fulfill the law in its entirety, He was undermining their control.  No longer would teachers of the law be needed as each and every person could be transformed so that they would naturally live out God's law of love.

And then a funny (not really) thing happened. We've spent 2,000 years trying to turn it back into a system of law.  We disguise it as "Principles" or "5 Easy Steps", but it's all the same.  We don't trust the work of God within a person to replace their heart and transform them from the inside, so we try to manipulate people to behave in a certain way so that they can be pleasing or somehow closer to God.

Maybe this is a sign we're still operating out of a fear and shame based reality.  Maybe this should alert us that our view of Father is clouded with misinformation about who He really is.  I know that I want to move away from trying to control my environment with rules and laws, and instead trust Father to work in myself and others to bring us in line with our new inward reality.

Fear coerces.  Shame manipulates.  Love transforms.  Grace renews.  Which reality am I living in?

Agenda vs. Compassion

I can get kind of passionate sometimes when I hear something that seems to paint God in an unloving light.  Having endured years under the illusion of a cold, distant, disapproving God who is more taskmaster than father, it breaks my heart when others try to put that same yoke on people.

But I also understand that I may be slightly oversensitive in that area.  I don't want to jump on people who are simply expressing their own journey.

So lately I've been trying to find the balance between sharing Father's love and not violating the sacredness of another's personal experience.  I want to be driven by compassion, not an agenda to get everyone to agree with me.

It's hard sometimes to be sensitive to other perspectives.  While I may think I'm offering freedom from shame and condemnation, another may see it as a license for selfish living.  I'm learning that love and grace and religion can be rather loaded words.  As I'm getting deeper into conversations with people, I'm finding we're having a hard time communicating clearly because we have different definitions for the same words and phrases.

I say religion and I mean something negative: a self-effort based system of trying to earn God's approval, a system of behavior modification through fear, guilt, and shame.  I say church and I mean the body of Christ, not a service time or building.  I say "institutional church", and people don't know what the hell I'm talking about.

I say grace, and I mean the incredible life force that fills us and reveals Father to us more fully so that we continually become more like him.  I say love and I mean something transformative, something that changes us from the inside out so we live more in line with our new inward reality.  Others hear grace, and to them it means permissiveness, or simply the forgiveness that covers our sins when we screw up.  They hear love, and it means a single aspect of God's personality (maybe a small aspect), not that which underlies everything he does and says.

Some people even feel that we're reducing God to something less than he is by defining his nature by his love.  They feel like we're not giving him his due if we're not emphasizing that he also can be angry, or that he is a judge, or that he is holy.  Whereas I simply don't see any of that being separated from the fact that he is love.

So I pray to be more sensitive to the backgrounds and experiences of others.  I want to be a better listener than speaker.  I want to engage others simply because I love them, and let Father's love spill out naturally.  I want to be agenda-free, enjoying every person wherever they're at, just like Father enjoys me.

We Must Be Crap So God Can Look Better?

What is it with Christians that makes us feel like we need to degrade ourselves?  Why are the following refrains so popular?

"I'm not worthy"

"I'm just a sinner"

"I'm not capable of anything good"

Why do we feel that we need to magnify God by demeaning ourselves?  Is our view of Father so poor that we think He can only look good compared to our wretchedness?  Can we not rejoice in His goodness simply because He is good?

Lately I've been thinking about how much our view of God impacts our entire lives.  I think just about everything (our view of ourselves, how we interact with others, how we love, how we define justice or grace) really stems from the root issue of how we view Father.

And lately I feel like I've been seeing more people emphasizing the contrast between God's goodness or holiness and their own shortcomings and ignoble state.  What could that tell us about that person's view of Father?

Do they see God as jealous of praise?  Is He opposed to sharing His glory with His children?  Was God's plan all along to create a bunch of crummy people so that He could get all the credit for everything good?

But that just doesn't make sense to me.  That didn't seem to be the original plan at all.  I thought He made us in His image, I thought He called us "good".

What changed?  Do we attribute it to the fallen state of man?  But then what about Romans 5:12-21?

"Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned—

To be sure, sin was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law. Nevertheless, death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come.

 But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many!  Nor can the gift of God be compared with the result of one man’s sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification.  For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ!

 Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people.  For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.

 The law was brought in so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more,  so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord."

The consequences of the Fall cannot compare to the glorious restoration that was accomplished through the Cross.  So if who we are in Father's eyes has not been diminished, why do we insist on putting ourselves down?  The idea of God being selfish with His glory doesn't seem to jive with John 17:20-26.

“My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.  I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

“Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.

“Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.”

I'd like to delve more into that passage at a later time, but I'm pretty sure that's not an account of a selfish God.  That's a God who seems to enjoy sharing His glory with His children.  That's a God who has wrapped us up in Him and has made His dwelling place in us.  

But I know the obvious argument: "Are you saying we should be prideful and arrogant and not recognize the fact that all we have is by the grace of God?"

Not at all.  But why is agreeing with God's view of us a bad thing?  I had been in a discussion with some people a little while ago about pride and humility.  A number of people made the point that humility is really just agreeing with reality.  If the reality of the situation is that God has made us good and delights is us as His children and has designed us to be beautiful and creative and generous and pleasing, why should we disagree?  Why do we think God gets more glory by us speaking ill of His beloved children?  

I feel like I'm trying too hard to make a point.  I'm trying to process an idea that I can't quite put my finger on.  More and more I feel like Father is asking me to be aware of how my view of Him impacts various areas of my life.  More and more I feel like He's inviting me to know Him more, to allow Him to strip away my distorted views of who He really is.  

I hope I didn't come across as preachy or condescending.  I'm not trying to put down people who feel like they have to demean themselves in order to properly honor God.  I've lived in that place for a number of years and I understand the heart anguish that is associated with that.  But I still think it's an interesting question to ask.  How do our lives reflect our view of God?

Shoot, I just should have started with that question.  Oh well, not gonna rewrite this whole mess now . . .  

Expectations Are Death

Expectations are death.  That's the phrase that's been running through my mind a lot lately.

Why are they death?  They destroy relationships, as we're always comparing the other person to our own expectations of who they should be.  They destroy hope because reality never seems to match up to what we expect.  They destroy joy because we're blind to the good things that are happening since they aren't identical to the pictures in our head.

When we're ruled by expectations, our relationships are shams and we're constantly disappointed and dissatisfied with life.

How do I know?  Because lately I've become more aware of how much expectations rule my life.  It doesn't matter what the scenario is, chances are I've already envisioned how I want it to go.  I constantly wish other people would say or do certain things, often so that I look good in the eyes of others.  My happiness is generally contingent on how well reality lives up to my expectations.

And it's a truly sucky way to live.

I miss out on how great people are and how much I can learn from them because they dare to be unpredictable, happy, sad, outspoken, quiet, boisterous, depressed, unruly, afraid.

Even now I'm imagining the things I'd want people to tell me after reading this blog.  I'm not only craving approval and validation, I'm craving it a certain way.

How messed up is that?  It's like I want to give life a script to follow, I want to pick out the songs that play in the background at dramatic climaxes, I want everyone else to memorize their lines and perform in such a way that makes me look great.

But it turns out I'm missing out on the best story imaginable.  I'm missing out on engaging with actual people, crazy, beautiful, struggling, heroic, awesome people.  I'm missing out on engaging Father in the middle of my failures and fears.  I'm missing out on living an adventure where so much is completely out of my hands, but I'm still invited to relax into the security of knowing Father's goodness.

I'm trying to create a story with me in the center, but that story is very small and in the end quite sad.  The wonderful thing is that I'm invited to join a much greater story, a grand adventure, where I have a role to play but thankfully Someone infinitely gracious and loving is actually in control.

So I'm trying to let go of expectations.  It's not easy, it runs counter to my self-centered impulses, but it also allows me to be a much truer me than ever before.  It allows me to more fully embrace the identity that Father has given me, and that's a much better scenario than any I could imagine.

The Power of Shame

I want to write more, I feel that urge.  I also don't want to make it an obligation or chore, because then I will resent it and not do it.  But lately I've been feeling that it's somehow important for me to write consistently.

I generally only write when I'm trying to process something.  Lately there have definitely been things I'm trying to process, but not exactly things I want to reveal in a public way (even if no one reads this).

So, in broad terms, let's talk about shame.  And maybe about expectations and agendas.

There's no doubt that shame is an incredible motivator for getting people to behave in a certain fashion.  And in some cases it is used to "help" people avoid doing something that is damaging to themselves or others.  Does that mean that shame can be a good thing?  Is it a case of the end justifying the means?

I tend to think not.  I think what shame actually does is disguise the true dangers of unhealthy behaviors.  It's a quick and easy fix, but not a very good one.  Shame can keep someone from doing something that's wrong, but only up until the point that the satisfaction from that wrong behavior is greater than the shame that's associated with it.

The more public the shame, the more a person will be willing to put up with in order to not experience it.  But there is still a point that the situation becomes so unbearable that the threat of being shamed is no longer enough to hold them back.

Let's take divorce for an example.  In the christian community, there's a lot of public shame associated with a divorce.  It's considered a four letter word in many churches.  Therefore, a spouse will often be willing to put up with quite a bit of unhappiness (even tolerating abuse in some cases) before it reaches a point that getting a divorce is "worth it".

The fear generally seems to be that if we remove the shame factor, there will be nothing holding people back from all sorts of unhealthy behaviors.  I think that ignores a number of factors.  I don't have the time or space to get into them all right now, but I think it ignores such things as our new natures, how we naturally live when we have a clear picture of who God is and who we are, etc.

But the point I'm slowly trying to make is that maybe the removal of shame lets us finally take a look at the actual issues causing our unhappiness in situations or our desires to indulge in unhealthy behaviors.

With shame as the motivation to stay in an unhappy marriage, both spouses can avoid talking about what's actually contributing to their problems.  If the goal is simply to avoid shame by sticking it out, then they miss an incredible opportunity to be honest and vulnerable and delve deep into issues and try to find healing and restoration together.

Shame is kind of like a bandage that covers a wound that is festering and spreading infection throughout the body.  Ripping off the band-aid may not be a pleasant experience, but I think it lets us address the underlying issues.  And I believe that as we do that, we find God's grace healing that wound in ways we never could have imagined.

I also tend to think this ties into the issue of expectations, but I'll try to tackle that another time.

We Live According to Who We Think We Are

I know, state the obvious much? But it's true, isn't it? We live according to who we think we are. If we think we're a great basketball player, we're going to try out for the team. If we think we're incredibly tall, we're going to duck when we go through doorways.

But this can be twisted and distorted. Look at those with eating disorders. Anorexics have a twisted view of who they are and thus live in a way that is actually very unhealthy in light of who they actually are. A thin person will starve himself voluntarily believing he is grossly overweight.

Is it that much of a leap to think that someone who is told that they are sinful (bad, evil, having a sin nature, untrustworthy, weak, etc.) will struggle with sin? If your very nature is to sin, why wouldn't that be what you do?

I recently read a post at Stuff Christians Like (which I really like) that sparked something in me. Jon Acuff relayed an encounter he had with a worship leader. The worship leader wanted to change the lyrics in a hymn from "Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love" to "Prone to worship, prone to praise". Jon's point was that he found that to be indicative of someone being fake, or unwilling to be honest and real about sins and failures.

I certainly understand the sentiment, few things have turned me off from religion as much as the incredible amounts of fakeness and the tendency to brush every unpleasant thing under the rug. But by the time I read the post, there were around 150 or so comments with people unequivocally supporting Jon's position, wanting to leave the lyrics unchanged because they felt that was a more correct statement regarding their experience.

It was almost jaw-dropping, often I forget how much I'm kind of in a little "grace bubble" at the moment. I sometimes don't realize how the average Christian tends to see him or herself. And I don't blame them. It's easy to take that position. I sin, therefore I am a sinner. Plus add in the fact that it's pretty much hammered into their heads from the pulpit on a weekly basis that they need to do more, be more pleasing, get more right with God, etc. It's no wonder that people hold on so tightly to a distorted view of who they are.

But maybe that view is backwards. Maybe much of the struggle with sin is a natural consequence of believing that one's self is a sinner at heart.  Why do we act surprised when people sin when at the same time we tell people that they are programmed to sin at their most fundamental level?

And really, what do we think the cross accomplished?  That may be the biggest issue here.  It goes back to seeing what Jesus did on the cross as a "Get Out of Hell Free Card" vs. being the actual reconciliation of God to man, the death of every person with Jesus on the cross, the sinful nature crucified with Him. 

And then the resurrection.  I love the resurrection.  All of us who died with Christ on the cross also rose again as new beings with Him on that beautiful Sunday morning!  Maybe it sounds rather mystical, but mystical doesn't mean impractical.  Our old selves who were prone to wander died, and to live according to our dead selves is pure foolishness.   

Also, I think to call ourselves "prone to wander", we show a misunderstanding of who God really is.  As Father continues to reveal Himself to us, I truly believe that we find that there's no place better to be.  Why would we be prone to wander from the Father who loves us more fully and completely and unconditionally than we can even comprehend? 

Effortless Transformation

1 John 3:2 -  Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when Christ appears,^[a] we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.

 There seems to be an interesting promise here.  It's like John is saying that we will resemble Jesus to the extent that we have see Him for who He is.  For all the striving we are urged to do in order to become more "Christ-like", this seems almost counter-intuitive. 

Think about it.  The only thing keeping you from being like Jesus is having a poor picture of who He is.  It's like the life of God within you, Christ Himself within you, will mold you effortlessly into His image as He is revealed to you.

It's weird to think that being transformed into the likeness of Christ is the most natural thing for a believer.  It's not about fighting against your flesh, denying yourself, committing yourself, trying and reaching and begging and pleading . . .

Just . . . see Jesus.  See Him for who He is. 

I think it's kind of like restoring an old painting that's been so covered with dirt and grime that the original picture is nearly impossible to discern.  Let's take a sponge and gently wipe away the dirt and grime of religion from His features.  Let love shine through, let the reality of grace be revealed, let His eyes pierce us with unending affection and His hands reach out to us in unconditional acceptance.

Let's allow the lies and dogma of religion to fall away so that all we see is Him.  And in seeing Him, let us enjoy our transformation, more fully bearing His image.

Relaxed Jesus

After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”

“No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”

Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”

“Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!"

(John 13:5-9)

When I started reading my Bible again a while ago I started with the gospel of John, one of my favorite books. Part of it is because I love the fact that John calls himself "the disciple that Jesus loved". Whatever he tapped into that enabled him to call himself that, I want some of that too.

I really like Peter's responses in the account of Jesus washing the disciples' feet. I like that he was so eager to do whatever was necessary in order for him to have more of Jesus (even if he managed to still miss the point).

But this time I saw something new, something I'd never noticed before in my dozen or so readings. What hit me was verse 7 (in bold). I had been totally ignorant of this side of Jesus. 

Jesus was not hung up on whether Peter understood what was going on.  His plans were not hindered by Peter's lack of comprehension.  Jesus didn't stop the whole event and refuse to move on until Peter could finally get his head around what was happening. 

When Peter reacted out of ignorance, Jesus simply acknowledged that Peter did not know what was going on at the moment.  He didn't demand that everyone be on the same page, He didn't get frustrated by one person's confusion.  He just reassured Peter that what was difficult to understand now would make sense later.

This is not the Jesus I used to know.  I lived in a state of constant fear that my ignorance or stupidity would somehow ruin God's grand plan for my life.  I worried that I was lagging behind everyone else, being held back by my lack of comprehension.  Never had I envisioned Jesus simply smiling at me and saying, "It's okay, you don't need to understand it all now, you'll get it later." 

I thought understanding was paramount.  That it all rested on my maturity and knowledge.  I had completely missed the point God is the author and I am simply offered the opportunity to join Him in what He is doing. 

It turns out that Jesus is much more relaxed about the process than I am.  He is okay with letting me process things at my own speed, not growing impatient and demanding that I reach a certain level of maturity within a certain time frame.  As much as I beat myself up for not "getting it" quick enough, He is gracious and loving and kind and full of patience.

So now I will try not to get so hung up about understanding.  I want to learn to simply enjoy and be a part of what He is doing, even if I don't have all the pieces to the puzzle.  Maybe I'll get it later. 

Frustrated

I feel frustrated. I feel stifled, stymied, stuck, stagnant. I feel like I've put life on hold until our next "big move" and I'm sick of it. I want to engage, share life, explore relationships, delight in others, tackle adventures, walk with God.

I'm tired of sitting on the sidelines and watching life pass by. I'm tired of putting off life events because we're not in the right place for them yet. I'm tired of paying rent instead of having a house . . . tired of living in Syracuse instead of a vibrant city teeming with life and opportunities . . . tired of dying slowly in a gray cubicle instead of working at a job that challenges and fulfills.

But I'm also scared of putting down roots here. I'm scared of settling for something dull and boring and soul-crushing. I'm scared that if we have kids and find a house here, even if we just say it's "for a couple years", I'll wake up one morning 30 years from now wondering what happened to my life.

Is that an incredibly selfish way to look at things? Yes, yes it is.

 I want to walk with God through this journey, I really do. I want to relax into the reality of His love, of knowing that everywhere I am is somewhere good because I'm there with Him.

But I am scared. And I am frustrated.

And I sit here in this uncomfortable tension between forcing a change and resigning myself to the present reality. Every job I've had (except for one) has pretty much been offered to me out of the blue. Only once did I get a job by going out and looking and applying (and that turned out to be a month of hell). Do I wait for God to bring me to the next step? Or am I being passive and lazy by not actively pursuing opportunities?

I know the answer, that's the crazy part. I know the answer is simply to let go of this and walk with God and only be concerned about where we are today and what's going on right now. I know a journey with Father that takes me to a place I'd never expect is infinitely better than a trek on my own to my desired location.

But I'm still scared. I'm still frustrated.