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.