A New Day

But I can't stop thinking

How you just keep making

Sense of all that was broken before

And I won't keep faking

'Cause I'm done with taking

'Cause with you, I'm not broken anymore

~Not Broken Anymore (Blue October)

I've never been one for New Year's resolutions.  I don't really get the concept of waking up one day, making a list of things to do better, and then magically becoming a different person.  I just don't think it works like that.

Sure, some Type A driven people probably thrive on that kind of thing.  But for me it would simply be a new list of things I failed at, a way to track my shortcomings.  Plus, on January 1st I'm usually deep in my sun-deprived winter blues and am only focused on surviving 'til April.  Suffice it to say, I am not really a goals-oriented person.

Still, though, the somewhat arbitrary distinction of a new year does provide at least the illusion of a fresh start.  And that may not be a bad thing.  Maybe that helps us understand grace a little better.  Maybe it lets us take stock of where we are and look ahead to the promise and potential of the future instead of being mired in the pain and disappointment of the past.

Ok, ok, that last sentence was a bit much.  But I do think the idea of a clean slate is important.  And maybe that's not something that should be relegated to only one day a year.  What if every day was the start of something new?  Yes, that's nauseatingly trite, but does that make it wrong?

It's easy to accumulate loads of baggage as we maneuver through our days, becoming weighed down by a thousand regrets.  And it's not that we should ignore our pasts, there are wonderful lessons to be learned there.  But maybe there's more than one way to see our past.

One option of course is to let ourselves be defined by all the things we wish we had done differently.  That's generally what I choose.  But those lyrics at the top of the page really resonated with me when I first heard them.  There's something amazing about the idea of Father taking everything that seems broken and showing us how he's fashioned something beautiful from our messes.

Even though I don't make resolutions, it's nice to be reminded that a new year is beginning.  And this year, I'm going to try to see each day as a fresh start, a chance to try again, an opportunity to learn how my mistakes and failures are woven into a beautiful tapestry by Father's hands. 

It's not easy, and frankly I don't really feel like doing it.  I read what I've just written and I can't honestly tell you I believe it all.  But I know changes are needed and I'm going to try to exercise my ability to choose how I think. 

This is a new day.

This is water.

Not Built By Human Hands

Acts 7:48-50 - “However, the Most High does not live in houses made by human hands. As the prophet says:

‘Heaven is my throne,

    and the earth is my footstool.

What kind of house will you build for me?

   says the Lord.

Or where will my resting place be?

   Has not my hand made all these things?'"

Acts 17:24 - “The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands."

It's funny that for 2,000 years we've devoted so much effort and resources to building things for God. We build all sorts of physical structures for Him, everything from modest little buildings to ornate cathedrals.  We create all sorts of institutions and summon up various movements. And then we act like God should feel obliged to inhabit the tidy little boxes we've built for Him.

The real tragedy of it all may be that by trying to confine God to our man-made structures, we miss Him in all the places He's at work.  We miss Him in the mundane experiences of day-to-day life, in our cubicles and offices, in the supermarket and playground, on buses and planes, in the midst of children crying and dogs barking, during sleepless nights and dreaded mornings.  We miss Him in the very thing He calls His body and temple - beautiful, frustrating, transcendent, fearful, glorious, shame-scarred humanity.

We build teachings and doctrine and demand that He abide by them.  We put together the perfect formula so we can manipulate Him to serve our whims.  We construct a building and call it "God's House" and talk about how He dwells in the sanctuary.  And by creating this idea of building something for God, we forget where He's been this whole time. 

The amazing, humbling truth is that He is already perfectly at home in our hearts, gently inviting us to see Him at work all around us.  He's eternally whispering to us that we are loved beyond imagination, secure in His affection, invited to share in His life instead of having to summon up one on our own.  The illusion of separation died on the cross, the curtain was torn in two, and our eyes were opened to what He meant by "Immanuel, God with us".  This is truly Good News, that we can enter into a Sabbath rest from trying to build something that could never contain Him and instead enter into what He has already built.

 

 

 

The Challenge of Staying Engaged

I really like the idea of staying engaged in life.  It seems wonderful in a kind of abstract theoretical construct.  I want to live my life, to be an active participant.  I want to be constantly aware of what Father is saying and doing, to be deeply involved in the lives of loved ones.  I hate the idea of being a passive spectator simply watching life pass me by.

But on a Tuesday evening after a frustrating day of work filled with mindless tedium, annoying people, and stupid questions that waste much of my time?  Or talking through a difficult life/relationship issue?  Or facing one of life's inevitable disappointments after daring to get my hopes up once more? 

I'm sorry, but I often check out.  The medium doesn't matter - it can be TV, a book, video games, whatever.  It's just . . . easier.  So much easier than staying engaged.  So much easier than working to see something good in the midst of an incredibly tedious, frustrating work day.  So much easier than poking and prodding at some deep hurt to find real healing instead of a quick fix.

I mean, I'm going so far as to get "This is Water" tattooed on my chest (soon I hope) in order to remind myself of the importance of finding true life in the day-to-day grind.  But still, time after time, I find myself sitting back and letting my eyes glaze over as I disengage.  I virtually fast forward through the boring/monotonous/frustrating/slow/tiresome periods by daydreaming or fantasizing about a much more interesting life.

So this is the challenge: not necessarily to make something better, but to see the good in what is there.  To try, to make the effort, to persevere in searching for what is wonderful and lovely, hidden as it may be within the mundane and undesirable.

I'm moving forward with the basic premise that my eyes do deceive me, that I am blind and senseless to much of what the God of Love is doing around me.  A paradigm shift may very much be called for here.  I may need to stop calling certain things "bad" or being so narrow-minded in what I call "good".  I may need to be open to a correction of vision, a new pair of glasses to see life through.

And I do admit, I tend to be a bit of a pessimist and cynic.  It's easy to say life taught me to be that way, but that's the poor excuse of a weak man.  I'm not pretending that changing how I see things will be easy.  It's not a switch I can simply turn on. 

But I'm beginning to believe that it must be worth the effort.  The alternative seems unbearable, that this gray world full of gray days is all there is.  I do not believe that to be true. I have seen sparks of color, beams of sunshine.

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." 

Grace for the Least Deserving

For the past decade or so, it seems that most of what I've been learning about has to do with Love and Grace.  These themes have been pretty constant - learning about God's grace and love for us, how we in turn extend this toward others, etc.  For the most part I feel like I'm beginning to get it.  I'm starting to understand Father's incredible affection for us and I'm getting better at identifying how to extend grace to others.

Lately, though, I've run into a problem.  It seems that there's a certain someone that I just can't quite extend grace toward.  I feel like they've had enough excuses, that they just need to get it together and do better.  This person is like a black hole, sucking up so much grace that they can't possibly deserve any more.

This person . . . is me.

Maybe it's because I feel that I know myself so well.  Maybe it's that my excuses ring hollow to me and that I'm privy to all my secret thoughts and motivations.  It's like knowing someone who is horrifically addicted to drugs and asks you for some money to cover their rent.  You know that money is going straight to their dealer, so maybe you pause a moment before pulling our your wallet.

Me, deserve more grace?  You must be out of your mind.

But that right there perfectly illustrates how often I still misunderstand grace.  The fact that I can't extend it to myself because I "don't deserve any more" shows that I'm not defining grace the way Father does.

The truth, though, is that I think it does take some audacity to be fully loved.  It's never been easy for me to say, "Yes, I am often selfish, I do screw up, I do have a negative impact on other people's lives . . . and I am fully, completely, unconditionally loved."

Through my faults, my failures, and my fears . . . regardless of action or attitude . . . in selfishness and sin . . . for every moment of every day of my entire existence . . . I am absolutely, mind-blowingly, incomprehensibly loved beyond my ability to imagine.  No matter what, I simply can't stop Father from loving me.  It is beyond my power to dampen his love in the slightest.  I can not forfeit it, I cannot run from it, there is nowhere to hide.

I am loved.

The question is this - dare I receive it?  Do I have the audacity to celebrate Father's unfailing love for me even in the moments when I feel that I can't love myself?  Can I learn to extend grace toward myself the way I want to extend it toward every other person who's fallen, screwed up, and
made a mistake?

Instead of trying to climb out of the pits I've dug, to clean off the mud and muck, to dress myself up real nice so that I finally feel deserving of being loved . . . do I let him love me out of these situations?  Do I let his love and grace achieve what all my stress and striving never could?

Do I dare be loved?

Yeah, I think I do.

Messiness

Lately my biggest frustration has been . . . me.  I know there are myriad issues I need to work on, to grow in, to resolve.  One of my biggest weaknesses, however, has been facing issues head-on.  I am the king of ignoring, of finding distractions, of burying my head in the sand.

So time goes by and nothing gets better.  I don't even know how to talk out loud about this, words fail me every time I try.  I'm so far from where I feel I should be and for the life of me I can't see a path that gets me there.

Tearing everything down and starting over is an incredibly seductive idea.  I don't know how to be the person I'm supposed to be and I don't know how much longer I can keep trying.  Neither running away or clinging to the status quo seems like a viable option.

So I may crumble.  I may fall apart.  I may be on the verge of becoming a complete mess for a little while.  I'm not handling life very well at the moment.  And trust me, no one is sicker of all these "wha-wha" moments than I am.

But I am more fortunate than many.  I have a wonderful wife, good family, and the most fantastic friends you could ever ask for.  I feel like I need to apologize to them all in advance for the fact that I'm going to be bleeding all over them for a while.

Even though I keeping saying this, I never do it - I need to let go.  Timelines, expectations, goals, aspirations . . . I'm like that guy spinning plates.  No matter how much I run from one to another, I can barely keep them from falling.  Well, maybe some of them need to fall.

I don't know what Father has been saying to me lately.  I haven't really been listening.  I suspect he's simply been inviting me to know him, to find rest and peace and life in him.  Why does something so simple seem so impossible?

All I can do is stress about jury duty and work and rent and car payments and not having my shit together.  Even when I'm ignoring things, burying myself in the latest distraction, I'm not truly at rest.  It's more that I'm immobilized by fear and stress.  When things get too intense, I just shut down.

So let's try this again . . . for the 22nd time or whatever.  Let's try letting go of stuff I really don't need to be holding onto.  Let's try being active in rest, rather than passive in turmoil. 

Weakness

It doesn't take more than a glance to ascertain that I'm not the most physically imposing person.  Sure, I can call myself "wiry" as much as I like, but the plain truth is that I'm just scrawny.  Physical strength has never been part of my repertoire. 

But it's always been important for me to perceive myself as being strong in other ways.  I like to feel as though I'm self-reliant, able to take care of my own issues without bleeding onto others.  I hate the idea of being needy, of relying on other people to prop me up and keep me going. 

Whether I am actually strong in this fashion is surely up for debate, but the point is that at least I see myself that way.  I do my best to present a picture of someone who doesn't need anybody else, who is self-sufficient and secure. 

And it is fucking exhausting.

I've been to the doctor's office twice in the last few weeks.  Nothing serious, just a constant fatigue that I can't seem to shake.  Blood tests came back negative for the flu and other illnesses.  During this last visit the doctor asked me if I thought I might be depressed.  I told him I had been going for counseling the last few months, trying to work through some issues.

He told me something interesting that he'd observed in his many years of practice.  He's noticed that people (especially younger people) who were struggling with anxiety or depression seemed to suffer from a suppressed immune system. 

It certainly made sense in my case.  Since this past September it seems I've been battling one cold after another.  And maybe it's no coincidence that at the same time I've felt frustrated, stifled, and depressed.  I feel like I'm unraveling, coming apart.  I try desperately to keep it together so I don't have to face one of my worst fears . . . appearing weak. 

But I'm starting to think that being weak isn't a flaw, it's just part of being human.  Maybe there are times to be strong so others can lean on me . . . and times to lean on others.  Maybe asking for help isn't selfish, just honest. 

Maybe I'm missing a big part of sharing life in community by trying to be someone who never needs anything from anyone.  I think I'm starting to realize that the truth of the matter is that I do need other people and it is okay to ask for help.  Trying to pretend otherwise leaves me in the same old place of working hard to build a great exterior while everything inside is crumbling.

Being messy like this feels embarrassing.  But I'm tired . . . and frankly my strength isn't sufficient to keep this monstrosity of self-effort propped up any longer.

I'm going to crawl into Father's lap, create a space of stillness and quiet, and let him speak to me.  Maybe I'll need to let go of some things that I thought were essential.  Maybe I'll even learn to cry again.

And perhaps in my weakness and messiness I will find him to be strong and his grace boundless. 

Resurrection: Graveyards and Gardens

This seems like a somewhat appropriate time to write about this topic.  Two words have been coming to mind a lot lately - resurrection and redemption.  I think (hope) this is going to be a theme for a while, so hopefully I'll be exploring these concepts in more depth.

I haven't been too shy about the fact that I've felt frustrated and stagnated.  I'm caught between learning to relax into Father's unfolding revelation of what he's doing in my life and a strong desire to make some sort of change just so I feel that I'm moving forward.

It seems the longer I wait, the more I'm being forced to let go of all my expectations.  C'mon, we all have that little time-line in our heads, don't we?

"I'll be married when I'm X years old."

"I'll have a house by the time I'm Y."

"I'll find a good job I enjoy within Z years."

Tick-tock goes the clock, the days pass by and nothing ever changes.  Pardon my melodramatic expression, but I feel like I'm sitting in a tomb littered with the skeletons of old hopes and dreams.  I feel stuck in never-ending winter, the landscape of my life gray and barren.

At a certain point I just started wondering if maybe I had missed the boat with this.  Maybe I've been wrong all along about what God's been doing in my life.  Maybe he's not preparing something for me, or me for something; maybe he's just sitting there and the only person who can change my life is me.  Maybe it's all up to me, it all rests on my ability to make something happen.

Or maybe all those things I hoped for, things I thought God planted deep within my heart . . . maybe those things are dead.  Maybe they'll never happen.  Maybe all I really have to look forward to in life is tedious repetition, long days in small cubicles, one soul-smothering day after another.

But sometimes . . . I remember I'm not alone.  I remember that just because something is dead, it doesn't mean it will stay that way.

After Lazarus died, Jesus traveled to the town in which he had lived.  He was met by Martha, and he comforted her by telling her that Lazarus would rise again.

“I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day," she replied.

But then Jesus corrected her understanding of the resurrection.  He told her that it wasn't an event, it was a Person.  

"I am the resurrection."

So yeah, maybe sometimes I feel like hope has died.  I get all mopey and emo-y and do silly things like compare my life to a tomb.  But a tomb with Jesus in it is really no tomb at all.  For Jesus, a tomb isn't where dead things are buried and forgotten, it's a place where dead things come to life.

And so I remember that I know Someone who is the Resurrection.  I know Someone who turns graveyards into gardens.  I know the One who turns winter to spring, despair to hope, a funeral dirge to joyous laughter. 

And yeah, things aren't moving according to my time-line.  Learning to trust Father and walk with him instead of trying to force something on my own is quite difficult.  I do often struggle with doubts and fears as to why things aren't unfolding how I thought they would.

But I get to walk through all that with Someone who is the Resurrection and the Life.  I get to respond to his invitation to join him in what he is doing in me and around me, to learn his timing and rhythm, and to find the security of his love and grace that make all things new. 

Today is April 2nd and it is snowing.  But Spring is coming.