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.

One-Sided Relationship

Sitting in a church service the other day, I finally realized why most sermons kind of bother me.  I should rephrase that, I don't mean it to be that negative.  Let's back up a bit so I can give some context here.

I was raised in a Christian family, attended church very regularly, and heard hundreds of sermons growing up.  For the most part, the pastors at the churches I attended were good people and for the most part there wasn't necessarily a lot that was wrong in the sermons.

But somehow I still grew up with this view of God as Someone who was distant, disengaged, and indifferent.  I've always had kind of a hard time figuring out exactly why that was.  I had been told God was love, that he desired relationship, etc.

Then, seated in a Sunday morning service and listening to a sermon on prayer, it finally clicked.  I finally realized that the vast majority of sermons/teachings/books were focused on only one side of the relationship.

Mine.

It's been pounded into my brain that I need to maintain my relationship with God, I need to fix things when they're broken, I need to find ways to strengthen it.  It's all up to me.

I need to pray more, read more, commit more.  I need to fix my flaws, unearth my hidden sins, change my heart.

I . . . I . . . I . . .

Even without it ever being said explicitly, the clear implication is that I am the initiator in my relationship with Father.  I need to say a prayer to start it, I need to do certain things to keep it healthy, I need to avoid certain things so I don't lose or damage the relationship.

So is it any wonder I saw God as indifferent if I was the only one working at this relationship?  Thankfully he began to win me out of that illusion, showing me that he was the initiator, he was the one reaching out, he was the one invested in our relationship even when I was distracted or flaking out.

And I think scripture bears that out.  Whether you take the creation story as literal or figurative, it was God beginning the process.  It was God who started the conversations with Abraham and Noah.  It was God who came to live with us in human form.  Just look at how Jesus interacted with people.  He started the conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well.  He approached fishermen and invited them to join him as his disciples.

Jesus didn't act much like my picture of God.  He wasn't unapproachable.  He didn't keep to himself or demand that people jump through a number of hoops before they could be near him.

He drew people to him.   He sought out people wherever they were at.

That's incredible to me.  There was something about Jesus that communicated to people that they were welcomed and accepted and desired.  Even the people that the culture rejected.  Even the people that religion called "unclean" or "unacceptable".  

I think the disciples had a view of God that was much like mine.  When people tried to bring their little children to Jesus, the disciples tried to keep them away.  After all, didn't they realize how important this man was?  But Jesus insisted that the children be brought to him, even declaring that the kingdom of God belonged to these little ones. 

How long did I labor under the impression that Father only accepted the good, the pure, the put-together, the have-all-the-answers, the committed?  How long did I kill myself trying to become "good enough"?

Yes, I heard that God loves.  But everything I read between the lines told me that God only really likes people who are doing all the right things to be a "good Christian".  And the overwhelming message was that it was all up to me.

In the end, that really created a self-centered brand of Christianity.  I was only focused on making myself good enough for God to love.  I totally missed the fact that Father was at work all around me and inviting me to join him in what he was doing.  I missed the fact that as his beloved child I get to engage him and walk with him through life.  I thought I had to get certain areas of my life fixed up before he would be welcome there, but instead I get to invite him into my pain and my anger and my doubt and learn to rest in his love in the very midst of all my struggles.

One of the most wonderful revelations of the past several years it that there is actually no space at all between Father and me.  There is no separation, we have become one.  And it's all because of Father!  He was the one that reconciled the world to himself, that drew me to him, that replaced my old heart with a new one.  He is the author and perfecter of faith, he started it and he completes it.  I am invited to respond to Father, to join him in what he is doing, but there is no burden on me to become something that is acceptable to him.

All those times I was begging God to come down from heaven, to meet with me, to have some sort of experience that would change my life . . . he was already there.  He had already destroyed anything that could separate us, I just wasn't aware of it.  I'm still learning to respond to his rhythms, to join him in the midst of day-to-day life, but I no longer feel the need to try to earn what I already have. 

It's always nice to learn that you've already been given that which you've been trying so hard to earn.

The Tension In Between

I don't know why, but I hate saying "God is teaching me [insert virtue here]."  Having said that, I think God's been trying to teach me about patience lately.  Or maybe he's teaching me about courage or humility and I'm totally misreading things.  Actually, that seems much more likely.

But let's move ahead with the assumption that in some capacity I'm learning about patience.  Something that has struck me is how different things are when there's an end in sight.  If I knew I was starting a new job on June 1st, these next few months would be quite bearable.  Any frustrations I encountered would only be temporary.  Pushing on is much easier with the finish line in sight.

But what if there's no end date?  What if you're stuck in an undesired situation and you feel that it's not time to move on yet?  What do you fill the meantime with? 

http://ninapaley.com/mimiandeunice/2010/08/09/patience/

My biggest struggle recently is feeling like I'm just wasting time.  I'm stuck in the tension between my current situation and whatever is coming next. With no timeline, I'm not sure what kinds of things I should put off for now.

Should we buy a house?  Start a family?  Is it a time to settle down or be prepared for a change?  Are we staying in Syracuse or moving elsewhere?  Should I look for advancement in my current job or check out opportunities in other fields?

And in the midst of this tension I feel like . . . a loser.  I do.  I feel paralyzed by the fact that I simply don't know what to do.  How do you plan for what's next when you don't know what, where, or when it is? I'm treading water and searching for a glimpse of the shore.

Maybe what much of this is revealing is my obsession with control.  I often find it difficult to let go of my need to be in control of whatever is going on in my life.  But like I wrote in the post about finding the end of my rope, maybe this loss of control is a good thing.  Maybe it will open my eyes to more of Father's goodness, bring more assurance of his unfailing love, affirm my identity as his beloved child.

Could it be that the issue is not patience, but trust?   Am I simply not trusting Father to be all of who he is?  If I trust Father and believe he'll take me to the right place at the right time, maybe I can learn to relax and simply engage in the moment. But it seems that all too quickly I take my eyes off Him and go back to examining my situations, searching for answers, growing frustrated once more. 

Deep breath . . . relax . . . trust.  Let's try this again.

Maybe there's no end in sight, but perhaps there are some beginnings.

The End of the Rope

I try to make it a point, in life and on this blog, to be completely honest.  I have certain ideas about God, theology, etc, but I don't want to be someone who espouses ideas without experiencing their reality.  I'm pretty adamant about Father's love because I believe it's shown in Scripture and I've experienced it in my life.

When it comes to matters of heaven and hell, the role of other religions, how "church" should look, I tend to hold these issues lightly.  I have ideas and thoughts, but nothing I've experienced makes me feel like I can give an absolute answer with 100% certainty.  

But anyway, I digress.  I want to be honest, both about the good and the bad.  I fear being a fake more than a failure.  So let me say honestly that I very much hope that this following passage hints at a truth that will soon be manifest in my life. 

Matthew 5:3 (The Message) - “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule."

I very much feel at the end of my rope.  I want to believe that something amazing will happen when I let go, that I will fall into the arms of Father.  I hope that exhausting my own resources will lead me into a reliance on Him.  

I find myself at wit's end, unable to think myself out of my worries and struggles.  I simply don't know anymore.  I've run out of answers.  I feel like I've reached a point where situations are simply intolerable, but I see no escape.  

However, I do find myself encouraged by this passage from Infinite Jest:

"He hadn't quite gotten this before now, how it wasn't just the matter of riding out the cravings for a Substance: everything unendurable was in the head, was the head not Abiding in the Present but hopping the wall and doing a recon and then returning with unendurable news you then somehow believed." (emphasis added)

It's an interesting thought that things only become unendurable when we envision them lasting forever.  I know that's much of my struggle.  I want to learn to simply abide in the present, engage in what God is doing in the moment, love whoever surrounds me.  Instead I find myself imagining a bleak future where nothing gets better, and it is far beyond my ability to endure.  I fear that reaching the end of my rope results in me swinging from it.   

So I pray for the courage to let go of my craving for control, to let go of my pursuit of comforting answers, to let go of my need to peer into the future, to let go of my rope . . . and to grab hold of Father.  

To find grace for today, for this hour, for this moment . . . and to let that be enough.


Edit: I was just reading in Colossians, and this seemed so appropriate.  It's from Chapter 1, starting around verse 10 or 11 (in The Message):

"We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us."
  

Being a Type B Christian in a Type A Christian World

Let me try to paint a picture for you.  There's a guy on an ultra-modern, hip looking stage.  It may have some nice LCD displays.  There's probably a stool and a bottle of water somewhere.

The guy is dressed casually, but looks pretty sharp.  A v-neck is probably involved in some fashion.  His hairstyle is funky in a non-threatening way and he may be wearing hipsterish glasses.  Most of all, he is earnest and sincere.  There's a whole vibe of "We're cool, you're cool, let's all be cool together". 

Sound familiar to anyone?

Everything seems to be designed in such a way as to maximize my ability to connect with the guy on the stage and the message he's sharing.  There's humor, bullet points, profound stories, etc.  But here's the problem . . .

I don't connect.  At all.

It's not because there's anything wrong with this cool dude up on the stage.  It's not necessarily theological differences.  I just don't connect and lately I've been wondering why.

I think it's because there are certain assumptions being made.  One assumption is that I have a goal, want a goal, or need a goal.  Another assumption is that I'm looking for principles and tools to reach this goal. 

But what if that's not really how I'm wired?  There doesn't seem to be any room for that.  I begin to infer that the problem must be on my end if I'm not connecting with what's being shared.  But lately I've been questioning that.

Based on a cursory reading of a Wikipedia article, the Type A and Type B Personality Theory is somewhat controversial and far from proven.  But nevertheless, let me share the the definitions of each from the article:

Type A

"The theory describes a Type A individual as ambitious, rigidly organized, highly status conscious, can be sensitive, care for other people, are truthful, impatient, always try to help others, take on more than they can handle, want other people to get to the point, proactive, and obsessed with time management. People with Type A personalities are often high-achieving "workaholics" who multi-task, push themselves with deadlines, and hate both delays and ambivalence."

 Type B

"The theory describes Type B individuals as a contrast to those with Type A personalities. People with Type B personality by definition generally live at a lower stress level and typically work steadily, enjoying achievement but not becoming stressed when they are not achieved. When faced with competition, they do not mind losing and either enjoy the game or back down. They may be creative and enjoy exploring ideas and concepts. They are often reflective, thinking about the outer and inner worlds. Furthermore, Type B personalities may have a poor sense of time schedule and can be predominately right brained thinkers."

I certainly don't fit perfectly into a Type B mold, and I'm sure many pastors and speakers aren't prototypical Type A's.  However, I think this may explain some of the disconnect I feel.  One phrase from the Type A description really jumped out at me - "want other people to get to the point".

This isn't a bad thing.  I know there are certainly times at work when I really want people just to get to the freaking point already.  But when it comes to sharing life and talking about God and all that fun stuff, I'm not very interested in just getting to the point.  The journey, not the destination, is what I'm interested in.  I don't want tools and principles to get me from point A to point F.  I'm just loving being at point C and if I take a detour to point L, that's fine with me.

Some people really want to get to the conclusion or figure out the answer.  I'd rather have a conversation and discuss all the questions.  And I think there's room for both in the body.  I think it's a good thing we're wired differently and everyone has something unique that they bring to the table. 

And this has been healthy for me.  Too often I dismiss what others are saying because they're not wired like me and I feel somewhat condemned for not fitting that mold.  I'm hoping to get better at listening to what a person's heart is sharing instead of getting hung up on all the terminology.  It's easy to dissect a sermon and discard what I don't agree with.  It's harder to remain humble and to be open to being taught by someone outside my comfort zone.  I'm not advocating forsaking discernment, but I can be a more gracious listener.

Just don't expect to see me on a stage sharing 3 steps or 4 principles to be a better Christian.  Ain't nobody got time for that.

You Just Need To Have Faith

I'm sure just about everyone at some point has heard the familiar refrain of "You just need to have faith".  This generally occurs when someone is struggling with a difficult question or inner conflict.  While this phrase may seem like encouragement on the surface, I think often it is simply a cop out from having to address an uncomfortable question.

Telling someone to have more faith often infers that they need to stop asking their difficult questions and rocking everyone else's boats. 

"Why is there so much pain in this world?"

"You just need to have faith."

"If grace is really free, why do people have to say or do anything to be saved?"

"You just need to have faith."

"What about people who never hear the real gospel, do they still go to hell?"

"You just need to have faith."

Is that really good advice?  Does telling someone to have faith do anything to address their quandary?  Does it endear them to Father?  Sometimes I think it's just an impulse answer, something we toss out when people start asking things that make us nervous.  We feel the need to protect our gift-wrapped, spoon-fed theologies at all costs, even if that means giving superficial encouragement to others.  We worry that if our comfortable ideologies are examined under too harsh a light, we may be confronted with some ugly truths.

But does it need to be that way?  Do we need to pressure other people to accept trite answers just so our own reality can remain unexamined? 

And let me make something clear - I am not opposed to faith.  Actually, I think encouragement to grow in faith is a wonderful thing.  But simply lobbing that answer at someone is, in my opinion, actually counterproductive to developing faith.

Let's say I was driving around the frozen tundra of Upstate New York, down one of our many poorly plowed roads.  Then, all of a sudden, I see a pair of eyes staring at me out of the dark, my headlights illuminating an idiot deer standing there motionless.  A quick swerve, a patch of ice, and I'm suddenly 50 feet into some guy's snow covered corn field.  And just my luck, my AAA coverage ran out 2 days prior and I didn't renew yet 'cause I'm strapped from the holidays.

So I call my good friend Matt, or maybe one of the Ryan's or Josh's.  They promise they'll be there in 30 minutes to drag my sorry ass out of trouble.  And y'know what?  I believe them.  I have faith in them. 

Why?

Because I know them.  I know they're people who keep their word, I've experienced their friendship and they have absolutely earned my trust.  Knowing comes before trusting.

So I think we're doing a disservice to people when we urge them to simply have faith.  I don't really think faith is necessarily something a person can drum up on their own.  I think real faith is a byproduct of knowing . . .

Knowing Father's love.

Knowing Father's faithfulness.

Knowing Father's wisdom.

Knowing Father.  Period.

So instead of trying to silence someone's question by implying that they should just shut up and trust God, maybe we'd do better to point people toward Father.  Maybe we should validate their questions instead of giving pat answers.  Maybe we should encourage them to take that question to the God who is not afraid of questions, the God who is not threatened by doubts.

Maybe it's actually in the midst of those uncomfortable struggles that we get to know Father better.  What if by urging someone to drop their question, we're actually keeping them from engaging with God in a very special way?  What if Father is more interested in the journey than the destination?  What if he enjoys walking with us through doubts and frustrations?

I wonder if struggling with questions and doubts, instead of being a sign that we're lacking faith, is actually the beginning of a journey to grow our faith by engaging Father in the midst of our turmoil. 

I keep thinking of that scene from the Christmas Carol with the Ghost of Christmas Present.  His entreaty to Scrooge is, "Come in! And know me better man!"

Maybe that's the same invitation being extended to us as we wrestle with difficult questions.  I don't think Father is saying, "Stop asking questions and just have faith."  I think he's saying, "Come and know me better, child."

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.