So...I'm sick (in light of that fact, be aware that this post will probably ramble or at times seem incohesive...possibly).
Tonsillitis, to be exact. Not strep...checked that out this morning. I'm having to put a lot of things on hold. A term paper. Piano juries. An exam.
My "daily office," or daily work, so to speak, has consisted mostly of sleeping since this past Saturday. That's five days of mostly sleeping.
How unproductive. But then again, I did pray for healing, now didn't I?
I think too often we want healing, or anything else, and we want it now. From my experience, that's not always how God works. It is sometimes. About a month ago, my throat started acting up, and I prayed, took medicine, ate apples, took a hot shower, meditated, etc. And it cleared up in the same afternoon. Not so this time. After getting back to Gardner-Webb campus on Friday night after caroling at a Hospice House, my throat started acting up again.
"Great", I thought. "Here we go again. Time for the checklist. Sleep in for a long time in the morning. Eat like a vegetarian tomorrow, pray for healing, take some medicine. It should be cleared up by the morning."
Wrong.
By the end of a sleep-filled Sunday (I did go to an 8:30 service, after which I promptly crawled back into bed), I was starting to realize that this illness was going to have a big effect on the end of my semester.
my semester. Did you hear that? Let me repeat just in case you didn't get it: my.
This sickness is interferring with my plans. I don't think I've slept this much in...well...since I was an infant. This is actually not that much of a wait. I'm assuming I'll be up and running by at least Saturday, which will be a week. A week is not that long to wait. But it has and will seem like an eternity of waiting. All the while, reminders of what should be happening keep dancing around in my head. You should be practicing. You should be working on that paper due Friday. You should be catching up on the Advent devotional guide readings. Ha. The last one is humorous. But it's the truth. But I believe. I believe that at the end of this long, dark, hellish night, there will be a bright, shining, cool, irritation-free, white-stuff-on-my-pharynx-gone, morning. And I will be healed. Healed from what ails me. For the meantime, I'm going to have to learn to give thanks in all situations. Meditating on the Trinity and the work of Jesus on the cross helps. Saying a Psalm or two helps. While rolling around all night with a fever, I thought of--once again, quite humorously--"Christ Jesus lay in death's strong bonds," a chorale harmonized by Bach. And the morning did come. And the fever was gone (I did take some nyquil).
This week of Peace has been a forced week of peace for me. I've had to let go of many things and just be content with being, as I allow healing to happen. It's nothing I can do of my own work...I just have to let the dr.'s wisdom, the medicine, the rest, and ultimately, the Holy Spirit of God, heal me.
I'm going to finish tonight's Advent devotional guide readings (available at www.gardner-webb.edu/advent), eat some salad and chicken soup, take a full dose of nyquil, and go to sleep. God willing. And just before I sleep, I will pray the song of Simeon:
"Lord, you now have set your servant free
to go in peace as you have promised.
for these eyes of mine have seen the Savior,
whom you have prepared for all the world to see.
A light to enlighten the nations,
and the glory of your people, Israel."
Because, I have seen Christ today. In the midst of my Advent tonsillitis, I have seen the Savior. And then, I will imagine Revelation 7:9-17 (KJV), as I have every other night this semester, and fall asleep resting in the promise of a new heaven, a new earth, and a new pharynx. All under the reign of Christ, who is coming.
Amen.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Saturday, November 27, 2010
First Sunday of Advent, 2010
A prayer written in the season after Pentecost, 2010.
You Who have called us out of sin and darkness into new Life:
stir Your church
with great power come among us
Imbue with power!
Enable disciples to choose
discipline.
May the Baptist people
truly be "people of the Book,"
and worship You in spirit and truth.
Forgive when we try to sell You and Your Gospel with gimmicks,
confusing evangelism with sales mangagement.
Forgive when we treat people as consumers,
and not as those made in Your Image.
Form us to be
your people;
Help us to "Repent,
for the Kingdom of God is at hand."
May souls be saved,
and systems be redeemed.
May your Word be preached,
and be present with those who need You the most.
All of this we ask through +Jesus Christ our Lord,
who, with you and the Holy Ghost lives and reigns,
one God,
for ever and ever.
Amen.
A prayer on the eve of the first Sunday of Advent, 2010.
Shine on us,
we who sit waiting in darkness.
But before you shine on us,
help us to see that
darkness is not dark to you...
in fact, darkness and light to you are just alike.
Make us to see you in the darkness--
we who sit waiting in the darkness.
Shine on us!
Through the Light of Life we pray:
Amen.
You Who have called us out of sin and darkness into new Life:
stir Your church
with great power come among us
Imbue with power!
Enable disciples to choose
discipline.
May the Baptist people
truly be "people of the Book,"
and worship You in spirit and truth.
Forgive when we try to sell You and Your Gospel with gimmicks,
confusing evangelism with sales mangagement.
Forgive when we treat people as consumers,
and not as those made in Your Image.
Form us to be
your people;
Help us to "Repent,
for the Kingdom of God is at hand."
May souls be saved,
and systems be redeemed.
May your Word be preached,
and be present with those who need You the most.
All of this we ask through +Jesus Christ our Lord,
who, with you and the Holy Ghost lives and reigns,
one God,
for ever and ever.
Amen.
A prayer on the eve of the first Sunday of Advent, 2010.
Shine on us,
we who sit waiting in darkness.
But before you shine on us,
help us to see that
darkness is not dark to you...
in fact, darkness and light to you are just alike.
Make us to see you in the darkness--
we who sit waiting in the darkness.
Shine on us!
Through the Light of Life we pray:
Amen.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Twentieth Monday after Pentecost: Minding the Gap and the Corpus Christi
The following is a two-part excerpt (a scarcely edited excerpt) from my personal journal, recorded during a recent trip to England, which was a four-week study abroad class I took through Gardner-Webb University.
***
04 June 2010, Friday 7:55 AM
Last night, ... I went to a "simple Celtic celebration of Holy Communion" at St. Andrew's in Hove (Church of England). It was a wonderful experience. The entire service, the door to the street was open, allowing sounds of cars and people walking down and up the street in Hove to be a constant reminder of Mission. Several times I felt distracted from the "worship," but then embraced the outside noise of the "world" as a constant reminder of the mission of the church, the Church, and my mission. I became aware of the role of each Christian and Christian community as intercessors--standing in the gap between unreconciled man and God, pleading the case of the former, worshiping the latter, or holding out the way of the latter to the former--and as I shared in God's body, I painfully yearned for those outside of the walls to be a part as well.
At one point I thought, "We just need to drop all of this silly Celtic meditative stuff and go out there and start talking to those people."
But that's not standing in the gap. "Minding the gap," as the British rail service constantly reminds you [and you would be wise to follow the advise, lest you fall into the gap, between the boarding platform and the train, to an uncertain fate!].
It's not enough to go out into the world and talk to people. But maybe it is, if you are "talking," and sharing God, and your experience of being transformed in His constant presence.
It's not enough to spend all of one's days in the courts of the Lord, marveling at the "beauty of holiness." But maybe it is, if you are receptive to God's Gospel, and as a part of your response are intentionally "minding the gap" between God and the objects of God's reconciliatory work of salvation.
This is, possibly, the two-fold work of evangelism, which is to be undertaken both individually and corporately, within the context of both human- and God- community, holding out the God-way: the Gospel.
Mind the Gap.
***
Another insight I gained during the Celtic service started developing (developing more, I should say) at the priest's words of, paraphrased, something about our search for truth coming to an end in the Corpus Christi--the body of Christ, the person and presence of Christ. I am reminded of the Apostle Paul's (Colossians 1:17) words: "[Christ] is before all things, and in him all things consist." I find an end to my search for Truth in Jesus Christ. This doesn't mean that I believe I know everything with absolute certainty. It means that "my faith has found a resting place, not in device nor creed," but in the person and office of Jesus Christ (Eliza Hewitt, 1891). I still have not, and will never, figure out all of the implications, truth claims, and imports into faith and practice that the person of Jesus makes in my life and the life of the world, but that's not the point. Many would misunderstand and call this position a "cop-out," or "way out." It is a way out...and in. Out of meaninglessness and despair and into the constant Joy of being reconciled to God and the world. Constant Joy, not necessarily happiness.
It is not a resting place of blissful ignorance. Many days are anything but blissful, and I wish I was ignorant of many hurts that are a direct result of my following Christ. The Christian worldview is logically consistent, but this coherence doesn't preclude tension. In fact, I find faith to be a constant exercise in the acknowledgment of tension. Part of my Christian faith teaches me that my understanding of the world and of God, although important, does not affect the Truth that I can or cannot perceive, but that I worship in spirit and truth regardless. I realize that while there are diverse ways of understanding the Divine Mystery, there are better ways of understanding; I believe those ways which are, in my estimation, the closest to the Truth as it has been revealed to humanity by its Creator.
Back to the words of the priest. In Christ--in His Real Presence, particularly within the context of communion--we [can] find an end to our search for truth.
I think that here, in this context, it is wise to consider the meaning of the word end. Not necessarily the end, as in the end of a race, but a "telos." An end as in a shaping force, the purpose, the goal, the thing toward which everything moves and around which everything is focused and centered. Possibly, an end as in a "resting place"--a ceasing from worry and strife and doubt--not doubt in claims or things, but a ceasing of doubt in the person of Jesus. More of a handing over of my doubts in trust. Like Thomas, who doubted, shared those doubts, then declared, "My Lord and My God" after encountering the Corpus Christi: the presence and person of the crucified and risen Christ, who invited Thomas to a very hands-on encounter.
Maybe Holy Communion is the closest thing we can get to an invitation to place our fingers in the Lord's wounds--as we consume reminders and icons of body and blood, and partake-as a community that is the Corpus Christi on Earth, that has its very real wounds-in an encounter with the crucified and risen Lord, and with Thomas, find our resting place, our end, our "telos," in the person of "[Our] Lord and [our] God."
-8:45 AM
6 June 2010
Sussex, UK
Day after Corpus Christi
***
04 June 2010, Friday 7:55 AM
Last night, ... I went to a "simple Celtic celebration of Holy Communion" at St. Andrew's in Hove (Church of England). It was a wonderful experience. The entire service, the door to the street was open, allowing sounds of cars and people walking down and up the street in Hove to be a constant reminder of Mission. Several times I felt distracted from the "worship," but then embraced the outside noise of the "world" as a constant reminder of the mission of the church, the Church, and my mission. I became aware of the role of each Christian and Christian community as intercessors--standing in the gap between unreconciled man and God, pleading the case of the former, worshiping the latter, or holding out the way of the latter to the former--and as I shared in God's body, I painfully yearned for those outside of the walls to be a part as well.
At one point I thought, "We just need to drop all of this silly Celtic meditative stuff and go out there and start talking to those people."
But that's not standing in the gap. "Minding the gap," as the British rail service constantly reminds you [and you would be wise to follow the advise, lest you fall into the gap, between the boarding platform and the train, to an uncertain fate!].
It's not enough to go out into the world and talk to people. But maybe it is, if you are "talking," and sharing God, and your experience of being transformed in His constant presence.
It's not enough to spend all of one's days in the courts of the Lord, marveling at the "beauty of holiness." But maybe it is, if you are receptive to God's Gospel, and as a part of your response are intentionally "minding the gap" between God and the objects of God's reconciliatory work of salvation.
This is, possibly, the two-fold work of evangelism, which is to be undertaken both individually and corporately, within the context of both human- and God- community, holding out the God-way: the Gospel.
Mind the Gap.
***
Another insight I gained during the Celtic service started developing (developing more, I should say) at the priest's words of, paraphrased, something about our search for truth coming to an end in the Corpus Christi--the body of Christ, the person and presence of Christ. I am reminded of the Apostle Paul's (Colossians 1:17) words: "[Christ] is before all things, and in him all things consist." I find an end to my search for Truth in Jesus Christ. This doesn't mean that I believe I know everything with absolute certainty. It means that "my faith has found a resting place, not in device nor creed," but in the person and office of Jesus Christ (Eliza Hewitt, 1891). I still have not, and will never, figure out all of the implications, truth claims, and imports into faith and practice that the person of Jesus makes in my life and the life of the world, but that's not the point. Many would misunderstand and call this position a "cop-out," or "way out." It is a way out...and in. Out of meaninglessness and despair and into the constant Joy of being reconciled to God and the world. Constant Joy, not necessarily happiness.
It is not a resting place of blissful ignorance. Many days are anything but blissful, and I wish I was ignorant of many hurts that are a direct result of my following Christ. The Christian worldview is logically consistent, but this coherence doesn't preclude tension. In fact, I find faith to be a constant exercise in the acknowledgment of tension. Part of my Christian faith teaches me that my understanding of the world and of God, although important, does not affect the Truth that I can or cannot perceive, but that I worship in spirit and truth regardless. I realize that while there are diverse ways of understanding the Divine Mystery, there are better ways of understanding; I believe those ways which are, in my estimation, the closest to the Truth as it has been revealed to humanity by its Creator.
Back to the words of the priest. In Christ--in His Real Presence, particularly within the context of communion--we [can] find an end to our search for truth.
I think that here, in this context, it is wise to consider the meaning of the word end. Not necessarily the end, as in the end of a race, but a "telos." An end as in a shaping force, the purpose, the goal, the thing toward which everything moves and around which everything is focused and centered. Possibly, an end as in a "resting place"--a ceasing from worry and strife and doubt--not doubt in claims or things, but a ceasing of doubt in the person of Jesus. More of a handing over of my doubts in trust. Like Thomas, who doubted, shared those doubts, then declared, "My Lord and My God" after encountering the Corpus Christi: the presence and person of the crucified and risen Christ, who invited Thomas to a very hands-on encounter.
Maybe Holy Communion is the closest thing we can get to an invitation to place our fingers in the Lord's wounds--as we consume reminders and icons of body and blood, and partake-as a community that is the Corpus Christi on Earth, that has its very real wounds-in an encounter with the crucified and risen Lord, and with Thomas, find our resting place, our end, our "telos," in the person of "[Our] Lord and [our] God."
-8:45 AM
6 June 2010
Sussex, UK
Day after Corpus Christi
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Two prayers and a hymn I wrote
August 24, 2010
God: today, may I live toward
the end of fearing You
and keeping Your commandments.
May my life today be glorifying to
You even as I want my
whole life to glorify You.
And, in glorifying You,
may I find Joy unspeakable,
and even now enjoy You,
as I desire to enjoy You forever.
In Christ's name I pray, "Amen."
August 26, 2010
God, increase my desire for You;
make me to burn with passion for You.
And when I can't feel a thing,
give me the grace to continue
to love You with all of my
heart, all of my soul, all
of my mind, and all of my strenth.
And to love my neighbor as myself.
Through Christ I pray, "Amen."
Hymn: "O God, my sins are great"
Hymnic meter: 12.12.4.12 or 6.6.6.6.4.4.8
Suggested hymn tune: DARWALL (click to listen)
O God, my sins are great; I cannot follow Thee!
Once more have I returned to seeking to be "free."
Fast bind my heart
with Thy strong bands of love unto your loving Law.
Your Law is constant Love; who can Your Presence flee?
It matters not how far we stray--You'll always be
the great "I AM!"
With faithful, covenant love You draw us to Your Self.
The Rock strong 'midst the strife, Thou Banner lifted high;
Our hearts and souls and strengths rejoice to see the sight:
Love conquers all!
Whate'er our circumstance we harken to Your call:
"Take up your cross today, and turn the other cheek.
Love not possessions; share them. Gird your feet with peace--
God's Gospel true--
with Joy proclaim, lift high My NAME and follow Me!"
God: today, may I live toward
the end of fearing You
and keeping Your commandments.
May my life today be glorifying to
You even as I want my
whole life to glorify You.
And, in glorifying You,
may I find Joy unspeakable,
and even now enjoy You,
as I desire to enjoy You forever.
In Christ's name I pray, "Amen."
August 26, 2010
God, increase my desire for You;
make me to burn with passion for You.
And when I can't feel a thing,
give me the grace to continue
to love You with all of my
heart, all of my soul, all
of my mind, and all of my strenth.
And to love my neighbor as myself.
Through Christ I pray, "Amen."
Hymn: "O God, my sins are great"
Hymnic meter: 12.12.4.12 or 6.6.6.6.4.4.8
Suggested hymn tune: DARWALL (click to listen)
O God, my sins are great; I cannot follow Thee!
Once more have I returned to seeking to be "free."
Fast bind my heart
with Thy strong bands of love unto your loving Law.
Your Law is constant Love; who can Your Presence flee?
It matters not how far we stray--You'll always be
the great "I AM!"
With faithful, covenant love You draw us to Your Self.
The Rock strong 'midst the strife, Thou Banner lifted high;
Our hearts and souls and strengths rejoice to see the sight:
Love conquers all!
Whate'er our circumstance we harken to Your call:
"Take up your cross today, and turn the other cheek.
Love not possessions; share them. Gird your feet with peace--
God's Gospel true--
with Joy proclaim, lift high My NAME and follow Me!"
Friday, August 20, 2010
Twelfth Friday after Pentecost: The Naughty Psalms
I guess as good Christians of the New Covenant we're supposed to blush at all of the Psalmnodic pleas to God to crush our enemies and bash their babies' heads against rocks and so forth. But sometimes I wonder if those who consistantly bash the Psalmists for honestly pouring out their hearts to God have ever been truly hurt themselves. If you've ever been hurt--I mean really stabbed in the back--by someone you loved and cared for deeply, or've been slandered by someone to whom you thought you could turn in time of trouble, or've been devastated by a situation that was out of anyone's hands but God's just when you thought you were striking up major divine brownie points with the big Guy upstairs...then...read one of those naughty Psalms; the tears will start flowing.
Names, and faces--multiple faces--will vividly fill your imagination as you read desperate lines pleading with God to save you from "their" malicious talk, "their" evil ways, and "their" devious plans to ensare you. You will start to sob uncontrollably when David speaks of his eyes giving out from having searched for God so long...to no avail...and of his tear ducts drying up from crying so much it hurts.
And then right in the midst of your angst session..."forgive me, LORD, and I shall be white as snow." Your anger has been allowed to draw back the curtain of your heart to reveal the deep-seated blackness of hatred, envy, and pride. You realize that God is God, no matter who your "enemy" is, whether it is your former best friend or the hatred welling up inside of you. Then comes the repentance, and the rejoicing. Oh, the rejoicing! There's nothing quite like a good, joyful ending to an otherwise depressing Psalm.
Not all of them are like that, mind you, and they shouldn't be. Far from all of our human experiences of depression and angst turn to Joy within the forty seconds it takes to read a Psalm...but one thing is always present in these "naughty Psalms:" God.
The Psalmist never forgets that ultimately, God is, whatever the temporary circumstances might be. God looks on as the poor, broken creatures that we are, spewing poisionous, hateful venom out of deep, painful wounds of hurt, ceaselessly pointing our fingers at others as a reaction against our own sinful state, buck up to The Almighty with shouts of "Where are You?" "Don't you care?"...God is God enough to hear us in our pain...and simply be God.
God, who lets us be angry, be despairing, be hopeless.
God, who then gives us a reason for rejoicing--actually, the only reason for rejoicing--God's Self.
Peace be yours;
we have a solid Rock,
ever-present regardless
of all else. May you
feel the Presence
drawing you towards
the Rock, and find the
Welcome that is always
in the Rock's cleft.
In Welcome's Name,
"Amen."
Names, and faces--multiple faces--will vividly fill your imagination as you read desperate lines pleading with God to save you from "their" malicious talk, "their" evil ways, and "their" devious plans to ensare you. You will start to sob uncontrollably when David speaks of his eyes giving out from having searched for God so long...to no avail...and of his tear ducts drying up from crying so much it hurts.
And then right in the midst of your angst session..."forgive me, LORD, and I shall be white as snow." Your anger has been allowed to draw back the curtain of your heart to reveal the deep-seated blackness of hatred, envy, and pride. You realize that God is God, no matter who your "enemy" is, whether it is your former best friend or the hatred welling up inside of you. Then comes the repentance, and the rejoicing. Oh, the rejoicing! There's nothing quite like a good, joyful ending to an otherwise depressing Psalm.
Not all of them are like that, mind you, and they shouldn't be. Far from all of our human experiences of depression and angst turn to Joy within the forty seconds it takes to read a Psalm...but one thing is always present in these "naughty Psalms:" God.
The Psalmist never forgets that ultimately, God is, whatever the temporary circumstances might be. God looks on as the poor, broken creatures that we are, spewing poisionous, hateful venom out of deep, painful wounds of hurt, ceaselessly pointing our fingers at others as a reaction against our own sinful state, buck up to The Almighty with shouts of "Where are You?" "Don't you care?"...God is God enough to hear us in our pain...and simply be God.
God, who lets us be angry, be despairing, be hopeless.
God, who then gives us a reason for rejoicing--actually, the only reason for rejoicing--God's Self.
Peace be yours;
we have a solid Rock,
ever-present regardless
of all else. May you
feel the Presence
drawing you towards
the Rock, and find the
Welcome that is always
in the Rock's cleft.
In Welcome's Name,
"Amen."
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Twelfth Wednesday after Pentecost: The Art of Blog
A fool does not delight in understanding,
But only in revealing his own mind.
Proverbs 18:2 (NASB)
I'm new to the blogging experience, and so far, I have had quite a few urges to go back and edit the two posts I've put up so far.
On one hand, I think, "No, I'm going to leave what I blog in original form. I'll simply go back and reference the earlier blogs and clarify what I have already written."
Then I think to myself, "No, that's dumb. I don't want someone to read what I have written and misunderstand what I actually think or believe,"
so I feel the need to go back and revise. This problem has arisen because of my decision to blog stream-of-consciousness style in an attempt to be more "real" and "counter-cultural." I simply write what I think at the moment, like I would say what I'm thinking at the moment of having a conversation with someone. But these aren't conversations, now are they? They are blogs.
That's one difference between speaking and writing; when you write, your words are written down...I know, "duh." Stay with me. There isn't any body language, there aren't any tiny facial expressions to clue you in to sarcasm or sincerity, and there's no dialogue. There's no, "What do you mean by that," and "Let me clarify." There is simply the cold, hard black-on-white. And sometimes people aren't very forgiving when they can point to a sentence and say, "this is wrong," or "obviously they don't know what they are talking about."
And I know this. And I probably also have some writer's-pride (not good), which is why I keep having urges to revise in order to better represent what I believe to be true.
So already, my blog is morphing. I have two drafts in my blog-list as of the moment. I'm obviously not just thought-vomiting into the World Wide Web anymore. Which is a good thing. I don't know if I could ever say that "uncensored, unfiltered, unadulterated me" should ever be shared with anyone but God. Perhaps that's another misguided way of thinking that permeates our culture. That we should, at all times, seek self-disclosure. That we should, as a goal, strive to "express ourselves." That's what art is all about right? Wrong. At least I don't think so. Art is about expressing Truth. And if "ourselves" express Truth, then we are glorifying our Creator. And that is the goal. To glorify God and enjoy God (in that order), forever.
Modern Westerners have this idea that the arts are some high, lofty, ethereal, castle in the sky that only the elite weirdos visit. Or that they are optional, like forms of entertainment. Not so. Some Eastern cultures don't even have two separate words for "art" and "work." Art-work is what you do. Period. For that matter, liturgy is also what you do, but that's for another blog. In the early chapters of Genesis (4:19-22), music, agriculture, and technology are the three activities in which humans engage for life. Art is something you put your hand to, something you work on, something towards which you apply creative energy. And good art, as Ezra Pound would say, is truthful art.
But what about freedom of speech? I have a hunch that this issue is more about the freedom to express an individual's ideas about the common good than the freedom to express their self. Would it not be better to screen all expression with the questions: "Will this art-work edify?" "Will this art-work bring glory to God?" "Will this art-work express Truth?" And if the answer is no...well...
So what does this have to do with my blog? Well, maybe blogs are art, too. So, in my opinion, blogs should not be used to express oneself. How contemptuous. LORD knows this world doesn't need to know Matthew Lineberger in order to become a better place. My blog needs to express Truth. Obviously I'm writing it, so it will be Truth-as-I-see-it. So by sharing Truth-as-I-see-it, hopefully you, or someone, will start to seek Truth and find Him.
Should I go back and delete my previous posts? No. A record of process is good. And my purpose in writing hasn't changed; the questioning is still there. If by reading my blog, someone starts to ask important questions, then some good is done.
So there. You've read my first blog that I've actually done some work on. It's art-work, if you will. And, if you should ever return to this post, I might have done some more work on it...who knows?
To whomever reads this:
May the Triune Truth
invade your bubble today,
and if need be, burst it.
In Christ's name I pray, "Amen."
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Ninth Tuesday after Pentecost
For the first time in a long while, I set my alarm clock to play the radio to wake me up instead of the usual fog-horn that greets me each morning. This morning, I woke up to the strains of some contemporary Christian song with which I am absolutely unfamiliar.
I don't remember the exact wording of the song, much less the title, so all I'm working with is this paraphrased idea that has stuck in my memory.
Here come the questions. What is this song trying to convey? I think it seeks two things simutaneously, those two being 1) to compare the modern day Christian experience with that of the first disciples whom Jesus called to leave everything and "follow" him, and 2) to imply that it is our love alone that causes us to follow Christ.
I can understand the first "thing" well enough: Jesus calls us to follow him, to step out on faith when we can't exactly see what our foot is going to land on next (much like Indiana Jone's experience on his quest to find the holy grail as he steps out across the chasm immediately preceding his discovery of the room housing the grail). Many times as I read a Gospel passage, I believe Christ is present, speaking the Words he once spoke over again, to me and to those with whom I am reading, if there are any others present (the necesity of the public reading of Scripture is another post). Christ's call is real and lays hold to our modern day lives, regardless of the gadgets and entrapments we have devised that dehumanize our daily experience.
I stop completely understanding, much less believing, when we arrive to the second "thing:"
2) it is our love alone that causes us to follow Christ.
I might be heretical in what I'm about to say, but here goes, regardless.
You may very well can hold thing #2. But I think it is nearly impossible to hold both things #1 and #2 simutaneously. For though it very well may be that some people who claim Christ today also claim that it is "love" that impels them to follow him, I sorely miss this "mark" of discipleship when I read the Gospel accounts of Christ calling the first disciples. Images of Matthew leaving the tax-collecting booth, Peter leaving the fishing-nets and boat, and various others telling siblings about the One from Nazareth and their personal experience with him, followed by a comitment from those with whom they were sharing fill my head.
Yes, there are images of love and devotion, like the woman washing Jesus' feet with her tears and drying them with her hair, and John resting his head against Christ's breast at the Last Supper, but these come later. These come after personal experience with the One whom they have chosen to follow and who has changed their life. Ironically, it is a kiss-a sign of love, right?-that promts these words from Jesus: "You would betray the Son of Man with a kiss?"
Don't get me wrong; I'm not claiming that love has nothing to do with the Christian life, I'm questioning whether or not it is in fact the case that "all we need is love." Actually, I'm positing that it is, in fact, not the case that "all we need is love." God is love, and God is a bunch of other stuff, too. I believe it has been said that people can better say that "God is not..." than "God is..." Because when we say "God is..." our conclusion always ends up being deficient in our attempt to describe the indescribable.
I think many today are attempting to do just that: describe the indescribable. And when they fall short, they fall away. Maybe that's why God left it open ended when Moses asked him who, in fact, God was. God responded "I AM." Or something like that. God is (not conclusively) the source of love, and God is also the source of truth, and justice, and mercy, and righteousness. Maybe if we saw God as more than love, we would see our commitment to him as being more than a loving response. When Christ called Levi-Matthew from the tax-collecting booth, Levi-Matthew didn't say: "I love you, Jesus." He got up and followed.
So back to the song. And thing #1, and thing #2.
For me, it's a non-issue whether I have enough love to follow Jesus. He has called, and I'm gonna get up and do my best to follow. My efforts won't measure up, and I don't expect them to. Jesus doesn't either. He loves me, and over time, I will grow to love him more and more.
At this point in time, I would say that the initial decision to follow Jesus is a whole lot more about faith and action, acceptance of grace and the works that follow suit, and commitment, than the emotional high which our society has come to label love.
Hmm, maybe that's where the problem lies. Love is not an emotional high. In fact, love is not an emotion. Love is not a feeling. Jesus said that you can tell who loves him; they will do what he says.
So maybe thing #1 and thing #2 are related, but just not in the way this particular song, or our culture, would have them to be.
A far cry from a well-thought out argument, this post is simply a record of me questioning what I see as a popularly held, mistaken belief. If by reading this, you come to question our culture as well, then this post will have achieved my purpose.
May the God of hope steel you for the coming trials to come,
that you may find the love of Christ made evident even in horrible, terrible situations,
and may you be made able by God's Holy Spirit to "give thanks in all things" and follow in the Way of Christ regardless of circumstance or emotion. Amen.
*I do need to give credit where credit is due. The use of the word "steel" as a verb has come to me via the Book of Common Prayer, or the liturgy book for the Episcopal Church in the United States. The specific prayer that uses this phrase is located after the Psalter, in the "Prayers and Thanksgivings" section, entitled, "For Sunday..." or something like that.
I don't remember the exact wording of the song, much less the title, so all I'm working with is this paraphrased idea that has stuck in my memory.
Here come the questions. What is this song trying to convey? I think it seeks two things simutaneously, those two being 1) to compare the modern day Christian experience with that of the first disciples whom Jesus called to leave everything and "follow" him, and 2) to imply that it is our love alone that causes us to follow Christ.
I can understand the first "thing" well enough: Jesus calls us to follow him, to step out on faith when we can't exactly see what our foot is going to land on next (much like Indiana Jone's experience on his quest to find the holy grail as he steps out across the chasm immediately preceding his discovery of the room housing the grail). Many times as I read a Gospel passage, I believe Christ is present, speaking the Words he once spoke over again, to me and to those with whom I am reading, if there are any others present (the necesity of the public reading of Scripture is another post). Christ's call is real and lays hold to our modern day lives, regardless of the gadgets and entrapments we have devised that dehumanize our daily experience.
I stop completely understanding, much less believing, when we arrive to the second "thing:"
2) it is our love alone that causes us to follow Christ.
I might be heretical in what I'm about to say, but here goes, regardless.
You may very well can hold thing #2. But I think it is nearly impossible to hold both things #1 and #2 simutaneously. For though it very well may be that some people who claim Christ today also claim that it is "love" that impels them to follow him, I sorely miss this "mark" of discipleship when I read the Gospel accounts of Christ calling the first disciples. Images of Matthew leaving the tax-collecting booth, Peter leaving the fishing-nets and boat, and various others telling siblings about the One from Nazareth and their personal experience with him, followed by a comitment from those with whom they were sharing fill my head.
Yes, there are images of love and devotion, like the woman washing Jesus' feet with her tears and drying them with her hair, and John resting his head against Christ's breast at the Last Supper, but these come later. These come after personal experience with the One whom they have chosen to follow and who has changed their life. Ironically, it is a kiss-a sign of love, right?-that promts these words from Jesus: "You would betray the Son of Man with a kiss?"
Don't get me wrong; I'm not claiming that love has nothing to do with the Christian life, I'm questioning whether or not it is in fact the case that "all we need is love." Actually, I'm positing that it is, in fact, not the case that "all we need is love." God is love, and God is a bunch of other stuff, too. I believe it has been said that people can better say that "God is not..." than "God is..." Because when we say "God is..." our conclusion always ends up being deficient in our attempt to describe the indescribable.
I think many today are attempting to do just that: describe the indescribable. And when they fall short, they fall away. Maybe that's why God left it open ended when Moses asked him who, in fact, God was. God responded "I AM." Or something like that. God is (not conclusively) the source of love, and God is also the source of truth, and justice, and mercy, and righteousness. Maybe if we saw God as more than love, we would see our commitment to him as being more than a loving response. When Christ called Levi-Matthew from the tax-collecting booth, Levi-Matthew didn't say: "I love you, Jesus." He got up and followed.
So back to the song. And thing #1, and thing #2.
For me, it's a non-issue whether I have enough love to follow Jesus. He has called, and I'm gonna get up and do my best to follow. My efforts won't measure up, and I don't expect them to. Jesus doesn't either. He loves me, and over time, I will grow to love him more and more.
At this point in time, I would say that the initial decision to follow Jesus is a whole lot more about faith and action, acceptance of grace and the works that follow suit, and commitment, than the emotional high which our society has come to label love.
Hmm, maybe that's where the problem lies. Love is not an emotional high. In fact, love is not an emotion. Love is not a feeling. Jesus said that you can tell who loves him; they will do what he says.
So maybe thing #1 and thing #2 are related, but just not in the way this particular song, or our culture, would have them to be.
A far cry from a well-thought out argument, this post is simply a record of me questioning what I see as a popularly held, mistaken belief. If by reading this, you come to question our culture as well, then this post will have achieved my purpose.
May the God of hope steel you for the coming trials to come,
that you may find the love of Christ made evident even in horrible, terrible situations,
and may you be made able by God's Holy Spirit to "give thanks in all things" and follow in the Way of Christ regardless of circumstance or emotion. Amen.
*I do need to give credit where credit is due. The use of the word "steel" as a verb has come to me via the Book of Common Prayer, or the liturgy book for the Episcopal Church in the United States. The specific prayer that uses this phrase is located after the Psalter, in the "Prayers and Thanksgivings" section, entitled, "For Sunday..." or something like that.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Ninth Sunday after Pentecost
So, this is new.
I have a blog, after much inner turmoil and debate.
I didn't want to get a blog at first, and I don't really want one now. It would be a more accurate reflection to say that even though I probably do want one, I question its necessity.
Here we go. Let me describe how my blog posts will look if I write them stream-of-consciousness style: ramblings describing inner thought-processes, clarification of intent, a brief "I guess what I'm really trying to say is..., and finally, closure.
When I think about it, that's usually how a conversation with me goes. And should it be any different on a blog? I'm all about being intentionally real in our age of fakeness, or at least I would like to think that I am. And in my attempt to be real, and use technology, not letting it use me, I will continue to write blogs as if I were talking to you, the reader. Whoever you are. This will inevitably lead to mistakes in syntax and argument construction. I'm not writing a book, however. (But what is the purpose of a blog? and of a book? I guess that's another post. Oh dear, I might change my mind about how I write these rather quickly...but that's what happens when you start thinking, isn't it?)
So here it is. My first blog post. The world isn't saved, and your life is not completely changed. But maybe some of what I have to say is edifying for someone. That's my prayer. And that's my assumption in creating a blog (and why we create blogs is another post).
Happy Sabbath and a Growthful week of Ordinary Time in this Season after Pentecost! May the God of hope fill you with peace and Joy in believing through our Lord, Jesus Christ, and may the Spirit sustain you through the coming week.
I have a blog, after much inner turmoil and debate.
I didn't want to get a blog at first, and I don't really want one now. It would be a more accurate reflection to say that even though I probably do want one, I question its necessity.
Here we go. Let me describe how my blog posts will look if I write them stream-of-consciousness style: ramblings describing inner thought-processes, clarification of intent, a brief "I guess what I'm really trying to say is..., and finally, closure.
When I think about it, that's usually how a conversation with me goes. And should it be any different on a blog? I'm all about being intentionally real in our age of fakeness, or at least I would like to think that I am. And in my attempt to be real, and use technology, not letting it use me, I will continue to write blogs as if I were talking to you, the reader. Whoever you are. This will inevitably lead to mistakes in syntax and argument construction. I'm not writing a book, however. (But what is the purpose of a blog? and of a book? I guess that's another post. Oh dear, I might change my mind about how I write these rather quickly...but that's what happens when you start thinking, isn't it?)
So here it is. My first blog post. The world isn't saved, and your life is not completely changed. But maybe some of what I have to say is edifying for someone. That's my prayer. And that's my assumption in creating a blog (and why we create blogs is another post).
Happy Sabbath and a Growthful week of Ordinary Time in this Season after Pentecost! May the God of hope fill you with peace and Joy in believing through our Lord, Jesus Christ, and may the Spirit sustain you through the coming week.
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