I was very glad to have finished my last blog. I'd been thinking about it for almost a month, so finally getting it off my mind was a relief. Maybe something like shooting a baby down the birth canal after its due date is past. Maybe not as painful, but you get the idea.
Today I'm not going to write much myself; I'm going to quote. Yesterday (the day after I wrote "The Hardest Part") I read a chapter in Richard Foster's book Prayer called "The Prayer of Relinquishment." As I read, I realized that relinquishment was exactly what I had been writing about. And that at this stage of my life I am in the middle of a struggle to relinquish more to God than I ever have before.
In honor of the divine coincidence I am going to share a few thoughts from Foster, a man far wiser and more profound than me.
"This picture of a person falling into the arms of Jesus with a thirst-quenching sense of 'ahhh!' is, for me, a perfect image of the Prayer of Relinquishment. It is the mental icon I want you to hold onto.
We must not, however, get the notion that all of this comes to us effortlessly. That would not even be desirable. Struggle is an essential feature of the Prayer of Relinquishment. Did you notice that Jesus asked repeatedly for the cup to pass? It was no simple choice or quick fix. Jesus' prayer struggle - replete with bloody sweat - lasted long into the night. Relinquishment is no easy task.
The Prayer of Relinquishment is a bona fide letting go, but it is a release with hope. We have no fatalist resignation. We are buoyed up with a confident trust in the character of God. Even when all we see are the tangled threads on the backside of life's tapestry, we know that God is good and is out to do us good always. That gives us hope to believe that we are the winners, regardless of what we are being called upon to relinquish." (italics mine)
Friday, March 31
Wednesday, March 29
The Hardest Part
The stars are bright tonight/And I am walking nowhere/And you are always right/And my you are so perfect // I love you just the way you are/I’ll have you just the way you are/I’ll take you just the way you are/Does anybody love the way they are?
Remember that Cranberries song I was listening to last time I sat down to blog? I’m still listening to it. After a draining day or a lousy job interview I know I can turn on “Stars,” sit back, close my eyes, listen, and when it’s done, I feel better, like everything’s going to be okay, and that my problems are really very small.
Last time I wrote that the song reminded me of how people need to love each other unconditionally, and that means being willing to let yourself be changed. I believe it’s a good thought, and I’m very proud of myself for thinking it; but it can be actually very discouraging. I don’t like being open to other people. I’m afraid that I’ll get hurt. That happens with love, because humans are messed up. Short of God I think they always will be. And one of the hardest lessons I am learning, and probably will keep learning all my life, is how to love and be open and be changed, and how to hurt well and not shrink back and cower in the corner.
So what about these lyrics encourages me so much?
When I heard the first verse I thought, “I wonder if Dolores O’Riordan believes in God?” If I was walking at night and looked up at the stars, I would probably think about God. For obvious reasons it does not work to say these are God’s words: I’m not always right (just most of the time), and I’m not perfect.
Lately, I’ve felt compelled to ask some thorny questions about God, like:
- Does God really intervene in our daily lives?
- Why would God let such a ravenously greedy nation as the United States become the world’s dominant cultural and economic power?
- How could God allow a lethargic and egocentric Christian culture to claim his name so obnoxiously?
- Is staying in the church of any advantage when Christians bicker with each other at least as much as they disparage non-Christians?
- Is homosexuality really wrong?
- How should the Bible be interpreted in light of how it was formed?
- How can a good God allow suffering?
- Where is God, when different religious groups say they speak for him (and clearly not all of them can be right)?
They all boil down to one simple question: why did God make life so hard? He could have made it easier. He could have made a world without sin. I’ve heard the standard Christian answer, that God had to let us be free to choose sin or else we’d all be like robots and couldn’t love God like he wants to be loved. Well why not? Why couldn’t he have made us capable of love and incapable of sin? If he’s all-powerful and all-wise, he could have done it. The problem is just that he didn’t. And that makes me mad. Pain and hardship aren’t fun.
That’s one perspective. But consider this:
The stars are bright tonight/A distance is between us/And I will be ok/The worst I’ve ever seen us/And still I have my weaknesses/And still I have my strengths/And still I have my ugliness/But I // I love you just the way you are…
This is my favorite part of “Stars.” Every time O’Riordan belts out ugliness it gives me goosebumps, and the chorus packs twice the emotional punch it had after the first verse. This, I believe, is the source of much of my problem. I’m not just mad at God because of the ugliness in the world: I’m also mad at God because of the ugliness in me. I am selfish: I cause as much pain as I suffer. I’m confused: I don’t always know what’s right and wrong. I am vulnerable. In loving another person there is room for arrogance (quite a bit of room, actually). But I find no such room with God. “Just the way you are” means God is mystery, God is paradox, God is everywhere but still invisible. Basically, God is frustrating. But I can’t figure him out. There will always come a point when I will have to concede, “I don’t know,” and then I have a choice: do I accept God, or walk away? It takes the rawest humility to still say to God, “I will love you just the way you are.” Because then, I’m no longer in control.
The reason this encourages me is because it is so very good for me to let go of my pride and be humbled before God. I still believe that God is good, that he loves me and every other person in this damnable world, and his love will eventually overcome all the sin and ugliness that makes life so hard.
This is what I end up settling on after praying my rants and raves through (and wearing myself out in the process). Why I still believe is a matter I’ll take up another time. For now I’ll say it is because of how God has shown up in my life and in the lives of people I’ve known.
I read somewhere that O’Riordan wrote “Stars” after she had a fight with her husband. That’s interesting, but to me it doesn’t matter. When I hear the song it will take me back to humility, to love, and to God.
Remember that Cranberries song I was listening to last time I sat down to blog? I’m still listening to it. After a draining day or a lousy job interview I know I can turn on “Stars,” sit back, close my eyes, listen, and when it’s done, I feel better, like everything’s going to be okay, and that my problems are really very small.
Last time I wrote that the song reminded me of how people need to love each other unconditionally, and that means being willing to let yourself be changed. I believe it’s a good thought, and I’m very proud of myself for thinking it; but it can be actually very discouraging. I don’t like being open to other people. I’m afraid that I’ll get hurt. That happens with love, because humans are messed up. Short of God I think they always will be. And one of the hardest lessons I am learning, and probably will keep learning all my life, is how to love and be open and be changed, and how to hurt well and not shrink back and cower in the corner.
So what about these lyrics encourages me so much?
When I heard the first verse I thought, “I wonder if Dolores O’Riordan believes in God?” If I was walking at night and looked up at the stars, I would probably think about God. For obvious reasons it does not work to say these are God’s words: I’m not always right (just most of the time), and I’m not perfect.
Lately, I’ve felt compelled to ask some thorny questions about God, like:
- Does God really intervene in our daily lives?
- Why would God let such a ravenously greedy nation as the United States become the world’s dominant cultural and economic power?
- How could God allow a lethargic and egocentric Christian culture to claim his name so obnoxiously?
- Is staying in the church of any advantage when Christians bicker with each other at least as much as they disparage non-Christians?
- Is homosexuality really wrong?
- How should the Bible be interpreted in light of how it was formed?
- How can a good God allow suffering?
- Where is God, when different religious groups say they speak for him (and clearly not all of them can be right)?
They all boil down to one simple question: why did God make life so hard? He could have made it easier. He could have made a world without sin. I’ve heard the standard Christian answer, that God had to let us be free to choose sin or else we’d all be like robots and couldn’t love God like he wants to be loved. Well why not? Why couldn’t he have made us capable of love and incapable of sin? If he’s all-powerful and all-wise, he could have done it. The problem is just that he didn’t. And that makes me mad. Pain and hardship aren’t fun.
That’s one perspective. But consider this:
The stars are bright tonight/A distance is between us/And I will be ok/The worst I’ve ever seen us/And still I have my weaknesses/And still I have my strengths/And still I have my ugliness/But I // I love you just the way you are…
This is my favorite part of “Stars.” Every time O’Riordan belts out ugliness it gives me goosebumps, and the chorus packs twice the emotional punch it had after the first verse. This, I believe, is the source of much of my problem. I’m not just mad at God because of the ugliness in the world: I’m also mad at God because of the ugliness in me. I am selfish: I cause as much pain as I suffer. I’m confused: I don’t always know what’s right and wrong. I am vulnerable. In loving another person there is room for arrogance (quite a bit of room, actually). But I find no such room with God. “Just the way you are” means God is mystery, God is paradox, God is everywhere but still invisible. Basically, God is frustrating. But I can’t figure him out. There will always come a point when I will have to concede, “I don’t know,” and then I have a choice: do I accept God, or walk away? It takes the rawest humility to still say to God, “I will love you just the way you are.” Because then, I’m no longer in control.
The reason this encourages me is because it is so very good for me to let go of my pride and be humbled before God. I still believe that God is good, that he loves me and every other person in this damnable world, and his love will eventually overcome all the sin and ugliness that makes life so hard.
This is what I end up settling on after praying my rants and raves through (and wearing myself out in the process). Why I still believe is a matter I’ll take up another time. For now I’ll say it is because of how God has shown up in my life and in the lives of people I’ve known.
I read somewhere that O’Riordan wrote “Stars” after she had a fight with her husband. That’s interesting, but to me it doesn’t matter. When I hear the song it will take me back to humility, to love, and to God.
Friday, March 17
Love! Our favorite pastime
Today’s thought has been rolling around my head for about two weeks now. I’m really only writing it down because Angie told me to. Not that I don’t want to write it down, but writing it requires thinking it through, and that takes a lot of effort. A lot more effort than it takes to watch March Madness unfold.
It all started when I bought The Cranberries ‘Best Of’ album for my birthday. It took several listens before getting to the very last song, “Stars.”
The stars are bright tonight/And I am walking nowhere/And you are always right/And my you are so perfect // I love you just the way you are/I’ll have you just the way you are/I’ll take you just the way you are/Does anybody love the way they are?
If this was a song by most other bands, I might have assumed that it was just love lyrics, blah blah blah, and not have given it a second thought. But The Cranberries are Irish.* So I played the song back and listened again. And again. And I contemplated…
Love is a very popular idea. A recent poll** found that 89% of Americans believe that most of our problems could be solved if we would love each other more. Really, we just don’t want anyone to step on our toes. This doesn’t seem to be helping us improve.
If we all just listened to the Cranberries*** then maybe we’d realize something very important.
Love is fully realized only when it is unconditional. This is not the same as tolerance; tolerance requires no real sacrifice. But love does. “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends” and, “Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.” (John 15 and Matthew 5)
Honestly, this stuff isn’t new to most people, especially people like me who have grown up Christian. What’s new is something I heard from Rev. Alex Gee. At some point in his life Alex, who grew up Pentecostal, befriended a Presbyterian. This is similar to John Kerry and George W. Bush going hunting, in that each would want to shoot the other and make it look like an accident. But as Alex got to know his new friend better, he realized not only that he was already more Presbyterian than he’d first thought, he was becoming more Presbyterian!
This becoming fascinates me. I’d never really considered that if I love someone, I myself might change. I might lose some of what I was, and gain something of someone else. I will become a different person than when I first endeavored to love.
A record is playing in my head that we shouldn’t let other people change us, that we should discover who we are and be strong and self-confident. That is the American way, right? Believe what you believe no matter what anyone else says? You have yours and I have mine, and we should all be allowed to do and believe just as we please?
Where many modern people, Christian and non-Christian alike, get it wrong is that they are unwilling to open themselves up to the possibility of change. Loving, having and taking someone just the way they are means opening yourself to the possibility of becoming something you didn’t expect, or perhaps even feared. This is most scary when we build our lives around people who are similar to us; some change and others don’t (not in the same way at least), so friends drift apart, family ties strain, and lovers have to work harder to keep loving.
Here are some changes I’ve seen in myself: I used to keep up with friends regularly; now it could take months before I see or talk to them. I used to be sure that Democrats were the devil’s children; now I have some common ground with them. I used to hate peas; actually, I still hate peas. But I like salads!
Amidst change, though, there are a few constants. “God works all things together for the good of those who love him and are called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8) I believe all the changes in my life are no surprise to God. He might just have initiated them himself.
There is so much more that I could say about this. In fact, I probably could write a whole book on it. Maybe one day I will. For now, I’ll leave you to ponder, because I am hungry.
* And Irish is almost always better. U2 – need I say more?
** I made this up.
*** And U2. And Jesus, of course.
It all started when I bought The Cranberries ‘Best Of’ album for my birthday. It took several listens before getting to the very last song, “Stars.”
The stars are bright tonight/And I am walking nowhere/And you are always right/And my you are so perfect // I love you just the way you are/I’ll have you just the way you are/I’ll take you just the way you are/Does anybody love the way they are?
If this was a song by most other bands, I might have assumed that it was just love lyrics, blah blah blah, and not have given it a second thought. But The Cranberries are Irish.* So I played the song back and listened again. And again. And I contemplated…
Love is a very popular idea. A recent poll** found that 89% of Americans believe that most of our problems could be solved if we would love each other more. Really, we just don’t want anyone to step on our toes. This doesn’t seem to be helping us improve.
If we all just listened to the Cranberries*** then maybe we’d realize something very important.
Love is fully realized only when it is unconditional. This is not the same as tolerance; tolerance requires no real sacrifice. But love does. “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends” and, “Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.” (John 15 and Matthew 5)
Honestly, this stuff isn’t new to most people, especially people like me who have grown up Christian. What’s new is something I heard from Rev. Alex Gee. At some point in his life Alex, who grew up Pentecostal, befriended a Presbyterian. This is similar to John Kerry and George W. Bush going hunting, in that each would want to shoot the other and make it look like an accident. But as Alex got to know his new friend better, he realized not only that he was already more Presbyterian than he’d first thought, he was becoming more Presbyterian!
This becoming fascinates me. I’d never really considered that if I love someone, I myself might change. I might lose some of what I was, and gain something of someone else. I will become a different person than when I first endeavored to love.
A record is playing in my head that we shouldn’t let other people change us, that we should discover who we are and be strong and self-confident. That is the American way, right? Believe what you believe no matter what anyone else says? You have yours and I have mine, and we should all be allowed to do and believe just as we please?
Where many modern people, Christian and non-Christian alike, get it wrong is that they are unwilling to open themselves up to the possibility of change. Loving, having and taking someone just the way they are means opening yourself to the possibility of becoming something you didn’t expect, or perhaps even feared. This is most scary when we build our lives around people who are similar to us; some change and others don’t (not in the same way at least), so friends drift apart, family ties strain, and lovers have to work harder to keep loving.
Here are some changes I’ve seen in myself: I used to keep up with friends regularly; now it could take months before I see or talk to them. I used to be sure that Democrats were the devil’s children; now I have some common ground with them. I used to hate peas; actually, I still hate peas. But I like salads!
Amidst change, though, there are a few constants. “God works all things together for the good of those who love him and are called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8) I believe all the changes in my life are no surprise to God. He might just have initiated them himself.
There is so much more that I could say about this. In fact, I probably could write a whole book on it. Maybe one day I will. For now, I’ll leave you to ponder, because I am hungry.
* And Irish is almost always better. U2 – need I say more?
** I made this up.
*** And U2. And Jesus, of course.
Friday, March 3
Getting Started...
I have joined the ranks of online blogging, something I once thought I would never do. But then again, there are a lot of things I've done that I once thought I would never do. Get an AIM screename. Be a devoted Tar Heels fan. Get married. Be unemployed. Watch The Bachelor. Stuff like that.
Why this then?
First, I'm bored. There's only so much fun I can have looking for a job; mostly I submit applications and wait hopelessly for a callback. Actually I'm just providing lunch fun for some office lackeys somewhere. "This guy really expects to find a job? He studied Philosophy!" Then someone cracks a bad joke, everyone laughs (they must be bored, only they are paid for it), and then it's off to the shredder.
Second, my brain is atrophying. I was in fact a Philosophy major in college, so I'm used to doing a lot of thinking. My mind was in great shape as of graduation, but lately it's been going the way of my body (more pillow than rock). I've been trying to read a variety of books, but it's not enough. I need stimulation. I need a creative outlet. I need something to excite me besides who will win Beauty and the Geek 2 (WB, Thursday at 9) or when my local Fox channel will rerun Friends' final season.
Lastly, I'm doing this because I believe I have something to say to the world. I've been told I have a gift for writing, for communicating, and I have thoughts, ideas and insights that are valuable to other people. I could act shocked and reply, "I have no idea what they're talking about, I didn't know I was worth listening to," but I'm not that humble. I know I am worth listening to. To myself, I'm as fascinating as can be: why not to everyone else?
I can hear my wife groaning.
In all honesty, I believe that God has given me a gift for ideas and a gift for words. This blog is something I feel compelled to do, to make some use of those God-gifts, to exercise them, even if just a little bit. Maybe it's like the parable of the talents in Matthew 25. I'd rather not be the guy who buries his master's money in the ground, only to get reamed when the master returns. I doubt I have what it takes to double the money. So I'm aiming for "money back, with interest.''
I have no idea how this will turn out. I don't know how long I'll stick with this blog. I don't know if I'll have consistent readers, or any readers at all. I don't know if anyone will actually find my thoughts interesting. But I'm going to give it a shot.
Gotta go now. Family Feud is coming on, and I want to see if I could win $20,000.
Why this then?
First, I'm bored. There's only so much fun I can have looking for a job; mostly I submit applications and wait hopelessly for a callback. Actually I'm just providing lunch fun for some office lackeys somewhere. "This guy really expects to find a job? He studied Philosophy!" Then someone cracks a bad joke, everyone laughs (they must be bored, only they are paid for it), and then it's off to the shredder.
Second, my brain is atrophying. I was in fact a Philosophy major in college, so I'm used to doing a lot of thinking. My mind was in great shape as of graduation, but lately it's been going the way of my body (more pillow than rock). I've been trying to read a variety of books, but it's not enough. I need stimulation. I need a creative outlet. I need something to excite me besides who will win Beauty and the Geek 2 (WB, Thursday at 9) or when my local Fox channel will rerun Friends' final season.
Lastly, I'm doing this because I believe I have something to say to the world. I've been told I have a gift for writing, for communicating, and I have thoughts, ideas and insights that are valuable to other people. I could act shocked and reply, "I have no idea what they're talking about, I didn't know I was worth listening to," but I'm not that humble. I know I am worth listening to. To myself, I'm as fascinating as can be: why not to everyone else?
I can hear my wife groaning.
In all honesty, I believe that God has given me a gift for ideas and a gift for words. This blog is something I feel compelled to do, to make some use of those God-gifts, to exercise them, even if just a little bit. Maybe it's like the parable of the talents in Matthew 25. I'd rather not be the guy who buries his master's money in the ground, only to get reamed when the master returns. I doubt I have what it takes to double the money. So I'm aiming for "money back, with interest.''
I have no idea how this will turn out. I don't know how long I'll stick with this blog. I don't know if I'll have consistent readers, or any readers at all. I don't know if anyone will actually find my thoughts interesting. But I'm going to give it a shot.
Gotta go now. Family Feud is coming on, and I want to see if I could win $20,000.
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