Longing for the Green

"We are like birds on a branch. We don't know if we are going to stay or go." paraphrase
"No, we are the birds and you are the branch. If you leave, we lose our footing." paraphrase

"We are like flowers. We don't uproot and place ourselves in sun but we wait where we are and grow in spite of the light or dark." paraphrase

Of Gods and Men tells the story of French monks living and serving the people of Algeria who have to decide whether to stay in or leave their monastery because of the radical Islamic's murderous actions. As they speak to the faithful Muslim leaders about their possible departure, their thoughts stun and still them. A Muslim woman, from around the corner, articulates the gravity in which their dismissal would bring to their people: "If you leave, we lose our footing."

At another point in the movie, when all the monks are of the same mind to stay and serve their people despite the risk, Cristian, the leader, relates their situation to the flowers of the field: "we wait where we are and grow in spite of the light or dark."

As I watched this movie, I longed to be like these monks. I yearned for a similar community and resolve. I desired to serve Christ in such a tangible, purposeful way. I started to feel as if my service and my calling paled in comparison to the monks' service.

Quickly, I tried to pound those fleshly thoughts out of my mind. For me, and I think it might be the same way with a lot of others like me, the easiest and most comfortable thing I could do as a Christian would be to move somewhere across the world and meet the needs of the poverty stricken. If that was my current calling, I don't think I would wrestle with it or fight it. I would embrace such a noble and overtly Christ-like vocation.

But, you want to know what, God planted my seed elsewhere. He planted my seed at TCA and at Starbucks. Might I be elsewhere in six months? Possibly. The winds of change always pick up and blow the seeds of fruit unexpectedly. But at this very moment, I need to celebrate the fact that my roots firmly planted itself here. Praise God! I don't know how or if or when I will be used by God, but that is ok. If I am a rake, He might choose the hoe. All to his glory.

I am a bow on your hands, Lord.
Draw me, lest I rot.
Do not overdraw me, Lord. I shall break.
Overdraw me, Lord, and who cares if I break.
-Nikos Kazantzakis

No matter if I believe at the moment, if my faithfulness is waning, if I want to uproot and plant myself directly in the sun wherever it shines -- "who cares" -- his Grace is sufficient.

To the Languished --

The church raised
With relationships fazed
The family razed

With soul crazed and unamazed

"I thank my God always concerning you for the grace of God which was given you in Christ...God is faithful, through whom you were called into fellowship with His Son, Jesus Christ our Lord...we have the mind of Christ [!]

"for you are still fleshly. For since there is jealousy and strife among you, are you not fleshly, and are you not walking like mere men?...[yet] you belong to Christ; and Christ belongs to God [!]" (I Corinthians 1-3).

Paul's rhetorical style amazes me. Every time I stumble upon his opening words in I Corinthians, I recollect the grace of God when I desperately need to. Paul establishes and reveals to the Corinthian church their identity from the very beginning -- ones filled with the grace of God through Christ. He then proceeds to point out certain aspects of their body that fail to represent the fundamental truth. While he admonishes harshly at times, he repeatedly reminds them how the cross transformed (past tense, it has already happened) their previous vivid dream-like state into this new mysterious reality predicated on the foolishness of man. I can just see Paul writing this letter feverishly, urging the Father, with his fist raised somewhat indignantly in the air, to grant the Corinthian's the grace to truly see themselves gifted with the mind of Christ.

Oh how I wish I would believe and trust that God has given me (us) the mind of Christ!

Each blessing given to us can be coerced into a curse and each curse can be morphed into a blessing. Growing up as I did, in a Christian family that enrolled me into a Christian school and drug me into a church on Sunday mornings, I was inundated with various forms of the Gospel. Most of them probably, at some time or the other, reflected the risen Christ (Can you hear it now? You know, the testimony of the Christian who has always been a Christian? Oh, come on, you know, he/she walks down the isle, says the sinners prayer, and all is good with their eternal prognosis? Yeah, let's not go there).

In the spiritual whirlwind of childhood, the concept of grace always struggled to find the soil in which to root itself. Sometimes, the thorns would choke the seed out while other times, the birds would swoop down and snatch it. I was talking to a friend today about a novel he read called Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. In the story, there is a character named Jack who struggles with his faith while the rest of his family embraces it easily and fully. Since he was raised in a faithful family, he understood the premises of many Christian doctrines. But the seeds could not, for whatever reason, take root in the lush, fertile soil. His basic knowledge of predestination and his inability to grasp the faith in the way he thought was necessary caused him to wonder if he is one of the un-elect, condemned to hell. He was helpless, hopeless. In the same way, I am sure the Corinthian church felt similar to Jack when they realized this long, fifteen chapter letter (yes, I know Paul didn't put the chapters in there) came from their spiritual foundation builder. Who writes an encouraging letter of that length?

But Paul, by way of his style, emphatically points out to the Gentiles, whose new faith in Christ is so foreign compared to their previous beliefs (driven by the wisdom of man -- I Cor. 1), that the grace of God gave them the mind of Christ -- they belong to Him by the indwelling of the Spirit! They might feel like Jack, who believes he is one of the un-elect, but in reality, the power of God infused into them the third person of the Trinity.

"...our response to the love of Jesus demands trust. Do we rely on our resume or the gospel of grace? How do we cope with failure? 'Grace tells us that we are accepted just as we are. We may not be the kind of people we want to be, we may be a long way from our goals, we may have more failures than achievements, we may not be wealthy or powerful or spiritual, we may not even be happy, but we are nonetheless accepted by God, held in his hands. Such is his promise to us in Jesus Christ, a promise we can trust'" (The Ragamuffin Gospel).

I pray I begin to see myself as a man with the mind of Christ. I pray that in my failures, the grace God showed to me through his son moves to the forefront of my consciousness so I realize I have been forgiven. Fill my soul with your Spirit.

Story and Harry Potter

Tonight is the beginning of the end of the Harry Potter movies. People all over this continent are gathering at their local theaters at ungodly hours to see how the production studios capture the series' end. Some will be dressed in the garb of their favorite characters while others will think they are too cool to partake in an adult version of dress-up (but secretly wishing their heart would allow for this childish fantasy). Many will call in sick for work tomorrow while others' production output at work will resemble that of their body prostrate in bed. All for a story.

Why are people so engrossed with this story? Honestly, in this case, I have no idea. I have never seen, and probably never will see, the movies or read the books. Sometimes I tend to defy the cultural norm, even if it robs me of some perfectly healthy pleasure, for the sole purpose of not being like the others. Its a rather poor character flaw.

We DVR our weekly shows; we read the great texts and the beach classics; we watch documentaries about fast food; we wikipedia our favorite musicians for perspective; we feel the rhythm of poetry while picking it with a fine comb; and we watch nature explode for 30 minutes in a two and a half hour indie flick. Why? 

Some way, some how, stories fill the soul at its deepest level. Each character played well, each plot developed adequately, each beat resounded draw us toward something and even into it, in a way. We live vicariously through the rising and falling action and the complications and resolutions. (Freytag anyone?)

We participate in these stories so easily and free flowing. They are our escape from the happenings of our mundane and, often times, frustrating life. They are good things we use to help cope from the harshness of the world.

But, do we participate in the stories of others? Do I?

Over the last few years, including now, the story I focused on was my own. Are the actions and scenes of my story reflecting Christ? Are they showing me as smart? Are they making me happy? Emotionally stable? Confident?

As I wrestle, with the help of others, through some doubts, frustrations, anxieties, etc., I seem to be back at this point: strive toward Christ, whatever the cost. Interestingly enough, the consequences of these actions will produce fruit (Jesus!), but also a sense pride (flesh). I can't strive perfectly or purely. Praise God for the Holy Spirit and the work he can do use my acts to bring glory to the Father!

Dietrich Bonhoeffer's story not only stirs the soul to vicariously live through his actions of the first half of the 20th century but it moves the postmodern soul into parallel action. In striving for Christ, Bonhoeffer sacrifices his life for the salvation of the German Church that the 3rd Reich mutated into an engine for its own propaganda and good. His role in the fight for the Church consisted of lies and deceits, attempted assassinations, familial estrangement, as well as ultimately producing a "widow." From Eric Metaxas' incredible biography on Dietrich Bonhoeffer:

"[Bonhoeffer] knew that the consequences of his obedience were God's business...'It is remarkable how I am never quite clear about the motives for any of my decisions. Is that a sign of confusion, of inner dishonesty, or is it a sign that we are guided without our knowing, or is it both?...[God] certainly sees how much personal feeling, how much anxiety there is in today's decision, however brave it may seem. The reasons one gives for an action to others and to one's self are certainly inadequate. One can give a reason for everything.  In the last resort one acts from a level which remains hidden from us. so one can only ask God to judge us and to forgive us...At the end of the day I can only ask God to give a merciful judgement on today and all its decisions. It is now in his hand (p.345).'"

When your story is one that strives after Christ, your joy (or lack thereof), your suffering (maybe ever constant), and your self-efficacy is dependent upon God and his judgement.

But there is more to our individual stories. We must define what it means to strive after Christ. I don't know the answer to this fully. Oh how I wish I did! But this is what I do know: we are to love God with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and we are to love others as our self (Matt. 22). The Jesus Creed. This is the heartbeat of striving after Christ -- the theme of our story. The former includes cultivating all aspects of the Imago Dei principle while the later is the physical actualization of the former. Obedience to the Son unifies us with the Father (John 3) and obedience means following the Jesus Creed.

So, in essence, our stories need to include God's story and others' stories and do not worry about the consequence of our actions. If our story does not include those two, our story ends up like a bad Keanu Reeves or Vin Diesel flick that causes men to wish to be in one of the many remakes of Sweet Home Alabama.

I pray I (we) strive for Christ, no matter the perceived consequence, no matter the perceived cost. Our story for His glory.

The Imago Dei Principle

Suddenly the bird darted out of the tree and away, and instantly he thought of the "fly buzzing about in the sun's rays" that Hippolyte had talked of; how that it knew its place and was a participator in the universal life, while he alone was an "outcast."...An old forgotten memory awoke in his brain, and suddenly burst into clearness and light. It was a recollection of Switzerland, during the first year of his cure, the very first months...He climbed the mountain-side, one sunny morning, and wandered long and aimlessly with a certain thought in his brain, which would not become clear. Above him was the blazing sky, below, the lake; all around was the horizon, clear and infinite. He looked out upon this, long and anxiously. He remembered how he had stretched out his arms towards the beautiful, boundless blue of the horizon, and wept, and wept. What had so tormented him was the idea that he was a stranger to all this, that he was outside this glorious festival. 

What was this universe? What was this grand, eternal pageant to which he had yearned from his childhood up, and in which he could never take part? Every morning the same magnificent sun; every morning the same rainbow in the waterfall; every evening the same glow on the snow-mountains. 

Every little fly that buzzed in the sun's rays was a singer in the universal chorus, "knew its place, and was happy in it." Every blade of grass grew and was happy. Everything knew its path and loved it, went forth with a song and returned with a song; only he knew nothing, understood nothing, neither men nor words, nor any of nature's voices; he was a stranger and an outcast. 

--Prince Myshikin, The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky

The concept that God created man in his own image really fascinates me. From the Christian perspective, it is so undeniably true. As we look upon the created natural world, only one created thing or being loves, thinks rationally, creates with practically no bounds, and chooses freely -- man. These attributes reflect only one other being or essence, the Father. How amazing that God privileged man with this!

But what is so strange about it all is that other than the writer of Genesis, Paul, from my menial research, is the only biblical author that mentions man being created in the image of God. Paul's focus on the subject centers on the fact that the faithful begin to transform into the image of God once they lay "aside the old self with its evil practices, and have put on the new self who is being renewed to a true knowledge" (Col. 3:9-10). While, on the other hand, Gen. 5, which occurs after man's fall from perfection in the image, refers to Adam's fatherhood as him becoming "the father of a son in his own likeness, according to his image." Genesis seems to show that the very act of childbirth, even from the most fallen of the fallen, corresponds to some sort of participation in this imago dei principle. So, while all, whether a follower of Christ or not, can participate in that image because it innately dwells within us, only those who truly follow him begin to transform into it. The indwelling of the Spirit enables that work (i.e., sanctification). Does that finding have any substantial consequence? No, probably not, but some form of significance might derive from it.

With that brief quasi-aside, lets focus on The Idiot and its relation to the imago dei principle. Before I began this particular writing endeavor, I felt like my conclusion would somehow or someway look something like this: "why can't my path be like the one of the fly? or the sun? or the grass? Why can't every life instance and experience, like that of the natural, be a full and complete participation of God's glory? In essence, why can't I be perfect like the rising and setting of the sun is perfect in time, distance, order, etc?" I am like a whiny Job without the nagging wife, inconsiderate friends, and, of yeah, the intense physical, emotional, and spiritual turmoil. 

So as I have sat here at Starbucks the last two or so hours reflecting upon this passage and the verses above, I have been moved to think about The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis. Oh how I wish I had my copy with me, but yea, my memory will have to do, even though it is a gross injustice and simplification to his actual words.

In The Problem of Pain, Lewis devotes a whole chapter to animal pain. He does this in order to distinguish between the beauty of bearing God's image and the natural participation in God's glory that the rest of creation falls under. An animal receives pain and suffering only because of a natural instinct woven within its very fabric. This pain happens at the atomic level, when something goes haywire with physical. This is an important distinction because human beings experience pain and suffering not only on the physical level, but also on a soulful level. This "soulful" pain occurs because of the imago dei principle. We were created with divine-like attributes that enable us to love, which enables us to empathize, which also enables us to feel pain. But because of the Fall, this soulful pain and suffering also occurs because of our freedom to sin. An animal does not have the privilege to be free, so therefore it does not have the freedom to sin. But in our freedom, we do sin and cause pain to others at a metaphysical level as well as feeling pain at a metaphysical level. 

Why is all of this important? One, because I want to avoid pain and suffering at that metaphysical level, just as everyone else does. If we were to become like the fly, or the grass, or the sun, we lose our divine attributes and only experience the reflexive pain that the natural feels. Secondly, and worst of all, the imago dei principle and all that falls under it is the only thing that allows us to recognize, understand, and ultimately love the Father. So while I feel like an outsider and outcast in some ways, like Myshikin and Hippolyte do, I can place my footsteps in the footsteps of Christ -- the one perfect example who lived as both the sun and the man. 

Nature might scream the glory of God, but they don't know it. We can look at man, the ones redeemed and slowly becoming like their Creator and the ones who reflect it unknowingly, and say, "we are like God, so therefore we are loved by God." Just as in marriage when the fulfillment of the man and women's love is the conception of one in their own image, so is man in is existence that derives from the divine Creator ( think Adam begetting Seth).

Father's Day Reflection

I don't vividly remember too many particular days at Oklahoma State. It was a rather short, albeit enjoyable, period of my life spanning only four or so months. But there is one day I distinctly remember -- a definitive and important day that I remember for a reason completely separate from the obvious.

My side of the dorm room was empty; my bed was stripped; my car was packed. My time at OSU was ending that very day. The only thing left was the 3 1/2 hour drive from Stillwater to Dallas. As I waited for my roommate to return from wherever he was, I laid on my naked bed listening to my iRiver (anti-norm!). A song called "Hosanna" by Jason Morant began to play. The song beautifully represents the irony of the gospel hosanna moment with the impending death of the hosanna. The lyrics echo the crowd's sentiments that palm Sunday while the music has a somewhat melancholy tone. This juxtaposition leads to an emotionally powerful song.

The song moved my soul in the same way a Sigur Ros song move you while you listen to it in the rain; or in the same way Hester Prynne's sin and ostracism moves you to fight for her; or in the same way that Joyce's representation of Stephen Dedalus moves you to the realization you just might be that young man.

In this case, the Jason Morant song drew my eyes to a picture the resided on my roommate's bulletin board. It consisted of my roommate and my dad, arm and arm. A perfect storm of circumstances, mixed and matched together, caused such a stir of emotion within my chest that I thought I just might shed a tear for the first time in my life. Never before had I recognized, felt, or understood the intense bond I had with my father. The moribund thought of my dad dying raced around my mind. What would I do? How would I handle it? How could I live without him? As I currently reflect upon it, the emotion was similar to the emotion that consumed me about my mother during my near death mountain climbing experience in Greece (maybe I will write about it one day).

There is something incredibly special about the relationship between a father and his son.  This is not to say that it supersedes the mother/son relationship, but for some reason, when God created the cosmos, he intentionally designed for sons to long for an intimate relationship with their father. It is probably because this specific earthly relationship is the best model and representation, while ultimately imperfect, of the relationship between humanity and it's heavenly father.

All of my rambling is to say this: thank you, dad, for the conversations over the years and listening and entertaining all of my thoughts and dreams. Thank you for the encouragement. Thank you for the friendship we have cultivated. Thank you for the love. Thank you for loving my mom and being a great example of what a husband is supposed to be. And ultimately, thank you for reflecting God's image in all facets of your life. I hope to become the man of God, husband, and father that you are.

Thank you.

Simply Notice

"Simply noticing has nothing to do with predicting the future, undoing the past, analyzing, or intellectually understanding anything. Simply noticing involves only simply noticing. That is, paying attention -- the same sort of attention you would pay to a good movie...You don't work at enjoying the movie. You just cast your awareness on the screen and let the movie do its thing...Simply noticing requires effort. It does not require strain." Richard Carson -- "Taming Your Gremlin"

I am a rule follower. I always have been one and I probably always will be one. As a youngster, the only time I was written up in school was when I passed a friend's binder with my feet to another friend, who passed it to another friend, and so forth, from one end of the classroom to the other. And, I am pretty sure the school's bylaws stated nothing explicitly reprimanding my vicious and malicious act.

Because this characteristic engrained itself into the fabric of my being, I daily (hourly, minutely?) sift through my actions and experiences -- actual and potential -- attempting to determine their individual moral stance. As I draw my conclusions, I intentionally place myself in situations that fit as tightly to the mold that I created. This causes me to perpetually stay within my interior while losing awareness to the world's beauty.

Yes, that is all very abstract but practically speaking, this is what I mean: I take one of the many forms of Christianity and create a list, subconsciously, of what I must accomplish in order to be a "genuine" Christ-Follower. Oh, has the list evolved! From conservative moralism and evangelism, to the emergent social justice movement, to traditional intellectualism, with many more to come, I am sure.

What a long list of unique dos and don'ts under the guise of abolishing a Christ-less moralism!

But, in the midst of the lists, those absolute ideas (in and of themselves not evil) superseded Christ himself. Every aspect of my being, of my senses, intended to satisfy the interior unrest of my soul. Perfectly embodying the ideas found on my lists, I believed, would bring about a propitiation of God's wrath upon this feeble man. Instead, it caused me forsake the beauty of our creator and ignore the intense grace that his Son provided for his creation.

Richard Carson, a Buddhist psychologist from Dallas, urges those whose awareness always focuses upon the interior to shift their awareness outward. While Carson, of course, never alludes to shifting awareness to God's creation in order to remove yourself from the interior life, I think as a Christian in the 21st century church, we can glean quite a bit from this method.

When I look upon the natural world, notice Christ. When I look upon my gifts, physical and material, notice Christ. When I look upon another human being, notice them as image bearers of the Father, even the ones who have no idea that they bear aspects of his image. I seem to think that the simple act of noticing Christ in all areas of everyday life, subconscious to us, will transform us into who God wants us to be. I wonder if this is what Paul had in mind when he told the Roman church to be transformed by the renewing of their mind...

While the method of simply noticing Christ might one day be misconstrued into its own list, it is a much shorter list than the ones I previously employed. Simplicity, in itself, is a very beautiful thing.

Update

About once a year, I decide to blog. I blog for a month or two until it completely drains me the life from me. Now is the time in which I start it up again. I found a neat feature that allowed me to import all my old posts from my old blogger sites. Those are the posts that you see below this entry.

Blogging allows me to wade through my thoughts and experiences while synthesizing it all so that I can try to make sense out of this life I have been given. I am sure the posts that follow will range from melancholy and hopeless to joyful and hopeful.

All-in-all, I hope that I come to a greater understanding of Truth (as well as anyone who ends up reading this) through the questions that are asked and examined. 

"'Oh yes, of course. You are very beautiful, Aglaya Ivanovna, so beautiful that one is afraid to look at you.'
'Is that all? What about her character?' said Mrs. General.
'It is difficult to judge when such beauty is concerned, I have not prepared my judgment. Beauty is a riddle.'" -- The Prince