This summer I got to spend 3 weeks at one of my favorite places in the world, it is a place where I have spent a portion of my summer every year since I was about 9. Camp Timberlake in Forsyth, Georgia.
Camp is such an amazing place where the expectancy for God to show up and dramatically change lives is higher than any place I have ever been.
Every summer I get super-charged from the nightly altar calls and I come home excited for school to start.
Returning to camp this year I began thinking.
Our “sanctuary” is a huge metal building clearly divided into 2 halves by a really ugly curtain that spans the width of the building. The first, being a basketball court, has been the site of more dodge-ball casualties than anyone cares to count though it seems that the threat of a ball sized scar to the face has yet to prevent any eager camper from jumping on the court in a frenzy.
The other half is the place of all the real excitement.
There is a stage up front, usually covered with instruments or puppet stages, and to the left and right of it are giant makeshift screens for use with the projector. About 10 feet from the edge of the stage is the shore of the sea of dying metal chairs which hold our butts in discomfort as our hearts are in metamorphoses.
The entire floor is clothed with what you could vaguely call carpet. Really it is a thin brown sheet that used to be carpet and only serves to further the distinction between the halves of the building. I know this carpet better than any spot on the entire camp.
The reason for this is simple. Every summer I spend every night of the week on my face, on that carpet.
It is the place where lives are changed, it is the place that all the good ole Pentecostal worship that everyone expects takes place.
As I was sitting in one of the services this summer I began to reflect on that old beaten carpet.
How many times had I myself had such encounters with God on that very spot?
How many of my sins were forgiven, promises were made and reassurances received on that very carpet?
Then I began thinking what that does to carpet. Thousands upon thousands of people, from almost birth to senior status, have wept for joy or sorrow on that carpet. I have seen people in such attitudes of worship that they would never want to be seen in public because a combination of tears, snot ad sweat have flowed off of them. And onto the carpet.
Despite the gross salt content of this carpet, I love it.
I love that carpet because it is where I continue to find who I am.
In a week I begin my senior year of high school.
A couple of years ago I would have laughed at anybody who said that I would be scared at the up-coming year because back then I had it all figured out. I really thought I knew everything.
Right now I have no idea where my feet will take me when they lead me off the graduation stage.
It seems as though my whole life has been crescendo-ing to this year and I really am excited at the amazing things God has planned for this year and for my life. I have always seen the big picture and now I just don’t know how to get there.
I am learning that I need to take the feeling of that familiar carpet in to unfamiliar territory.
I have learned a lot this summer, and am still learning.
I may not have the emotional encounters with God every day but He will never be too far away. I trust Him, wherever He leads me.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Thoughts on 2 Peter: pt 1
Lately I have been reading 2 Peter and it seems that every line is filled with amazing bits of knowledge that I really don't want to forget and the best way I think through things is to write about them so that is what I am going to do in the next couple blogs.
1:1 Peter describes himself as a slave or servant in some translations. This is usually a term we Christians like to avoid because it really doesn't sound good to us or the outside world.No one wants to be a slave. I can't think of any good connotations of the word slave. This is interesting to me because Peter spends the rest of the letter talking about how awesome the grace and peace of God are. He uses the word slave to emphasize complete surrender of his own desires, it isn't that God is a slave driver but that we should be willing to do whatever a slave would be required to do.
Next Peter reminds the audience that he was one of the original 12. He uses the word apostle which should be noted. Apostle comes the Greek word apostolos and is used numerous times throughout New Testament by Paul. He referred to himself as an apostle even though he wasn't one of those hand-picked by Jesus. In fact he used to kill Christians before he became one himself. Paul used this word in regard to a specific calling to a position in the body of Christ in the same breath of prophets, teachers and evangelists. There has been a lot of debate as to what the actual definition of this term means but we see here that Paul and Peter disagree (once again) in their interpretations.
When Peter says apostle, he is talking about THE apostles. Himself and eleven other men who followed so closely to Jesus they were covered in the dust His sandals kicked up behind Him. They actually saw and experienced the things Paul could only preach about. The 12. They were better than the Justice League, which says a lot. You would think that there would be some sort of arrogance attached to this but check out the next verse.
Peter is writing "to those who have obtained a faith of equal privelage with ours." Peter is saying to these people that even though they never met Jesus or maybe haven't even seen Jesus are on the same level as the guys who were best friends with Him. That is huge. Peter is pulling everybody up to his level, a slave.
1:1 Peter describes himself as a slave or servant in some translations. This is usually a term we Christians like to avoid because it really doesn't sound good to us or the outside world.No one wants to be a slave. I can't think of any good connotations of the word slave. This is interesting to me because Peter spends the rest of the letter talking about how awesome the grace and peace of God are. He uses the word slave to emphasize complete surrender of his own desires, it isn't that God is a slave driver but that we should be willing to do whatever a slave would be required to do.
Next Peter reminds the audience that he was one of the original 12. He uses the word apostle which should be noted. Apostle comes the Greek word apostolos and is used numerous times throughout New Testament by Paul. He referred to himself as an apostle even though he wasn't one of those hand-picked by Jesus. In fact he used to kill Christians before he became one himself. Paul used this word in regard to a specific calling to a position in the body of Christ in the same breath of prophets, teachers and evangelists. There has been a lot of debate as to what the actual definition of this term means but we see here that Paul and Peter disagree (once again) in their interpretations.
When Peter says apostle, he is talking about THE apostles. Himself and eleven other men who followed so closely to Jesus they were covered in the dust His sandals kicked up behind Him. They actually saw and experienced the things Paul could only preach about. The 12. They were better than the Justice League, which says a lot. You would think that there would be some sort of arrogance attached to this but check out the next verse.
Peter is writing "to those who have obtained a faith of equal privelage with ours." Peter is saying to these people that even though they never met Jesus or maybe haven't even seen Jesus are on the same level as the guys who were best friends with Him. That is huge. Peter is pulling everybody up to his level, a slave.
Where are you valuable?
Very little of my childhood could be described as normal. I spent the first 6 years of my life at the Florida United Methodist Childrens Home where my parents worked and lived 6 out of every 9 days; growing up around teenage girls, most of which had been sexually and physically abused. Don't get me wrong I have nothing to complain about regarding my childhood, I am so grateful for how I have been raised- I'm just saying it isn't normal. Because in my eyes I was different than my peers, I didn't feel valuable. The problem with a pursuit of normalcy is it is impossible, which I realized very quickly. When I would fail drastically at being normal I would feel worthless. Then I made a discovery. I found that being the weird one in the group was just as good as being like everyone else. I found my worth in my weirdness.
As I got older I discovered I was really good at being a Christian. I could quote more scripture than anybody and I impressed a lot of adults with my "spiritual maturity." I found my worth in that I could be super-Christian, always ready with some profound nugget of wisdom.
Then God showed me the story of Job in a way I have never seen before.
It seems to be a rule that you cannot speak about Job without giving a message on perseverance or faithfulness. I am going to break that rule.
The first thing I notice is that Job 1:3 says that Job was the greatest man in the area, not the richest as one would expect after reading the list of all his possessions in the prior verses. His claim to fame was not in his wealth.
He was righteous.
Everyone knew Job as the righteous one, always ready with some profound nugget of Jewish law.
Everyone knew he was righteous, except for Satan. I don't really understand this famous confrontation between God and Satan but what I got out of it was that Satan didn't know Job. That, to me is the first clue that Job's righteousness was reputation only and not authentic because if Satan doesn't know your name then you aren't a threat to him which means you are doing nothing for the kingdom of God-that is just a side note.
When all Job had was taken away, Job instantly went in to martyr-mode gathering the city to come have pity on me. No he didn't sin, sinning would have discredited his reputation. Instead he held onto his "righteousness" to the point of almost accusing God of injustice because Job could not face the fact that he wasn't as holy as God.
Job and I relied solely on our reputation as Godly people for our worth. We were doing all the right things for all the wrong reasons.
It has been only up until very recently that I have discovered my true worth- how valuable I am to God. It doesn't matter how good of a Christian I am because He loves me the same. He loves me the same if I leave the Church and turn my back on Him. There is nothing I can do to earn His love, because I already have all of it.
So what now? If God loves us regardless why bother living any certain way? Why bother changing what we do?
There is a story I have heard that probably isn't true about a village that probably doesn't exist.
In this village lived a man with 2 daughters, one of which was the most beautiful woman in the the land and lets just say the other was definitely not. Every man in the village tried their hand at being her suitor, and the father was offered many expensive dowries for her hand in marriage. One man offered to pay the father 5 of his fattest cows in exchange for betrothal to the sought after woman.
Now a wise man was walking through the village looking for a wife when he came to the father and said "I will give you ten of my fattest cows for your daughter." The father thought to himself "What a blessing! I get double the dowry for the same daughter" and immediately agreed to the exchange. The wise man, however, was referring to the other daughter. Everyone in the village thought the man was a fool- paying so much for such an ugly wife that her father would have given away had he had the chance.
Fast forward a couple years.
We see the same wise man, happy at home married to a beautiful and faithful woman.
The same woman rejected by the village had started taking care of and beautifying herself. What changed?
She knew she was valuable to her husband.
She knew the price he paid for her.
People want to be everything they can for the one who shows them their value.
She was worth 10 cows to this man, if I remember correctly we are promised the cattle on a thousand hills.
So what's the problem?
If we know what the price paid for us was why aren't we who we were created to be?
I don't think we believe it.
We sing about how much He loves us, and the price He paid for us but do we believe it?
Every person who has ever walked this planet has lived and died for what they believe in. You live life to the level you believe in it. Great people don't die for what they believe in, great people believe in something great to begin with. If you believe you are valuable, you will know that God absolutely wants the best for you and that He has the power to do so.
I am beginning to think the search for worth is the root of all of our problems.
If you don't believe Jesus loves you, you will try to find that love elsewhere.
Relationships.
Social status.
Masculinity.
The reason we keep slipping back into the same old stuff is because we feel the same old stuff is where our value is.
We find value in being the bad kid, or being the one who can't commit, or the one who won't accomplish anything or the one who annoys everyone around them.
This is a real hard lesson to learn. As I was giving this message I saw in the audience heads nodding and mouths yawning and I immediately started measuring my worth by how well I could give a sermon. God doesn't care, He just loves me.
As I got older I discovered I was really good at being a Christian. I could quote more scripture than anybody and I impressed a lot of adults with my "spiritual maturity." I found my worth in that I could be super-Christian, always ready with some profound nugget of wisdom.
Then God showed me the story of Job in a way I have never seen before.
It seems to be a rule that you cannot speak about Job without giving a message on perseverance or faithfulness. I am going to break that rule.
The first thing I notice is that Job 1:3 says that Job was the greatest man in the area, not the richest as one would expect after reading the list of all his possessions in the prior verses. His claim to fame was not in his wealth.
He was righteous.
Everyone knew Job as the righteous one, always ready with some profound nugget of Jewish law.
Everyone knew he was righteous, except for Satan. I don't really understand this famous confrontation between God and Satan but what I got out of it was that Satan didn't know Job. That, to me is the first clue that Job's righteousness was reputation only and not authentic because if Satan doesn't know your name then you aren't a threat to him which means you are doing nothing for the kingdom of God-that is just a side note.
When all Job had was taken away, Job instantly went in to martyr-mode gathering the city to come have pity on me. No he didn't sin, sinning would have discredited his reputation. Instead he held onto his "righteousness" to the point of almost accusing God of injustice because Job could not face the fact that he wasn't as holy as God.
Job and I relied solely on our reputation as Godly people for our worth. We were doing all the right things for all the wrong reasons.
It has been only up until very recently that I have discovered my true worth- how valuable I am to God. It doesn't matter how good of a Christian I am because He loves me the same. He loves me the same if I leave the Church and turn my back on Him. There is nothing I can do to earn His love, because I already have all of it.
So what now? If God loves us regardless why bother living any certain way? Why bother changing what we do?
There is a story I have heard that probably isn't true about a village that probably doesn't exist.
In this village lived a man with 2 daughters, one of which was the most beautiful woman in the the land and lets just say the other was definitely not. Every man in the village tried their hand at being her suitor, and the father was offered many expensive dowries for her hand in marriage. One man offered to pay the father 5 of his fattest cows in exchange for betrothal to the sought after woman.
Now a wise man was walking through the village looking for a wife when he came to the father and said "I will give you ten of my fattest cows for your daughter." The father thought to himself "What a blessing! I get double the dowry for the same daughter" and immediately agreed to the exchange. The wise man, however, was referring to the other daughter. Everyone in the village thought the man was a fool- paying so much for such an ugly wife that her father would have given away had he had the chance.
Fast forward a couple years.
We see the same wise man, happy at home married to a beautiful and faithful woman.
The same woman rejected by the village had started taking care of and beautifying herself. What changed?
She knew she was valuable to her husband.
She knew the price he paid for her.
People want to be everything they can for the one who shows them their value.
She was worth 10 cows to this man, if I remember correctly we are promised the cattle on a thousand hills.
So what's the problem?
If we know what the price paid for us was why aren't we who we were created to be?
I don't think we believe it.
We sing about how much He loves us, and the price He paid for us but do we believe it?
Every person who has ever walked this planet has lived and died for what they believe in. You live life to the level you believe in it. Great people don't die for what they believe in, great people believe in something great to begin with. If you believe you are valuable, you will know that God absolutely wants the best for you and that He has the power to do so.
I am beginning to think the search for worth is the root of all of our problems.
If you don't believe Jesus loves you, you will try to find that love elsewhere.
Relationships.
Social status.
Masculinity.
The reason we keep slipping back into the same old stuff is because we feel the same old stuff is where our value is.
We find value in being the bad kid, or being the one who can't commit, or the one who won't accomplish anything or the one who annoys everyone around them.
This is a real hard lesson to learn. As I was giving this message I saw in the audience heads nodding and mouths yawning and I immediately started measuring my worth by how well I could give a sermon. God doesn't care, He just loves me.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Crickets
One of the best parts of camping is the night. Stars that went unnoticed are now blinding reflections of the Creator, covering the entire vastness of sky like a Jackson Polluck gone exactly right. There is always this unexplainable stillness that just saturates the air. And there are crickets.
These crickets that deafen indoors-mens’ ears with their noises and serenade outdoors-mens’ ears with their song.
It is impossible to distinguish between their cheeps. One cricket a hundred feet away sounds pretty much the same as the one underneath your tent. It is impossible to even pick out one specific cricket over a group of crickets. They are unified. One continuous and resounding song erupting from all sides.
The chirp of a cricket is just simply a mating call. It is the only thing a cricket knows how to do to get the only thing it desires. The cricket is wanting and in need so it cries out every night desperate for someone to hear him and fill his desperation.
Every night the air is filled with the chirps of those who are wanting.
One curious thing about these crickets is that it is so easy to block them out of mind no matter how loud they get. I was sitting last night talking about absolutely nothing with some guys before we headed to our tent exhausted to go to sleep when I heard them. I had heard them so many times before but this time I really heard them. I was in one of those moments that apparently happen quite frequently where I zone out the world around me and get all philosophical in my head. I started thinking about the mating calls of these insects.
The sun had been down for a couple hours already so the crickets had been at it for awhile and I didn’t hear them. I am so used to hearing this racket that I blocked it out completely. How many other cries for help have I blocked out because I was used to them?
Everyone around me is doing all they can to get my attention and they are all chirping individually so loud and unified that they have become this easily ignored annoyance. When I finally stopped to hear them I realized they were really, really loud –so loud that we were raising our voices just to be heard over them. We are doing everything we can to ignore them.
They were the first thing I heard on my first camping trip, and they kept me awake all night. I was 8 and I couldn’t fathom how loud they could be. When I went on my first trip with the Holy Spirit I was amazed at how loud the world was screaming and the thought of these hurting people kept me awake all night. I really need to hear those crickets again.
I was laying in my sleeping bag last night with the sound of these crickets resonating in my ears. I have to hear them. I thank God I get to.
These crickets that deafen indoors-mens’ ears with their noises and serenade outdoors-mens’ ears with their song.
It is impossible to distinguish between their cheeps. One cricket a hundred feet away sounds pretty much the same as the one underneath your tent. It is impossible to even pick out one specific cricket over a group of crickets. They are unified. One continuous and resounding song erupting from all sides.
The chirp of a cricket is just simply a mating call. It is the only thing a cricket knows how to do to get the only thing it desires. The cricket is wanting and in need so it cries out every night desperate for someone to hear him and fill his desperation.
Every night the air is filled with the chirps of those who are wanting.
One curious thing about these crickets is that it is so easy to block them out of mind no matter how loud they get. I was sitting last night talking about absolutely nothing with some guys before we headed to our tent exhausted to go to sleep when I heard them. I had heard them so many times before but this time I really heard them. I was in one of those moments that apparently happen quite frequently where I zone out the world around me and get all philosophical in my head. I started thinking about the mating calls of these insects.
The sun had been down for a couple hours already so the crickets had been at it for awhile and I didn’t hear them. I am so used to hearing this racket that I blocked it out completely. How many other cries for help have I blocked out because I was used to them?
Everyone around me is doing all they can to get my attention and they are all chirping individually so loud and unified that they have become this easily ignored annoyance. When I finally stopped to hear them I realized they were really, really loud –so loud that we were raising our voices just to be heard over them. We are doing everything we can to ignore them.
They were the first thing I heard on my first camping trip, and they kept me awake all night. I was 8 and I couldn’t fathom how loud they could be. When I went on my first trip with the Holy Spirit I was amazed at how loud the world was screaming and the thought of these hurting people kept me awake all night. I really need to hear those crickets again.
I was laying in my sleeping bag last night with the sound of these crickets resonating in my ears. I have to hear them. I thank God I get to.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Destination
My whole life I have had goals. For a good part of my childhood I wanted to be a professional basketball player. This goal was abandoned when I found out how white I really was. In fourth grade, my goal was to set the school record the most veggie fries (think of every vegetable you know of, puree them together and then stick them in a deep fryer and you have a veggie fry) eaten in one lunch period without throwing up. As to the best of my knowledge, no student of Smith-Barnes elementary school has been able to brave beating my record of 47. I am sure, though, that I am the only who even cares about this record.
When I was 9 years old I was baptized in the Holy Spirit for the first time and received my "call to the ministry." My goals hence have changed dramatically.
It was shortly after this experience that I read David Wilkerson’s The Cross and the Switchblade which completely altered my view of my purpose. I wanted what David Wilkerson had, not so that I was so envious I wished to mimic his every move in ministry, but I wanted God to reach hurting people through me like He was doing through him Hurting teenagers specifically. If you haven’t read this book stop what you are doing and go find it, the movie doesn’t do it justice, and then read the sequel called 12 Angels from Hell.
Since then, a day has not gone by that I forget what God is calling me to.
Youth.
The hurting.
The world.
I have spent every day dreaming of what God will do in me. The sermons that will be preached to audiences of thousands, then nationally syndicated then quoted and misquoted in the years to come. I dream of the testimonies of lives changed, people having real authentic and thriving relationships with their Creator.
The bigger your dreams are for tomorrow, the more boring today becomes.
I have been really frustrated lately at how slowly all the things I have been promised are coming into fruition. And then the revelation came. Again.
I was running this morning like I do every morning. I have learned that when you are on mile 4 and only halfway through you will try to think of anything other than your cramping stomach and the sweat that constantly gets into your eyes.
It was here that I heard that infamous inaudible voice.
"Am I your destination, or just your method of obtaining it?"
Ouch! Not only were my legs hurting but now also was my conscience. I had learned a long time ago that I can’t do anything on my own, I fail miserably. I knew that God had to be more than completely involved if I were to be who I was created to be. This is basic stuff.
But it all revolved around me. Me getting what I was promised. Me being the best I could be. Me reaching that potential instilled in me by God.
I am realizing that my quest to be "all God wanted me to be" was the only way I measured my worth. If I didn’t fulfill my dreams, am I a failure?
Come on Kyle, those childish insecurities have been gone for years. Nope.
I see this in everything I do. I want to run the fastest, know the most, quote the most, live the best. What I thought was fulfilling the verse in Ecclesiastes that says "whatever your hands find to do, so it with all you might,"* was really just me trying to feel good about myself. The veggie fries were consumed at such disgusting quantity to get attention. The ministry goals were set because the only thing I thought I was able to do was ministry.
I still believe the promises will absolutely come to pass, and everything in me longs for that day but they should not be my goals. My goals should be to simply pursue. Run. Chase. Be fulfilled.
I want to spend everyday growing closer to God and learning all of His minute intricacies instead of wishing I were in a pulpit. This should keep me busy for an eternity or so.
I haven’t completely figured it out but I’m working on it. God does want my best, He wants everything I have to give because it’s all His anyway. My best should be given because it is His best, not mine. I am valuable to Him no matter what I accomplish. This is going to take awhile for it to really stick with me.
*Ecclesiastes 9:10
When I was 9 years old I was baptized in the Holy Spirit for the first time and received my "call to the ministry." My goals hence have changed dramatically.
It was shortly after this experience that I read David Wilkerson’s The Cross and the Switchblade which completely altered my view of my purpose. I wanted what David Wilkerson had, not so that I was so envious I wished to mimic his every move in ministry, but I wanted God to reach hurting people through me like He was doing through him Hurting teenagers specifically. If you haven’t read this book stop what you are doing and go find it, the movie doesn’t do it justice, and then read the sequel called 12 Angels from Hell.
Since then, a day has not gone by that I forget what God is calling me to.
Youth.
The hurting.
The world.
I have spent every day dreaming of what God will do in me. The sermons that will be preached to audiences of thousands, then nationally syndicated then quoted and misquoted in the years to come. I dream of the testimonies of lives changed, people having real authentic and thriving relationships with their Creator.
The bigger your dreams are for tomorrow, the more boring today becomes.
I have been really frustrated lately at how slowly all the things I have been promised are coming into fruition. And then the revelation came. Again.
I was running this morning like I do every morning. I have learned that when you are on mile 4 and only halfway through you will try to think of anything other than your cramping stomach and the sweat that constantly gets into your eyes.
It was here that I heard that infamous inaudible voice.
"Am I your destination, or just your method of obtaining it?"
Ouch! Not only were my legs hurting but now also was my conscience. I had learned a long time ago that I can’t do anything on my own, I fail miserably. I knew that God had to be more than completely involved if I were to be who I was created to be. This is basic stuff.
But it all revolved around me. Me getting what I was promised. Me being the best I could be. Me reaching that potential instilled in me by God.
I am realizing that my quest to be "all God wanted me to be" was the only way I measured my worth. If I didn’t fulfill my dreams, am I a failure?
Come on Kyle, those childish insecurities have been gone for years. Nope.
I see this in everything I do. I want to run the fastest, know the most, quote the most, live the best. What I thought was fulfilling the verse in Ecclesiastes that says "whatever your hands find to do, so it with all you might,"* was really just me trying to feel good about myself. The veggie fries were consumed at such disgusting quantity to get attention. The ministry goals were set because the only thing I thought I was able to do was ministry.
I still believe the promises will absolutely come to pass, and everything in me longs for that day but they should not be my goals. My goals should be to simply pursue. Run. Chase. Be fulfilled.
I want to spend everyday growing closer to God and learning all of His minute intricacies instead of wishing I were in a pulpit. This should keep me busy for an eternity or so.
I haven’t completely figured it out but I’m working on it. God does want my best, He wants everything I have to give because it’s all His anyway. My best should be given because it is His best, not mine. I am valuable to Him no matter what I accomplish. This is going to take awhile for it to really stick with me.
*Ecclesiastes 9:10
Monday, June 1, 2009
Motion
So I’ve had a rough week. Maybe a rough couple of weeks. I’m going through something that people everywhere go through, that is rejection and confusion. So I wondered where these people find their hope. Psalms. That’s a good idea. I’ll read Psalms.
Being the sensible person that I am I started with the first chapter, with every intention of skipping around its’ 150 chapters until I found a temporarily satisfying one-liner which would remind me of a song which might lift my spirits for the moment. I had high expectations this morning. What I found, in the very first chapter no less, was this:
Blessed is the man
Who does not walk in the council of the wicked
Or stand in the way of sinners
Or sit in the seat of mockers
But his delight is in the law of the Lord
And on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree planted by streams of water
Which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not whither
Whatever he does prospers
What has stood out in these verses to me is the concept of a tree planted by streams of water. The image is stuck in my head. I did not at first get the intention of this image and I misunderstood how this tree would be compared to a blessed man.
A tree is a plant and plants come from seeds. A seed recently fallen onto soft ground has the company of other seeds that are going through the same experience and has the safety of the nearby mother tree.
Then the rain comes and the streams form and carry this seed off from safety and into a world of confusion and unrest. The seed is beaten down and washed away until if it is lucky it finds a soft in the sand where it can bury itself.
The problems don’t end there.
If it is fortunate to plant itself, it will spend the rest of it’s’ life struggling to grow while everything rushes around it. Alone and caught in every piece of debris that floats by. Alone.
And the psalmist compares this sad little tree to a man blessed?
Then the revelation occurred. The light bulb which occupies my brain suddenly was now illuminating my senses.
What I realized is that nothing in this entire universe is standing still. The wind is blowing; the sea is turning and the tectonic plates are shifting. The planet is rotating while it spins itself around a sun that, along with everything else in the universe, is propelling further away from each other and while this is all happening I am getting older. Time just keeps going and going and going. I realized that God is the very motion at the center of it all.
He is the stream, constantly moving forward, around, into, out of, underneath and above all of me and all of everything. The problem then, lies in me.
I see that real reality is motion and I do everything I can to keep up. A tree does not move like a stream.
If God had intended on me keeping up He would have made me a stream. He made me a seed. When I find it is impossible for me to keep up- to reach that impossible standard, to be at all times in tune and willing to follow- I give up. When I say I give up, I really mean that I devote myself to a greater, far more challenging task; that is to make everything else stop. I want today to be just like yesterday when I was comfortable with the other seeds under the shade of the mother tree. I want to be able to control my surroundings and their effect on me. I want some predictability.
Nothing in the universe is standing still, who am I to tell it otherwise?
I can’t keep up so I give up and try to force my surroundings into something I can control. Something consistent, something safe, something stagnant. Of course I fail miserably.
But wait! If God didn’t create me to keep up with Him, He therefore can’t expect me to. His command to me is simply to be still. He says "Be still and know that I am God"*. The beauty lies in the motion and I miss that motion when I kill myself with unreal expectations to move as swiftly as He or to keep everything from moving at all. Be still.
Stop trying to understand where I am going and just stand in awe of the fact that I am going. Let My wind rustle through your leaves and My water over your roots. Look around and be amazed at My motion. Be still and know that I am God.
It makes perfect sense. God created us with full knowledge that we could never be who He is so He uprooted us and planted us right where we could be, in the middle of His glorious motion. He planted us in the exact spot where His motion could benefit us the most. We are perpetually nourished because He has channeled all of His motion into our very roots. It’s only when we sit still that suddenly we start moving, but by no means of our own, upward and outward and every way a healthy tree can grow, reaching our highest potential that was instilled in us by our Creator. Our fruit yields in season and our leaves don’t whither. Whatever we do prospers.
We get to be apart of this motion simply by being planted beside it. The beauty is in the motion. Everything around me may look different tomorrow. Everything in me may feel different tomorrow. I might not like it. I may feel like God has moved me to the wilderness. I might be right. I may feel like God has stopped moving all together but it will be ok. God will move somewhere else the next day and I will be with Him because the beauty is in the motion. My emotions may take a downward spiral to depths unseen, or they may traverse the grey line between despair and contentment but it will be ok. The beauty is in the motion, because the motion is from God and I get to be apart of it.
This still life is no doubt a painful one. It is far easier to get hit by debris when you are standing still, but the chaos of His glory makes it worthwhile to suffer the beating of anything which may float your way. Most assuredly it will be uncomfortable, and you will be scarred by the things you are hit with but you will know that God is at work.
This stream doesn’t end in a ditch. It ends in life, real abundant mouth watering life that can never be quenched by stagnancy. Please note there is a difference between stillness and stagnancy. Stagnancy is refusing to be moved, and stillness is subjecting yourself to a flow other than you own, thus allowing God to move through you.
Stillness also is not spectatorship. Spectators merely watch but we get to be apart of it all. We get to be apart of this motion by moving our roots in the direction the stream is flowing so that this stream flows and picks up more wandering seeds and plants them as it did to us.
Stillness is flexible. It has to be as there will be times when God uproots your fully grown trunk and replants you further down stream in a place where His motion is faster, more powerful and covers all places so that your can receive all the nourishment you have grown to need. It also has to be content knowing that absolutely nothing in it’s power can be done to further along the stream or hinder it from moving a certain way.
The stream is wild and untamable, reckless and powerful. The best thing to be is to be beside it. Still. Watching in awe.
I will finish with an excerpt from T.S. Eliot’s "Ash Wednesday."
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea
Suffer me not to be separated
And let my cry come unto thee
*Psalm 46:10
Being the sensible person that I am I started with the first chapter, with every intention of skipping around its’ 150 chapters until I found a temporarily satisfying one-liner which would remind me of a song which might lift my spirits for the moment. I had high expectations this morning. What I found, in the very first chapter no less, was this:
Blessed is the man
Who does not walk in the council of the wicked
Or stand in the way of sinners
Or sit in the seat of mockers
But his delight is in the law of the Lord
And on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree planted by streams of water
Which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not whither
Whatever he does prospers
What has stood out in these verses to me is the concept of a tree planted by streams of water. The image is stuck in my head. I did not at first get the intention of this image and I misunderstood how this tree would be compared to a blessed man.
A tree is a plant and plants come from seeds. A seed recently fallen onto soft ground has the company of other seeds that are going through the same experience and has the safety of the nearby mother tree.
Then the rain comes and the streams form and carry this seed off from safety and into a world of confusion and unrest. The seed is beaten down and washed away until if it is lucky it finds a soft in the sand where it can bury itself.
The problems don’t end there.
If it is fortunate to plant itself, it will spend the rest of it’s’ life struggling to grow while everything rushes around it. Alone and caught in every piece of debris that floats by. Alone.
And the psalmist compares this sad little tree to a man blessed?
Then the revelation occurred. The light bulb which occupies my brain suddenly was now illuminating my senses.
What I realized is that nothing in this entire universe is standing still. The wind is blowing; the sea is turning and the tectonic plates are shifting. The planet is rotating while it spins itself around a sun that, along with everything else in the universe, is propelling further away from each other and while this is all happening I am getting older. Time just keeps going and going and going. I realized that God is the very motion at the center of it all.
He is the stream, constantly moving forward, around, into, out of, underneath and above all of me and all of everything. The problem then, lies in me.
I see that real reality is motion and I do everything I can to keep up. A tree does not move like a stream.
If God had intended on me keeping up He would have made me a stream. He made me a seed. When I find it is impossible for me to keep up- to reach that impossible standard, to be at all times in tune and willing to follow- I give up. When I say I give up, I really mean that I devote myself to a greater, far more challenging task; that is to make everything else stop. I want today to be just like yesterday when I was comfortable with the other seeds under the shade of the mother tree. I want to be able to control my surroundings and their effect on me. I want some predictability.
Nothing in the universe is standing still, who am I to tell it otherwise?
I can’t keep up so I give up and try to force my surroundings into something I can control. Something consistent, something safe, something stagnant. Of course I fail miserably.
But wait! If God didn’t create me to keep up with Him, He therefore can’t expect me to. His command to me is simply to be still. He says "Be still and know that I am God"*. The beauty lies in the motion and I miss that motion when I kill myself with unreal expectations to move as swiftly as He or to keep everything from moving at all. Be still.
Stop trying to understand where I am going and just stand in awe of the fact that I am going. Let My wind rustle through your leaves and My water over your roots. Look around and be amazed at My motion. Be still and know that I am God.
It makes perfect sense. God created us with full knowledge that we could never be who He is so He uprooted us and planted us right where we could be, in the middle of His glorious motion. He planted us in the exact spot where His motion could benefit us the most. We are perpetually nourished because He has channeled all of His motion into our very roots. It’s only when we sit still that suddenly we start moving, but by no means of our own, upward and outward and every way a healthy tree can grow, reaching our highest potential that was instilled in us by our Creator. Our fruit yields in season and our leaves don’t whither. Whatever we do prospers.
We get to be apart of this motion simply by being planted beside it. The beauty is in the motion. Everything around me may look different tomorrow. Everything in me may feel different tomorrow. I might not like it. I may feel like God has moved me to the wilderness. I might be right. I may feel like God has stopped moving all together but it will be ok. God will move somewhere else the next day and I will be with Him because the beauty is in the motion. My emotions may take a downward spiral to depths unseen, or they may traverse the grey line between despair and contentment but it will be ok. The beauty is in the motion, because the motion is from God and I get to be apart of it.
This still life is no doubt a painful one. It is far easier to get hit by debris when you are standing still, but the chaos of His glory makes it worthwhile to suffer the beating of anything which may float your way. Most assuredly it will be uncomfortable, and you will be scarred by the things you are hit with but you will know that God is at work.
This stream doesn’t end in a ditch. It ends in life, real abundant mouth watering life that can never be quenched by stagnancy. Please note there is a difference between stillness and stagnancy. Stagnancy is refusing to be moved, and stillness is subjecting yourself to a flow other than you own, thus allowing God to move through you.
Stillness also is not spectatorship. Spectators merely watch but we get to be apart of it all. We get to be apart of this motion by moving our roots in the direction the stream is flowing so that this stream flows and picks up more wandering seeds and plants them as it did to us.
Stillness is flexible. It has to be as there will be times when God uproots your fully grown trunk and replants you further down stream in a place where His motion is faster, more powerful and covers all places so that your can receive all the nourishment you have grown to need. It also has to be content knowing that absolutely nothing in it’s power can be done to further along the stream or hinder it from moving a certain way.
The stream is wild and untamable, reckless and powerful. The best thing to be is to be beside it. Still. Watching in awe.
I will finish with an excerpt from T.S. Eliot’s "Ash Wednesday."
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea
Suffer me not to be separated
And let my cry come unto thee
*Psalm 46:10
Thursday, May 28, 2009
The Falling City
This city we've built will crush us all
Lest our backs be against it, it's bound to fall
And I am he with the cardboard sign
Whose doomsday warnings have all been denied
Have we forgotten what we are are protecting?
The in looks like the out and its lost its purpose for erecting
Am I alone among the blind who see
This city is not what we built it to be
We call it denomination, He calls it division
When will we see God has made His decision?
To the outskirts of town outsiders are thrown
While the darkness in our alleyways steadily groans
Lest our backs be against it, it's bound to fall
And I am he with the cardboard sign
Whose doomsday warnings have all been denied
Have we forgotten what we are are protecting?
The in looks like the out and its lost its purpose for erecting
Am I alone among the blind who see
This city is not what we built it to be
We call it denomination, He calls it division
When will we see God has made His decision?
To the outskirts of town outsiders are thrown
While the darkness in our alleyways steadily groans
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Thoughts on a Rough Day
It never ceases to amaze me that God takes my requests seriously. I prayed last week that I could know the pain that the people God has put on my heart, for future reference, that's the prayer God will always take you up on. Paul said once that anyone who wants to follow God will be persecuted. I utterly despise this verse. This means that I can do everything right and still wake up and not know anything. I can spend my life giving advice, and wake up and not know what to tell myself. I know nothing today. I don't know what tomorrow will hold or even later tonight but I'm ok. Here is what I learned today: I would rather spend a thousand years in the confusion and pain of following God's will then a day in the confusion and pain of never knowing God's will. I cannot imagine my life without the illogical peace I have from simply knowing that I don't have to deal with my problems because I have a God who died so He could relieve me. I've learned the difference between happiness the mood and happiness the lifestyle. Needless to say I have a lot I can now share with some people I come in contact with.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
The Cafeteria Church
I have eaten that stuff everyday for 12 years. Everyday I take a little foam tray piled with as much stuff as the lunch ladies will allow me and then sit in the same seat at the same table. All this monotony of lunch has got me thinking.
The first thing I notice when I think about cafeteria food is that it’s not great. That’s easy. Now contrary to popular belief, there are laws and regulations governing what a school can or cannot serve, meaning that even though it is said that the mystery meat is made of student remains, it probably isn’t true. Sure I daily complain about the food but if I’m honest, it’s decent. It’s not Red Lobster but it will at least keep my stomach from making those funny noises of hunger that sound like I’m smuggling guinea pigs under my shirt; which by the way the technical term for a growling stomach is "warbling" (just thought you should know). The lunch isn’t great but it also isn’t completely sickening. Sometimes I think we view the Church the same way.
Our services aren’t great, our offerings aren’t great and our missions and outreaches aren’t great, but they keep our stomach of conscience satisfied for a little while longer. We go for the minimum because all we want is just satisfaction. We do good to please the masses and not great to please our God. We justify this by comparing ourselves to the junk food also available to us, also called "luberwart" (more useless vocabulary knowledge in action). The vending machines being only a few feet away, are filled with food that could instantly clog your arteries with sweet deliciousness (though I am not sure that death by Jumbo Honeybun would necessarily be a bad thing). The Church looks at all the things we have available to us that cause so much harm and we pat ourselves on the back for being an alternative which won’t kill those who partake in it. That my friend, is not why the Church was established. If we are not a great meal, we have no business serving ourselves to the world. Great does not mean big, loaded (or as church people would say "financially blessed") or extravagant but it simply means letting every bite be succulent with the flavor of the Savior.
The second thing I noticed is that many times, I have no idea what the heck I am eating. Is that chewy meatloaf or burnt cornbread? Why does this taco taste have a rasberry after-taste? I have all these questions about the food they serve, but believe me I don't want an answer. I am content not knowing what makes up what I eat at Stockbridge High. We are content not knowing the uncomfortable truths about the God we serve. I don't want to know what part of the cow this chicken came from (that wasn't a typo), and we don't want to know what are our responsibilities as members of the Body of Christ. I am fairly certain we don't completely understand ourselves what it is that we scream at unbelievers and we may not want to know. Is this justification or sanctification? Why do I have to do good things when they tell me it's not about things I do?
No wonder the world is so confused when the people who should be the ones explaining don’t understand themselves. What are we feeding the world?
Just sayin...
The first thing I notice when I think about cafeteria food is that it’s not great. That’s easy. Now contrary to popular belief, there are laws and regulations governing what a school can or cannot serve, meaning that even though it is said that the mystery meat is made of student remains, it probably isn’t true. Sure I daily complain about the food but if I’m honest, it’s decent. It’s not Red Lobster but it will at least keep my stomach from making those funny noises of hunger that sound like I’m smuggling guinea pigs under my shirt; which by the way the technical term for a growling stomach is "warbling" (just thought you should know). The lunch isn’t great but it also isn’t completely sickening. Sometimes I think we view the Church the same way.
Our services aren’t great, our offerings aren’t great and our missions and outreaches aren’t great, but they keep our stomach of conscience satisfied for a little while longer. We go for the minimum because all we want is just satisfaction. We do good to please the masses and not great to please our God. We justify this by comparing ourselves to the junk food also available to us, also called "luberwart" (more useless vocabulary knowledge in action). The vending machines being only a few feet away, are filled with food that could instantly clog your arteries with sweet deliciousness (though I am not sure that death by Jumbo Honeybun would necessarily be a bad thing). The Church looks at all the things we have available to us that cause so much harm and we pat ourselves on the back for being an alternative which won’t kill those who partake in it. That my friend, is not why the Church was established. If we are not a great meal, we have no business serving ourselves to the world. Great does not mean big, loaded (or as church people would say "financially blessed") or extravagant but it simply means letting every bite be succulent with the flavor of the Savior.
The second thing I noticed is that many times, I have no idea what the heck I am eating. Is that chewy meatloaf or burnt cornbread? Why does this taco taste have a rasberry after-taste? I have all these questions about the food they serve, but believe me I don't want an answer. I am content not knowing what makes up what I eat at Stockbridge High. We are content not knowing the uncomfortable truths about the God we serve. I don't want to know what part of the cow this chicken came from (that wasn't a typo), and we don't want to know what are our responsibilities as members of the Body of Christ. I am fairly certain we don't completely understand ourselves what it is that we scream at unbelievers and we may not want to know. Is this justification or sanctification? Why do I have to do good things when they tell me it's not about things I do?
No wonder the world is so confused when the people who should be the ones explaining don’t understand themselves. What are we feeding the world?
Just sayin...
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Why I love failure
I have failed at things all my life. I have always missed the mark in something or not been perfect in another. I am human. When one who is seeking not to fail fails, they stop and see where they went wrong. They look at their mistakes and see what they could have done differently and then do it. They start over again and learn, growing ever closer to perfection. I am perfectly comfortable with this.
When I am not happy, when things don't go well or when I just don't feel the presence of God that I have always felt it's usually because I am not doing something right. I am messing up. So I sincerely say "OK God, I messed up again like I always do. Please forgive me one more time and teach me how I can do this your way, because my way didn't work. Show me what I am doing wrong and help me fix it." He shows me, then helps me fix it. That is the way I have lived my life. I have learned it is easier for me to admit defeat and correct myself than to keep going pretending I'm doing everything right. When I was a little kid, I discovered I could skip the guilt speech I would receive from my parents after doing something wrong by simply sitting myself in time-out before they had a chance to give it to me. I missed the entire guilt trip by only going to what was the unevitable punishment.
Now here is the problem. Sometimes I am not happy because of something God is doing. I just want Him to tell me I'm wrong and start fixing it but instead He says "Keep doing what you are doing, be patient, I'm coming." What!? You mean I have done everything I can do in my own power and I still have to wait on God? That means I have to bear through this unhappiness until God decides to come through. That my friend, is a heck of a lot harder than failure.
When I am not happy, when things don't go well or when I just don't feel the presence of God that I have always felt it's usually because I am not doing something right. I am messing up. So I sincerely say "OK God, I messed up again like I always do. Please forgive me one more time and teach me how I can do this your way, because my way didn't work. Show me what I am doing wrong and help me fix it." He shows me, then helps me fix it. That is the way I have lived my life. I have learned it is easier for me to admit defeat and correct myself than to keep going pretending I'm doing everything right. When I was a little kid, I discovered I could skip the guilt speech I would receive from my parents after doing something wrong by simply sitting myself in time-out before they had a chance to give it to me. I missed the entire guilt trip by only going to what was the unevitable punishment.
Now here is the problem. Sometimes I am not happy because of something God is doing. I just want Him to tell me I'm wrong and start fixing it but instead He says "Keep doing what you are doing, be patient, I'm coming." What!? You mean I have done everything I can do in my own power and I still have to wait on God? That means I have to bear through this unhappiness until God decides to come through. That my friend, is a heck of a lot harder than failure.
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