11.30.2005
Caffeine
Found this on Drudge. I knew there was a legitimate reason (other than addiction, of course) why I drink coffee by the gallon.
11.29.2005
Hostages in Iraq
Video and stills of hostages taken in Iraq over at My Pet Jawa. Hat tip: Michelle Malkin.
11.28.2005
The Celtics, Confucius, and Christ
My wife and I went to a Celtics game the other night. I always feel a little ambivalent supporting the Celtics. Usually this is for two reasons: 1) they are awful; 2) I grew up a Lakers fan. The other night I found an additional reason in the form of the the Charlotte Bobcats. Though the Bobcats as a team are actually worse than the Celtics, watching one of their games afforded me the opportunity to see several players whom I like: Kareem Rush, from my alma mater, the University of Missouri, and Sean May and Raymond Felton--both from my favorite college team, UNC.
Most of the game was about as exciting as watching the leaves on a tree fall. I was poised to leave, like at so many other Celtics games, at the end of the third quarter. My wife forced me to stay, however, and I am glad I did. The fourth quarter represented supreme disappointment to the Celtics fans on hand. The Cs had squandered the lead they had held the entire game with lackluster play during the stretch when the game mattered most. Were the game not as close as it was, I'm sure most people would have left already. As it was, my wife and I were standing in the exit, ready to dart out so as to beat the crowd.
With 5 seconds to go and the Bobcats up by one, though, the crowd (and we as well) started to awaken. The Celtics controlled the jump ball in the center of the court and immediately called a time out, so they could set up an out-of-bounds play by their basket. By now the crowd was on its feet, and we were drawn closer to the court. Raef Lafrentz handled the ball on the sideline, the ref blew the whistle, Paul Pierce flashed to the top of the key, where Raef dished him the ball. (The crowd grew suddenly silent in anticipation.) Lafrentz stepped inbounds following his pass and set a screen for Pierce. Pierce dribbled forward, pulled up long enough to get his defender off balance, and then blew right down the middle of the lane. The ball left his hand on the layup, kissed the back of the glass, and fell cleanly through the net as the buzzer sounded. At that, the crowd raised its voice as one, and the roar swelled to Garden levels. All the humdrum of previous 89 minutes was forgotten; all that mattered was the glory-defining heroics of the last 5 seconds. All seemed to leave changed by what they had witnessed.
Reflecting on the game afterwards, I was struck by just how dramatic was the crowds change in demeanor after witnessing the Celtics' last second revival. For some reason this game, and especially the crowd’s reaction to it, reminded me of a shirt I once had. It was given to all the team members of a particular Christian organization that was going overseas for missionary work. The shirt had a nifty design on front, but it was the back which was meant to draw attention. The back was white except for two brief quotations, one on top of the other, the first from Confucius and the second from Jesus. “He who dies the day he finds the way has not lived in vain,” remarked the Asian sage. “I am the Way,” said Jesus in reply.
Judging from the sponsoring organization and the purpose of our trip, it is clear that the intent of the shirt was to emphasize the importance of winning souls to Christ. To be converted, even on one’s deathbed, is of the utmost importance. At the time I agreed whole-heartedly with this sentiment. But recently, while not suggesting that the necessity of conversion be downplayed, I have come to put more emphasis on living rightly in God’s kingdom, in the hope that I and those near me my recognize that God’s rule right here and now. As it is, I/we are too accustomed to reducing the Christian walk to considerations about the afterlife and about one-time decisions to believe in Jesus’ one-time act of death and resurrection.
This having been said, though, in our judicious concern for what a Jesus-directed life looks like, it’s important that we not lose sight of Jesus as we’re concentrating on the life. This is increasingly difficult. I’m very much an advocate of taking stock of the contextual factors—biological, social, cultural—that constrain our ability to arrive at objective knowledge of any subject matter, not to mention God. (Being aware of such limitations facilitates humility and, ultimately, healthier relationships with those with whom we differ on occasion—who are nonetheless our fellow pilgrims.) But most times I don’t need to be reminded of my limitations; I think of them naturally, almost obsessively, and in the process sometimes lose sight of the person whose life guides and gives meaning to my own.
Colossians and Hebrews speak of Christ and the image and representation of God. Jesus’ whole life—birth to death to resurrection—revealed God. Not only did his sacrificial act of God-love anchor us to God’s promises, as Hebrews also states, but his life fleshes out what it means to be faithful to who God is. He is indeed the Way.
A family friend and secretary of C.S. Lewis observed something significant about the British thinker. When Lewis finally became fully focused on God’s revelation in Christ, his work began to bear fruit. This happened, says the friend, only when he lost interest in himself—what he believed, his advancement, his acceptance in the academic community, etc.
The Christian life is about more than making the right decision and going to the right place when one dies. It’s about the life—Christ—embraced and lived out in each one of his followers. It is transformative, as Lewis found. Beyond a mere intellectual point of belief, once grasped, this life unavoidably works change in those searching for the Way.
Most of the game was about as exciting as watching the leaves on a tree fall. I was poised to leave, like at so many other Celtics games, at the end of the third quarter. My wife forced me to stay, however, and I am glad I did. The fourth quarter represented supreme disappointment to the Celtics fans on hand. The Cs had squandered the lead they had held the entire game with lackluster play during the stretch when the game mattered most. Were the game not as close as it was, I'm sure most people would have left already. As it was, my wife and I were standing in the exit, ready to dart out so as to beat the crowd.
With 5 seconds to go and the Bobcats up by one, though, the crowd (and we as well) started to awaken. The Celtics controlled the jump ball in the center of the court and immediately called a time out, so they could set up an out-of-bounds play by their basket. By now the crowd was on its feet, and we were drawn closer to the court. Raef Lafrentz handled the ball on the sideline, the ref blew the whistle, Paul Pierce flashed to the top of the key, where Raef dished him the ball. (The crowd grew suddenly silent in anticipation.) Lafrentz stepped inbounds following his pass and set a screen for Pierce. Pierce dribbled forward, pulled up long enough to get his defender off balance, and then blew right down the middle of the lane. The ball left his hand on the layup, kissed the back of the glass, and fell cleanly through the net as the buzzer sounded. At that, the crowd raised its voice as one, and the roar swelled to Garden levels. All the humdrum of previous 89 minutes was forgotten; all that mattered was the glory-defining heroics of the last 5 seconds. All seemed to leave changed by what they had witnessed.
Reflecting on the game afterwards, I was struck by just how dramatic was the crowds change in demeanor after witnessing the Celtics' last second revival. For some reason this game, and especially the crowd’s reaction to it, reminded me of a shirt I once had. It was given to all the team members of a particular Christian organization that was going overseas for missionary work. The shirt had a nifty design on front, but it was the back which was meant to draw attention. The back was white except for two brief quotations, one on top of the other, the first from Confucius and the second from Jesus. “He who dies the day he finds the way has not lived in vain,” remarked the Asian sage. “I am the Way,” said Jesus in reply.
Judging from the sponsoring organization and the purpose of our trip, it is clear that the intent of the shirt was to emphasize the importance of winning souls to Christ. To be converted, even on one’s deathbed, is of the utmost importance. At the time I agreed whole-heartedly with this sentiment. But recently, while not suggesting that the necessity of conversion be downplayed, I have come to put more emphasis on living rightly in God’s kingdom, in the hope that I and those near me my recognize that God’s rule right here and now. As it is, I/we are too accustomed to reducing the Christian walk to considerations about the afterlife and about one-time decisions to believe in Jesus’ one-time act of death and resurrection.
This having been said, though, in our judicious concern for what a Jesus-directed life looks like, it’s important that we not lose sight of Jesus as we’re concentrating on the life. This is increasingly difficult. I’m very much an advocate of taking stock of the contextual factors—biological, social, cultural—that constrain our ability to arrive at objective knowledge of any subject matter, not to mention God. (Being aware of such limitations facilitates humility and, ultimately, healthier relationships with those with whom we differ on occasion—who are nonetheless our fellow pilgrims.) But most times I don’t need to be reminded of my limitations; I think of them naturally, almost obsessively, and in the process sometimes lose sight of the person whose life guides and gives meaning to my own.
Colossians and Hebrews speak of Christ and the image and representation of God. Jesus’ whole life—birth to death to resurrection—revealed God. Not only did his sacrificial act of God-love anchor us to God’s promises, as Hebrews also states, but his life fleshes out what it means to be faithful to who God is. He is indeed the Way.
A family friend and secretary of C.S. Lewis observed something significant about the British thinker. When Lewis finally became fully focused on God’s revelation in Christ, his work began to bear fruit. This happened, says the friend, only when he lost interest in himself—what he believed, his advancement, his acceptance in the academic community, etc.
The Christian life is about more than making the right decision and going to the right place when one dies. It’s about the life—Christ—embraced and lived out in each one of his followers. It is transformative, as Lewis found. Beyond a mere intellectual point of belief, once grasped, this life unavoidably works change in those searching for the Way.
Bruce Strikes Again
Not satisfied with offering a bounty for the heads of Al-Qaida leaders, Bruce Willis is taking his cause one step further. Reportedly, Willis is in the planning stages for a film depicting the heroics of Deuce Four, the 1st Battalion, 24th Infantry, which is stationed in Mosul, Iraq. Kudos to the Sunday Times of London for mentioning blogger, Michael Yon's dispatches from Iraq.
11.23.2005
Superman Returns
Just saw the trailer for Superman Returns; should be interesting. This quote struck me: "They only lack the light to show the way; for this reason above all--their capacity for good--I have sent them you, my only son."
11.22.2005
Religious Peace Prize
Looks like this week's Religion of Peace prize has been awarded. And the winner is . . .
Reassessing Puritans and Southern Culture
Harry Stout, in Books and Culture, reviews Elizabeth Fox-Genovese and Eugene Genovese's book, The Mind of the Master Class: History and Faith in the Southern Slaveholders' Worldview. Stout compares this work on Southern culture to Perry Miller's on Puritan New England (The New England Mind). Both, he writes, offer reassessments of historical periods and cultures too often seen through the eyes of contemporary political correctness. I haven't read either work, but it's refreshing at least to know that it's still possible to register dissent to commonly-held views and that there are those out there who have to courage to do so. Check out the review.
The God Who Wasn't There
A brief review of Brian Flemmings' latest documentary, The God Who Wasn't There, is up at the Evangelical Outpost. Check it out.
11.21.2005
Looking Outward, part 2 (Shop Girl)
My wife and I went to see a movie the other night. Our intent was to watch Walk the Line--the movie about Johnnie Cash and June Carter Cash. Unfortunately, it was sold out, and we ended up settling for Shop Girl. I'm still reflecting on the movie, but one that that strikes me powerful at this stage is just how much the characters in the movie were driven in their relationship by their own needs, especially Steve Martin's character. Not that this need for self-fulfillment in a relationship is unusual, but it was powerfully portrayed when Ray Porter (Steve Martin) intiated a relationship for the pure purpose of sexual satisfaction, misleading in the process his female counterpart, Mirabelle Butterfield (Claire Danes). The act of betrayal goes far beyond the sexual aspect. Because he's fixated on his own emotionally jaded desires, he's not able to see the dignity of Mirabelle even as he's trampling on it.
Watching the movie I felt fairly uncomfortable, as I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to see others completely free of the needs I feel that I have, needs conditioned through destructive relationships of the past, unhealthy coping strategies of the present, and, ultimately, lack of intimacy with the one who should satisfy all my needs. The reason why I was uncomfortable watching the movie was not because I could safely condemn the character's actions, but rather because in them I saw my own way of relating to God's image-born creatures.
Watching the movie I felt fairly uncomfortable, as I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to see others completely free of the needs I feel that I have, needs conditioned through destructive relationships of the past, unhealthy coping strategies of the present, and, ultimately, lack of intimacy with the one who should satisfy all my needs. The reason why I was uncomfortable watching the movie was not because I could safely condemn the character's actions, but rather because in them I saw my own way of relating to God's image-born creatures.
Looking Outward, part 1 (On the "T")
Why is it so hard to be personal? The other day I was riding on the "T"--the train/trolley/subway for those of you unfamiliar with the Boston transit lingo--next to a female co-worker of mine. Though we were standing right next to each other, we nearly didn't speak with each other. As it happens, before the train arrived, I saw her standing on the platform as I was coming down the stairs. For whatever reason, I decided that I didn't want to speak with her, and deliberately stopped walking so that I would board the train at a location different from her, even though I get along with her well and have stood and conversed with her on the train ride home on numerous occasions. This night, however, I avoided her like the plague.
My plan failed once on the T, though. At one of the stops, the individual standing next to me disembarked, and, as I glanced over, I saw my co-worker less than two feet away from me. The pitiful thing is that I entertained the hope of avoiding her even now by pretending not to see her. The situation was impossibly awkward. I am certain that as I knew she was there, she too realized I stood next to her. Eventually I judged the status quo untenable since we had about 10 stops left before mine, and I initiated a conversation, acting as if I just then spotted her.
It's easy for me to justify my actions. I was tired and a bit grumpy after a long days work and the last thing I wanted to do was force myself to socialize. Being social is difficult enough for me as it is. But the more I reflect on this episode, the more I realize how often I avoid reaching out to engage other people; how little motivated I am to touch a person where he or she lives, in that person's world. Of course I need my recouperation time, as I tell myself, but I fear that I'm not energized enough by Christ's life within me. If I were, I'd be able to act out of his sufficiency, enabled to see the needs of other persons without having to think at every moment what benefit there is for me in this or that relationship or encounter.
My plan failed once on the T, though. At one of the stops, the individual standing next to me disembarked, and, as I glanced over, I saw my co-worker less than two feet away from me. The pitiful thing is that I entertained the hope of avoiding her even now by pretending not to see her. The situation was impossibly awkward. I am certain that as I knew she was there, she too realized I stood next to her. Eventually I judged the status quo untenable since we had about 10 stops left before mine, and I initiated a conversation, acting as if I just then spotted her.
It's easy for me to justify my actions. I was tired and a bit grumpy after a long days work and the last thing I wanted to do was force myself to socialize. Being social is difficult enough for me as it is. But the more I reflect on this episode, the more I realize how often I avoid reaching out to engage other people; how little motivated I am to touch a person where he or she lives, in that person's world. Of course I need my recouperation time, as I tell myself, but I fear that I'm not energized enough by Christ's life within me. If I were, I'd be able to act out of his sufficiency, enabled to see the needs of other persons without having to think at every moment what benefit there is for me in this or that relationship or encounter.
11.19.2005
Second Creation
I've got a lot of posting to do but don't have the energy tonight. FYI, though, the book discussion blog of a buddy and mine is up with two posts. It should be an interesting experience once we actually begin to read and discuss the initial selection, The Drama of Doctrine by Kevin Vanhoozer. Check us out; we're over at Caffeine Overdose or Way Over Our Heads.
11.16.2005
On Freedom
My father-in-law should be pleased by Bush's recent praise for Taiwan as a "model of freedom." I remember how, prior to the 2004 presidential election, certain members of the Taiwanese community where my in-laws live were urging support for Kerry, since Secretary of State Powell allegedly made comments undermining the U.S.'s formal commitment to defend Taiwan in case of an attack on the island. It must be conceded that Bush lauded China for progress on a number of fronts, but you have to hand it to the president for so bluntly endorsing Taiwan's open and free governance.
Underlying Bush's praise is his belief that all individuals, regardless of ethnicity or nationality, yearn for freedom and do so because it's an inherent right. We know what happens when this "right of freedom" runs up against an oppressive government or other dictatorial-type force--conflict and usually suppression. When political freedom is achieved, on the other hand, what results is generally a positive state of affairs for those who value human dignity and choice.
What I've found, however, is that freedom is often the door through which I enter into slavery. I'm free to do what I want, but I act in accordance with who I am. Unfortunately, while I am hopefully becoming more like the Christ whom I follow, I'm reminded regularly that left to my own devices, I'm the anti-Christ.
But about freedom, how much of our life's actions, upon reflection, are consciously or unconsciously enabled by it? What is the goal of that freedom? Or is freedom an end in itself? At the end of the day, am I to be joyful that I have lived as I wanted to? Is this fulfillment? If freedom is, as George Bush seems to believe, the inherent right of man (implied: given by God), what is it's purpose? So we aren't determined robots, as some would argue? I'm interested in hearing personal reflections, deep thoughts, etc. We don't like restrictions to our freedoms, but does our use of freedom bear testimony to its greatness as a right?
Underlying Bush's praise is his belief that all individuals, regardless of ethnicity or nationality, yearn for freedom and do so because it's an inherent right. We know what happens when this "right of freedom" runs up against an oppressive government or other dictatorial-type force--conflict and usually suppression. When political freedom is achieved, on the other hand, what results is generally a positive state of affairs for those who value human dignity and choice.
What I've found, however, is that freedom is often the door through which I enter into slavery. I'm free to do what I want, but I act in accordance with who I am. Unfortunately, while I am hopefully becoming more like the Christ whom I follow, I'm reminded regularly that left to my own devices, I'm the anti-Christ.
But about freedom, how much of our life's actions, upon reflection, are consciously or unconsciously enabled by it? What is the goal of that freedom? Or is freedom an end in itself? At the end of the day, am I to be joyful that I have lived as I wanted to? Is this fulfillment? If freedom is, as George Bush seems to believe, the inherent right of man (implied: given by God), what is it's purpose? So we aren't determined robots, as some would argue? I'm interested in hearing personal reflections, deep thoughts, etc. We don't like restrictions to our freedoms, but does our use of freedom bear testimony to its greatness as a right?
11.15.2005
Bruce Willis versus Osama Bin Laden
Look's like Bruce has finally had it with the shenanigans of Osama b. Laden and Co. Jason at the fabulous Libertas Blog reports on how the Die Hard star has offered a $1 million bounty on the heads of the Al-Qaida A Team. I always thought Bruce was a stud. Demi, what were you thinking?
The New York Times: The Gray Lady or The White Witch?
Ok, I keep trying to give The New York Times the benefit of the doubt. Some people I know and some bloggers either won't read it at all anymore or can't find anything at all positive to say about its coverage. I, however, read it fairly often, though, admittedly, mostly the online edition. And I a actually like the articles most of the time, especially since I'm able to accept the bias inherent in most of the reporting and move past it.
This article on C.S. Lewis and the Narnia Chronicles, however, is trying even my patience. At least try to be subtle in your disdain. I mean, come on! C.S. Lewis' views and the value of his literature, both literary and philosophical, are fair game. There is a point to this article's view that the Chronicles' metaphors aren't disguished very well, but the books were, after all, designed to be children's books first and foremost. Anyway, McGrath goes beyond credible critique and engages in shameless ad hominem attacks.
(hat tip: Double Toothpicks )
This article on C.S. Lewis and the Narnia Chronicles, however, is trying even my patience. At least try to be subtle in your disdain. I mean, come on! C.S. Lewis' views and the value of his literature, both literary and philosophical, are fair game. There is a point to this article's view that the Chronicles' metaphors aren't disguished very well, but the books were, after all, designed to be children's books first and foremost. Anyway, McGrath goes beyond credible critique and engages in shameless ad hominem attacks.
(hat tip: Double Toothpicks )
"'Till Death Do You Part"
Steve Emerson, as reported on The Counterterrorism Blog, reflects on the intelligence victory that the recent capture of the female suicide bomber in Jordan provides. He makes the sobering observation, however, that husband and wife collaboration in such attacks has hitherto been an unconsidered possibility for counterterrorism officials.
Aside from being a scary harbinger of things to come, that husbands and wives would use their unique relationship for the purpose of such destruction is a sad thought. I heard on T.V. this morning, take it for what it's worth, that the woman had lost brothers in U.S. attacks on Iraq. This fact was probably introduced by my local new station to somehow suggest the root cause of her actions is U.S. policy in the region, but I thought it perverse that the response to such pain would be to inflict that very sort of pain on others, Americans or not (in this case, Jordanians). I don't even want to jump into the debate here about whether this is true Islam or Islam hijacked, but one can't help but note when confronted with so obvious an act of human (not inhuman) anger just how different the way of Christ is. Superhuman love and forgiveness stand in contrast to our anger and revenge.
Aside from being a scary harbinger of things to come, that husbands and wives would use their unique relationship for the purpose of such destruction is a sad thought. I heard on T.V. this morning, take it for what it's worth, that the woman had lost brothers in U.S. attacks on Iraq. This fact was probably introduced by my local new station to somehow suggest the root cause of her actions is U.S. policy in the region, but I thought it perverse that the response to such pain would be to inflict that very sort of pain on others, Americans or not (in this case, Jordanians). I don't even want to jump into the debate here about whether this is true Islam or Islam hijacked, but one can't help but note when confronted with so obvious an act of human (not inhuman) anger just how different the way of Christ is. Superhuman love and forgiveness stand in contrast to our anger and revenge.
Shift in Jordanian Sentiment?
Athena at Terrorism Unveiled observes a shift in opinion among Jordanians about Al-Qaida. She makes an distinction between sympathy for and aid to Al-Qaida in Jordan. Certaintly the former is not excusable, but it's at least a little more understandable, especialy given the distorted picture that Arab governments and media have been feeding the public about the nature of the West (read, "America") and its ambitions in the region. Individuals do bear responsibility for buying in to such distortions and outright lies, but it's often difficult, given the lack of freedom to voice dissent and openly debate issues related to the fundamental nature of their own governments. Sometimes, regretably, it takes a harsh event like the recent bombings in Amman to clarify for people the end game of destructive ideologies.
Roger Simon
Roger Simon's profile is up at Pajama's Media. If you haven't had a chance to read his blog, you should; it's entertaining and informative.
11.13.2005
Life Fully Lived
My wife and I had one of our bi-monthly conversations about "life issues" the other day. As usual when this happens, we were discussing our future plans. You can never be sure in marriage, but I believe we can away with a sense of mutual agreement (I guess agreement is always mutual, huh?) and shared expectations. We'll see, though . . .
As we're both more conscious now--partly due to the clarity that is the invariable result of working through difficult times in life--that a life that is not fully lived is hardly worth living, we're in the process of trying to understand what fully lived means for us. I tend to agree with a friend of mine that the Christian life is as much about life now as it is about the afterlife. By saying this I do not mean to suggest either that heaven will be as ho hum as this world seems at times or that it's not something to yearn for; rather, I'm simply suggesting what is a fairly ordinary concept: the eternal kind of life is a life that is lived in an eternal kind of way right now. Jesus certainly didn't spend his life teaching his disciples and those who would listen about what the Kingdom of God was all about simply so they would be prepared for it when they died. No, armed with this radical personal revelation of what it means to live in God's presence, they were to begin living before him right then and there.
Heaven will certainly be the consumation that will make life as we know it now dim in comparison, but we are not to wait until then to live a heavenly type life. In as sense, our realm here is a sort of testing ground, one that transforms us as much as teaches us. This is why the author of 1 Peter tells a group of persecuted Christians that they are to "rejoice, " though they are suffering hardships , since "the tested genuiness of your faith . . . may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ." But while the focus sometimes is put on the future revelation, important emphasis must be given to 1) rejoicing now and 2) faith being tested and made genuine now. The salvation that is the outcome of the tested faith, moreover, forms the basis for the author's instructions on how to live in this present time.
All this is to state the obvious: that God cares how we live now as his disciples. Back to my conversation with my wife. We realized that coming to turns with the need to live life fully involves a lot of considerations. Leaving aside the particulars for now, such as what exactly we will do, it involves at least two key steps: 1) having clear expectations, that is, realizing that hardships very likely will be a reality; and 2) trusting God when hardships arrive.
These seem like simple and straightforward concepts, but for us they are not. We have to steer clear of the rosy pictures that we often paint of our future, on the one hand, and on the other avoid the trap of fixating on the worst possible scenarios, which tends to cause obsessive worry. Of course, we, being who we are, tend to be chronic worriers. Only problem is that I also am a hopeless dreamer. You see the problem. Adding to my consternation is an overactive instrospection; a pensiveness run awry. I don't trust my insticts as they're always corrupted. This means that I can't confidently lead my wife down any path, especially one that involves possible danger and deprivation, since I'm likely only pursuing a phantom that is the product of misdirected impulses to please God through stamping my name on the pages of history. Perhaps I'm a Christian megalomanic. Well, there's the diagnosis: paralysis by introspection. Prognosis: not good. Outlook: twenty to thirty years of desk jobs. Ugh.
Despite my reversions to a pessimistic outlook--see the last paragraph--our discussion was positive and has spawned (I love that word), what I want to call in advance, productive reflection. Growing in the kind of Christ-conscious, Kingdom of God, life-lived-now that I've been ruminating on means, I believe, not only making ourselves available for the Lord's transformative work here on Earth but also being cognizant of God's using us while he's doing it. Other people are much better at achieving this recognition than I am, but I want to do better, because it's honoring to God when I acknowledge his ability to use me in whatever situation I'm facing at the moment, regardless of my weaknesses. It's not about me, it's about him. I'm tired of only being able to see how God has used me and me/my wife in retrospect; I want to see him working now.
As we're both more conscious now--partly due to the clarity that is the invariable result of working through difficult times in life--that a life that is not fully lived is hardly worth living, we're in the process of trying to understand what fully lived means for us. I tend to agree with a friend of mine that the Christian life is as much about life now as it is about the afterlife. By saying this I do not mean to suggest either that heaven will be as ho hum as this world seems at times or that it's not something to yearn for; rather, I'm simply suggesting what is a fairly ordinary concept: the eternal kind of life is a life that is lived in an eternal kind of way right now. Jesus certainly didn't spend his life teaching his disciples and those who would listen about what the Kingdom of God was all about simply so they would be prepared for it when they died. No, armed with this radical personal revelation of what it means to live in God's presence, they were to begin living before him right then and there.
Heaven will certainly be the consumation that will make life as we know it now dim in comparison, but we are not to wait until then to live a heavenly type life. In as sense, our realm here is a sort of testing ground, one that transforms us as much as teaches us. This is why the author of 1 Peter tells a group of persecuted Christians that they are to "rejoice, " though they are suffering hardships , since "the tested genuiness of your faith . . . may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ." But while the focus sometimes is put on the future revelation, important emphasis must be given to 1) rejoicing now and 2) faith being tested and made genuine now. The salvation that is the outcome of the tested faith, moreover, forms the basis for the author's instructions on how to live in this present time.
All this is to state the obvious: that God cares how we live now as his disciples. Back to my conversation with my wife. We realized that coming to turns with the need to live life fully involves a lot of considerations. Leaving aside the particulars for now, such as what exactly we will do, it involves at least two key steps: 1) having clear expectations, that is, realizing that hardships very likely will be a reality; and 2) trusting God when hardships arrive.
These seem like simple and straightforward concepts, but for us they are not. We have to steer clear of the rosy pictures that we often paint of our future, on the one hand, and on the other avoid the trap of fixating on the worst possible scenarios, which tends to cause obsessive worry. Of course, we, being who we are, tend to be chronic worriers. Only problem is that I also am a hopeless dreamer. You see the problem. Adding to my consternation is an overactive instrospection; a pensiveness run awry. I don't trust my insticts as they're always corrupted. This means that I can't confidently lead my wife down any path, especially one that involves possible danger and deprivation, since I'm likely only pursuing a phantom that is the product of misdirected impulses to please God through stamping my name on the pages of history. Perhaps I'm a Christian megalomanic. Well, there's the diagnosis: paralysis by introspection. Prognosis: not good. Outlook: twenty to thirty years of desk jobs. Ugh.
Despite my reversions to a pessimistic outlook--see the last paragraph--our discussion was positive and has spawned (I love that word), what I want to call in advance, productive reflection. Growing in the kind of Christ-conscious, Kingdom of God, life-lived-now that I've been ruminating on means, I believe, not only making ourselves available for the Lord's transformative work here on Earth but also being cognizant of God's using us while he's doing it. Other people are much better at achieving this recognition than I am, but I want to do better, because it's honoring to God when I acknowledge his ability to use me in whatever situation I'm facing at the moment, regardless of my weaknesses. It's not about me, it's about him. I'm tired of only being able to see how God has used me and me/my wife in retrospect; I want to see him working now.
11.11.2005
Space Invaded
Life seems so meaningless at times. We have created ways to make our lives more secure, through technology, education, the internet, you name it, and yet nothing quite works to alleviate the gnawing sense of instability. We can achieve a measure of security, but can we really have true stability without meaning. Perhaps I'm just projecting, but looking around at others my age (29) and younger, I'm left with the impression that meaning is no longer an operative concept; it's proven to be too elusive to grasp and fashion life around.
So we shove such destructive doubts away just so we can function. Secretely, of course, we're just waiting for the other shoe to drop. But we don't want to admit that openly, because there's a pact that we have with other similarly insecure individuals that forbids such honest exchange. In reality, though, the emperor has no clothes: our socially constructed meaning expressed in terms of progress, wealth, home-ownership, city-league softball, PTA meetings--you know, the building blocks of the all American way off life--is not meaning at all, but rather a coping strategy to keep us otherwise so occupied that we don't have time to think about discomforting issues of this type. We build a wall to keep reality out.
It's amazing, though, how reality sometimes invades our space. God is intimately aware of our subterfuge, our attempts to disconnect ourselves from life that is infused with his meaning-giving presence. Sometimes he uses hardships, such as the miscarriage that my wife and I endured and struggle even now to process, events that themselves seem so meaningless that we can't believe God could orchestrate them. Such doses of reality leave us wishing for a little more illusion. How could this be worse than following someone who crushes us inexplicably? The answer to that question is not always clear, but in the asking we are forced to grapple with him who cannot be confined by our contrived standards of happiness.
This is where the quote above is relevant. When the Green Knight appears on the scene, Sir Arthur and his entourage of like-minded chivalrous and heroic knights are gathered for a banquet that is to feature the usual--food, games, and entertainment. His presence and challenge, however, radically alter the life of Gawain, who has to come to terms with the Knight's imposing persona and his own weaknesses. Ultimately, though, it is the Green Knight's actions, which determine the denouement of the action.
Kenneth Bailey, in a book I'm currently reading, points out how Jesus' parable of the Prodigal son highlights a father who is on the surface a typical Middle Eastern patriarch; yet the father's actions radically depart from the expected pattern of behavior in that, or any, culture. Up until the actual physical reunion of the father and son, the son intended to manipulate his father so that he could avoid the public humiliation that would otherwise be the effect of his having squandered his inheritance in Gentile environs; he still saw the problem as one of money and shame. The father's proactive act of reconciliation disolved this notion. As Ibn al-Salibi, an early Arabic commentator puts it, "Why did he not say to the father, 'Fashion out of me one of your paid craftsmen,' when he had planned to say it? The answer is that his father's love outstripped him and forgiveness was everflowing towards him."
Reality invades our space. Meaning is in this reality that comes from outside us, and the beautiful thing is that when we embrace it, with all it's complexity and inability to be contained, life here and now is actually worth living. I don't know what this looks like in full, and I doubt anyone does, but that shouldn't stop us from exploring it further.
So we shove such destructive doubts away just so we can function. Secretely, of course, we're just waiting for the other shoe to drop. But we don't want to admit that openly, because there's a pact that we have with other similarly insecure individuals that forbids such honest exchange. In reality, though, the emperor has no clothes: our socially constructed meaning expressed in terms of progress, wealth, home-ownership, city-league softball, PTA meetings--you know, the building blocks of the all American way off life--is not meaning at all, but rather a coping strategy to keep us otherwise so occupied that we don't have time to think about discomforting issues of this type. We build a wall to keep reality out.
It's amazing, though, how reality sometimes invades our space. God is intimately aware of our subterfuge, our attempts to disconnect ourselves from life that is infused with his meaning-giving presence. Sometimes he uses hardships, such as the miscarriage that my wife and I endured and struggle even now to process, events that themselves seem so meaningless that we can't believe God could orchestrate them. Such doses of reality leave us wishing for a little more illusion. How could this be worse than following someone who crushes us inexplicably? The answer to that question is not always clear, but in the asking we are forced to grapple with him who cannot be confined by our contrived standards of happiness.
This is where the quote above is relevant. When the Green Knight appears on the scene, Sir Arthur and his entourage of like-minded chivalrous and heroic knights are gathered for a banquet that is to feature the usual--food, games, and entertainment. His presence and challenge, however, radically alter the life of Gawain, who has to come to terms with the Knight's imposing persona and his own weaknesses. Ultimately, though, it is the Green Knight's actions, which determine the denouement of the action.
Kenneth Bailey, in a book I'm currently reading, points out how Jesus' parable of the Prodigal son highlights a father who is on the surface a typical Middle Eastern patriarch; yet the father's actions radically depart from the expected pattern of behavior in that, or any, culture. Up until the actual physical reunion of the father and son, the son intended to manipulate his father so that he could avoid the public humiliation that would otherwise be the effect of his having squandered his inheritance in Gentile environs; he still saw the problem as one of money and shame. The father's proactive act of reconciliation disolved this notion. As Ibn al-Salibi, an early Arabic commentator puts it, "Why did he not say to the father, 'Fashion out of me one of your paid craftsmen,' when he had planned to say it? The answer is that his father's love outstripped him and forgiveness was everflowing towards him."
Reality invades our space. Meaning is in this reality that comes from outside us, and the beautiful thing is that when we embrace it, with all it's complexity and inability to be contained, life here and now is actually worth living. I don't know what this looks like in full, and I doubt anyone does, but that shouldn't stop us from exploring it further.
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