The single story

In the TED talk The Danger of a Single Story, Chimamanda Adichie discusses the idea that when we have a single frame of reference about a culture or country we define them by it.  An example that she uses is the single story of Africa and how it shapes our preconceived ideas about those who live there, no matter what country they come from.  When I first heard this idea, I was captivated by it.  I began thinking of all the places where I have held a single story and how that has shaped my interactions.  Then I realized that it also applies to individuals as well.  You see we often define the people we know by a single story.  In doing so we often have a hard time seeing them as anymore than that story. This is the main reason why first impressions are considered so important.  Once that impression is made, your story is now set for that person and even your best efforts and intentions may prove futile in the face of it.  I know the truth of this from both having it done to me and having done it to others.  There is a deep tragedy in this, however.  By limiting people in our eyes, we miss out on the beauty they have to offer the world.  They become definable objects that fit nicely into a box rather than being the images of God that they were created to be.

Certainly one of the greatest dangers in this is that we can define people by a single bad experience with them or by a single character flaw.  There is a scene in Lord of the Rings where Faramir, Frodo, and Sam are talking.  Faramir is detaining the two from their mission and Sam is forcefully arguing that those who claim to oppose the enemy should not halt them in their progress.  Faramir looks at one of the men, now dead, who was on their way to attack Gondor and asks if he was truly evil at heart.  It's a poignant moment in the film.  Faramir realizes that there is more to each person than a single story.  Unfortunately, I've done this many times with others.  If I have a sharp disagreement with someone, I am often tempted to define them by this.   Or if they don't agree with my particular political viewpoints or they've made moral choices that I don't agree with, they become that issue. This leads to hatred, anger, racism, and oppression.  Yet I fear this is not the greatest danger that comes from this problem.

I think the more subtle danger to this is far more destructive.  When others begin to see you as a single story, you do the same to yourself.  You project only that which you want others to see you as.  By doing so, you begin to live into a single story.  In my own life, I like when people see me as being adventurous.  And so that is the story of my life that I let people see.  Now certainly I have spent a lot of time doing adventurous activities and extreme sports, but that leaves out a great deal of who I am and what makes me, me.  When we allow ourselves to be defined in this way we become something less than what God created us to be, we become diminished.  It affects everything about us.  We become constrained by this new identity and are unable to become anything more than that.  We begin to give up on the dreams that God himself inscribed on our hearts.

When thinking of the single story, I think about the story of Jesus and the woman caught in adultery.  The pharisees and crowds have identified her by her adultery.  They strip her of any other identity and She embodies adultery to them and nothing more.  The woman herself seems almost resigned to her fate.  She has accepted the single story of herself.  She knows the punishment and waits for the sentence to be carried out.  Then Jesus does something miraculous.  He turns the situation on its head.  Jesus withholds condemnation from her and tells her to sin no more.  He restores her dignity and gives her a chance to rise above the story that she has lived into.  By giving her back her identity as a child of God, she is able to live a more beautiful and grand story. We must learn to do the same.  May we see beyond our own single story that has been defined by others and instead recapture the image of God we were meant to reflect to others.  May we begin to notice the beauty that lies in each person that we meet and resist the urge to define them by a lone character trait or by a single interaction with them.  I want to leave you with this C.S. Lewis quote from The Weight of Glory.  I think it sums up well the incredible nature that humans possess and the nonchalance that we seem to pay it.

"It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which,if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship it, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. ... There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.  Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - These are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors”

We are invited to so much more.  May we live out grand complicated stories and encourage others to do the same.

Built Together

Over the last couple weeks I've been listening to orchestral and soundtrack music.  A couple of my friends recommended it to me and I have to tell you, I love it.  There is a certain epic-ness to the songs.  One of my favorite songs begins with these low ominous notes on the strings.  As the song continues, a soft violin enters in.  It builds and then begins to fade as other instruments joyfully join the music as if they have just been awakened.  It's almost as if the violin is going in search of others to join the orchestral sound.  The song builds throughout until finally about two thirds of the way through the song the violin again takes center stage now accompanied by the full orchestra each doing their own part.  The song crescendos in a beautiful harmony that stirs the soul.  You can't help but feel the moods the composer is trying to convey.  You feel the despair present in the opening, yet the hope found in the violin and finally the joy found in the conclusion of the song and the unity of the entire ensemble.  As I listened to this I was struck by the beauty of it and the similarity that it has with the church, or rather with the church as it should be.

In one sense the church itself is the violin, yet at the same time the church is also the entire ensemble.  You see as the church we are called to be the hope of the world going throughout spreading the good news and be a witness to the very real presence of the Kingdom of God.  The Holy Spirit moves in our midst and desires greatly for us to communicate hope to the tired and broken world around us.  We communicate this not simply by going to church, but by being the church.  In order to be the church we must begin to see ourselves as the entire ensemble.  Whenever I think of community, I often get a picture of uniformity.  Everyone acting a certain way, dressed a certain way, even speaking a certain way.  This is a deeply distorted vision of community, but I think it's held by many people especially in our western society that trumpets the cause of the individual over living in community.  In the orchestra, each person has their own instrument and own music to play.  The sheet music is certainly not the same for everyone, yet they all complement each other to form a greater sound.  The distorted view of community would have everyone playing the same instrument and the same notes.  You would no doubt be bored within a few minutes of listening.  On the other hand, pure individualism would either be a bunch of solo acts or (more likely) simply a cacophony of noise with everyone looking out for their own interests without bothering to listen to the rest of the orchestra for their cues or timing.

In Ephesians, Paul uses a similar analogy to talk about community.  He says that we are being "built together." (Ephesians 2:22).  He's not negating our personalities and our abilities, but rather he is saying that those will be added to the strengths and gifts of others in order that God's kingdom may be known in all its splendor.  It means that the church communicates God's glory in everything they do.  They lift each other up when they have fallen.  They utilize their own passions and strengths to communicate hope to a world filled with despair.  They step out of their comfort zone and take a stand for the downtrodden and helpless.

I have some pretty incredible friends who communicate this message daily in their lives.  Sure you'll see them at church on Sunday praising God, but it doesn't stop there for them.  They go throughout the world enacting change.  I have one friend who worked alongside people from volatile countries working to enact much needed social reform that is seen as subversive there.  I have a friend who started a women's center in Iraq and trains Latinos to go throughout the Muslim world with the gospel.  The list goes on.  They see the life of Jesus and realize that to be the church means to "let His kingdom come, and let his will be done on Earth as it is in heaven."  It means realizing that the task of change is too great for any one person, but that the body of Christ when functioning properly can truly show the reality of God's kingdom here on Earth.

I was walking through the woods the other day with my camera.  A downed tree caught my eye because despite it having split near the base it continued to hang there.  As I looked, I saw a couple Mountain Laurels supporting the weight of this much larger tree.  They had even begun to grow around it.  What a beautiful picture of being the church!  We are to lift up the fallen, support those in need, fight against injustice, give mercy to the suffering.  We are to be built together.

Come and See

One of my favorite comedians, Brian Regan, does this comedy skit about walking on the moon.  He talks about those times when you're in a group of people and everyone tries to one up each other with the stories of their lives.  He talks about wanting to be one of the guys who walked on the moon so that he could just end each of these conversations with, "I walked on the moon."  Competition over, you win.  Isn't that what we do though?  We compete with each other to see whose life is more interesting.  We go back and forth like this hoping that others will notice just how awesome we are.

I've been reading a book entitled Love Does.  It's written by this guy Bob Goff.  When Dos Equis came up with the idea for the most interesting man, I think they based it loosely off this guy's life.  One of the recent chapters that I read was about being secretly awesome.  I loved the concept.  He points out that we're often motivated to tell others about our accomplishments and achievements in order that others can begin to see just how awesome we are.  Just like Brian's comedy skit, our conversations are filled with attempts to show others that we're incredible and worth attention.  Bob challenges this idea and encourages us to find contentment in being secretly awesome.

I'll admit that I often fall into this temptation.  I've been blessed to have some incredible adventures and stories over my life and there are times where I share these in order to garner admiration and respect.  Jesus had entirely different way of doing things.  He routinely chose humility.  In Isaiah, it says, "He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him" (Isaiah 53:2).  Yet there was something so attractive about him that he drew crowds everywhere he went.  In John, it talks about how two of John the Baptist's disciples were following Jesus one day and they asked him where he was staying.  Jesus responded, "Come and you will see."  This invitation radically transforms their lives.  One of these disciples turns out to be Andrew, one of the twelve.  Later, after Jesus calls Philip, Philip goes to Nathaniel and tells him that they've found the Christ and to "come and see."  At this point in the gospel, there is no record of Jesus performing miracles or even teaching for that matter.  Yet, already, these disciples are committed to following Jesus and to learn from him.

You see Jesus didn't need to tell others about his accomplishments or miracles.  He didn't sit down with the Pharisees and compare who was greater by how many people they had healed or demons they had exorcised.  He simply lived an awesome life that drew crowds of people.  His only publicist (if you want to call it that) was a guy who ate locusts and baptized people in a river.  Yet his fame continued to spread and people kept leaving everything and following him.  Even when people started to abandon him and reject him, he didn't stop what he was doing.  He knew his purpose and he was fine living a rejected life.  He was content being secretly awesome.

Our society has trained us to believe that living a secretly awesome life is a poor decision.  Think about it.  When applying for a job, we pack our resumes with every accomplishment and achievement we can think of.  When pursuing a significant other we try to hide our faults and showcase our strengths.  When seeking a promotion at work we convey why we are more deserving than others.  Lets face it, the person who has achieved more and has grander accomplishments is the one who gets the job, the spouse, the promotion etc.  What if we did things differently?  What if instead of boasting in our accomplishments we simply lived a "come and see" life?  What if our lives were filled with so much love for God and for others that people were naturally drawn to us and thereby pointing them towards the Kingdom of God?  This is the kind of life I want to live.  I want to be the kind of person who seeks out others for the sole reason of giving them an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on.  I want to be the kind of person who actively seeks to draw out the beauty within others.  I want to bring restoration and healing to the wounded and broken.  I want to live in a such a way that when people look at me, they see Christ.  I want to live a "Come and see" life.

Living in Hope

Growing up, I had a firm grasp on what it meant to live in hope.  You see I grew up in a military family and hope just seems to come with the territory.  When I was young my dad would go out to sea for long periods of time.  Unfortunately, life didn't stop when he went out to sea.  The first few days were always the hardest.  My mom and I would take turns being strong and would comfort the other.  After all we were in this thing together.  We'd look at my dad's picture and we'd begin to hope and find peace.  I would go off to Kindergarten with a classroom full of students who were in the same boat.  Looking back on it, I have more respect for those teachers.  The did their best to teach us despite knowing that most of their students were dealing with the absence of a parent.  I'd go about my busy Kindergarten day, slaying dragons and resisting the urge to eat playdoh.  When I would get home, my mom would be there to greet me, often wearing a brave smile.  I'd give her a big hug and smile right back.  Dad had left me in charge as the man of the house and I wanted to make sure that I didn't let him down.  Over dinner we'd talk about our days.  Mine was obviously far more exciting, but I'd let her think hers was more interesting anyway.  Every now and then I would ask, "When?"  That's all that was needed.  My mom would smile and say through a slightly cracked voice the day the ship was expected in.  I had something to look forward to.  I had something to put my hope in.  There were some rough nights to be sure.  My dad was (and admittedly still is) my hero and his absence wasn't always easy to take in, but hope is what pulled me through.  Hope is what kept me going. Hope is what made me strong and courageous.

The day would finally come when the ship was due back.  I was so excited that I would be on the verge of tears.  I remember one time, where we got to the dock and the ship was still a little ways off shore.  I can't remember for the life of me why it wasn't docked, all I remember is that it wasn't.  It sat there just out of reach like the cookie jar in the kitchen.  I stared at it, almost willing it to shore.  Eventually the boat docked and the crew came off the ship.  The loved ones found their respective crew members.  There were tears of joy and quiet hugs because no words were needed.  Then I saw him.  My dad in his officer's uniform.  I sprinted to him as fast as I could.  He knelt down and lovingly scooped me into his arms.  He held me tightly and I clung to him.  I wasn't letting go and he didn't mind.  My hope had been realized.


We often forget the power of hope.  I think it's because we've forgotten what we're hoping for.  It's not something distant with a small chance of happening.  It is an ever present reality that Christ calls us friends and has gone ahead to prepare a place for us.  That is where our hope lies.  The end of Revelation is a beautiful thing where Heaven and Earth meet and God reigns with his people.  Where all the present sufferings of this world are washed away and where darkness no longer has any power.  This is the hope that we have in Christ.  That through his death and resurrection we are brought into this wonderful promise.  I want to live a life that looks forward to this reality.  That in the hard times and the joyful times I can look to the cross and remember where my hope is found.  I want to live in such a way where my courage and strength are found in this hope.  A life where I faithfully live out the charge that God has given me and where when I finally see him coming, I can run to him, let him scoop me up into his arms, and embrace me because no words are necessary.

More than Enough

Recently I was translating part of Genesis 3 and as I did so I was struck by the conversation between the woman and the snake.  The snake is telling her of all the things that the tree will give her if she eats of its fruit.  The whole time the snake is convincing her of one thing, she's not enough.  It's a lie.  She was created in the image of God just as man was.  Another book even describes Eve as the pinnacle of creation, God's final creative act that completed creation.  Yet, the snake convinces her that she isn't enough, that there is something that she lacks.  Since that time, this thought or feeling of inadequacy has been passed down to every one of us.  The message may not always be communicated verbally, but is nonetheless communicated clearly:  we aren't smart enough, attractive enough, athletic enough, successful enough.  The message comes in loud and clear from family, friends, teachers, professors, employers, and the media.  We aren't enough.

Many of us have been able to see the lie for what it is and have accepted our identity as being made in the image of God and dearly loved by him.  Not only are we enough, we are of immense worth and value.  Yet despite all of that, there are moments where these thoughts creep in and we're suddenly back in the garden feeling inadequate and insecure.  We carry this baggage around everywhere we go and it infiltrates our conversations and relationships on a routine basis.  As we interact with others, we desire so greatly to be seen as enough that we posture ourselves and attempt to hide our weaknesses while overemphasizing our strengths.  We live wounded lives and thus have wounded and broken relationships.

Something has to be done though.  Too much is at stake here.  When people feel like this, they are losing sight of the identity they have as being made in the image of the holy, sovereign Creator of Heaven and Earth.  They are buying into the lies that cause them to search outside of God for their identity, which leads only to discontentment.  So what is it that we must do as Christ followers?  I was reading from Chasing Francis the other day (a book that I highly recommend to everyone), and I came across the quote, "All ministry comes from the ragged edges of our own pain."  You see it is only by understanding our own brokenness that we are able to help others with theirs.  By seeing how we are healed, we are able to offer healing.  Jesus said, "Do to others as you would have them do to you." (Luke 6:31).  The things that we long for, this is what we must do for others.  We must show others that they are enough, that they are worth our time and are far more important than this week's assignment or this particular task.  That they are indeed an image bearer of the Creator.  Jesus spent his earthly ministry restoring dignity to others, to show them that they are enough, that they are dearly loved.  If we are truly going to follow Jesus, we must do the same.  We must awake the beauty that lies inside each person and help them to see their priceless worth.  We must be courageous and risk our own fragility in order that we may make others strong.  When we do that, we begin to see that we too are image bearers of Christ and we begin to see that we are not fragile at all, but indeed powerful beyond measure.  To close I will leave you with this quote by Marianne Williamson, who says it best:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. 

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. 

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. 

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? 

Actually, who are you not to be? 

You are a child of God.

 Your playing small does not serve the world. 

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. 

We are all meant to shine, as children do. 

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. 

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. 

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. 

As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Always Busy, Never Rushed

I had a long day yesterday.  A very long day.  The day began by getting up at 5:00 am and then leaving for school by 5:30.  The Seminary was doing a Faith in the Marketplace breakfast which is often targeted to businessmen seeking to integrate their faith into their businesses.  It's a great program with interesting speakers and thought provoking conversations.  They also provide scholarships to students, so despite my disdain for early mornings, off I went.  Immediately following the breakfast, I headed to the library in order to write a small paper on a book that I had finished the night before.  With the paper out of the way, I still had another meeting to go to, along with a Hebrew Translation to start and finish, a vocabulary quiz to study for and another class to attend.  Needless to say at 6:45 pm when I walked into Hebrew I was already tired.  Another four hours later, I was finally home and ready to pass out on my bed.  Now I say all this not to earn your sympathy or even to vent, but rather as a confession.

I'd be willing to bet that my schedule above resembles the days of many other people.  The particulars may be different, nonetheless the congestion is undoubtedly similar.  There's a serious problem with this however.  In the midst of our cluttered lives, we miss the opportunity to connect with people in powerful ways.  We miss the opportunity to demonstrate love and compassion and to provide a listening ear to the hurting, or to simply give encouragement.

During my day, I interacted with many people.  As the day began, I was intentional about listening to them and really hearing their hearts, but by the end of the day, I had lost that ability and was completely inward-focused.  As I sat there in the library finishing my translation a few minutes before Hebrew, a friend of mine came in from the picnic that I was missing out on.  He sat down across from me with his plate of food and began working.  My books were scattered over the table and I barely made an effort to make room for him.  My compassion had gone out the window, especially as I eyed the, not one, but two cupcakes on his plate.  I went ahead and moved some things, briefly apologized for my untidiness, and went back to work on my translation.  I got up a number of times to go find commentaries or various other resources.  Then as I was about to finish up, I looked next to my computer and there sat one of the cupcakes from my friend's plate.  An act of compassion when I had given none.  I was humbled and grateful.

I share this story because we need more acts of compassion like that.  My friend's day was just as busy as mine, just as hectic and he was just as stressed, yet he chose to continue to be outward focused rather than being focused on self.  Dallas Willard once said that Jesus was often busy but never rushed.  He's right.  If you look through the Gospels, Jesus was constantly doing something, whether he was on his way to share some word, or perform some miracle, yet he always seemed to have time for someone else to intrude on his personal space.  Look at the story in Luke 8 of the woman who has been bleeding for 12 years.  It says that while Jesus was walking, "the people pressed around him."  I always imagine something like I-95 around D.C. during rush hour when I hear that statement.  He was also on his way to something rather important, a 12 year old was dying.  Then all of a sudden he was touched by this woman and she was healed.  Jesus could have just kept going if he wanted to, but he didn't.  He stopped and asked who touched him.  His disciples thought he was crazy, but he kept asking who touched him until finally the woman stepped forward.  Then he did something even more powerful than the healing.  He restored her dignity.

One of my favorite examples of Jesus' lack of being rushed comes in Mark 10 where he encounters Bartimaeus.  Jesus was headed toward Jerusalem when he is interrupted yet again.  Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, is calling out to Jesus by the roadside.  Now consider what Jesus is about to do.  He is headed toward Jerusalem to die on the cross.  Just a few verses earlier, he foretells his death for the third time.  You could say that he has some things to think about.  Yet, in an incredible moment of compassion and humility, he tells the disciples to bring Bartimaeus to him and asks him, "What do you want me to do for you?"  The King of Heaven and Earth asks a blind beggar what he wants him to do for him even in the midst of his greatest trial.  It seems that no matter how busy Jesus was, he always had time for someone to interrupt.  I think the reason why is because Jesus was concerned with people and with offering hope and restoration.  Jesus understood that if he was too rushed to restore someone's dignity, then he wasn't fulfilling the purpose for which he came.  So why is it that we, as his followers, have somehow missed this point?  We certainly have bought into the busyness of life and have become rushed as a result.  We may carve out time here and there for people and service projects, but how often do we take the time to really hear the person we're talking to?  Do we hear the pain in their voice or the stress communicated through their body language?  I speak of these things as the chief of sinners.  May we gaze together upon the life of Jesus and learn how to be busy, but never rushed.

Child of God

A couple months ago, I was talking with a friend of mine about what God was teaching him over the summer.  This friend is incredibly funny, profoundly creative, and highly entertaining.  All important characteristics for a person involved in the energetic atmosphere of summer camp.  His natural charisma makes him an obvious choice for getting the kids excited and being the center of attention.  Recently, however, he chose to take the behind-the-scenes position instead.  You see, he realized that his identity was in performing for others.  At the beginning of the summer he asked himself the question, "Do I want to be remembered as the person who did that really awesome thing during camp, or that person who poured into my life and showed me Christ?"  After keeping this at the center of his thoughts throughout the summer and through being highly intentional, he was able to begin the process of reclaiming his identity in Christ.  I was moved by his humility and honest reflection on his time in camp.  I found that as he spoke, he spoke words that I needed to hear for my own story.

I've never really considered myself the person who needs to be the center of attention.  I also haven't really considered myself the kind of person who needs the affirmation of others.  It just goes to show how ignorant I can be when it comes to self-awareness.  You see, when I am in conversations with others, I often feel the need to share some profound insight with them.  Things generally come to me in conversations that may or may not be directly linked to the current conversation, but I immediately interject them regardless.  Sometimes these insights are truly profound and come from the Holy Spirit, the problem is that the sharing of them is not always for the edification of God.  Sometimes when I receive affirmation from others due to an insight, I think to myself, "Yep, and you heard it from me."  Okay, maybe not literally, but the point is that I thrive off of that affirmation.  So I continue to offer insights in conversations.  In discussing this with my spiritual director, he helped me to see how I had cultivated this identity that was driven by what others thought of me.  He challenged me to try withholding those insights for a time and to begin rediscovering my identity in Christ.

Since that time, I have tried to stay away from providing insights unless asked.  By simply listening to my friends without trying to provide insights, I've been able to truly hear their stories and their own reflections.  I have been able to see them in a new light and my appreciation for them has grown even more as a result.  It has also been a very humbling activity and has included times where I felt insecure with creeping doubts and concerns that perhaps people thought less of me for not providing some theological truth or some fitting quote to meditate on.  This feeling served to confirm the deeply entrenched roots of this false identity.  My need to be seen as wise had superseded my identity in Christ.

The other day, I had to translate Genesis 3:1-8 for my Hebrew class.  In going through the account of the fall of man, I was struck by the identity crisis that Adam and Eve faced.  The snake in the garden said that they will be like God if they ate of the fruit, but in Genesis 1 it says that mankind was created in the image of God.  They began to see the tree as a giver of a new identity and had lost the identity given to them by God.  Needless to say, I resonated with their choice and shared in their shame.  The wonderful thing is that God is constantly seeking to restore our identity in him.  He is constantly offering us the opportunity to become his child once more.  Throughout the Old Testament we see God pursuing man with the precious gift of his presence.  Jesus gives us the prodigal son who returns home after losing his identity and the father restores him to full rights as a son.  Paul even calls us children of God and coheirs with Christ (Romans 8).  In Ephesians 2, he says that we are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God.   What a wonderful and remarkable identity!  It is so easy to be tempted into allowing others to dictate your identity and who you are, but we must hold fast to the identity that God himself has given us.  So where does your identity lie?  Have you allowed others to dictate your identity based on what they think of you?  May I offer this as a fellow wanderer:  Seize the moment to live into your identity as a child of God.

Behold His Glory

A few months ago, I had the incredible privilege of going to Banff in Alberta, Canada.  While there, I was left in a constant state of breathlessness.  There are truly no words to describe the majesty of the Canadian rockies, no poems to do them justice, and pictures capture but a sliver of their splendor.  While there, I felt a sense of guilt for having the experience knowing that no matter what I tried or how eloquent I was, I could never communicate the majesty of it all to anyone else.  If you've ever read my blog, you know that I like to use experiences from my life to communicate truths about God that I'm learning.  When I first went to Banff, I thought there would be plenty for me to write about, but within moments of arriving, I was laid low and rendered speechless by the majesty.  I struggled for the first few days to put anything to paper because all I could do was say in a hushed whisper, "wow."  It became difficult, because I knew there had to be some kind of insight that God was teaching me, some word of wisdom that I could share with others, but I couldn't put my finger on it.  It is perhaps for that exact reason, that I was unable to see what God was trying to say to me.

The last couple years I have been working hard in Seminary and learning so much.  One of my greatest struggles has actually been getting so wrapped up in intellectual ideas that I become disconnected with the majesty of God.  In my pursuit of knowledge about God, his awesome splendor is often hidden from my gaze.  While in Banff, I realized how deeply that struggle had become ingrained within me.  In his mercy, God placed me in a location where all I could do was remain in a constant state of amazement.  The longer I sat among the awe-inspiring mountains the more I began to realize that this is the stance that I need to take with God.  There is certainly nothing wrong with insights about God or being engaged in intellectually stimulating conversations about theology, but we must return to this splendor time and time again.  For it is the majesty and glory of God that gives us breath and purpose, that gives us courage and strength, and brings that ever necessary state of humility.  Jesus pointed to this countless times and before leaving his disciples, he again pointed to the power and majesty of God.  Paul constantly got caught up with the glory of God as he wrote and found himself incapable of doing anything but praise God.  You see insights can be great and can light a fire inside you, but it never replaces the awe and wonder of God.  May we constantly put ourselves before Him and simply let His splendor wash over us.

Allergies

I hate allergies.  In fact, I loath them.  Several years ago, I began developing seasonal allergies.  They typically begin in Spring and last to early Summer.  Being the outdoors person that I am, one can see my frustration over them.  My favorite season of the year is Spring followed closely by Summer.  My two favorite seasons and they are the time of the year that I feel the worst.  Sometimes my allergies can become so bad that its a wonder I still enjoy these seasons at all.  Yet at the very same time, the temperature outside is perfect, the sun is shining, and the woods are being renewing with vibrant colors.  How could I possibly allow these allergies to keep me from that?

The other day I was talking with a friend who is dealing with a new season of life where he is becoming the caretaker for his mother.  The new challenges that he's facing and the difficulties that he is sure to encounter are daunting.  Many have filled those same shoes before and found it to be the hardest and most painful season of life.  I started thinking about that and began wondering what would happen if we began seeing those things like allergies during the greatest seasons of our lives?  Would we begin to see them not as awful circumstances, but rather indications of a new and wonderful season?  I know it sounds too easy and probably is, but then I think back to the disciples of Christ in Acts.  It would be hard to argue against the fact that that their greatest season of life came after Pentecost, where they saw the church grow in great numbers.  Where miracles happened and faith spread.  Yet in Acts 5:40-41, it says that the apostles were beaten and charged not to speak about Jesus, then they left, "rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name."  Their greatest season of life was marked with some of the greatest oppression of their life.  Instead of allowing that oppression to hinder them, they began to see it entirely differently, they began to see it as part of their glory.

It has often been said that in heaven our sufferings for Christ will be our glories in heaven.  Jesus showed us that that is not just a future reality, but a present one.  When Jesus showed his scars to Thomas, Thomas responded to him by saying, "My Lord and my God!"  You can feel the conviction in Thomas's heart and the you know that Thomas finally gets it.  Jesus' scars were part of his glory.  James says something about this too when he says, "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.  And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing."  Our greatest seasons in life are often marked by the greatest challenges in our lives.

I write this today knowing of many who are going through difficult times.  Some are jobless or looking for a new job.  Some are struggling to find their place in the world, while others are dealing with family issues that are deep and painful.  I know of others who, due to circumstances beyond their control, have been forced to move back in with their parents.  I, myself, am not in a particularly easy season of life and many circumstances are not the way I would have them.  Yet through it all, I wonder if maybe we should begin to see our difficult circumstances as indicators of what could potentially be a great season in life.  Maybe these are simply the allergies that serve to indicate the time to enjoy all that God is doing in the world.  As I write this, I know it sounds overly optimistic and even foolish, yet I can't help but think that Jesus wants us to have an abundant life, where even our struggles and pain lead to amazing and wonderful experiences.  May we enjoy the difficult seasons of life, sniffles and all.

Sent to send away

Lately, I've been struggling with this idea of forgiveness.  With the recent attacks in Boston, I've been moved to ask, "How can we forgive? And what does that look like?"  I don't know about you, but forgiveness is one of the hardest things I'm called to do as a Christian.  I'm often not even sure what it looks like.  I often hear the platitude "Forgive and forget" all the time, but that seems entirely unhelpful when you're in the moment and need to forgive.  It seems that there is even difficulty understanding what forgiveness is and what it includes.  The Greek word used for forgiveness has helped me understand forgiveness in a light.  The word in the Greek is ἀφίημι which translated literally means "to send away."  Whenever Jesus uses it to express his forgiveness he is saying that he has sent away their sins from them.  Their sins are no longer a part of them.  Meditate on that for a second.  The prostitutes that he drank with and the tax collectors that he ate with were entrenched in sin.  Yet Jesus went on to forgive and in so doing he sent away their sins.  When Jesus asks us to forgive he asks us to do the same that he did with others.  Deep within us, we know that we are meant to follow after him, but certainly there are few, if any, more difficult things to do than to love our enemies and forgive them.

In trying to find compassion for my enemies, I was drawn to the passage of the master and the two servants.  One day the master calls in one of his servants.  This servant has borrowed from the master a large fortune and the master has called to collect.  After pleading with the master for mercy, the master decides to forgive the debt.  The same servant then leaves and finds another servant who owes him a small amount of money.  In the exchange the forgiven servant withholds forgiveness for the one that owes him money and throws him in jail.  I was moved by this, because this is what we do every time we fail to forgive.  You see, somehow we often try to say that Jesus forgave those who were torturing him.  We forget that Jesus was tortured for the sins of the world and it was my sins that held him on the cross.  Jesus forgave me, sending away my sins away from me.  How then can I withhold my forgivness when I have been forgiven so much?  As I meditated on this a bit more, I realized that through a deeper understanding of the debt that I owed and the great act of mercy and grace that has been done for me I can find compassion in that place for my enemies.

The apostle Paul once called himself the chief of sinners and yet he modeled Christ to the point where he was able to say, "Imitate me as I imitate Christ."  I think Paul realized that the key to forgiveness and compassion is to see ourselves as truly forgiven and to constantly recall that fact. We must remember who we were as prodigal sons and experience and understand the reality of God's love for us.  By holding the two in sight we realize that we are entitled to nothing and have been given everything.  So if this is true in our lives, should we not then extend that love to others?  It is through our compassion for one another and for the world that they will know we are followers of Christ.  We have been commissioned and sent by God for a specific purpose.  Our sins have been sent away from us in order that we might participate in God's work of sending away the sins of the world.  May we never forget how far Christ descended in order to raise us to life.

 

My rendition of Rembrant's Return of the Prodigal Son

The Risen Gardener

Yesterday, I wrote about the perspective of the disciples on Good Friday.  They were in a state of grief and deep disappointment as they watched their teacher, friend and master crucified and slain to the mocking and ridicule of onlookers.  Their hopes were dashed in an instant.  Jesus was not who they expected.  We often share in that same disappointment.  Sometimes we think God is going to handle a situation a certain way and when he doesn't we're disappointed.  Perhaps its the death of a loved one or a bitter divorce.  Maybe its in the midst of raising a rebellious teenager or the loss of a job.  We become disappointed and think that Jesus isn't who we expected him to be.  We wait, just as the disciples did on that Saturday, without hope, in disbelief, and anger.  But then we slowly begin to hear the soft melody of a song.  The chorus begins to play in our hearts, "Oh death, where is your sting.  Oh Hell, where is your victory."  Its the beginning of hope as it rises within us.  Something new is happening.

That first Easter morning when Mary went to the tomb, she was startled when she found it empty.  She assumed that they had taken Jesus' body somewhere and even told the angels that appeared to her that that was the case.  Her grief over Jesus was palpable in this moment.  In the midst of her weeping she sees a man who she takes to be a gardener.  Indeed, the man is a gardener, but again not the gardener we expect.  He is the Risen Gardener.  He is the one who will make all things new.  Mary's grief and disappointment is replaced with joy and a renewed hope.  As we see Jesus interact with the rest of the apostles and disciples, we see a new hope within them.  Their old dreams of freeing Israel from Rome's tyranny are still gone.  They have been laid to rest in the empty tomb.  In their place however arises a new and greater hope.  A hope in the present and future kingdom of Jesus.  With Jesus' resurrection, he pronounces that the new kingdom has begun.  The next act in history has taken place and he comes as a risen gardener to begin the work of making all things new.

This work begins in us.  The hope of freedom is indeed alive and well in the disciples, but it is not from Rome's tyranny any longer.  It is the hope of freedom over the oppression of sin.  With Jesus' resurrection, he has become king and lord over us.  No longer does sin rule.  His resurrection proclaims that God is king and he is doing something new.  Just as Jesus put to death our sin on the cross by paying for our deserved punishment, he gives us the promise of new life.  His resurrection and identification as a gardener points back to the beginning of creation where God created the garden.  In this garden he raised plants and wildlife and there he chose to place man in his own image and to be his representative in creation.  Yet his resurrection and identification as a gardener also point towards the very end as well where we see the new Heaven and new Earth.  We are able to hear the words, "Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man."  We hear Jesus' words as he says, "Behold, I am making all things new."  Is there any greater news?  God is Lord over the Earth.  One day all of our disappointments will fall away for God will dwell with man once again. 

So on Good Friday we commiserate with the disciples in their disappointment and grief, but we also lay those disappointments before the cross and we wait for God to do something new.  On Easter morning we behold the risen Christ.  Our disappointments are washed away as a new greater hope fills our hearts.  One that points to the forgiveness of our sins and the binding of ourselves together with Christ.  In Christ's resurrection we are risen from the depths of our sin.  We become coheirs with Jesus as celebrate his lordship.  May our hope be made new on this Easter Sunday.  May we revel in the victory of Christ over death.  May we relish in our forgiveness and take joy in the new work that God is doing.  May we set aside the disappointments that we laid at the cross and boldly proclaim, "He is Risen!"  May we hope in the Risen Gardener.

The Disappointing Cross

Yesterday was Good Friday and it got me thinking about what it must have been like for the disciples.  The week leading up to Good Friday was filled with excitement.  Palm Sunday began with the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem.  His followers laid down their cloaks before him and there was a deep sense of excitement among the people.  As the week continued Jesus confronted the Pharisees and his disciples began to wonder.  As N.T. Wright points out, they figured they would have the top jobs of the very Earthly kingdom of Jesus.  Their anticipation grew throughout the week.  Jesus was about to become King and Israel was about to be free.  Then something different began to take shape.

On the evening before he was to be executed, he shared a meal with his closest disciples.  He said to them that one of them would betray him.  Everyone denied it, and why shouldn't they?  Jesus is going to become king, to betray him would not end well and Jesus confirmed that.  Soon after that, Jesus said that they will all scatter and Peter stood up and boasted that he will not.  Put yourself in Peter's shoes.  He has been one of the most intimate disciples of Jesus.  He has declared that Jesus is the Son of God, the Christ.  He and everyone else knows that when Jesus becomes King, Peter will occupy one of the top positions in the kingdom.  Jesus has tried to prepare him for what is to happen next, but they haven't truly heard.  They still do not understand, their hopes lie in the wrong things.

The night Jesus is betrayed, Peter is there.  As the guards grab Jesus, Peter draws his sword and strikes one of them and is then reprimanded by Jesus and the guard is healed.  What must have been going through Peter's mind?  Surely, he would have been completely puzzled.  The man he has followed for three years is now being handed over to those that want him killed.  All of his hopes lie in Jesus and yet Jesus willingly goes with the guards.  This can't be right.  The disciples scatter as Jesus is led to the council of priests and elders.  After following for so long Peter knows nothing else.  This time though, he follows at a distance.  He has been by Jesus' side for so long and yet now he follows in the shadows.  Perhaps he thinks Jesus is up to something.  Or maybe he just doesn't know what else to do.  So he follows... at a distance.

Then Jesus stands before the council, Peter just within earshot.  The priests bring in witnesses each bearing false testimony against Jesus.  Peter hears the testimonies and his blood begins to boil.  He was there, he knows that those things aren't true.  Why doesn't Jesus say something?  Why doesn't he reprove them like he always does?  Something inside Peter wants to shout at the false witnesses and free Jesus from his bondage.  Peter still doesn't understand who is freeing who.  Then the high priest asks Jesus a question, "Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?"  Jesus doesn't respond with a question like he normally does, but merely replies, "I am, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven."  At this the high priest condemns him to death and people begin spitting on and beating him.  They mock and ridicule him.  Peter stands looking on.  What has happened?  How could this have gone so wrong?

He is in shock.  All of his hopes had been in Jesus.  His hope for a better life.  His hope for the nation of Israel.  He has invested the last three years of his life with this man, following him all around Israel and now Jesus is going to be executed.  Peter has seen Jesus calm the storm, feed thousands, heal the sick, walk on water and even bring the dead back to life.  Yet now he watches in horror as Jesus is beaten and carried away to Pilate.  Peter's excitement about the coming kingdom has come crashing down.  He is filled with fear and disappointment.  He is completely alone.  Suddenly someone accuses him of being a disciple of Jesus.  He comes back from within himself and becomes defensive.  He denies ever knowing Jesus.  Things are all a whirlwind around him, two more times he denies Jesus and after the third the rooster crows and something inside Peter breaks.  He has denied the very man he swore allegiance to.  He has denied ever knowing his teacher, his friend, his master.  He is overwhelmed with grief.  You can feel him saying, "Why God!!  Why is this happening?"

It is good Friday and Peter watches as Jesus is nailed to a cross.  He watches as his hopes are dashed.  To Peter the cross brings no hope.  Everything that he had thought about for so long is being washed away by the cross.  He has no hope left, only disappointment, only shame.  To him and the rest of the disciples, it is a disappointing cross.  It is indeed Good Friday, but to Peter and the disciples there is nothing good about it. 


When we observe Good Friday we share in the disciples' disappointments.  How often have we gotten it wrong?  How many times have we expected Jesus to do something a certain way only to be disappointed?  And how many times have we shared in Peter's struggle?  Have we traveled at a distance, while Jesus goes to take our punishment?  How many times have we stood by the fire keeping ourselves warm as Jesus is mocked and ridiculed?  Been embarrassed to stand by his side?  And how many times have we denied our savior?  The disciples didn't understand what Jesus was really up to.  The cross was a disappointment to the disciples.  You can feel the it in them on the the road to Emmaus as they converse with a stranger about Jesus being crucified.  It was a scandalous, disappointing cross and if that was all the story, then it would remain so.  But the story is not over.  When Jesus cries out, "It is finished!"  He doesn't declare the end of the story, only the end of the act, the next part is soon to begin, but until then we wait.  We wait in the disappointment of our hopes.  We wait without understanding.  We look to God and simply ask, "What are you doing?"  He gently tells us, "Come to the scandalous cross and simply wait and see."

Forgive them

"Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."  (Luke 23:34)

Is there any statement made by Christ that better demonstrates his deep compassion and love for the world?  Imagine the scene for a second.  He has been nailed to the cross.  The mockers and scorners continue to condemn him.  The pharisees and rulers are sneering at him while a group of people are casting lots for his clothes.  Most of his friends have abandoned him at this point, one of his closest denied even knowing him, while another was the one responsible for Jesus being apprehended.  Jesus, already weak from flogging and the carrying of the cross, struggles to breathe.  He agonizingly pushes up on his pierced feet gasping for air and cries out, "Father, forgive them!"  The innocent, righteous Son of the Living God asks the Father to forgive his enemies.

In thinking about forgiveness, I'm reminded that whenever someone comes to me for forgiveness, I'm called to forgive, yet this isn't what Jesus is doing here.  Jesus is going far beyond that.  These people who he's interceding on behalf of are the people who are torturing him.  The pharisees are even relishing it, they mock him with cruel jokes.  There is no one here looking for forgiveness and yet Jesus forgives.  Yet this still doesn't quite put a finger what Jesus is doing here, to say that he merely forgives them would be to sell Jesus short.  It is an even more earth-shattering statement than one of simple forgiveness.

The situation is rife with tension.  The Holy One of God is being crucified and the people responsible celebrate his death with a grin.  Feel that anger as you watch on and in the same moment hear Jesus say, "Forgive them."  Jesus hangs upon the cross, crying out to God and asks the Father to forgive these sinners.  The ones who drove the nails through his hands, the ones who spit upon him as he made his way to Golgotha, Jesus intercedes on their behalf in the midst of his persecution, in the midst of his torture.  What a heart of forgiveness.  To be able to be so compassionate and loving that your forgiveness goes beyond simply a personal matter, but goes even to the extent to asking others to forgive in the midst of the torture.  It is no doubt that one of the most difficult teachings of Christ is to love your enemies and here Jesus exemplifies that statement.  Can we have the same courage as Jesus in the way we forgive?  Can we forgive even when not prompted to do so?  We won't always get the apology that we are hoping for.  We won't always be asked for forgiveness, but neither should serve as a qualification for forgiveness.  Can we then ask others to forgive when they are enraged on our behalf?  May we learn to forgive like Jesus, may we develop a heart of compassion that is quick to forgive.

Honor Everyone

In November, theologian and author Miroslav Volf came to speak at Evangelical Theological Seminary.  He masterfully talked about the idea of honoring everyone taken from 1 Peter.  It's a difficult thing to put into practice of course.  How can we possibly honor those who are adamantly opposed to us or those who commit some grave atrocity?  Jesus said to love our enemies as ourselves.  We're often resistant to honoring our enemies, because we see them as worthy of our contempt.  Throughout Volf's lecture, I was struck with how powerful and how right he was.  It got me thinking though, how do we display honor to these people?  How can we move from our scorn and contempt to honor and respect?

I was reading a book for a class recently called Visioneering by Andy Stanley.  It was a powerful book on vision casting and how leaders are to have a clear vision for their ministry and their life.  In his book, he also talked about having a vision for those who work for us so that they can be encouraged to grow and reach their fullest potential.  I think that has a lot of bearing in this idea of honoring everyone.  In order to do that we must begin to see the potential in them that has been clouded by their deeds.  We need to have a vision for others and treat them in a manner that helps them achieve that vision.  Jesus often talks about the now and not yet.  Part of us needs to treat others as though they have already changed and part of us needs to treat others in a manner so that they can change.  It's a delicate balance, but in doing this we learn how to honor others and we replace our contempt and scorn.

Obviously, this must be done with care.  We don't want to change people into images of ourselves, we want to help people mature and grow to be the person that God created them to be.  I think if we aren't careful in the vision we cast, it becomes a way of us trying to control others.  For an excellent example of how to properly cast a vision for someone I turn to The Hobbit.  In Tolkien's classic novel, Gandalf has a great way of demonstrating this concept.  The beginning starts out with Bilbo, the dwarves and Gandalf all at Bilbo's home.  Nobody except Gandalf has any respect for Bilbo, including Bilbo himself.  Gandalf, however, says this, "There is a lot more in him than you guess, and a deal more than he has any idea of himself."  Throughout the rest of the book, Bilbo lives up to Gandalf's praise.  It's a gradual change, but at the end it is unmistakable and Bilbo is a hero and a leader.  It's an incredible transformation that could only have occurred through Gandalf believing in him. What would happen if we did this for others?  If we saw the great potential in them and learned how to bring it out of them.  We are made for redeeming others and we are called to honor everyone.  What better way to honor someone than to offer them restoration!