It is not unusual in Pentecostal ranks to speak of being “soldiers for Christ”. Indeed, the terminology is there, within the New Testament, to promote it. The apostle Paul, in one place, speaks of the “weapons of our warfare”; in another, of putting on “the armor of God”; and in yet another, of our wrestling with “the rulers” of this world’s darkness. In more than three decades of worshiping with this bunch, however, I know of no one who has taken that area of the Gospel and returned to an Old Testament purging of the mass. On the other hand, there’s certainly been enough ludicrousness absorbed into our brand of theology along the way. Enough that, in catching a bit of an early morning television interview with a woman about something called “Jesus Camp”, I freely admit to my not being all that surprised someone might so attempt to politically indoctrinate church kids.
At the same time, however, it’s also no shock to me that Hollywood would so paint us in one of their movies…………
Our mid-week evening service this past Wednesday began a three-part series that would divide the Bible into five acts. The first, of course, dealt with the creation; and if the other four induce as much friction as this one, the next two meetings should be interesting. No; no fisticuffs. No real anger. The moment, though, to say the least, was tense. Or amusing. Take your pick. After more than thirty minutes of peaceful discussion concerning God’s original relationship with Adam in the Garden, one fellow, for whatever reason, dared to ask why dinosaurs weren’t mentioned in the story-line. Immediately the guy just across the aisle from him fired back a round, noting that a huge animal called “leviathan” was referred to several places in Scripture. When that didn’t satisfy the curiosity of the first man, as a timid hush fell over the rest of the sanctuary, his antagonist strongly assured him that neither did the kangaroo get any chapter and verse. So there! It was about that point our pastor asked everyone to bow their heads for dismissal………….
In a world where religious zealots are not only blowing themselves to smithereens, but are also eradicating any and all who do not subscribe to their way of thinking, maybe it’s time to remind “us” that Jesus got pretty basic in His definition of things. Murder doesn’t require twelve pounds of explosives and a detonation switch. Considering, then, that free choice leaves us all pretty well “hair-triggered” to, not just vehemently argue our degree of “right”-eousness, but indeed reduce the other fellow’s value to zero when he refuses to come to our terms. Come on, now. We all believe what we believe; and it’s not so much how loud you get in “defending your turf” as it is what you do with that horizontal flow between you and your neighbor. Does my end of it surface from a well of living water located in my “belly”, or simply spew forth from a heated weapon inside my head? If Christ be in me, does He have my reins or just my membership card?...................
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Sorting It All Out From the Cave................."
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in sermonizing on the righteousness of Christ, refers to Jesus announcing in the Gospel of Matthew that He had not come to destroy the Law, but to fulfill it. Such statement, he says, confused the disciples. How many times had He seemed to contradict that which the religious elite taught as truth? Now He as much as suggests that anyone who disregards the Torah equally rejects Him. Bonhoeffer, though, unravels the enigma. “The Law is not, itself, God”, he attests, “Nor is God the Law. It was the error of Israel to put the Law in God’s place, to make the Law their God and their God a law. The disciples were confronted with the opposite danger of denying the Law its divinity altogether and divorcing God from His Law. Both errors lead to the same result. (God) was swallowed up in the Law and no longer its Lord”…………..
I sat in a monthly prayer meeting this past Sunday evening and listened as the fellow in charge filled the sanctuary with loud, bold declarations from Scripture. His claims had nothing to do with opening up the Word. They had everything to do with, in my opinion, usurping the authority of the Holy Ghost and simply swinging a sword out of his own spirit. Such misuse of chapter and verse, however, is not all that rare any more. Over the last few decades, the Church at large has absorbed so much of what charismatic, television evangelism has presented as Gospel that it’s infected with a disease quite similar to that which plagued the Old Testament Pharisees. I do think in many cases it comes from hearts sincerely practicing what they hold to be truth; but, at the same time, I would also suggest a man’s vanity is easily fed by calling it all “faith”…………
Toward the end of that same service, my pastor came forth to close. Where had he been for the last seventy-five or so minutes? He had been walking with a woman’s new-born baby, here and there on the fringe of the “congregation”, allowing her an opportunity to wade into the water. Now he stood before us with no boast of power, merely a confession of love, for Christ and for this assembly. He spoke of recently sharing a conversation with a new believer and noted that, after thirty years in this, he was more than ever firmly convinced of everyone’s continual need of grace and fresh starts. On that particular foundation he had originally began to build all those years ago and he saw no reason to remove it now. I thought to myself: This man I can follow, for I hear the same Voice as the One within. God, grant me patience to always so find you in the midst of all else……………
I sat in a monthly prayer meeting this past Sunday evening and listened as the fellow in charge filled the sanctuary with loud, bold declarations from Scripture. His claims had nothing to do with opening up the Word. They had everything to do with, in my opinion, usurping the authority of the Holy Ghost and simply swinging a sword out of his own spirit. Such misuse of chapter and verse, however, is not all that rare any more. Over the last few decades, the Church at large has absorbed so much of what charismatic, television evangelism has presented as Gospel that it’s infected with a disease quite similar to that which plagued the Old Testament Pharisees. I do think in many cases it comes from hearts sincerely practicing what they hold to be truth; but, at the same time, I would also suggest a man’s vanity is easily fed by calling it all “faith”…………
Toward the end of that same service, my pastor came forth to close. Where had he been for the last seventy-five or so minutes? He had been walking with a woman’s new-born baby, here and there on the fringe of the “congregation”, allowing her an opportunity to wade into the water. Now he stood before us with no boast of power, merely a confession of love, for Christ and for this assembly. He spoke of recently sharing a conversation with a new believer and noted that, after thirty years in this, he was more than ever firmly convinced of everyone’s continual need of grace and fresh starts. On that particular foundation he had originally began to build all those years ago and he saw no reason to remove it now. I thought to myself: This man I can follow, for I hear the same Voice as the One within. God, grant me patience to always so find you in the midst of all else……………
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Revelation: Part II......................."
The regular monthly scheduled service at the rescue mission was anything but “regular” last Wednesday evening. When the fellow who normally preaches for us couldn’t make it, Bob asked if I could take the helm. In truth, my body was fatigued and my brain was numb; but I agreed, trusting God would provide. Bob, as usual, led them in a hymn and then took prayer requests before singing a special. He’s “at ease” handling that portion of our agenda. He knows many of these men by name and they are friends. This is not, in any way, about opportunity to mount a pulpit and browbeat a bunch of “sinners”. If he does bring forth a bit of the Word, it’s out of a desire that they, too, might share in the joy it has brought him, not some condemnation of what they lack. A few verses of Scripture, a few minutes, and normally he turns it over to someone else. On this night, however, the “river” began to flow………..
As he began his “sermon”, it struck me how he was doing no more than preparing me an excellent foundation for what I intended to set on the table. Speaking to this mini-group of homeless men whose struggles make them no less a candidate for God’s love, my friend began to identify their bodies as a “temple for the Holy Ghost”. He did not deny unto them the possibility of knowing the kingdom by assuming their social status somehow prevented it. He did not require some particular doctrinal command as a key that unlocked the door to our level. Christ was available to anyone who was willing to permit Him into that sacred space. The journey didn’t require walking on water, but a heart that would receive Him on board the vessel. The longer he went, the more Tony and I realized that God had already provided the manna. We needed to do nothing but enjoy the feast……….
The final prayer was neither a call for a show of hands, nor a plea for the “lost” to come forward. It was left as a personal commitment to be arranged between each man and his Maker. The invitation was for all to search themselves, knowing that the promise would meet them where they were. Dogma was for another time, another place. Let the scribes and the theologians debate their demands elsewhere. When all is said and done, what it all boils down to, anyhow, is: “Jesus loves me; this I know”. All other details remain a matter of being educated as you go. You work it out in the trenches. And, if you get it right, what you learn is even as Paul wrote long ago: “If any man think that he knoweth any thing, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to know.” Funny, to me, though, how you never hear that verse brought into any of our religious declarations..........
As he began his “sermon”, it struck me how he was doing no more than preparing me an excellent foundation for what I intended to set on the table. Speaking to this mini-group of homeless men whose struggles make them no less a candidate for God’s love, my friend began to identify their bodies as a “temple for the Holy Ghost”. He did not deny unto them the possibility of knowing the kingdom by assuming their social status somehow prevented it. He did not require some particular doctrinal command as a key that unlocked the door to our level. Christ was available to anyone who was willing to permit Him into that sacred space. The journey didn’t require walking on water, but a heart that would receive Him on board the vessel. The longer he went, the more Tony and I realized that God had already provided the manna. We needed to do nothing but enjoy the feast……….
The final prayer was neither a call for a show of hands, nor a plea for the “lost” to come forward. It was left as a personal commitment to be arranged between each man and his Maker. The invitation was for all to search themselves, knowing that the promise would meet them where they were. Dogma was for another time, another place. Let the scribes and the theologians debate their demands elsewhere. When all is said and done, what it all boils down to, anyhow, is: “Jesus loves me; this I know”. All other details remain a matter of being educated as you go. You work it out in the trenches. And, if you get it right, what you learn is even as Paul wrote long ago: “If any man think that he knoweth any thing, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to know.” Funny, to me, though, how you never hear that verse brought into any of our religious declarations..........
Friday, September 22, 2006
Revelation..............................."
Settling down to sleep the other night, as thoughts were shut down one by one in an attempt to gain entrance into slumber, I caught myself at that final point yet mentally framing an individual utterance over and over again. No complete sentence. No idea at all. So far as in the sense of posing questions concerning it or of phrasing opinions about it. That’s where my mind usually is. But, no; in those last few seconds before consciousness surrendered itself unto infinity, something within me was simply and softly repeating: “Lord God, Lord God, Lord God”. It was a ribbon threaded through my soul connecting me with He unto Whom I bow. I’ve noted it often over the years. It’s just so engrained into who I am that I’ve never considered it before…………
There are those who marvel at the atheist. I think sometimes I understand him better than I do the Christian. We live and breathe, existing on a ball orbiting around a fire in the middle of nothing with eigh…seven other balls, tearing through eternity as a unit unto who knows where, and can in no way define the magnanimity of it all. It leaves me swimming in its depths and represents unto me the One who spoke it into whatever actuality it contains. How is it possible that we, as believers, think we have obtained, via the Book, a concrete definition of such Deity, each of us declaring our own perception to be unique? At best, pen put to paper gives us no more than God’s resume, an outline that gives us direction toward establishing contact…………..
A friend recently shared a photograph of a London graffiti artist who has the local police stumped. It seems he gives expression to his inner thinking by applying soap and water with a shoe-brush to the grime-covered walls about town. After all, what do you do to a fellow who advises the world to “Go Gently” while cleaning up the neighborhood? I’ve certainly no answer for their dilemma. The image, however, of his message giving glimpse to “the other side”, while at the same time making one aware of all the darkness covering everything else, reminded me of my journey, at least, in Christ. Over thirty-four years into this and I find myself yet short of any complete understanding, peeking through the veil, and hungry for Him………….
(to be continued)
There are those who marvel at the atheist. I think sometimes I understand him better than I do the Christian. We live and breathe, existing on a ball orbiting around a fire in the middle of nothing with eigh…seven other balls, tearing through eternity as a unit unto who knows where, and can in no way define the magnanimity of it all. It leaves me swimming in its depths and represents unto me the One who spoke it into whatever actuality it contains. How is it possible that we, as believers, think we have obtained, via the Book, a concrete definition of such Deity, each of us declaring our own perception to be unique? At best, pen put to paper gives us no more than God’s resume, an outline that gives us direction toward establishing contact…………..
A friend recently shared a photograph of a London graffiti artist who has the local police stumped. It seems he gives expression to his inner thinking by applying soap and water with a shoe-brush to the grime-covered walls about town. After all, what do you do to a fellow who advises the world to “Go Gently” while cleaning up the neighborhood? I’ve certainly no answer for their dilemma. The image, however, of his message giving glimpse to “the other side”, while at the same time making one aware of all the darkness covering everything else, reminded me of my journey, at least, in Christ. Over thirty-four years into this and I find myself yet short of any complete understanding, peeking through the veil, and hungry for Him………….
(to be continued)
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Idol-ness............................."
“Creation is what we do while we’re waiting to die. If we’re not, we sit around watching re-runs, eating potato chips and drinking Diet Coke, and we fall asleep. We don’t even know when, out of boredom and frustration, we die. And, even though we will die just the same, we can choose to stay awake, to create. When we create, we live.”…Ralph L. Walstrom, thanks to Whiskey River
Our visit to the Youth Detention Center this past Sunday was one of those where everything we said tied together and felt good coming out, but somehow didn’t necessarily generate any visible response from the kids. That doesn’t mean, of course, that God wasn’t in the mixture. Conversion is always a personal epiphany. Sometimes the heart opens even as the Word comes forth, permitting an obvious flow between vessels. Sometimes the message is stored in a mind that seemingly rejects it, only to sink into the heart at a later date. At any rate, I long ago learned that I’m no more than the pipe through which the outreach comes. It is Christ who creates……………
Deep within each of us is a “plumbing connection” that was lost in Eden. Jesus, via Calvary and a subsequent descent into Hell, restored unto the world that which Adam denied us. Initiating input this side of Heaven, however, remains a chore assigned unto the individual. It is we who have to “re-dig” the well from time to time. It is our will that humbles itself to turn the spigot. If, however, “in spirit and in truth”, we continue to acknowledge our need of His Lordship in our affairs, creation is not a one-time deal, but an on-going operation in our life. Again and again, He speaks and we are not only made new, but also are given purpose in the kingdom……………
I can fully identify with the above quote, having already clarified my view on the terminology utilized. In the school where I work, there is posted over the copy machine the following bit of humor: “The trouble with sitting around and doing nothing is that you never know when you’re done.” Indeed. The truth is: you don’t have to be retired, enjoying your “golden years”, to be atrophied on the living room couch. If nothing else, get up and take a walk. Say hello to the neighbors. And change the route every few days or so. Most importantly, follow His heart, not your own. Ours tends to operate too much out of our head and gets us into trouble………………
Our visit to the Youth Detention Center this past Sunday was one of those where everything we said tied together and felt good coming out, but somehow didn’t necessarily generate any visible response from the kids. That doesn’t mean, of course, that God wasn’t in the mixture. Conversion is always a personal epiphany. Sometimes the heart opens even as the Word comes forth, permitting an obvious flow between vessels. Sometimes the message is stored in a mind that seemingly rejects it, only to sink into the heart at a later date. At any rate, I long ago learned that I’m no more than the pipe through which the outreach comes. It is Christ who creates……………
Deep within each of us is a “plumbing connection” that was lost in Eden. Jesus, via Calvary and a subsequent descent into Hell, restored unto the world that which Adam denied us. Initiating input this side of Heaven, however, remains a chore assigned unto the individual. It is we who have to “re-dig” the well from time to time. It is our will that humbles itself to turn the spigot. If, however, “in spirit and in truth”, we continue to acknowledge our need of His Lordship in our affairs, creation is not a one-time deal, but an on-going operation in our life. Again and again, He speaks and we are not only made new, but also are given purpose in the kingdom……………
I can fully identify with the above quote, having already clarified my view on the terminology utilized. In the school where I work, there is posted over the copy machine the following bit of humor: “The trouble with sitting around and doing nothing is that you never know when you’re done.” Indeed. The truth is: you don’t have to be retired, enjoying your “golden years”, to be atrophied on the living room couch. If nothing else, get up and take a walk. Say hello to the neighbors. And change the route every few days or so. Most importantly, follow His heart, not your own. Ours tends to operate too much out of our head and gets us into trouble………………
Sunday, September 17, 2006
One Day at a Time...................."
One of the Fifth Grade boys I’m working with this year has a history of seizures. His body has never gone into convulsions. He just suddenly goes into a blank stare once or twice a day. He’s there. You have a sense that he’s there. Yet nothing works; and if you don’t support him, he just drops to the floor. Usually, in about thirty seconds or so, the brain makes connection again. He smiles at you and we go back to doing whatever we were doing………..
His limbs are like toothpicks. I believe I could take him by his shirt collar and lift him with one hand. If you ask him, though, he’s proud to right angle either arm and flex his “muscle” for you. Buck teeth, a burr haircut that only seems to make his ears protrude way too much, and a pair of rim glasses give him his own personality. During every recess you’ll find four or five girls escorting him around the playground. Maybe it’s the way he imitates Elvis………..
He looked up at me Friday morning, tears beginning to form in his eyes. It’s my job to assist these kids as they attempt to hang in there with their classmates. I’m their mentor, their scribe, their secretary, and the guy who gives them their tests; but this little fellow is quite the challenge. It’s like, all his life, someone else has ordered his path; and if he has to put pencil to paper, he doesn’t know what to do. I’ve been told to “push”, but it isn’t easy………….
In Psalms we are told “There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God”. When the verse goes on, though, to declare the Creator as being “in the midst of her”, I’m not sure it refers to the river or the city. In Isaiah, the prophet tells the people of Zion to cry out and shout; “for great is the Holy One of Israel in the midst of thee”. Again: the people or Zion? Or does it matter? Maybe what counts is only that life is in Him……………
My head not only doesn’t hold all the answers, often it just overloads and blows a fuse under all the load of what’s out there. How do I help this lad? What does one say to the youth at the Detention Center? The men at the mission? The woman whose mother was just diagnosed with terminal lung cancer? All I know is: I walk by a “hook in my belly” where “deep calleth unto deep”. Sometimes I have to re-dig the well. Other times the flow meets me before my knees hit the floor. Worship takes place. He brings peace…………
His limbs are like toothpicks. I believe I could take him by his shirt collar and lift him with one hand. If you ask him, though, he’s proud to right angle either arm and flex his “muscle” for you. Buck teeth, a burr haircut that only seems to make his ears protrude way too much, and a pair of rim glasses give him his own personality. During every recess you’ll find four or five girls escorting him around the playground. Maybe it’s the way he imitates Elvis………..
He looked up at me Friday morning, tears beginning to form in his eyes. It’s my job to assist these kids as they attempt to hang in there with their classmates. I’m their mentor, their scribe, their secretary, and the guy who gives them their tests; but this little fellow is quite the challenge. It’s like, all his life, someone else has ordered his path; and if he has to put pencil to paper, he doesn’t know what to do. I’ve been told to “push”, but it isn’t easy………….
In Psalms we are told “There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God”. When the verse goes on, though, to declare the Creator as being “in the midst of her”, I’m not sure it refers to the river or the city. In Isaiah, the prophet tells the people of Zion to cry out and shout; “for great is the Holy One of Israel in the midst of thee”. Again: the people or Zion? Or does it matter? Maybe what counts is only that life is in Him……………
My head not only doesn’t hold all the answers, often it just overloads and blows a fuse under all the load of what’s out there. How do I help this lad? What does one say to the youth at the Detention Center? The men at the mission? The woman whose mother was just diagnosed with terminal lung cancer? All I know is: I walk by a “hook in my belly” where “deep calleth unto deep”. Sometimes I have to re-dig the well. Other times the flow meets me before my knees hit the floor. Worship takes place. He brings peace…………
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Fluid Drive............................."
With their school on a one-hour delay this week, the grandsons became part of our morning rendezvous at Bob Evans yesterday. Breakfast had already been devoured and the boys had returned to their individual hand-held game systems while Beth and I tried to enjoy one last sip of hot coffee. A sudden, angry exchange of words, though, quickly put an end to that. In no way was fisticuffs about to erupt, but certainly enough heat had been generated for us to question the friction. As it turned out, in exchanging a chip insert, faulty handling by one or the other of them had resulted in the object’s introduction to a plateful of pancake syrup. At that point, teenage testosterone took over. Mamaw’s intrusion made sure it was short-lived, of course, but neither ever did humble himself to excuse, or take responsibility for, the accident………
If that particular incident, however, tended to stir my thoughts about humanity at large, an almost humorous interaction between me and a little First Grader would later only throw a little more mixture into the pot. Dark-skinned, her hair arranged in three or four braids that protruded in as many directions, she giggled and corrected the school nurse. “My name is not Ah-choo,” she said; “It’s Asia-too!” Learning she had but recently arrived from Africa, I asked what country, laughed with her over our mispronunciation of it, and then googled to discover Mauritania indeed existed in the northeast section of the continent. “Look here.” I said, pointing her to the map; “Here’s where you live: just above Senegal.” Her little brows immediately lifted in contempt at my unintended slur. “SEN-egal?” she huffed; “I am not black!”……….
Pride, prejudice, and a number of other flaws in our genetics. Some of it is bred into us as we go. Some of it is nothing more than who we are right from the start: the initial blueprint missing a vital component. There are those who think Christ a type of “get out of hell free” card, His crucifixion setting in place an eternal forgiveness of the above as long as we meet the doctrinal requirement we ourselves have forged from the Word. Personally, I find Him made a mediator, not only between Heaven and Earth, but between each other in this life. He is a flow that brings healing if I will allow it and a light that brings truth if I will receive it. I am a work in progress, not a finished product, and my relationship with Him hinges on my relationship with others………….
If that particular incident, however, tended to stir my thoughts about humanity at large, an almost humorous interaction between me and a little First Grader would later only throw a little more mixture into the pot. Dark-skinned, her hair arranged in three or four braids that protruded in as many directions, she giggled and corrected the school nurse. “My name is not Ah-choo,” she said; “It’s Asia-too!” Learning she had but recently arrived from Africa, I asked what country, laughed with her over our mispronunciation of it, and then googled to discover Mauritania indeed existed in the northeast section of the continent. “Look here.” I said, pointing her to the map; “Here’s where you live: just above Senegal.” Her little brows immediately lifted in contempt at my unintended slur. “SEN-egal?” she huffed; “I am not black!”……….
Pride, prejudice, and a number of other flaws in our genetics. Some of it is bred into us as we go. Some of it is nothing more than who we are right from the start: the initial blueprint missing a vital component. There are those who think Christ a type of “get out of hell free” card, His crucifixion setting in place an eternal forgiveness of the above as long as we meet the doctrinal requirement we ourselves have forged from the Word. Personally, I find Him made a mediator, not only between Heaven and Earth, but between each other in this life. He is a flow that brings healing if I will allow it and a light that brings truth if I will receive it. I am a work in progress, not a finished product, and my relationship with Him hinges on my relationship with others………….
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Next!..................................."
On September 8th, 1999, my younger brother died, one month after his 55th birthday. An earlier bout with pneumonia had left his body weakened, but the sudden heart attack was nonetheless a shock to the family. Wayne, after a distinguished career in submarines, retired to find subsequent employment with a company that flew him around the world to perform preventive maintenance on our ships. His one love, other than his family, was the Navy. He was a guy who always stayed calm, always looked for the positive side in everything and everyone, and always, always, stood behind this country, ready to give it his all…………
Me? I gave Uncle Sam ten years of my own life back in the 60s, would do it again in a heartbeat if it came down to it, but have long believed in calling a spade a spade. Unlike my brother, I have never had any problem with acknowledging my nation’s imperfections. To my way of thinking, you’ve got to focus on the whole vessel, not just one aspect of it. The engine may be well oiled and hitting on all cylinders; but if the crew isn’t performing likewise, you could have problems. The negative has to be addressed if you hope to improve the other side of the coin. Pretending it isn’t there certainly doesn’t make it go away………….
It often crosses my mind, then, as to what Wayne would think about where September 11th, 2001 has taken us. My own political views are not planted in anybody’s camp. The way I see it: Bush, as Clinton before him, merely occupies the office. We’re all human, even the President, and two years from now we’ll be crowning or crucifying someone else according to our individual liking. Global community, however, is more than any one man, possessing a life that evolves from what we all toss into it; and, when terrorist groups now openly sit in governmental positions, it’s quite obvious to me the next guy elected to the hot seat is already in trouble…………..
Me? I gave Uncle Sam ten years of my own life back in the 60s, would do it again in a heartbeat if it came down to it, but have long believed in calling a spade a spade. Unlike my brother, I have never had any problem with acknowledging my nation’s imperfections. To my way of thinking, you’ve got to focus on the whole vessel, not just one aspect of it. The engine may be well oiled and hitting on all cylinders; but if the crew isn’t performing likewise, you could have problems. The negative has to be addressed if you hope to improve the other side of the coin. Pretending it isn’t there certainly doesn’t make it go away………….
It often crosses my mind, then, as to what Wayne would think about where September 11th, 2001 has taken us. My own political views are not planted in anybody’s camp. The way I see it: Bush, as Clinton before him, merely occupies the office. We’re all human, even the President, and two years from now we’ll be crowning or crucifying someone else according to our individual liking. Global community, however, is more than any one man, possessing a life that evolves from what we all toss into it; and, when terrorist groups now openly sit in governmental positions, it’s quite obvious to me the next guy elected to the hot seat is already in trouble…………..
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Two Days Later......................."
Dietrich Bonhoeffer may have had me excited wading into his “Call to Discipleship”, but when he turned that particular chapter into twenty-two pages of theological parsing, my passion got buried somewhere along the way. Slowly his message (or so it seemed to me) became more a matter of defending his point of view than it was a word of the Lord spoken through Him. Preachers do it all the time. I’ve no doubt been guilty often enough on my own journey. With merely eighteen inches between a man’s ‘belly” and his head, it is easy to sermonize from the wrong source. We think we’re right. The Word backs us up. Therefore we must be right………
In Bonhoeffer’s case, after establishing that God’s voice is an authoritative directive requiring a decision, he begins to examine how different people in the Bible responded to Christ, stating that only through positive choice is it possible to nurture faith. Indeed, he dares to claim it is only those who believe, who obey; and only those who obey, who believe. Somehow that leaves me scratching my head. Such a black and white reduction of the Gospel doesn’t relate to my experience. I’ve missed the mark too many times and know of no one so full of faith because they’ve never followed their own thinking down a wrong path. It doesn’t add up for me………
My dissent with Bonhoeffer is not meant to take away any respect for who the man was. I just wish the two of us could sit down and discuss the matter. Maybe my think brain is missing something. If I could hear the theory expressed in other terms, perhaps the light would come on and we could dance together over the goodness of His grace. There’s no doubt we agree on His Lordship. I just haven’t found such relationship made to exist via some reciprocal equation between faultless faith and obedience. For me, union between us is nurtured through an assurance of His love, given in spite of all my failures. In that I dare to hope and bow to His authority in my life……….
.
In Bonhoeffer’s case, after establishing that God’s voice is an authoritative directive requiring a decision, he begins to examine how different people in the Bible responded to Christ, stating that only through positive choice is it possible to nurture faith. Indeed, he dares to claim it is only those who believe, who obey; and only those who obey, who believe. Somehow that leaves me scratching my head. Such a black and white reduction of the Gospel doesn’t relate to my experience. I’ve missed the mark too many times and know of no one so full of faith because they’ve never followed their own thinking down a wrong path. It doesn’t add up for me………
My dissent with Bonhoeffer is not meant to take away any respect for who the man was. I just wish the two of us could sit down and discuss the matter. Maybe my think brain is missing something. If I could hear the theory expressed in other terms, perhaps the light would come on and we could dance together over the goodness of His grace. There’s no doubt we agree on His Lordship. I just haven’t found such relationship made to exist via some reciprocal equation between faultless faith and obedience. For me, union between us is nurtured through an assurance of His love, given in spite of all my failures. In that I dare to hope and bow to His authority in my life……….
.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
The Knot as I See It...................."
The wife and I had agreed that these early-morning fifteen-minute meetings at Bob Evans didn’t make a whole lot of sense. We both fight traffic to get here; but she has a prior ten-mile roundtrip in the other direction taking the grandsons to school. Nonetheless, there we were again today, listening to Chuck Berry, waiting on my raspberry pancakes and her one egg and toast. A few moments shared with each other and friends. In less than an hour, the bell would ring and I’d be following a trio of Fifth Graders around all day, she’d be up to her ears in tomatoes, making salsa. Logical or not, the rendezvous feeds me in more ways than one……….
We celebrated our 42nd this past April. My birthday next month marks us halfway toward the next rung in the ladder. Our personalities are as opposite as black and white; and I have no idea why she didn’t leave me from the get-go. For the first seven years, all she got from me was a continual move from pillar to post, at one point isolated on a hunk of rock at the far end of the Aleutian Islands. Life has always pretty much been a paycheck to paycheck experience. If money was her motive, there in the beginning, she picked the wrong guy. I, on the other hand, hit the jackpot. In spite of our contrasting views on most matters, where it counts: we are one.............
To be sure, any relationship between a man and woman needs a little romance. Exactly what that equates to, however, is probably an issue individually defined. Beth was never one who appreciated roses or a box full of jewelry. We’ve never gone dancing. Bowling. Camping. A night at the opera. What we have done is share an existence in all that each new day brought to us, worked out the details, and somehow not lose the connection in what drew us to each other in the first place. Whether walking through the mall or just driving down a country road, my heart is tied to hers and I can feel her tug from the other end. In my book, that’s love…………
We celebrated our 42nd this past April. My birthday next month marks us halfway toward the next rung in the ladder. Our personalities are as opposite as black and white; and I have no idea why she didn’t leave me from the get-go. For the first seven years, all she got from me was a continual move from pillar to post, at one point isolated on a hunk of rock at the far end of the Aleutian Islands. Life has always pretty much been a paycheck to paycheck experience. If money was her motive, there in the beginning, she picked the wrong guy. I, on the other hand, hit the jackpot. In spite of our contrasting views on most matters, where it counts: we are one.............
To be sure, any relationship between a man and woman needs a little romance. Exactly what that equates to, however, is probably an issue individually defined. Beth was never one who appreciated roses or a box full of jewelry. We’ve never gone dancing. Bowling. Camping. A night at the opera. What we have done is share an existence in all that each new day brought to us, worked out the details, and somehow not lose the connection in what drew us to each other in the first place. Whether walking through the mall or just driving down a country road, my heart is tied to hers and I can feel her tug from the other end. In my book, that’s love…………
Monday, September 04, 2006
Effervescence..........................."
In the beginning there was excitement. In the darkness of my soul, the Spirit of God spoke over the face of the deep and, in the midst of all that was “church”, I danced and worshipped that One who gave meaning unto the void. I still do. It’s just that nowadays the overflow is contained and, for the most part, reduced, within the sanctuary, to communal wading in the water. My theology, after all, way back there, “fit” the overall consensus of the congregation and didn’t create waves. When you become a “voice in the wilderness”, it had better be the Lord who sets up a pulpit….
I do not feel alone. I do not sit in a cave on Mount Horeb lamenting about myself being the only prophet left; but most certainly this present position does seem to resemble sensing the wind, the earthquake, and the fire while trying to follow that still small voice. Indeed, “self”, as I recently told a friend, might just be the biggest giant in the above scenario; but doesn’t that possibility only lend all the more reason to demand assurance? What I have is a “hook in my belly” and a history of His hand in the journey. Exuberance doesn’t always truth equate to truth….
Still, there is that which “stirs” me. There is that which, on occasion, makes me want to run like Bert Lahr’s portrayal of the blind man in “The Greatest Story Ever Told”. Having just witnessed Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead, he hurries down the road shouting to any and all, “He’s alive! He’s alive!” There yet may come discussion and a trial of his faith; but, at that particular instant, what has been revealed cannot be confined within the vessel. Let all come to their own decision; but whoever will hear, must hear what the Lord has made known in our midst….
Reading Bonhoeffer’s explanation of how the call of Christ can evoke immediate obedience has been that sort of experience for me. The very identity of Who He is somehow enters into all that we are and, from that point forward, nothing else matters. Though it is a surrender made through reverence and love, yet we live to know His next word unto us. We may stumble down the path. We may not understand what the path brings unto us. Nonetheless, from somewhere deep inside we remain connected unto Him by a promise already verified unto us….
This is what I share. With the kids at the Center. With the men down at the mission. With any who would rejoice with me in the way…
I do not feel alone. I do not sit in a cave on Mount Horeb lamenting about myself being the only prophet left; but most certainly this present position does seem to resemble sensing the wind, the earthquake, and the fire while trying to follow that still small voice. Indeed, “self”, as I recently told a friend, might just be the biggest giant in the above scenario; but doesn’t that possibility only lend all the more reason to demand assurance? What I have is a “hook in my belly” and a history of His hand in the journey. Exuberance doesn’t always truth equate to truth….
Still, there is that which “stirs” me. There is that which, on occasion, makes me want to run like Bert Lahr’s portrayal of the blind man in “The Greatest Story Ever Told”. Having just witnessed Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead, he hurries down the road shouting to any and all, “He’s alive! He’s alive!” There yet may come discussion and a trial of his faith; but, at that particular instant, what has been revealed cannot be confined within the vessel. Let all come to their own decision; but whoever will hear, must hear what the Lord has made known in our midst….
Reading Bonhoeffer’s explanation of how the call of Christ can evoke immediate obedience has been that sort of experience for me. The very identity of Who He is somehow enters into all that we are and, from that point forward, nothing else matters. Though it is a surrender made through reverence and love, yet we live to know His next word unto us. We may stumble down the path. We may not understand what the path brings unto us. Nonetheless, from somewhere deep inside we remain connected unto Him by a promise already verified unto us….
This is what I share. With the kids at the Center. With the men down at the mission. With any who would rejoice with me in the way…
Saturday, September 02, 2006
The Source that makes it Work............"
A friend has loaned me a copy of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s “The Cost of Discipleship” and already it’s evident I need to purchase one for myself. Merely one chapter beyond the introduction has me sitting at the computer typing notes to myself on the man’s thinking. His willingness to take a good look at his own preaching, trying to determine if it contained more personal opinions, convictions, and man-made dogmas than it did of Christ. His sharpness in declaring God’s grace being able to maintain its life within us only in as much as we support it with our recognition of that which it absolves. Surely the rest of the book has to be a feast I’ve hitherto somehow missed along the way. For me, it’s always been about the “reality”, not so much about the printed page. If what goes into my head isn’t backed up by what’s in my “belly”, if experience doesn’t reinforce interpretation, then all I’ve got is religion. It might be faith, but faith in what?...............
I’ve never, to my knowledge, listened to any of Rich Mullins’ music, but enjoyed a friend’s recent post woven around a conversation shared between the singer and a missionary in Thailand. Can we be “used” by God? The answer (as my friend put it) seems to lies within the amount of success we achieve in “being” rather than in “doing”. In other words, instead of exhausting ourselves in trying to accomplish what we “think” to be His will, better to “relax” and allow His Will free flow in all that we are. When Jim (another buddy) expresses, then, a revelation of sorts that “living water” is as applicable imagery to utilize in referring to the Indwelling as air, wind, or breath, I find it quite funny how several of us all appear to be wading in the same stream at the same time. It could, of course, be no more than my brain gathering information and applying it to my train of thought at the moment; but, even so, the melody feeding my ego is sweet………….
If that sounds like I’m saying “Oh boy! They agree with me!”, it isn’t the point I’m attempting to convey. Sit the three of us down to discuss the subject and I’m sure that none of us are completely in tune with the other fellow’s viewpoint. In comment to Ron (but one more addition to the above terms) concerning his posts on “fiction” and “friction”, I stated that, for me, it all comes down to the “fire”. In trying to establish unity through a pastor, a dogmatic doctrinal message, fellowship, or anything else other than the Supernatural, we may create community, but it draws its life from something other than Him. These other “objects” may serve, even as we, as vessels for the flame, but they do not replace it. Likewise, define “grace” and “faith” any way you want, but if language is not embodied by the assurance that His Presence brings unto it, we’ve failed in connecting our head to our heart to the pipeline that takes us “through the veil”…………
I’ve never, to my knowledge, listened to any of Rich Mullins’ music, but enjoyed a friend’s recent post woven around a conversation shared between the singer and a missionary in Thailand. Can we be “used” by God? The answer (as my friend put it) seems to lies within the amount of success we achieve in “being” rather than in “doing”. In other words, instead of exhausting ourselves in trying to accomplish what we “think” to be His will, better to “relax” and allow His Will free flow in all that we are. When Jim (another buddy) expresses, then, a revelation of sorts that “living water” is as applicable imagery to utilize in referring to the Indwelling as air, wind, or breath, I find it quite funny how several of us all appear to be wading in the same stream at the same time. It could, of course, be no more than my brain gathering information and applying it to my train of thought at the moment; but, even so, the melody feeding my ego is sweet………….
If that sounds like I’m saying “Oh boy! They agree with me!”, it isn’t the point I’m attempting to convey. Sit the three of us down to discuss the subject and I’m sure that none of us are completely in tune with the other fellow’s viewpoint. In comment to Ron (but one more addition to the above terms) concerning his posts on “fiction” and “friction”, I stated that, for me, it all comes down to the “fire”. In trying to establish unity through a pastor, a dogmatic doctrinal message, fellowship, or anything else other than the Supernatural, we may create community, but it draws its life from something other than Him. These other “objects” may serve, even as we, as vessels for the flame, but they do not replace it. Likewise, define “grace” and “faith” any way you want, but if language is not embodied by the assurance that His Presence brings unto it, we’ve failed in connecting our head to our heart to the pipeline that takes us “through the veil”…………
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