It is blasphemously cold tonight, but that does not concern her.
She slips out of the window, planting her bare feet in the blanket of snow of the overhang. The thin green flannel afghan is all that shields her frailty from the intrusion of the wind.
The crescent moon hung low in the sky, the better half of it shrouded by the shadow cast by the earth. She glances up, knows the metaphor painted in the night sky is reflected in earthly caution, in contrivance. She knew someone once who only allowed certain bits of brilliance to be reflected in his words and actions toward her. The meaning, the motive was always shrouded.
Whether this was perception or reality, she did not know. At least with the rotating, spinning, revolving bodies in the universe, there were discernable laws of gravity and energy governing their motion. Calculation and observation could always be counted upon to unveil some kind of understanding or new theory.
Paradoxes and paranormal. Seems to reflect the dual, contradictory nature of quantum physics.
The moon, however shrouded and mysterious, still seemed familiar and true when compared to the infinitely burgeoning universe.
She swings the telescope to focus on two distant points of light. One burns brightly, hard and bright and blue. A brilliant star in its prime. The latest observation and mathematical calculations conclude the star is barely 5 million years old. It has been burning, emanating energy, pulsating and releasing light and heat into the cold and dark of space. Nearby planets and moons find themselves gravitating, settling in toward it, compelled and seduced by its youth and brilliance.
But again, this does not concern her.
Lingering in its shadow, the star is dying, a nebula unfolding and collapsing and surrendering to the chaos and order, dictated by physics and time. As the light and dust swirls together, she imagines a lone astronaut soaring through its tendrils, ephemeral and gentle. His ship brazenly floats past the point of no return, seduced and thrilled by thoughts of death, and of immortality. He is fascinated, obsessed, slightly suicidal, but mostly passionate. He is searching for life, for the power to master his destiny and his love.
The terror of exploring the universe shrinks in comparison to pushing on through the mystery of another human being.
She shivers, draws the blanket closer around her, thinks she should go inside.
But she remains outside for a few more moments, luminous, lonely and wholly captured by the myth unfolding above and within her.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
the orchard
She stood among the dirt and leaves, sweat dripping from her brow. The garden and the trees and flowers shimmered around her, shivering in the wind with delight. The fragrance of the orchard rose up lazily, playfully up into the air.
Round and round the plot of land, swirled a high stone wall, breached only by a swinging, ivy-grown gate.
A few had dared to enter, even fewer had been welcome, but she always took immense pleasure in showing stray visitors the intricacies and complexity of the orchard in its design and intention. Spontaneity and improvisation burst forth, evidenced by certain random flourishes wrought by a steady, distracted hand. Both erratic and impeccably structured, chaos found its soulmate in beauty. Blossoms and fruit of all colors dotted the canopies and limbs and boughs of gnarled, twisted trees, sunning marvelously in the brilliance of daylight.
She never turned anyone away who might chance to knock on that gate, although most would never make it past the first winding row of arbors. These casual connossieurs marvel at the fruit, some even bold enough to pluck a fat, juicy apple from the boughs and admire the sheen and polish they saw from afar, though seemingly up close. And soon, the momentary admiration, genuine and deliberate, would be forgotten in an instant.
Others strolled beneath the leaves and scent and sun, wishing to take their time. These moments, she adored, eagerly inviting them to sample additional flavors. The soil was well tended, the condition of the trees scrupulously cultivated, and the color, quality and freshness of fruit meticulously monitored. Sometimes, she would give up contrivance, surrendering with a laugh that echoed like a tinkling bell, and the leaves all rustled in sighing agreement.
Even a few imps managed to scale the gate, tumbling down in a clumsy, haphazard, uncontainable frenzy, surprising, annoying, though eventually delighting her.
One or two chose to breathe deeply, lying beneath the branches, staring up at the midsummer sky, smelling the earth and vapors released so cavalierly, idealistically into the atmosphere, the pungent and sweet aroma drifting into the breeze, mixing and blending with floating dandelion seeds, then merely drowned away by summer rainstorm or whisked off into oblivion by a sudden wind.
But for you, she swings the gate open wide, wider than any other soul that has dared to venture through this beautiful, chaotic, unmeasurable mess of an orchard.
Yet your eyes see only locks, bolts, daggers and angelic swords of fire barring the way. She has reacted before, and called down fiery angels in the past, but they never obey her whim anyway. The gate has served its purpose she designated at its creation.
I passed by there earlier this week, quite puzzled and strangely moved to find the gate torn down.
Perhaps one day, the earth beneath this not-so-secret orchard may one day find its path, beaten and beautiful with the footprints of those beyond her own choosing.
Round and round the plot of land, swirled a high stone wall, breached only by a swinging, ivy-grown gate.
A few had dared to enter, even fewer had been welcome, but she always took immense pleasure in showing stray visitors the intricacies and complexity of the orchard in its design and intention. Spontaneity and improvisation burst forth, evidenced by certain random flourishes wrought by a steady, distracted hand. Both erratic and impeccably structured, chaos found its soulmate in beauty. Blossoms and fruit of all colors dotted the canopies and limbs and boughs of gnarled, twisted trees, sunning marvelously in the brilliance of daylight.
She never turned anyone away who might chance to knock on that gate, although most would never make it past the first winding row of arbors. These casual connossieurs marvel at the fruit, some even bold enough to pluck a fat, juicy apple from the boughs and admire the sheen and polish they saw from afar, though seemingly up close. And soon, the momentary admiration, genuine and deliberate, would be forgotten in an instant.
Others strolled beneath the leaves and scent and sun, wishing to take their time. These moments, she adored, eagerly inviting them to sample additional flavors. The soil was well tended, the condition of the trees scrupulously cultivated, and the color, quality and freshness of fruit meticulously monitored. Sometimes, she would give up contrivance, surrendering with a laugh that echoed like a tinkling bell, and the leaves all rustled in sighing agreement.
Even a few imps managed to scale the gate, tumbling down in a clumsy, haphazard, uncontainable frenzy, surprising, annoying, though eventually delighting her.
One or two chose to breathe deeply, lying beneath the branches, staring up at the midsummer sky, smelling the earth and vapors released so cavalierly, idealistically into the atmosphere, the pungent and sweet aroma drifting into the breeze, mixing and blending with floating dandelion seeds, then merely drowned away by summer rainstorm or whisked off into oblivion by a sudden wind.
But for you, she swings the gate open wide, wider than any other soul that has dared to venture through this beautiful, chaotic, unmeasurable mess of an orchard.
Yet your eyes see only locks, bolts, daggers and angelic swords of fire barring the way. She has reacted before, and called down fiery angels in the past, but they never obey her whim anyway. The gate has served its purpose she designated at its creation.
I passed by there earlier this week, quite puzzled and strangely moved to find the gate torn down.
Perhaps one day, the earth beneath this not-so-secret orchard may one day find its path, beaten and beautiful with the footprints of those beyond her own choosing.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
hope is cynicism's antithesis.
Since Jeanne and I have been in Sydney, we've had numerous opportunities to attend Hillsong Church. I have listened to Hillsong music and worship CDs and DVDs since at least middle school, and my appreciation for their music was renewed in the past few years thanks to Hillsong United. I'm grateful for not only experience the atmosphere of worship at this church, but also meeting people and joining the community here, which has been so pivotal to our transition to life in Sydney.
A few weeks ago, Jeanne and I attended a prayer event at Hillsong Church. The entire Hills Campus was packed out, filled with thousands of people who simply came to pray and worship together. As usual, the music and worship was incredible, energetic and passionate, as I've come to accept as norm from this church, as they are known all over the world as a church that worships God with passion and excellence.
Coming from Status at Discovery Church, my experience at Hillsong often seems worlds apart. This prayer event event made me contemplate the differences I've noticed in all the different Christian churches and organizations I've been a part of over the years. On the bus ride home in the evening rain, I pulled out my trusty moleskine notebook and began to jot down all the observations I've made about these organizations and my experiences within them: Status, Hillsong, the Restoration Movement, Campus Crusade for Christ, Desire Street Ministries, Reformed churches. As I began to write and brainstorm, rather than emphasize all of the weaknesses and flaws which I have often been so quick to point out and pick apart, I began to recognize how important each of these strengths were. And each group has them.
Here is a sampling:
As I began to write these lists, I became aware of the differences. I love how the Christian Church/Restoration movement is so passionate about learning Scripture. I appreciate Campus Crusade's emphasis on training people for evangelism. I am grateful for Status for allowing me to be part of a community that is open-minded and filled with creative, intellectual types. I love the tradition, liturgy and intellectual challenge that Reformed theology has taught me. I value how Desire Street Ministries/Rebirth International have taught me how social justice and care for the poor are not merely peripheral issues to the kingdom of God. And I love how passionate and emotional and honest people are about faith here at Hillsong, and how this church has had a global influence.
I also began to realize how many of the strengths also become weaknesses when pushed to the extreme. I realize how an emphasis solely on doctrine can become legalistic. How cultural relevance and open-mindedness can often foster jadedness, cynicism and doubt. How an emphasis on the blessings of God can turn into prosperity gospel. How evangelism alone can neglect a life of true discipleship and social justice. How an emphasis strictly on social justice and care for the poor can replace rather than be the manifestation of truth. I recognize all of the potential pitfalls and actual flaws.
But I'm at the point where I am weary of criticizing and constantly evaluating what I think is lacking in churches, and I am more or less concerned with my own attitude. I am extremely humbled by my own inability to proclaim truth, to be joyful, to be emotionally honest about God and am slowly realizing that I am in a place where I want to learn from the community here at Hillsong. For all of these potential pitfalls and actual flaws, I'm just grateful for the community that is so welcoming, emotionally honest and incredibly fixed on simply proclaiming truth, living it out, and serving.
I am weary of exclusivity and doubt and legalism and permissiveness and fear and pride and everything in between that I see being lived out in churches and communities. But I am far more concerned at this point with my own heart, attitude and place within this marred, beautiful, flawed mess known as the Church. I want to be open to hope, to actually proclaiming truth, to serving and simply being sensitive and obedient to the Spirit in the day-to-day.
"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we[a]have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." Romans 5:1-5
A few weeks ago, Jeanne and I attended a prayer event at Hillsong Church. The entire Hills Campus was packed out, filled with thousands of people who simply came to pray and worship together. As usual, the music and worship was incredible, energetic and passionate, as I've come to accept as norm from this church, as they are known all over the world as a church that worships God with passion and excellence.
Coming from Status at Discovery Church, my experience at Hillsong often seems worlds apart. This prayer event event made me contemplate the differences I've noticed in all the different Christian churches and organizations I've been a part of over the years. On the bus ride home in the evening rain, I pulled out my trusty moleskine notebook and began to jot down all the observations I've made about these organizations and my experiences within them: Status, Hillsong, the Restoration Movement, Campus Crusade for Christ, Desire Street Ministries, Reformed churches. As I began to write and brainstorm, rather than emphasize all of the weaknesses and flaws which I have often been so quick to point out and pick apart, I began to recognize how important each of these strengths were. And each group has them.
Here is a sampling:
As I began to write these lists, I became aware of the differences. I love how the Christian Church/Restoration movement is so passionate about learning Scripture. I appreciate Campus Crusade's emphasis on training people for evangelism. I am grateful for Status for allowing me to be part of a community that is open-minded and filled with creative, intellectual types. I love the tradition, liturgy and intellectual challenge that Reformed theology has taught me. I value how Desire Street Ministries/Rebirth International have taught me how social justice and care for the poor are not merely peripheral issues to the kingdom of God. And I love how passionate and emotional and honest people are about faith here at Hillsong, and how this church has had a global influence.
I also began to realize how many of the strengths also become weaknesses when pushed to the extreme. I realize how an emphasis solely on doctrine can become legalistic. How cultural relevance and open-mindedness can often foster jadedness, cynicism and doubt. How an emphasis on the blessings of God can turn into prosperity gospel. How evangelism alone can neglect a life of true discipleship and social justice. How an emphasis strictly on social justice and care for the poor can replace rather than be the manifestation of truth. I recognize all of the potential pitfalls and actual flaws.
But I'm at the point where I am weary of criticizing and constantly evaluating what I think is lacking in churches, and I am more or less concerned with my own attitude. I am extremely humbled by my own inability to proclaim truth, to be joyful, to be emotionally honest about God and am slowly realizing that I am in a place where I want to learn from the community here at Hillsong. For all of these potential pitfalls and actual flaws, I'm just grateful for the community that is so welcoming, emotionally honest and incredibly fixed on simply proclaiming truth, living it out, and serving.
I am weary of exclusivity and doubt and legalism and permissiveness and fear and pride and everything in between that I see being lived out in churches and communities. But I am far more concerned at this point with my own heart, attitude and place within this marred, beautiful, flawed mess known as the Church. I want to be open to hope, to actually proclaiming truth, to serving and simply being sensitive and obedient to the Spirit in the day-to-day.
"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we[a]have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." Romans 5:1-5
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Invisibility
II Corinthians 4:16
"So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day."
Today, I read an article by Richard Foster, author of Celebration of Discipline. In it, he describes this verse as expressing tenacity, "we do not lose heart"; realism "outer nature is wasting away"; optimism "being renewed"; and progression "day by day."
But the main emphasis and thrust of this passage focuses on the "invisible nature of the undertaking to which we are to give our lives."
Lately, I have been frustrated with the idea of the hiddenness of God. The truth which I have been wrestling with is epitomized in Romans 12:2: "Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is: his good, pleasing and perfect will."
I have always believed in the fundamental truth and promise of this particular verse. I believe in the physics of it, the mechanics of it. In theory.
Yet it seems, the longer I live and the more I experience life and see of this world, the more I encounter confusion and complexity, with no specific voice, no writing on the wall, not even an inner voice. It's been all process, internal revelation, a slow burning transformation that rarely finds its way to the surface. It seems no matter how hard I strive or surrender or even fail or abandon, I cannot seem to gain clarity on a specific path or vision, the way most others seem to.
And I know comparison is a dangerous game to play. I recognize the fallacy of such thinking.
But it seems that former dreams and visions and passions have shed their idealistic fervor and have been more or less placed on a spiritual back burner of cynicism and a reality check.
I often forget the invisible nature of this kingdom of which I am supposedly a part.
I forget that God is Spirit, and that His most intense, glorious and divine work is often done in the invisible--not the visible--realm.
I have to remember this on days when I feel like all my preparation and experience has come to nothing.
On days where dreams and visions that once seemed so vibrant seem to have been swallowed up in the culture and chaos and confusion of life.
When it seems that for all of my most valiant efforts (and also lack of any effort at all: I am guilty of both extremes), my own end goal is ultimately thwarted. This goal, poetically enough is often, unbeknownst to me, an attempt to control, rather than to surrender my own will and purposes.
Despite the constant call and command to manifest the life of Christ before us through love, community, service, I am compelled to now balance this manifestation with an understanding of an invisible, greater spiritual reality.
And it is this hiddenness of God that supposedly holds the greater blessing. This is what all the saints were commended for, as we read in Hebrews 11 and 12.
Richard Foster writes: "Faith involves an entering into the knowledge of the invisible, spiritual world and a living on the basis of that knowledge. And as we do this with regularity and persistence, we will discover that "our inner nature is being renewed day by day."
Though this does not necessarily grant me any more specific direction (with no proverbial light shed) in regard to career or vocation, this is enough to silence the pessimist in me at least for today, replacing my slip shod cynicism with minute amounts of hope and faith. And to also trust that ultimate reality--centered both on an invisible, all powerful Creator as well as a living, breathing, fleshed-out God Man--is some unique combination of both mystery and clarity.
While discussing my frustration with all of this yesterday, my good friend Chalis told me: "I wonder these things too, sometimes. And maybe I'll wonder them until the end. Or maybe purpose just unfolds as we go, and God is more the one laying it out, instead of us nobly pursuing it."
Perhaps the real journey simply lies in day-to-day pursuit of God and God alone-not even his gifts, blessings, or even purposes-just Him.
What Chalis said struck a chord with me deep within my soul because she reminded me that this trajectory of faith is neither a noble, idealistic pursuit, nor is it a resignation to cynicism and unbelief. It is simply a constant surrender, a laying into the wind of the Spirit to simply KNOW Him, to trust that relationship that He himself builds, initiates, and causes to grow.
I am now aiming to follow a trajectory of faith, rather than infinite resignation.
"So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day."
Today, I read an article by Richard Foster, author of Celebration of Discipline. In it, he describes this verse as expressing tenacity, "we do not lose heart"; realism "outer nature is wasting away"; optimism "being renewed"; and progression "day by day."
But the main emphasis and thrust of this passage focuses on the "invisible nature of the undertaking to which we are to give our lives."
Lately, I have been frustrated with the idea of the hiddenness of God. The truth which I have been wrestling with is epitomized in Romans 12:2: "Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is: his good, pleasing and perfect will."
I have always believed in the fundamental truth and promise of this particular verse. I believe in the physics of it, the mechanics of it. In theory.
Yet it seems, the longer I live and the more I experience life and see of this world, the more I encounter confusion and complexity, with no specific voice, no writing on the wall, not even an inner voice. It's been all process, internal revelation, a slow burning transformation that rarely finds its way to the surface. It seems no matter how hard I strive or surrender or even fail or abandon, I cannot seem to gain clarity on a specific path or vision, the way most others seem to.
And I know comparison is a dangerous game to play. I recognize the fallacy of such thinking.
But it seems that former dreams and visions and passions have shed their idealistic fervor and have been more or less placed on a spiritual back burner of cynicism and a reality check.
I often forget the invisible nature of this kingdom of which I am supposedly a part.
I forget that God is Spirit, and that His most intense, glorious and divine work is often done in the invisible--not the visible--realm.
I have to remember this on days when I feel like all my preparation and experience has come to nothing.
On days where dreams and visions that once seemed so vibrant seem to have been swallowed up in the culture and chaos and confusion of life.
When it seems that for all of my most valiant efforts (and also lack of any effort at all: I am guilty of both extremes), my own end goal is ultimately thwarted. This goal, poetically enough is often, unbeknownst to me, an attempt to control, rather than to surrender my own will and purposes.
Despite the constant call and command to manifest the life of Christ before us through love, community, service, I am compelled to now balance this manifestation with an understanding of an invisible, greater spiritual reality.
And it is this hiddenness of God that supposedly holds the greater blessing. This is what all the saints were commended for, as we read in Hebrews 11 and 12.
Richard Foster writes: "Faith involves an entering into the knowledge of the invisible, spiritual world and a living on the basis of that knowledge. And as we do this with regularity and persistence, we will discover that "our inner nature is being renewed day by day."
Though this does not necessarily grant me any more specific direction (with no proverbial light shed) in regard to career or vocation, this is enough to silence the pessimist in me at least for today, replacing my slip shod cynicism with minute amounts of hope and faith. And to also trust that ultimate reality--centered both on an invisible, all powerful Creator as well as a living, breathing, fleshed-out God Man--is some unique combination of both mystery and clarity.
While discussing my frustration with all of this yesterday, my good friend Chalis told me: "I wonder these things too, sometimes. And maybe I'll wonder them until the end. Or maybe purpose just unfolds as we go, and God is more the one laying it out, instead of us nobly pursuing it."
Perhaps the real journey simply lies in day-to-day pursuit of God and God alone-not even his gifts, blessings, or even purposes-just Him.
What Chalis said struck a chord with me deep within my soul because she reminded me that this trajectory of faith is neither a noble, idealistic pursuit, nor is it a resignation to cynicism and unbelief. It is simply a constant surrender, a laying into the wind of the Spirit to simply KNOW Him, to trust that relationship that He himself builds, initiates, and causes to grow.
I am now aiming to follow a trajectory of faith, rather than infinite resignation.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
portrait of the artist by an easel
First, blank.
With all the pure vision
of the glory self in mind
a far-off, luminous sight
Now, shrouded and mysterious
by an eternal, ephemeral cloud bank
Creation begins.
A singularity
A kiss
A brushstroke.
Then, with pure and tentative movements
You, slowly and deliberately
Pour Your colors deep into me
Every earthen fiber
and golden sunrise
I breathe in Your breath
still gasping
through
rough edges of
a stiller rougher canvas
Swift and risky
and always tender motion
is the dance of Your hand
upon me.
Sometimes harsh angles
Overlaid with softer curves
Soon,
a pattern, emerges,
Intricate and beautiful
and I imagine
in my mind's eye
Passer-bys pass You by
and, overlooking your shoulder,
Scrutinize the surface
and marvel at the making
critique the composition
and wonder at the source
while still You paint on.
the pattern, oft hidden from their eyes
as well as mine
unfolds in the rarest of times
and the cloud bank rolls its chaos away
but only too briefly
to reveal
in one breathtaking moment of clarity
that,
(like the angel trapped in marble)
we are ever-chiseled and ever-freed
by Love and Truth
and we are all works of art
in progress.
With all the pure vision
of the glory self in mind
a far-off, luminous sight
Now, shrouded and mysterious
by an eternal, ephemeral cloud bank
Creation begins.
A singularity
A kiss
A brushstroke.
Then, with pure and tentative movements
You, slowly and deliberately
Pour Your colors deep into me
Every earthen fiber
and golden sunrise
I breathe in Your breath
still gasping
through
rough edges of
a stiller rougher canvas
Swift and risky
and always tender motion
is the dance of Your hand
upon me.
Sometimes harsh angles
Overlaid with softer curves
Soon,
a pattern, emerges,
Intricate and beautiful
and I imagine
in my mind's eye
Passer-bys pass You by
and, overlooking your shoulder,
Scrutinize the surface
and marvel at the making
critique the composition
and wonder at the source
while still You paint on.
the pattern, oft hidden from their eyes
as well as mine
unfolds in the rarest of times
and the cloud bank rolls its chaos away
but only too briefly
to reveal
in one breathtaking moment of clarity
that,
(like the angel trapped in marble)
we are ever-chiseled and ever-freed
by Love and Truth
and we are all works of art
in progress.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
the universe (infinitely expanding?)
I waved hi at you.
The universe, eternal in its expansion.
I reside here, trapped in a bubble which will never quite reach
yours.
You waved at me through galaxies
and planet rings and dying stars.
The sadness hidden in your confident gaze
pierces my soul,
sending twinges and tiny pints and packets
of regret
Because of this shared knowledge
you and I, our paths collided
one sweltering afternoon.
And together we stared down the beast.
Laughing, resigning, with a carefree grin,
and a seared conscience in tow
You tore after the beast, chasing her
down, across the galaxy,
passing through a rift in the sky
where the universe is rent apart
and through that tiny, impenetrable tear,
you disappeared.
The planets danced and sparkled
and you found solace, in skin upon skin
in breath and tears
mingled together.
I stood watching part of myself
tear through the night sky
marveling at your path
twisting out of sight,
departed from mine.
until you were nothing but a memory
a conversation on a darkened porch
a gaze I once held
a voice I once recognized,
and loved.
since then, I've paddled along
quite calmly
along a starlit river
never once sensing my world
to be muffled with
so animal a presence.
that universe pulls farther and farther away from me
and I watch, waiting silently
as it stretches on by.
The universe, eternal in its expansion.
I reside here, trapped in a bubble which will never quite reach
yours.
You waved at me through galaxies
and planet rings and dying stars.
The sadness hidden in your confident gaze
pierces my soul,
sending twinges and tiny pints and packets
of regret
Because of this shared knowledge
you and I, our paths collided
one sweltering afternoon.
And together we stared down the beast.
Laughing, resigning, with a carefree grin,
and a seared conscience in tow
You tore after the beast, chasing her
down, across the galaxy,
passing through a rift in the sky
where the universe is rent apart
and through that tiny, impenetrable tear,
you disappeared.
The planets danced and sparkled
and you found solace, in skin upon skin
in breath and tears
mingled together.
I stood watching part of myself
tear through the night sky
marveling at your path
twisting out of sight,
departed from mine.
until you were nothing but a memory
a conversation on a darkened porch
a gaze I once held
a voice I once recognized,
and loved.
since then, I've paddled along
quite calmly
along a starlit river
never once sensing my world
to be muffled with
so animal a presence.
that universe pulls farther and farther away from me
and I watch, waiting silently
as it stretches on by.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
on Romans 12...
I've been incredibly thirsty for Scripture lately. Traveling throughout Australia has brought a lot of wonder, beauty, enjoyment deep into my soul lately, but there's something about the incessant transience of life that occasionally makes it difficult to find true moments of reflection and solitude. And so I've felt that lack in the past week, leading up to the past few days.
I'm reading a book called Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Mitchell. Following a personal crisis, she traveled through three countries (Italy, India and Indonesia) in order to connect with herself and something divine, through food in Italy, meditation in India and love in Indonesia (so the book says... I haven't gotten to Indonesia yet).
I've appreciated this book because in its own quirky way, it's forced me into a place of self-reflection. Not overanalysis, which I've been incredibly guilty of over the course of my life in various times. I'm realizing more and more that while introspection has its merits (this coming from a someone who has been journaling since the age of 7. True Story!), often overanalyzing situations, other people and their motives and even the innerworkings of my own mind has the potential to be incredibly destructive. Overanalyzing, I'm slowly realizing, is often a symptom of my attempt to control situations and other people, rather than a genuine search for truth and understanding that transforms.
THAT kind of truth is what I'm thirsty for.
Before I left for my trip to Australia, my good friend Josh lent (indefinitely?) me a book called Invitation to Discipline by M. Robert Mulholland Jr. I think he initially gave it to me due to my ongoing obsession with all things Myers-Briggs. It's a book about spiritual formation, and incorporates Myers-Briggs as a means for understanding our own tendencies and how they relate to spirituality.
I'm not going to get into it right now, but suffice it to say that this book has been sinking deep into my consciousness over the past couple of months. It's the kind of book that you digest slowly over time. And must be internalized. And I highly recommend it to you, my lovely readers, who stalk my blog, unbeknownst to me.
But, as a warning... only read it if you are prepared to get your butt kicked.
Anyway, I was reading something simple in Romans, and it caught me off guard. It's a simple verse: Romans 12:12. It says "be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer."
Seems innocuous enough. But then I realized what each of these simple commands does. All three of them combat three specific dangers. Three specific tendencies that seem so prevalent in our culture: cynicism, bitterness and self-sufficiency.
"Be joyful in hope..." combats cynicism. I'm learning over and over that hope is the antithesis of cynicism. I still believe that hope firmly rooted in reality is not a blind optimism, nor an avoidance of harsh reality. If Christ really is who He says He is, than hope is the ONLY thing that can truly deal with reality. I've long looked at the eventual destinations of two separate trajectories, those of a heart fixed on cynicism and a heart fixed on hope. One mars the soul, while the other uplifts. And helps the soul find its true identity.
"patient in affliction..." counters bitterness. Suffering and affliction has the potential to ruin a person. It can break a man's spirit, cause the most open-hearted person to retreat within herself, and feed desires of vengeance and hatred and an unforgiving spirit.
But as Jesus shows us through His life and death, suffering and affliction also has the overwhelming potential to redeem and transform. Suffering can either break your spirit or bring you incredible freedom. I think of Martin Luther King Jr. or Nelson Mandela or the apostles or Oscar Wilde locked in their cells of suffering. Suffering in those cases led, not to bitterness or despair or destruction, but to freedom and a revolution of the spirit and transformation of entire communities of people. Choosing patience over bitterness in times of trouble heals the soul.
"and faithful in prayer..." combats self-sufficiency. Humans are self-sufficient, bent on our own way of doing things, asserting our own control and fixing things the way we like it. Prayer bends and breaks us out of this self-absorbed mode of living, and puts us in a posture where we are humble and listening to Someone who is more powerful and infinitely more loving than we can ever be. Prayer brings us into a conversation where we are not trying to control things, but rather, being led into a relationship with God: a relationship that transforms and heals us and actually brings about CHANGE.
I share these things because I realize how easy, how unconsciously easy it is to slip into any one of these three modes of living. This is when I truly see how counterintuitive and countercultural Jesus really is, and how a life fixed on following Him and loving Him ought to look. People within the church as well as out of the church can just as easily succumb to cynicism, bitterness and self-sufficiency. No one is immune to this.
But this is what I love about Christ and what He calls us to: it's like any other relationship. There must be communication, constant vigilance, but also time to breathe and just be. It's always changing, always dynamic. Things shift, and there are always potential weaknesses and tendencies to be aware of.
So yes, for now...Mel in Australia will Eat, Pray, and Love.
Cheers.
I'm reading a book called Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Mitchell. Following a personal crisis, she traveled through three countries (Italy, India and Indonesia) in order to connect with herself and something divine, through food in Italy, meditation in India and love in Indonesia (so the book says... I haven't gotten to Indonesia yet).
I've appreciated this book because in its own quirky way, it's forced me into a place of self-reflection. Not overanalysis, which I've been incredibly guilty of over the course of my life in various times. I'm realizing more and more that while introspection has its merits (this coming from a someone who has been journaling since the age of 7. True Story!), often overanalyzing situations, other people and their motives and even the innerworkings of my own mind has the potential to be incredibly destructive. Overanalyzing, I'm slowly realizing, is often a symptom of my attempt to control situations and other people, rather than a genuine search for truth and understanding that transforms.
THAT kind of truth is what I'm thirsty for.
Before I left for my trip to Australia, my good friend Josh lent (indefinitely?) me a book called Invitation to Discipline by M. Robert Mulholland Jr. I think he initially gave it to me due to my ongoing obsession with all things Myers-Briggs. It's a book about spiritual formation, and incorporates Myers-Briggs as a means for understanding our own tendencies and how they relate to spirituality.
I'm not going to get into it right now, but suffice it to say that this book has been sinking deep into my consciousness over the past couple of months. It's the kind of book that you digest slowly over time. And must be internalized. And I highly recommend it to you, my lovely readers, who stalk my blog, unbeknownst to me.
But, as a warning... only read it if you are prepared to get your butt kicked.
Anyway, I was reading something simple in Romans, and it caught me off guard. It's a simple verse: Romans 12:12. It says "be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer."
Seems innocuous enough. But then I realized what each of these simple commands does. All three of them combat three specific dangers. Three specific tendencies that seem so prevalent in our culture: cynicism, bitterness and self-sufficiency.
"Be joyful in hope..." combats cynicism. I'm learning over and over that hope is the antithesis of cynicism. I still believe that hope firmly rooted in reality is not a blind optimism, nor an avoidance of harsh reality. If Christ really is who He says He is, than hope is the ONLY thing that can truly deal with reality. I've long looked at the eventual destinations of two separate trajectories, those of a heart fixed on cynicism and a heart fixed on hope. One mars the soul, while the other uplifts. And helps the soul find its true identity.
"patient in affliction..." counters bitterness. Suffering and affliction has the potential to ruin a person. It can break a man's spirit, cause the most open-hearted person to retreat within herself, and feed desires of vengeance and hatred and an unforgiving spirit.
But as Jesus shows us through His life and death, suffering and affliction also has the overwhelming potential to redeem and transform. Suffering can either break your spirit or bring you incredible freedom. I think of Martin Luther King Jr. or Nelson Mandela or the apostles or Oscar Wilde locked in their cells of suffering. Suffering in those cases led, not to bitterness or despair or destruction, but to freedom and a revolution of the spirit and transformation of entire communities of people. Choosing patience over bitterness in times of trouble heals the soul.
"and faithful in prayer..." combats self-sufficiency. Humans are self-sufficient, bent on our own way of doing things, asserting our own control and fixing things the way we like it. Prayer bends and breaks us out of this self-absorbed mode of living, and puts us in a posture where we are humble and listening to Someone who is more powerful and infinitely more loving than we can ever be. Prayer brings us into a conversation where we are not trying to control things, but rather, being led into a relationship with God: a relationship that transforms and heals us and actually brings about CHANGE.
I share these things because I realize how easy, how unconsciously easy it is to slip into any one of these three modes of living. This is when I truly see how counterintuitive and countercultural Jesus really is, and how a life fixed on following Him and loving Him ought to look. People within the church as well as out of the church can just as easily succumb to cynicism, bitterness and self-sufficiency. No one is immune to this.
But this is what I love about Christ and what He calls us to: it's like any other relationship. There must be communication, constant vigilance, but also time to breathe and just be. It's always changing, always dynamic. Things shift, and there are always potential weaknesses and tendencies to be aware of.
So yes, for now...Mel in Australia will Eat, Pray, and Love.
Cheers.
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