Tuesday, April 21, 2009

A Heart Open to Love

"Well looking back through time
You know it's clear that I've been blind
I've been a fool
To ever open up my heart
To all that jealousy, that bitterness, that ridicule."

This introduces the song Babylon by David Gray. It also introduces my current situation. Recently I spent several months opening myself up - ever so slowly - to the charms of a girl. Only a few weeks ago this girl informed me she preferred my rival and that I basically didn't stand a chance. Since then I've been moping. Rightly so, in fact, for I'd invested much into the pursuit of this relationship. My hopes were shattered. But lately I've come to realize that my folly was not in opening my heart up to love but rather opening my heart up to the jealousy, bitterness, and ridicule. Since I discovered where her affections lay I've sensed a sort of hostility from her part. Perhaps I'm mistaken, but that is how it feels. I am naturally jealous of this guy, and although they say jealousy is a sign of insecurity there is no reason now for me to feel secure. As for bitterness, yes, this too has consumed me. Only last night he was talking, in a rather calloused fashion, before me of the conversation he'd had with her father. That was the conversation that I had anticipated and never received. Now, there he was, before me, bragging about it! To do that before a man whose heart has not yet healed is utter impudence. Ah, but then there is also ridicule. This too has fallen on me. Ridicule from others, from those who one would expect to be there for support are now proving their true colours - those of ridicule. But to these I foolishly opened up my heart and so the fault is not entirely theirs. In fact more blame must fall on my shoulders than on theirs. Yet nonetheless I do believe one is never wrong or foolish in opening up one's heart to love.

Friday, April 17, 2009

The Enter and Exit of God

...I want a god who is like a door that opens out, not in,
but God is like a revolving door, which turns, turns on its hinges
in and out, whirling arid turning
without a beginning, without an end.
These lines come from Yehud Amichai, poet laureate of Israel. They are taken from his book titled Open Closed Open. It would seem we too often prefer an "exit" God. We don't want an "enter" God - that is just too much intrusion. We would rather He work in others. Or in the circumstances around us. Because of my recent relationship complications I am full aware of how true this is. God is, according to my agenda, supposed to work on her. He is supposed to woo her over. Convince her that I am the right guy for her and not this other guy, my rival. He is supposed to work everything out in these circumstances and make me come out the winner. His plan has to conform to my plans. That's really the only way for His plans to truly be "best."
Of course, none of that is true. Yes, I want God to work in her. I also want Him to work in my rival. But I must want Him to work in me. This must be, above all else, my heart's desire. I want God to work in me. I want Him to clear out the cobwebs of my own heart. I want Him to have full rights to the property which I claimed alone. She is His. My heart is His. I want Him to fix it out in me. Not in others. I'm the problem. It's not her fault, and it certainly isn't my rival's fault. I alone stand to blame. Therefore instead of a God who serves as a door to go out (an exit) I want a God who will come in (an enter). I want Him to come in to fix me, but also to comfort me. Only He knows how much it hurts me at times. Just today I saw them walk together in the fading daylight. It hurt. I need Him to come in and comfort me. Perhaps I should unlock the doors and let Him in.

Always Winter, Never Christmas

"Always winter, never Christmas."

Though those words are taken from the magic of Narnia they apply just as fully to our own reality. "Always winter, never Christmas." That's pretty much what the adult life is all about. Or at least so it seems.
As children we enjoyed the year-after-year wonder of Christmas. Some of us may even have believed in Santa Claus and in the general sentiment of all that is spectacular of Christmas. But then reality sank in. A reality due to age or any other waking factor. When we wake to reality we realize that there is no Santa. If there is a Santa then he's a fake, often enough we are Santa. We realize that it's not all about gifts any more. It's about the expense. As a child we accept the gifts, but as an adult we surrender our paychecks for those gifts. In other words, the innocence and wonder is lost. In their place the evils of responsibility step in to play.
The same is true of snow. It is always winter, yet never Christmas. The snow is no longer for snow-men or snow-angels or snow-balls. No, now it is for shovelling. It is for cautious driving. It is for expensive heating. It is for winter, but no longer for Christmas.
That is what the adult life seems to be about. It's all about bills. Bills that always seem to be overdue. Or debts. Debts that weigh down on us. Relationships are another screwed up part of the adult winter life. Relationships are one of the biggest complications of being adult.
Is there any way of recovering Christmas? Winter is always there. It's an inevitable reality that forms a part of us. But Christmas should also be a part of our reality. In fact it should be the axis of our winter's revolution. It should not fluctuate (as it does), instead be central to winter. So it is with wonder. Wonder must constitute an integral and central part of adult life.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Did He Have To Die?

My all-time favourite Christian band is Jars of Clay. There are a lot of other good bands out there but this one ranks as my over-all favourite. In their song Worlds Apart they ask: "Did you really have to die for me?"
There is an inescapable angst in their voice as they cry out those lines. We too cry out those lines. Perhaps we shouldn't, or perhaps we don't do it enough. We don't do it enough because we are prone to take this great gift - God's grace - for granted. We overlook the immensity of reality by carrying on in our selfishness, but the reality is that we live and breathe only because of His sacrifice and grace on our behalf. Yet perhaps we shouldn't ask that question because it can show a lack of faith or gratitude. I don't know.
But there is one thing I do know and that is the answer to the question. Did He have to die? Yes. He did. He had to die. There was no other way. He couldn't have abandoned us, or given up on us. He is love. He can't do that. He couldn't have rescued us by any other means than death. He had to die. The Bible teaches that without the shedding of blood there is no remission of sin. Some might say that it would only have required "one drop of blood" then to achieve redemption. Not so. If that had been all that was necessary Jesus could have ended the business with a simple nick by shaving His beard. I mean, why go through an entire crucifixion when a simple drop is all you need. No, it needed more. It also needed His death. Some say that Jesus shed all of His blood on our behalf. By releasing water and blood when speared someone once suggested that all His blood was shed and so He also began to shed water. I'm not a doctor so I don't know how valid that argument really is. But I do know that it was a sacrifice that cost Him something. Or rather everything. It cost Him His life. Yes, is the answer to the question. Yes, He did have to die.

At the Crossroads

"Of course you may be too much of a fool to go wrong - too dull even to know you are being assaulted by the powers of darkness. I take it, no fool ever made a bargain for his soul with the devil: the fool is too much of a fool, or the devil too much of a devil - I don't know which."
Joseph Conrad put these words down on paper when he wrote The Heart of Darkness. My mind wanders now over the crossroad instances of history. There have been many of them. Faust met with Mephistopheles. The devil met with Tom Walker. He also met with Young Goodman Brown. He even met with Daniel Webster. There have been, throughout literary history, repeated occasions for devilish encounters. In the jazz tradition this has been known as a "crossroads experience." The devil will meet his client at the X in the road to carry on his business. But the devil is, as Conrad noted, very much a devil. He is devilishly devilish. He doesn't waste his time on foolish business (yes, the pun is intended). The fool, according to the Psalms, says there is no God. Fools are already part of his system. The unsaved fool belongs to him entirely, whereas the saved fool (of which I am often one) is his because of the trap in which the fool has fallen. Both can of course be released. They can be set free. Yet the devil is more concerned, I believe, with those that are not his, or at least in his traps. He is worried about the ones that present a potential risk. The dangerous ones. Those that interfere the most in his plans. Those would be also the ones that are interfered with the most in their own plans by God's great plans. The devil is after the ones that are more powerful. Sometimes we think of those as the public personas. You know, the Grahams, or Pipers, or other such popular ones. That's true, he is after those. But he is also after the less public ones. Being public or not does not denote power. I've met many a prayer warrior who spent more time locked up in their closet for prayer than behind a pulpit preaching. Both are equally powerful - therefore both are equally prey to the devils strategies.

Monday, April 13, 2009

SoS - Theme of Desire

Whenever anyone reads Song of Solomon's there are different responses which come up (no pun intended). This book is one of the most controversially interpreted books in Scripture and yet it is one of the most unaddressed books in Scripture. Some view it narratively, typologically, allegorically, symbolically, and literally.
Because of plain logic, careful study, and the counsel of such erudite scholars as John Piper or Mark McGinniss I have come to the conclusion that it is a literal book, and nothing more than literal. One cannot add to it, as many do with the varied interpretations. Neither must one subtract from it, as they do by not addressing it. God has given us the entire counsel of His word to study and to share. That includes Song of Solomon's.
Song of Solomon's is not about Christ. It's not even about Love. Nor is it about Sex. Nope, those are not the themes dominating the book. Sex may infiltrate the book and Love certainly does influence it, but they do not dominate. No, the dominating theme is desire. That's right, desire. Song of Solomon's is a celebration of desire.
This morning I was reading a poem by Pablo Neruda. The poem's translated title is If You Forget Me and in it Neruda confesses to the fickleness of Eros. But that's not the point. At least not now, not for me. Another confession made in the same poem is to the wonderful ecstasy that can be found in Eros. The erotic love is not a switch that must be turned on and off, it must be, between a man and a woman as husband and wife, a continuous experience.

Desire must dominate in a marriage. A desire for the beloved must be dominant. In the absence of the presence of the loved one desire for their presence is vital. In the presence of the loved one desire is still present and equally vital. Desire for one another must be dominant. It is a natural thing. The desire for Beauty is satisfied in the beloved. The desire for Affection - and by this I mean much more than snuggling - is satisfied in the beloved. The desire for Intimacy - particularly conversationally - is satisfied in the beloved. The desire for Romance is satisfied in the beloved. The desire for Sexuality is satisfied in the beloved. The desire for Love is satisfied in the beloved.
That is the way God made the book. That is the way God made marriage. God put His stamp of approval on it and acknowledges it with His blessing. In fact, I dare say He smiles just as a man and a woman smile while they enjoy the gift God gave them. We enjoy desire (not just sex) as a gift of God and we return - through the happiness of appropriately satisfied desire (not just sex) - an act of holy worship to God.

A Romantic God

Someone just asked me if God was a romantic God. My response is an adamant and exhilarant YES!
God is the first greatest romantic. He wooed us to His side. We are now in a state of betrothal to Him and He is jealous in His love for us. He is jealous to keep us as His for His love is possessive, and rightly so. He is ours, and we are His. He is a God of passion. He is a God of desire. He is a God of love. He is a God of beauty. He is a God of tenderness. All of these "symptoms" contribute to that great, incurable healthiness of romance. Living in perpetual romance is the greatest form of living available between a man and his love. His love might very well be with nature, as the poets are prone to remind us (particularly Wordsworth). Or it might be a love that is channeled to a woman, and for this one thinks of the beautifully erotic poems of Pablo Neruda. But above all is the romance for God which holds our hearts captive in transcendental awe.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Sun. Church Trip 2

On my return trip from our Church's Easter service I rode in a van along with a couple of seminary guys and a really bright girl. As we rode I posed a question, more of an issue, really. It was something that had been troubling me for the past couple weeks or more. An acquaintance of mine had posted a dangerous declaration on his blog. He confessed to having abandoned the structure of devotions and that for the past 3 months he had quit devotions altogether and preferred a life of devotion for Christ. The traditional sense of devotions was transferred to whatever he could receive in the classrooms and daily chapels. The blog, I'll admit, offended me a little. Actually, offended is not the right word. It hurt me. Yes, it hurt me. I felt genuinely hurt. Not just because a friend had "recanted" from his devotions but because of the pride that seemed to be laced throughout his blog. His blog was just a bragging spree of how he'd given up the traditional devotional structure. That's great. I'm all for that. Break up the pattern if that works for you (it doesn't for me, but if it works for you then that's great). Basically my blogger friend was saying "Although I don't have my devotions anymore I still love God." But that seems to me to be the wrong focus entirely. It's not about me and what I can do for God. It's all about Him. One might rightly say, "Although I don't have my devotions God still loves me." That'd be true. And one might say what was said originally but then the love for God by someone who doesn't purposefully pursue time with Him comes into question. My dilemma is that I cannot judge, as I already have, what attitude my blogger friend is presenting. He might not be bragging at all. It might not be a pride, therefore sin, issue at all. But that is the impression that is conveyed to me, and it is not one that I want to slam on legalistically. That's not the point. Well, I talked to my travelling companions and we came up with the conclusions that though the idea of devotions (Bible reading) may not be an official Biblical decree it is a discipline we as Christians must adopt. It is not only the matter of a "must do" in the sense of responsibility. It is also a privilege. It's is equally a "must do" and a "get to do" matter. Throughout history more men have bled over this book than over any other. It is a precious book, valuable in ways that transcend monetary cheapness. It is God's voice descending to man, opening up to let us hear His own breath. To go through life taking processed meals will never strengthen you. Eating the already chewed meals presented by teachers and preachers is delicious but it is not the only way of enjoying a meal. One must learn to eat on one's own, even cook (exegete or study) on one's own. God, as a Father, took the time to talk with us and though He loves us and we say we love Him we prefer to hear from Him second-hand. That's not right.

Sun. Church Trip 1

Woke up this morning and took a quick shower. While shaving I slit my thumb with my razor (hurt like the Dickens!) but I managed to prepare for Church without doing further damage. Our ride to Church consisted of a debate over the Davidic Covenant as found in II Samuel 7:12 and so forth. The debate spun around two seminary students, myself, and a girl who, quite admirably, held her own. One student was saying that unless the passage were allegorized it could probably not come to mean a reflection of Christ, as that of Hebrews 1:5 means. It is, they suggested, a metaphor, but of limited nature. No conclusions were seriously drawn on these questions before we turned our topics over to the interpretation John Piper gave to I (or II) Thessalonians 2:12. Apparently Piper holds either a post-tribulational or post-millenial view on this text, and in his general doctrine. In their argument, I sat out for this argument, I was impressed by their humility. These two, grown men, knowledgeable men, were throwing verses around here and there, mentioning things, referencing others and while I sat in silent admiration I realized something. They were insecure. Not in a negative sense of the word as if it were a bad thing. No, quite the opposite. They seriously did not know the answer to their own questions. They searched for the answers but ended up saying that both views seemed possible according to their different perceptions of the issue itself. In other words, they showed humility by not knowing all the answers. And then they showed greater humility in how they treated each other throughout the argument. But the greatest humility was left in leaving their answerless questions, not in each other's hands for the other to explain and exegete. No, but rather leaving their answerless questions in God's hands for Him to sort out and deal with. Maybe He'll respond their questions now, soon, later, or even never. But they trusted Him and not their own brilliance, of which they have a lot, and the reason for that is that they leave it up to Him, they trust Him and not themselves or their arguments. That's a lesson I need to learn unless I want to actually become a noisy but useless cymbal. Puffed up with so much knowledge that I demand answers and that, perhaps it's worse, I claim to have them. I don't have the answers. It breaks my heart sometimes to not have the answers because some of the questions hurt. But I know that there is one answer that will always comfort my heart - humility before the presence of a God who does have the answers.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

The Theme of Life

Recently in my British Literature classes we began to review the poetry of William Cowper. Perhaps some of you recognize the name. Others might not. Don't worry about it. I knew of him but I only knew of him from the hymns he'd write. Yes, that's right, he was a hymnologist. So when we began to review his poems I was caught off guard.
The poem we studied was titled THE CASTAWAY. It was a really powerful piece but there is one particular stanza I want to observe. The poem relates of a man ignored by all, a man who drowned as a castaway. Cowper reflects his own sentiments in those of the lonely, ignored, and deceased (unmourned) castaway. Here is the stanza, a stanza which spills from the poets own lips but is reminiscent of the castaways own tragedy...
I therefore purpose not, or dream,
Descanting on his fate
To give the melancholy theme
A more enduring date:
But misery still delights to trace
Its semblance in another's case
The reference to "another's case" is, of course, Cowpers own case. The poet intrigued me and so I began to search out some biographical sketches of his life. The simplest (yet powerful) sketch was in a CD of Hymns I have by the group Selah. I've copied the sketch here...
"Sometimes it seems as though we can never relate to the writers of the great hymns of our faith – that these authors are on an entirely different ‘spiritual wavelength’ than the rest of us. However, William Cowper, who wrote these strong and assuring words of God’s love and mercy, was never able to rest in that security in his own troubled life. He suffered a nervous breakdown, attempted suicide several times, and was even confined to an insane asylum for a time where he was straitjacketed for his own protection. Cowper was plagued throughout his lifetime with the feeling that God would someday turn His back on him, a feeling that we have all shared at one time or another. It is said that on his deathbed, however, William Cowper looked upward with amazement on his face and said, “I am not shut out of Heaven after all.” His words of assurance, based on Zechariah 13:1, have comforted and encouraged Christians the world over for two centuries, and will continue to give comfort to doubting Christians throughout the ages until we all have the great assurance and indescribable joy of seeing our Savior face to face."
Interestingly enough the theme of Cowpers life changed. In the poem (Castaway) his theme was that of melancholy. Yet in his hymn (There is a Fountain) his theme changed. Now his theme is redeeming love. Here is the stanza to that hymn...
E’er since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.
And shall be till I die, and shall be till I die;
Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.
Now my question is, which is your life's theme?

Fearing God

Florentino Ariza from Love in the Time of Cholera, an infamous novel by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, at one point receives the question of whether or not he believes in God. He quickly responds with a negative but then pauses to reflect before saying, "But I'm afraid of Him."
It would seem that we, as Christians, believe in God, but are not really afraid of Him. During a conference someone once defined the fear of God as being not a chronic cowardice but rather a constant consecration. That sounds very nice and it's well alliterated but I don't really think that's the point of fearing God. In fact, I'm not too sure it can be well defined. Nothing about God really can. He seems to sort of defy definition and even explanation often falls short. God is definitely a God of description. He can only be described, pictures of Him painted with words. Even so the fear of God is not a real easy concept to understand. So I turn to Lewis. He seems to be able to describe it best, Lewis often does.
"The ancient man approached God (or even the gods) as the accused person approaches his judge. For the modern man the roles are reversed. He is the judge: God is in the dock. He is quite a kindly judge: if God should have a reasonable defence for being the god who permits war, poverty, and disease, he is ready to listen to it. The trial may even end in God's acquittal. But the important thing is that Man is on the Bench and God in the Dock."
Fear of God is found whenever a Man returns to the Dock and stands before his God and Judge.

A Changed Man

Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons are one of the greatest "oldies" bands ever. My mom hates them, mostly because of their falsetto voices, but also because I went through a teenage stage in which I listened to almost nothing else. Well, I listened to everything from the "oldies" genre but they were at the top of the list. One of the reasons I liked them so much was because they were often "heartbreaker" songs. In my stupid adolescence I had a penchant for masochism. I liked the idea of "dying for love." This was influenced also by what I read. Though I listened to relatively innocent music - I mean it was oldies so it was, for the most part, silly cute stuff - that wasn't the same characteristic in my literary life. Nope, my literary life consisted also of the broken heart and aches of romance. The problem with all this was that it was mostly Spanish literature. All of this added up for a very lethal combination. But I learned a very important lesson from the 4 Seasons. In one of their songs (Beggin') they sing:
"I am trying so hard to be your man, the kind of man you want in the end, only then can I be able to live again."
Another key song to expand on this thought comes from the musical Grease and it's the song, You're the One that I Want. In this song Olivia Newton John sings,
"You better shape up, 'cause I need a man, and my heart is set on you."
Now I don't deny that as men we should try to live up to higher expectations, such as those that women often lay on our shoulders. Some people say that people should love us as we are. In a way, that's true, but in another very real way, it's not so true. They need to love us for what we can become, and help us achieve that same potential. Women do mould men, and men do change for women. This is something that begins at the earliest point of childhood between a mother and son and goes all the way through the adolescent boy and girl stages until climaxing with a marital relationship between a husband and wife. But there is something greater. Something that should cause such changes and an intense pursuit of living up to higher expectations. Just as it is love that motivates changes between a man and a woman, so it is now that love motivates more changes in this relationship. I am referring, of course, to the relationship between God and man. This is a relationship that is driven by love and which moves by changes. Changes for the better as the old man is left behind and the body we live in now is crucified with Christ. After all progress has to do with changing, with moving ahead, moving on.

A Loss of Innocence

I found a place so safe, not a single tear
The first time in my life and now it's so clear
Feel calm, I belong, I'm so happy here
It's so strong and now I let myself be sincere
I wouldn't change a thing about it
This is the best feeling
This innocence is brilliant, I hope that it will stay
This moment is perfect, please don't go away, I need you now
And I'll hold on to it, don't you let it pass you by...

These lyrics belong to the song Innocence by Avril Lavigne. Does anyone remember such a time? A time of innocence? I do. I remember it very clearly, perhaps clearer than most. The majority of people gradually grow to lose innocence. That is the proper procedure, a steady gradual loss of innocence. And that's not even a bad thing. One doesn't want to remain innocent forever. Neither does one want to purposefully go out and be bent on malice. But I did not follow the proper procedure. No, my innocence was robbed from me on a single night. Years ago, when I was 8 years old, I spent my first night in Hell. Since then I have no longer been innocent. I miss it. I was robbed. I wish I could go back. I wish I could lose it properly instead of perversely. But I can't. Now, in this song, Avril sings or recuperating her innocence and of finding it in the arms and admiration of another. Is that possible? I don't think so. Even in Christ I doubt it can be so. I mean, I realize He can do all things, but this is one thing I think would go against His nature. Christ can make me acceptable and in Him I strive for holiness in my daily life, yet the innocence is lost forever. So why don't I suck it up? Why do I keep up with these silly pity parties?

In the Covers of a Classroom

All of my life I've been a student, and as a student I adhere to the maxim that life is indeed an eternal school. Be it that life is viewed through a Christian filter or otherwise, we are all living a learning experience. We can learn via experience, example, and education. These three means of learning are capably channeled through life's various classrooms. My favourite classrooms are those that pertain to Art, particularly Literature. For me there is no stronger classroom than that which is contained within the covers of a book. Books are wonderful things, powerful things. In a book one can find a wealth of beauty and knowledge. There are secret realms which only literature can enter, often enough, even transcend. There is nothing as influential as a book. A good book will lead to a good influence whereas a bad book will lead only to a bad influence. Beware of what you read. The fascinating thing about a book is that it captures all three learning methods perfectly. In a book one experiences things never even dreamt of, but a book will also serve as an example worthy of following (or not), and, lastly, it is certainly a source of vast educational resources.

Marry Up

Last night a friend and I went out to McDonalds for a midnight snack. As we were preparing to leave our dorm dad stepped up to us. We got to talking and he was telling me about his wife and a special course she was undertaking to become a better writer. Mamma B, that's what we call her, is one of the most incredible women I know. B, our dorm dad, recognizes this better than anyone else. He told us last night that he'd married "up" and that any man that didn't "marry up" had something wrong with him. I thought that was really special. He is a great leader, spiritually and in so many other ways, yet he feels that she is his greatest challenge. So she should be. There is something to be said for a man who is lucky enough to marry "up." That is truly an example of God's grace.

Clean Up

Phew!
So...I'm in my room right now. At least I think it's my room. I can't really tell. It looks more like battlefield. But I suppose it pretty much is, after all, I've spent most of my day doing battle here. My day started out on a good enough start. I slept in a bit and then got up to go out for a walk. I took my walk and ended up returning from the store with a couple of bottles of Cranberry Juice and some gum (Stride - it's the best!). After putting my juice in my fridge I went out for a mid-morning brunch. It was a good enough meal. Had a glass of delicious Ice Coffee (hmmm). But then when I got back to my room I decided to clean up a little. Not that it was dirty. It wasn't. No, instead I decided to make it dirty. That's right, I decided to make it dirty. I opened every drawer of my desk and took out every file. I began to pile papers up all over the place. My desk, a rather big one, was covered in paper. My bed top had files all over the place. Three ring binders were open and everything was in a general state of chaos. It's not that I'm a particularly messy person (neither am I OCD about being neat) but I had a lot of stuff saved up. Don't get the wrong impression about that either. I'm not a saver. If you look at me you cannot think Silas Marner. I tend to toss out a lot of things. I can't stand hoarding things. Unless it comes to papers. I had graded papers from last year's schooling. I had entire poems and pages upon pages of poem fragments. I tried to pass all, or most, of these onto my computer. I found old letters. I found old essays and extracts. There were all sorts of things. Some of them important and valuable. Others just junk. So far I have 3 trash bags (grocery size) filled and I'm still not finished cleaning up.
Phew!

Friday, April 10, 2009

Sappy Songs

Some time ago I had a conversation with a friend of mine over the sappiness of love songs. It's true that they can often be saccharine instead of sweet, but I don't think the baby ought to be tossed out along with the bathwater.
When I was about 9 years old I would listen to the same cassette (yes, it was cassettes back then) over and over again. The cassettes (or tapes) were the soundtrack to American Grafitti. I can still remember repeating Love Potion No. 9 as one of my favourites. It was probably one of my favourites because it was also my age - 9. Quite frankly I didn't understand most of the music. The lyrics were absolutely foreign to me - literally. I had learned English only a couple of years earlier and most of it still made no sense. It was too adult for me, even though insanely ridiculous at the same time.
I suppose that's the problem (if it is a problem) with such music, it's too ridiculous. Yet for most people it brings back memories of sweetness and innocence. That's what does it for me. Plus it's kind of cute. So today I was in my room and put on Little Darlin' by The ??????. While it played I began to tap along to it. Soon my tapping was upgraded to a bit of swaying. Finally I just broke loose and did some dancing. The silly kind. A sort of jive dance. All the while I was, of course, singing at the top of my lungs. But mostly in a falsetto, a very fake voice, but equally as bad as the real one. I was just having fun. But then in one of my spins (or pirouttes) I saw that one of the guys from the dorm was standing at my door and watching me. Probably watching in horror.
Well, in response to my friends argument (which we never really concluded) I put these words down into my journal:
Our loves must not limit themselves to human angles or aspirations. In fact we must aspire more. We must aspire unto divine Love. Lewis suggests that all forms of love can be found in God and flow from God. Sometimes we consider certain loves inherently natural, that is of our human nature. In a ways, yes. Yet this nature, all of its goodness, comes from God as Creator. Therefore all our loves are included in this enterprise of learning to love as God loves. That means that our natural affections are now concerned with the well-being of another and not our own. Too often we silence ourselves in a pseudo-kindness that is but selfish cruelty. But it also affects our erotic love. Now, within a marriage, one must no longer seek for personal gratification but for the satisfaction of the beloved. Love, therefore, really just boils down to SELFLESSNESS. We see that in sublime proportions in Christ who sacrificed all of Himself to love us.

A Life of Prayer

Yesterday I posted my Facebook status read: (my name) wants to live a life of prayer. It's true, I do. But it is something I don't find that comes too easily to me. I often catch myself, when walking thinking about God and talking with Him, after a fashion. There are no fancy words and my eyes are wide open. Even so I feel more at prayer on such occasions then I do when in a crowd or leading in a public prayer. I find that I often like to pray aloud. It helps me stay focused and keeps my attention intent on my actual prayer. Plus, it makes God seem more 'real,' if you know what I mean. Well, just now I was looking through my Journal and found a red inked entry that read: God's house is to be a house of prayer. He is now housed in my heart so my life must be filled and lived in prayer.

Chartless

Chartless
by Emily Dickinson

I never saw a moor,
I never saw the sea;
Yet I know how the heather looks,
And what a wave must be.

I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven;
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the chart were given.

Laundry in Marriage

There is nothing worse than doing laundry. Gilbert & Sullivan in their opera, Pirates of Penzance, have their Pirate King at one point declare "I look upon it with a disgust that amounts to absolute detestation." That is pretty much the best way of capturing my view on laundry. It's not so much putting dirty clothes into a machine. Nor is it that I mind drying them in another machine. No, that's fine. The machines are great. I just wish they would make a folding machine. Better yet, an ironing and folding machine. So I've just returned from pairing my socks. From folding my tee shirts. Now I have a pile of shirts to button, some of them to iron (another detestable practice), and then hang.
Well, while I brought up my clothes from the laundry room I commented to a friend in the dorm, "Do you know what the best thing about getting married will be?" Without missing a beat he answered, "Sex?" I was of course aiming for a more sexist response but not a sexual response. I wanted to suggest that the best thing about getting married would be that she would be able to fold and iron the clothes. Of course, I'm not entirely serious. I mean, I will help...I have to. I suppose that I will be so in love that I won't mind helping her out with that. But hopefully we will come up with some sort of arrangement where she tends to the laundry and I'll be able to tend to more pleasant chores. Say, vacuuming the carpets or dusting or washing dishes. Anything but doing the laundry!
Yet in my friends response I found a very interesting outlook. Sex is certainly a big deal. Someone once said that it, the sex life, was the best thermometer on measuring a marriage's status. Maybe, I don't know. But I thought that it was a little crude. Often enough we can be rather crude (especially in a guy's dorm). We look at marriage as a monument to sex. This is due in part to our own Christianity. We are instinctively sexual beings (for more on this read up on Bertrand Russell) and the Christian faith prohibits (rightly enough) sex until marriage. Of course once married sex is to be consummated and made as beautifully ceremonial as in Song of Solomon's, or as one professor put it, as a joyous feast of erotic love.
Too many people in the Christian faith regard sex as something very dirty, especially among the female of the species. Undoubtedly sex can get dirty, but that's not the way God wanted it, or created it, to be. Sex is not the point of marriage. Of course, neither is marriage for free maid service as I get her to do my laundry.

Success

One of the most incredible people I ever had the chance to work with told me that I had the chance to live my life any way I wanted to. But then he dampened the spirit of that freeing statement by warning me that I could only live it once. It's true, you can live life any way you want but you can only live it once.

So far I've succeeded in making a big mess of my life. Not a total wreck, of course, but it certainly is pretty bad. I don't doubt that God loves me and that in some slight way He might be able to use me. But sometimes I do doubt that anyone else will be able to love me. Human love is so very conditional - especially among Christians. I have known many guys who have kept themselves in pretty good shape, religiously speaking. They have kept their virginity intact (as have I) and then assert themselves as deserving the same. Because they've kept themselves virgin they think they deserve to marry a virgin. Notice, by the way, that I am saying virgins, not pure. There is a big difference. Christians, more so than others, are conditional. They pretend that these conditions are really expectations, but even this is no good. As Christians we are held to a higher standard, but that is a personal thing, not something we throw about at other people. Lets pick at the logs in our own eyes first.
But that's diverging from my point. My point is that I often sense a fear of being unloved or unlovable. Or a fear of only doing small things for God. Of course I am glad for the opportunity to do anything for Him, but I am not a by-stander. I am ambitious enough to want to succeed, and success for me means something big. I don't want to do little things for Him, I want to do something big. That might be my pride, in fact, it probably is. But don't get me wrong, I want to do the little things too. I just want to go all the way. To spend and be spent, as the apostle Paul said.
These fears haunt me because of my past failures. Yet someone once said, "The pages of your past cannot be rewritten, but the pages of your tomorrow are blank." I know for a fact that they are not blank. I know for a fact that God has already mapped out awesome plans for me. It's up to me now to follow what He has traced out for me. If I do that then I will have success. If not I will continue to be a failure.

The All Supplying Fountain

Christ is like a river that is continually flowing. There are always fresh supplies of water coming from the fountain-head, so that a man may live by it and be supplied with water all his life. So Christ is an everflowing fountain; he is continually supplying his people and the fountain is not spent. They who live upon Christ may have fresh supplies from him for all eternity; they may have an increase of blessedness that is new, and new still, and which will never come to an end.
The above excerpt from Jonathan Edwards is refreshing. Christ is indeed like a fountain. He is bursting forth right now in my heart as I read this. Yes, I do have a debt that dangles over my head due to college. And I find it difficult to let my whims survive and that often makes it easy for me to complain. After all, I have expensive tastes - books are not cheap! But I realize that what I really need, I have. And all I need is Christ. I have Him. He has me. Spurgeon put it best, "I have a great need for Christ; I have a great Christ for my need."
After reading what Edwards has to say I realize that the fresh-water supplies that issue freely and constantly from the fountain-head that is Christ are all I need. Everything else, even if it were something serious (not like the ridiculous debt or my even more ridiculous caprices), does not match to the great satisfaction I find in having Christ. I am His, and He is mine. This is a wonderful sense of possession, comparable only to Solomon and his bride. He was hers, and she was his. So it is with my Christ. Let me say that again, my Christ. I can claim Him as my own. He loves me. I am so grateful for Edwards and what he had to write. But I am even more grateful to Christ and the love He has penned in my heart.

Simply God's Love

Why is it that we are all so good at making things more complicated than they really need to be? I think that is a human specialty. We are so challenged by simplicity that they've made "Dummies Guides" to everything imaginable. They have condensed conferences and simplified seminars so that you can do nearly anything in a minimal number of short, easy steps. The infamous "How To..." books dominate our libraries. And yet I think that all these techniques make things trickier than they ought to be. The "Dummies Guides" only serve to dumb us down more.
Serving God is a simple thing. Often enough the big impediments in our service for Him is sorting out what His will actually is amidst all the confusion of techniques, steps, strategies, and philosophies. In Mark 12:13-40 several people approached Jesus trying to trip Him up with silly questions. Jesus was very pointed in His answers. In fact, He came very close to actually calling the Sadducees ignorant people. The only one that did not get rebuked by Christ was the Scribe for the Scribe was, at heart, a genuine truth-seeker.
But do we really understand the thrust of the answer Christ gave? We often claim that there is no greater thing than evangelism, holiness, bible-reading, serving, etc. and for all of this we get a chorus of "amens." But in reality Jesus kept it simple and said that the greatest thing was for us to love Him. Love is the greatest thing around. To quote Lennon, "all you need is love."
We love to study the Word of God, but what of the Author, do we love Him? A disciplined life can lead to holiness. But the point of holiness is not some dry ritual but rather a fervent passion, a love for God so great that one doesn't want to see Him hurt. Sometimes I wonder why I chose to come to a Bible College. Was it because of the academics and the education? Was it because of my parents and the heritage that is linked with all of that? Or is it because I love God?

The Controversy of the Cross

"The most obscene symbol in human history is the cross; yet in its ugliness it remains the most eloquent testimony to human dignity."
The above sentence was extracted from R.C. Sproul's In Search of Dignity. The cross has always been a matter of curiosity to me. Some sing about a 'wondrous cross' and others call it lovely or other similar terms of a pleasant nature. In reality the cross was a rugged, ugly, vile, and contemptible affair. Off of it hung the criminal and traitor. It was a death for the damned. It was a matter of shame.
Yet it was there that my Christ stretched out His hands to offer me the most precious gift. Someone once told me that missionaries did not open their hands to receive or take in but only to give. I can attest to that. Missionaries are sacrificial and generous. Yet the same is true of Christ, to a magnified degree, of course. Christ opened His hands to give. The one time that He opened them to take something was when He took the nails and even then He opened them to be able to give us the greatest gift ever known to man.

The Aim of Ambition

"Aim at nothing and you'll be sure to hit it." Someone once delivered this maxim in a sermon or lecture and it has stuck with me ever since. No one can accuse me of not being ambitious. I may have several flaws, in fact, I know I do. But a lack of ambition is certainly not one of them. Rather if there were an accusation to be made I feel sure it would have to be something contrary to that.
A few weeks back - it was actually over Spring Break - I was able to read Proverbs 31. Along the margin of the text there was an interesting little inscription. It read, "To be worthy of a virtuous woman one must be a man of integrity," and made a reference to Psalms 15.
Though I've certainly aimed at something, or rather someone, I realize now I've aimed too high. I've aimed for the stars. Though I certainly did get a flicker or a twinkle from them it was inevitable for me to fall back to earth. And I did - with a crash. The girl I like is a virtuous woman, not perfect - she would hate it if I even thought that - but certainly virtuous and, this is the best part, striving for more virtue. But I, on the other hand, stand a far distance from being the man of integrity as shared in Psalms 15.
Yet there is another maxim that encourages me - Dream big. God's bigger. This also is true for God alone can surpass our dreams. Even so I wonder if I was too unrealistic in my expectations. Too rash, perhaps. I thought I could handle something so great as a relationship when in reality I can't even handle my own life right now. But God alone knows how lonely I am...

Commentary Collections

A couple of years ago I had the opportunity to translate for a very prominent preacher of the Southern Baptist Association. While sipping espressos in the Argentine airport waiting for our flight to the conference engagement we had pending he and I talked. We talked about various authors and books. I confessed of my deep appreciation for C.S. Lewis and he smiled at this. Then I told him I liked Ravi Zacharias and several other authors. My lips accidentally spilled the name MacArthur. This caused quite a commotion. Apparently my preacher friend had received the entire MacArthur Bible Commentary set as a church anniversary gift. He said that while reading them there were many he kept and several others he threw away. One of the tomes he threw out was Hebrews. Now Hebrews is a great book, one of my favourites in the New Testament, but I realized how little I knew of it. Quite frankly I doubt my pastor friend should have thrown it out, it seems almost sacriligeous to break up a good set of commentaries, but that is his choice. I don't know why he threw them out (although I do know for a fact that he resented the Calvinistic undercurrents flowing throughout MacArthur's books), but I am intrigued by the fact that he had such a passion for his library that he perused or read to their entirety every book in the set. His passion was so intense that he also got rid of what was, in his opinion, unworthy. In my own library I have the Matthew Henry commentaries. I also have the J. Vernon McGee commentaries. There are also a few others and I have several select tomes to sets that I don't yet own. My wish is to get entire sets. I'd like to get Weirsbe, Walvoord, MacArthur, and others but that'll be later on in life. My concern is that I get them and then only reference them. That's what I do now with the ones I've got. I use them for a reference. That's not the way it should be. It should be that I read them all and get to know them. Then, once that's done, I should be able to reference them for sermons or studies or whatever falls my way.

Revolutionary

One of my rather more incredible friends recently put this up as her Facebook status. I thought it was a good question, and certainly one to consider, but even more to give an answer to. Here is her status:
John Lennon talked about love and revolution. JESUS talked about love and turned the world upside down (Acts 17.6) John Lennon was not Jesus. Jesus was God, John Lennon was a lost, drug addicted, sinning musician. But everyone goes wild on John Lennon--you know "all you need is love","give peace a chance", etc, etc, etc. Why are Christians so freaking hesitant to turn the world upside down? Love defined:1 Cor 13.

Defense of the Body

"You are always dragging me down," said I to my Body.
"Dragging you down!" replied my Body. "Well, I like that! Who taught me to like tabacco and alcohol? You, of course, with your idiotic adolescent idea of being 'grown up.' My palate loathed both at first: but you would have your way. Who put an ened to all those angry and revengeful thoughts last night? Me, of course, by insisting on going to sleep. Who does his best to keep you from talking too much and eating too much by giving you dry throats and headaches and indigestion? Eh?"
"And what about sex?" said I.
"Yes, what about it?" retorted the Body. "If you and your wretched imagination would leave me alone I'd give you no trouble. That's Soul all over; you give me orders and then blame me for carrying them out."
C.S. Lewis, Scraps (3)

Knowing Him

I was standing today in the dark toolshed. The sun was shining outside and through the crack at the top of the door there came a sunbeam. From where I stood that beam of light, with the specks of dust floating in it, was the most striking thing in the place. Everything else was almost pitchblack. I was seeing the beam, not seeing things by it.
Then I moved, so that the beam fell on my eyes. Instantly the whole previous picture vanished. I saw no toolshed, and (above all) no beam. Instead I saw, framed in the irregular cranny at the top of the door, green leaves moving on the branches of a tree outside and beyond that, 90 odd million miles away, the sun. Looking along the beam, and looking at the beam are very different experiences.
But this is only a very simple example of the difference between looking at and looking along. A young man meets a girl. The whole world looks different when he sees her. Her voice reminds him of something he has been trying to remember all his life, and ten minutes casual chat with her is more precious than all the favours that all other women in the world could grant. He is, as they say, "in love." Now comes a scientist and describes this young man's experience from the outside. For him it is all an affair of the young man's genes and a recognised biological stimulus. That is the difference between looking along the sexual impulse and looking at it.
The above paragraphs serve as the introduction to the essay Meditations in a Toolshed by C.S. Lewis. Paul Washer once preached an incredible sermon (dangerously incredible) in which he illustrated the difference between knowing Jesus and knowing of Jesus being similar to that of knowing the President and knowing of the President. I want to look at Jesus (Hebrews commands me to place my eyes on Him, to place them there and fix them there) and look at him as the young man in love, not merely as the scientist. Sometimes I think that our dried out textbooks and theological jargon robs us of the loveliness of Christ. By no means do I want to do away with getting to know of Him, but I want more than knowing of Him to really know Him.

Food for the Birds

Today I walked out for lunch a little early. While waiting for the cafeteria to open I had time to myself since no one else had shown up for lunch yet. So there I was, just waiting and while waiting I was watching. I was watching the birds through the window near the cafeteria entrance. Although I am not an ornithologist I want to describe what I saw as best I can. There were 2 or 3 small sparrow-like birds. I say "sparrow-like" because they were the common variety bird. The small, brownish bird that flies about. But with those "sparrows" there was also a bigger bird. This bigger bird is one I think I'll call a "cardinal." It was a bright red bird with an orange-like beak and it had a black bandanna affair about it's eyes (looked as if it were a burglar). The "cardinal" was pecking at the ground with the other "sparrows" near it. Suddenly the "cardinal" scared all the "sparrows" away. It kept on pecking for a while and then flew off. But when it flew off all the little "sparrows" flew off after it. Farther out, past the immediate ground in front of the window were a couple of "robins." At least I think they were "robins," for they had a brown back to them while their chests were a dull red. I also saw a yellow looking bird which I doubt was a "canary" and yet that is the only yellowish bird I know of so I'll call it a "canary."
Looking at all these bird made me reflect on Jesus' promise to care for the sparrow. In Argentina I was walking alongside a professor and asking him several questions. He was sharing that same verse when we turned a corner and together saw on the ground a small bird lying dead. It was rather funny.
But then I walked into lunch. Hmm. Except for it wasn't an "Hmm" as in yummy. No, lunch wasn't too good at all. I need to be in the perfect mood for Mexican food and today I wasn't. I am rarely in the best of moods for Mexican food and today they had enchiladas and who knows what else. Ugh! I was sorely disappointed. Since I'd skipped breakfast and knew I wouldn't eat again till dinner I took some of the food. I was not happy. In my heart I was grumbling and complaining. Without right to either. I had no reason to complain. God was taking care of me just as He was the sparrow. It may not have been my preference but at least I wasn't eating the same meal as the sparrow. I mean, I prefer Mexican food over worms and bugs any day. But still I need to learn to appreciate all that God gives me. I can't pray and "give thanks" for my meal unless I really mean it.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Random Thoughts

"I have merely managed to escape criticism; I have not earned praise." - Horace, Epistle to the Pisones
"I had been far more anxious to avoid suffering than I was to achieve delight." - C.S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy
Although the one by Lewis sounds a little more distorted the one by Horace should be carefully considered. Our goal, as Christians, is not to earn praise, unless of course that praise is channeled back to the One who merits praise. It is also our goal to escape criticism. We will undoubtedly be criticized yet we must never give grounds for criticism. The enemy lashes out at us through criticism and yet his criticism of us must always be false. If the enemy does this heed the advice of Southern Baptist preacher Vance Havner, "Don’t be a quitter because somebody criticizes you. Many a choir singer has performed until somebody hurt her feelings. Then the nightingale became a raven croaking, 'Nevermore'."
Of course the problem is that suffering is something we also wish to avoid or escape. But with suffering we have a double-edged sword. Suffering can come from the enemy but it can also come from our Leader (God). Suffering is not always to be avoided. Whereas genuine criticism must always be avoided (of course, I am not referring to the "constructive criticism" but to the "destructive" kind).
We do want, then, to escape criticism. We do not want to earn praise (unless it be returned to God). Suffering is up for grabs. Sometimes it should be avoided, other times it must be taken advantage of. But as for achieving delight. Hmmm. This one is one that we must pursue. Delight is found in God and in nothing else. For the best expose on this concept you must look into Piper and his writings. But delight, as a whole, is from God and must be achieved. In fact the best thing possible is a consistent delight. A 24/7 delight station would be best. But that's not possible until Heaven so we make do with as much as possible while on earth.

A Word of Beauty

"For beautiful words are, in a real and special sense, the light of thought."
Longinus was a First Century A.D. writer and he made the above comment in his technical treatise On the Sublime.
Although he was certainly referring to eloquence on the stage and on occasions of performance this is a truth that applies itself to almost every area of life. One has to know what one is saying and can't simply ramble about. Pastors so often abuse themselves with their knowledge of ancient languages and theological terms that they miss out on the beauty of words, and, as consequence, there thoughts shed no light on their audience.
Halford Luccock wrote, "The tragedy often is that the more a man studies, the worse he gets; his mind becomes subdued to what he works in, and the textbook style of language hardens on him like a shell. He becomes a literary and vocal crustacean. The preacher who is too busy to read poetry, fiction, drama and the naturalists is too busy. While he is busy here or there with Kant or John Dewey or Karl Barth or Karl Marx or other Olympians, the opportunity of speaking for God to people in their native tongue is gone."
Though this is true, we must learn the beautiful words around us, it does not mean that we need avoid learning of the beauty found in those ancient languages or the theological terms. We must. But above all words we must learn the Word.
Jesus Christ Himself came to Earth as the Word and He dwelt amongst us. It is now time for us to dwell in Him. We must permeate every corner and cranny of our life with His Word. His Word is not only Beautiful but it also serves as the best source of Light. It casts Light on our thoughts and will make our thoughts be Light-filled.

Duty of Devotions

"It is true that our hearts are often sluggish. We do not feel the depth or intensity of affections that are appropriate for God or His cause. It is true that at those times we must exert our wills and make decisions that we hope will rekindle our joy. Even though joyless love is not our aim...nevertheless it is better to do a joyless duty than not to do it, provided that there is a spirit of repentance that we have not done all of our duty because of the sluggishness of our hearts."
John Piper, The Dangerous Duty of Delight
Because of a recent controversy that has been increasing among some of my friends over whether or not we should have devotions I have decided to post this thought. My friends suggest that devotions are not necessary and unless driven by love for the Author of the letters we read (the Bible) they can be avoided. Piper is addressing much more than devotions, but I believe that devotions themselves can appropriately fall under this challenge.

Tongue Lashings

Ever since I found out that I had a rival for the affections of the girl I loved I became nervous. I won't say jealous, because I really had no right to jealousy. But I was nervous. Every time I saw him I would pick out flaws. In fact I was searching for those flaws. In my own judgmental attitude I degraded myself to critiquing him for his body odour, fashion sense, and other completely irrelevant things. But I also discovered bigger flaws, and although everyone has flaws I wanted these flaws to be public. Some of them were, but not because of me. I was constantly biting my tongue to not say anything ill about this guy, my rival. It was really difficult at times. But I bit down. Not once did I say anything ill about this guy to her or to anyone in our clique.
Then she came up to me and told me that he had approached her. My world crumbled. I didn't know what to say or do. Well, actually I did. I had to suck it up and do the right thing. The right thing was to wish her the best. Praying also that she not be hurt. But on the other hand I did not do the right thing by the other guy. I didn't wish him the best. He'd already gotten that. He had taken the one person I felt closest to. He had gotten the best girl in the world. I also did not pray that he not get hurt. I prayed that he not hurt her, of course, but if he got hurt himself I really wouldn't have minded too much. In fact I wanted to hurt him myself.
After finding out that her feelings for him might be reciprocated I tasted the bitterness of rejection (again). So every time I saw him after that I wanted to lash out. I wanted to scream out the flaws I'd been picking at over and over again. Today while reading in my devotions I came across Proverbs 11 and noted a pattern in several of the verses therein. All of the verses noted here are from the NASB.
Vs. 9 With his mouth the godless man destroys his neighbor, but through knowledge the righteous will be delivered.
Vs. 12 He who despises his neighbor lacks sense, but a man of understanding keeps silent.
Vs. 13 He who goes about as a talebearer reveals secrets, but he who is trustworthy conceals a matter.
These verses hit me over the head. Thankfully I had not opened my mouth to say something bad. In part I did that because I knew who immature or petty it would look. I was more concerned with appearances than I was with my own heart attitude. My heart reflected a senseless despisement of my neighbor (vs. 12). That was not right. Though I had quieted my lips I had not taken the time to quiet my heart. My heart was still restless and wounded, wounded in such a way that it wanted to lash out at someone - anyone. The ridiculous thing is that no one had really done this to me other than myself. I hurt myself. It was not her fault, nor was it his. I don't blame him and I certainly don't blame her. The blame falls on my shoulders.
It's still difficult. Every time I see him I feel a surge of grief, anger, pain, regret, jealousy, and a whole tangle of emotions. But I need to learn to feel love. The old adage may the best man win is cliche and yet that is what I want for her. I am not the best man. I am far from it. Quite frankly, I don't think he is either. I don't think anyone will ever be good enough for such an excellent girl. Nevertheless I must wish him the best (even though, in a sense, he already has gotten it). If he is what God has in store for her than I must wish them both nothing but happiness and the richest blessings available.
To be able to do this I need to learn to love him. I need to learn to see him and pray that God take away any restless malice from my heart. It'll be hard. But I have to do it.

A Beholder's Eye on Beauty

Is beauty in the eye of the beholder? If such were the case than beauty must be relative and not something intrinsically absolute.
Neil Diamond in his song Be cries out, "Lost. On a painted sky, where the clouds are hung for the poets eye..." Is this really the case? Certainly some are more capable of greater eloquence where beauty is concerned but the appreciation of a cloud-filled sky must affect everyone. Due to our familiarity with the heavens this appreciation has been cheapened until it makes even the sublime a commonplace occurance. Or, as Tozer noted, "It was Emerson who commented that if the stars should come out only one night in a thousand years, everyone would drop what he or she was doing and in awe 'look at the shining city of God.' But because we see them all the time and because we are busy, we pay very little attention to the stars." (Men Who Met God)
Does beauty uphold itself by some absolute standard or must it be held up (or put down) by particular standards? One of my teachers once challenged me to become more discerning on what is taste and what is good taste. Simply because I have a taste for something does not make that something necessarily "good." Of course by this sense of goodness I am not referring to righteousness or any spiritually related goodness but only the goodness of a standard, such as those belonging to high society. We all have our little quirks, idiosyncrasies and such which distinguish us from the rest of society. Of course, we are often not as quirky as we'd like to think. There are more people like us out there than we'd care to admit, yet not all of us have good taste. We may, it's true, have both, or, more probably, a little of each, but still we must discern between the two and actively pursue both.

No God in Foolishness

As I reflect over the past few blogging days I see how many posts I've made. It's quite a few. I began on April Fools Day (April 1, 2009) and today is April 9, 2009. So it's been a little over a week now. During this time I have blogged over 60 "articles" or posts. Each post relates to some interference or other in my life. I have tried to guide all of these interferences to some sort of a divine or spiritual response. Now I realize that many of these posts tend to deviate. They follow another course, a sort of intellectual philosophizing bent. I'm not trying to boast of any greater intellect, God knows I have a lot more to learn. But I do believe that intelligence is a sign of spirituality. What? You may well ask that question, but it's true. The Scriptures say that it is "the fool who says in his heart there is no God." The intelligent person will see God in everything he reads, views, or hears. That is what I am trying to do. I am trying to sense the divine interference in every realm of life. That is why I include even a rendezvous, a dinner conversation, an evening stroll, a midnight nightmare, a quote of a sermon, an excerpt from a book, a newspaper clipping, a magazine article, the lyrics to a song, or whatever else falls my way. God is a God who works in mysterious yet intelligent ways. He likes to interfere and the more you look for it the more noticeable it becomes. God loves to interfere and I think He does so intelligently and beautifully. So if you see something intelligent or something beautiful there is a greater chance of seeing Him through it as well. Not always, but it's worth a look at least. God has told us that He wants to be tried. In fact He has told us to taste Him and to see that He is good.

Action of Temptation

"The mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in the self-denial that mars our lives. We are punished for our refusals. Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind, and poisons us. The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it."
Oscar Wilde suggests, by means of Dorian Gray, that yielding to temptation erradicates temptation. In a sense that is true, yet in another sense it is false. Naturally if one gives in to temptation the temptation itself ends, but the consequence is that that temptation then becomes an actual sin. There is, of course, a better way of erradicating temptation. As Christians we know we can cry out to Jesus.
But I don't mean to discuss temptation or sin as an action in vague terms. I want to make it something concrete (not abstract). So I have chosen to address a sin (if it is a sin) that is rarely discussed. Perhaps it is considered, but if it is then it is rarely addressed. Some of you, as readers, may not want to read on. The sin (if it be so) that I chose to address is masturbation.
Some nights ago the guys were in my room and we got around to this topic. They had brought it up in a very vulgar fashion. They were simply cracking jokes about it but since they chose to do it in my room I decided to spin the tables and we soon had a pretty decent debate going.
There are some who believe that masturbation is not a sin. Some of these people are those who simply want to excuse it so that they may entertain it more. Others simply because it sounds elitist in a philosophical sense. There are those who look at it scientifically and even those who acknowledge it's absence from the Scriptures. Among the many who endorse it's validity (as a non-sin, that is) are Dr. James Dobson. Others hold to another stand and suggest that it is indeed a sin. I would have to lean towards this party.
On the other hand I do understand where the non-sin views come from. Masturbation is a common thing among guys, and it is, so I understand, frequent as well among women. Every single guy in my suite has at one point or another in their life masturbated. I'd lay down a healthy bet that every guy in my dorm has also tried it at least once. Of course there are those who are more enslaved to it. I know of one guy who memorizes Scripture every time he goes to a bathroom because if not he'll give into the urge to masturbate. For many taking a shower is a risk and they ask for intense vigilance or accountability for that.
Our mistake lies in the fact that we view masturbation itself as a sin, but that is merely the action or acting out of the sin. The real sin lies in what comes prior to it. The poisoning of our lives by our philosophy or thought content. Perhaps pornography or past sexual encounters or whatever else might detonate sexual arousal. The problem with our sexual arousal is that once it has been wakened it demands satisfaction. Sometimes this satisfaction is a spontaneous release in what is termed as a "wet dream" and, quite honestly, I am not too familiar with those. Another form of satisfaction is by masturbation. If these urges are not satisfied they hurt. It strangles, according to Wilde, our minds, but it actually strangles much more than that (at least for a guy). The urge grows, swells, if you will, with pent up energy that demands release.
Because it will be released involuntarily (wet dream) some say that there is no harm in releasing it purposefully (masturbation). After all, they argue, it harms no one else and will eventually harm us if we do not release it. To suggest that it doesn't harm someone else is absurd. As for it harming ourselves, well, that's our own fault for filling our minds with filth from the start. Perhaps if one could masturbate in an abstract fashion then it might not be sinful, but as it is I would have to insist on it being very sinful. We masturbate to dirty images not to something good or pure.
Another thing about Wilde's comment is that although the body sins once, that is not enough. It is never enough. Masturbation, like all sins but sexual sins in particular, is very addicting. It also does not serve to purify the body. It might release the body from pent up pain, but that is not purification.

Dependence vs. Independence

"Independence? That's middle class blasphemy. We are all dependent on one another, every soul of us on earth."
During one of my performance classes I played Henry Higgins from George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion. It later proved to be one of my best (and most controversial) performances. Of the entire piece this is one of the lines I grew to be particularly fond of.
Independence is indeed a blasphemy. Steven Curtis Chapman sings of a "Declaration of Dependence." That is precisely how our lives are to be lived. They must be carried through in an utter dependence on God and then we must also learn to be relationally dependent as a sort of outflow from our dependence on God.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

The Mystery of Worshiph

"Worship is to feel in the heart and express in an appropriate manner a humbling but delightful sense of admiring awe. Worship humbles you. The proud man can't worship God any more than the proud devil can worship God. There must be humility in the heart before there can be worship. If it isn't mysterious there can be no worship. If God can be understood by me than I cannot worship God."
The above excerpt comes from a sermon by A.W. Tozer and belongs to a compilation of similar thoughts found in Tozer on Worship and Entertainment.
Last week, on Thursday (April 2, 2009), I felt God breaking me in Chapel. It was a pleasantly painful experience. I don't really know how to describe it. I felt broken. It hurt. But it felt good too. The brokeness was more internal than anything else. And I can't describe that either. I was just awestruck by the fact (literal fact) that God loves me. Yes, that's right, He loves me. Intellectually we all know that. I mean we are all on the verge of being theologians in our knowledge of God's love. But I dare say we don't really know it until we fully experience it. This experience is not a mystical thing. But it is a tangible thing. I felt (yes, felt) God loving me. Though the brokeness was, as I said, primarily internal it was also external. That was a little embarrassing, but, quite frankly, I didn't care too much. Just as I was broken down inside, so I broke down on the outside. My face was soaked in tears, my heart was soaked in praise. It was a beautiful experience.
This will sound weird but I never felt so humble as at that moment. I, terrible sinner that I am, was loved of God. I was loved in a past tense, as in before I was even born. But I was also loved in the sense of that day, even with my sin, He still loved me. That was a moment of worship for me. It was a moment of humility. I felt unworthy. But the strange thing is that the whole message was about how God had made me worthy. That's right. His love cancels all of Satan's accusations and makes me worthy before Him. So, yes, I did feel worthy and grateful for it. While at the same time I felt unworthy. Not due to my sin, which is the reason why I usually feel unworthy. No, this unworthiness was a purer sense of unworthiness. The kind which kneels before Christ though feeling unworthy of even unlatching His sandal strappings. In my heart I was kneeling before God and, at His feet, offering Him praise and thanks for His love. Yet there was also mystery. Incomprehension as to why He would love me.
Later, walking away from Chapel, a friend of mine commented that it was so difficult to understand or to grasp the grace of God. It's true. It's a mystery. And I think that's the way it should be.
Tozer also wrote, "There is an astonishment about reverence. If you can explain it, you cannot worship it. You may admire it, you may honor it, but there is a mysterious fascination that carries the heart beyond itself and then we are nearer to worship."
I thank God for humbling me. I thank God for being a mystery. I thank God for loving me. I thank God for breaking me.

The 7 Cardinal Sins

There is a thin line between wickedness and nobility. The seven deadly sins are but seven created aspirations gone askew. They are seven blessed virtues become seven deadly distortions. Self esteem corrupts to pride; the quest for material welfare crosses the border to covetousness; the hunger for personal intimacy degenerates to lust. Pain turns to anger and hunger to gluttony. Admiration and honor are sullied by envy, and our need for rest surrenders to sloth.
R.C. Sproul, In Search of Dignity

Dutifully Right

The pursuit of happiness is supposedly an inalienable human right. I beg to differ. More than any right I think it is a duty. It is a responsability. Man really has no rights. There is no right to this or the other. Properly speaking the only right we have is unto damnation. Of course, because of God and His grace, we enjoy certain delights which are accompanied with duties. And because of our faith in His grace our damnation has also been cancelled. Therefore to claim personal rights is to be ridiculous. Pursuing happiness is, if properly understood, pursuing God. This is not a right, this is a duty. As Christians we are held accountable for our pursuit of God, something which must be a priority in our lives. My blogging of God's interferences in my life is not all because He interrupts or interferes so much as that I look for Him, I try to find Him in all that I read or watch or listen to. He is, or should be, part of all I do. As consequence He will be glorified (I hope) in all I do. So to say that the pursuit of happiness, which equals a pursuit of God, is a right, I would say that it certainly is not. Rather it is a responsability or duty. A delightful duty - most of the time...I mean, come on, if we're honest it's not always delightful. Yet because it is a duty, it must be done. Here discipline steps in to replace delight when delight is absent. Happiness cannot be found apart from God.

Admiration of Man

...God hates for man to boast in man...boasting in man deflects man's attention from the Fountain of his joy and so ruins his life. It tricks man into replacing Magnificence with a mirror. Man was not made to admire man. He was made to admire God. The joy of admiration is prostituted and ruined when man tries to find galaxy-size Glory in the glow of his own reflection. God does not like the human damage done by boasting in man.
Selection from John Piper's Life as a Vapor (Chapeter 9, Boasting in Man is Doubly Excluded).
Hmmm. This is interesting. I believe that we are to value each other. There is nothing wrong in the admiration or praise of man, only in the worship thereof. Man is not to worship man, and yet the praise of man is, I think, acceptable. Not the praise of oneself but the praise of another. If this were not the case we would not commend a man on his anniversary for having made it that long. Or we would not introduce a preacher with such a glowing report of his ministry. Nor would we speak well of our godly mentors and those who influenced us, such as parents or pastors. But are we only to admire the godliness in others? That would seem to condone admiration with a gentle and patronizing pat on the back. By admiring the godliness in other people we are, after a fashion, admiring the detonator of such godliness - God Himself. Therefore the admiration would flow right back to Him. But we also admire the secular, or ungodly people. We admire various atheletes, actors, and authors (to name but a few selections from a wide array). Yet in our admiration of these people we do not, I trust, admire them for their track record in divorce, or drug addiction, or other destructive sins. No, we admire them for their ability in athleticism, acting, or writing. That is we admire their God-given abilities or potential. Their creative capacity, in the writer for example, are reflective of a divine interference. God interferes in all of humanity and thus causes admiration of His creation. Not to mention He observed His own creation to be good and desires, I believe, that we enjoy His goodness.

Abominable Fascination in Abuse

He [the wild man] has to live in the midst of the incomprehensible, which is also detestable. And it has a fascination, too, that goes to work upon him. The fascination of the abomination - you know. Imagine the growing regrets, the longing to escape, the powerless disgust, the surrender, the hate.
Marlow speaks these words from aboard the Nellie as it sails along the Thames in Joseph Conrad's novel, Heart of Darkness. Yet these words also speak of something deeper, at least in my mind. While in Argentina I had the awesome responsibility of translating. More often than not my translations consisted of various conferences and seminars or other such speaking engagements. But there were times, frequent times, when I would have to translate written documents and other such things. One of the documents that fell my way was a portfolio of sorts on sexual abuse. It was one of the most difficult translations I'd ever had to perform. Nearly every page caused me to stop from the pain embedded in it.
For the victim of child abuse, perhaps even those who are abused at a later age, there is, as Conrad said, a "fascination of the abomination." It somehow takes hold of the victim so that it becomes a part of his character. The abused party cannot avoid remembering and will think about the evil episode on a daily basis. Though his thoughts may often grow distorted, they are nonetheless painful. I say they grow distorted because one can mistake the abuse as merited when it is generally (if not always) not the case.
C.S. Lewis said that if ever anyone lies with someone else there is a transcendental relationship which must forever be enjoyed or forever be endured. For the victim of child abuse it is the same way. It is something that lasts forever, and it is something that must be endured. Our bodies are instinctively wired in such a way that, whether we like it or not, we respond physically to contact with another. Though this contact be brutally forced or of an aggressive nature it is nonetheless bonding.
Here is an illustration. An eight year old child has never encountered sexuality in any way with anyone and is one night suddenly raped. His innocence is rudely stolen and in it's place there is now an incomprehensible sense of the sexual and physical which has been awakened. It has been awakened much too early. The child has no idea what to do with it, or what to do with himself, for that matter. God saved these instincts, sexual instincts, to be aroused (and satisfied) in marriage. Now, for the child, these instincts have been aroused much too early and have no way of being satisfied. The child doesn't even know how to go about satisfying such instincts and must do as Conrad said, "Imagine the growing regrets, the longing to escape, the powerless disgust, the surrender, the hate." All of these influence a child. In his longing to escape there are few alternatives open to him. Surrender is really the only alternative available. It may be surrender unto suicide, something which the abused will easily contemplate. Or a surrender unto distorted sexuality, perhaps through pornography or similar dominance exerted on others (that is all the abused knows of sexuality). But there is another alternative of surrender. Surrender unto Christ.
Nevertheless the abused is trapped (unless freed in Christ) to an incomprehensible, detestable, abominable, and yet fascinating sexuality. Unaware, or rather, unsure, of what it all means the victim is trapped and without escape other than to hate. Hatred of others. Hatred of the abuser. Hatred of the rescuers (those who could have but didn't help). Hatred of self (this is a big one for every victim). And even hatred of God Himself. For this too there is a remedy. Love.
When freed in Christ the incomprehensible may or may not make sense. The detestable will continue to be detestable and the abominable will be abominable. The fascination will be channeled unto God and rightly laid at His feet. But above all there will be love. Love for others. Love for the abuser. Love for the rescuers. Love for self (an appropriate sense of love, of course). But above all a love for God.

The End of Christian America (an Article)

I just read an alarming article in the onlin edition of Newsweek magazine. The article is simply titled THE END OF CHRISTIAN AMERICA. If you are interested in viewing it I've attached the address for the site.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/192583/page/4

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Sinking Stones and Sands

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

This is the second stanza from Edgar Allan Poe's A Dream Within a Dream. The reference to sand's golden grains brought back a memory. It is a tainted memory as it relates to a Japanese film that I should have never seen. Yet from that memory I have drawn one value, it was a simple comment, part of the film. That comment was something to the extent of both stone and grain of sand will equally sink in the sea if dropped there. Obviously that is not an exact or literal quote but the gist of it is in there. How often we long to hold on to things which do not belong to us. Sometimes those things are bad things, such as our sins. Our sins are buried in the pits of the deepest seas. Someone once told me that since this was the case we should not go fishing there (as we are often prone to do). But sometimes it is not sins but sacrifices. There are good things which are also washed away in the floodlike torrents of love. These good things are not ours, they do not belong to us. They are God's. Lewis spoke of it in this way, "When you are training soldiers in manoeuvres, you practise in blank ammunition because you would like them to have practise before meeting the real enemy. So we must practise in abstaining from pleasures which are not in themselves wicked. If you don't abstain from pleasure, you won't be good when the time comes along." So the point is that we must learn, like mother hens, to shoo small chicks out of our nest. We cannot hold grains of sand in our hand for too long. It's eventually futile. So if we can't hold it, then it will definitely not hold our homes or castles. Don't build on the sand. But returning from that detour let me conclude and say, along with the film, that it doesn't matter whether it be a stone or a grain of sand sometimes we ought to just let it sink.

Character Judgment

...Now character determines men's qualities, but it is by their actions that they are happy or the reverse.
Character is that which reveals moral purpose, showing what kind of things a man chooses or avoids. Speeches, therefore, which do not make this manifest, or in which the speaker does not choose or avoid anything whatever, are not expressive of character.
The above lines are copied from Aristotle's Poetics and serve to raise an intrigue. Character has been defined as what God and angels know of us, while reputation what men know or think of us. Our virtues are founded in our character. Our actions flow from our philosophy of life. They way we think determines the way we act. The way we think is often molded (or moulded?) by our character. Character has also been defined as the way one behaves when no one is watching. Our character may be good or perverse and our actions, hypocritically enough, may reflect quite a different story. Our character, our heart, needn't abide by our actions. We are judged, some say, by our actions (or lack thereof). I agree, we will be judged by these, but I also believe there is a greater judgment and that is of our motivations, which relates to our character.

The Confession in Poetry

Introduction to Poetry by Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

Aristotle in his Poetics wrote, "Many poets tie the knot well, but unravel it ill. Both arts, however should be mastered."

And it would be wise as well to remember MacLeish who said that poetry should not mean, but be.

Brutal but Beautiful

This article deals with a brutal yet beautiful reality. To check out the original source go to:
By Dana Jennings
I vividly recall those first few hours in the hospital room after my prostate cancer surgery last July: the plastic thicket of I.V. tubes; the leg cuffs huffing and chuffing to ward off blood clots; my throbbing incision packed with gauze. But, most important, I remember peering through the post-surgical haze to see my wife, Deb, sitting there, smiling at me.
These days, I epitomize the “in sickness” part of the wedding vows that Deb and I took back in 1981. Since we learned last April that I have prostate cancer, I’ve had my prostate removed, found out that the cancer was shockingly aggressive, undergone a 33-session course of radiation and am finishing up hormone therapy.
Right now, I’m not quite what you’d call “a catch.” I wear man-pads for intermittent incontinence, I’m a bazaar of scars, and haven’t had a full erection in seven months. Most nights, I’m in bed by 10. The Lupron hormone shots, which suppress the testosterone that can fuel prostate cancer, have sent my sex drive lower than the stock market, shrunken my testicles, and given me hot flashes so fierce that I sweat outdoors when it’s 20 degrees and snowing.
Even so, Deb has taught me that love is in the details. Humid professions of undying love and tear-stained sonnets are all well and good, but they can’t compete with the earthy love of Deb helping me change and drain my catheter pouches each day when I first came home from the hospital.
Yes, in the details. She measured my urine, peered into places I couldn’t (literally and figuratively), and strategically and liberally applied baby powder, ice and Aquaphor to my raw and aching body. She battled our intractable insurer, networked, tracked down the right doctors — and took thorough notes all the while.
I was wounded. She protected me. She chose to do these things.
Deb and I have been married for 27 years, have two sons (22 and 19), and have ridden the usual Ferris wheel that comes with a long marriage. But our love for each other has deepened in this time of prostate cancer.
We talk more often about the life we’ve built together, about sex and money, about the joy we take in our sons, about the uncertain future. When cancer moves in, there’s nothing you and your spouse can’t talk about.
Our love has been seasoned with a bitter pinch of mortality, and the classic quarrels of marriage hold little power over us anymore. When I say to Deb, “I love you,” I mean it. And when she responds, “I love you more,” she means it, too. We understand that time, perhaps, is not on our side.
Time, we are told, will give us our sex life back. As I said, the hormone shots have shut down my sex drive. And my poor penis is still in recovery — from the surgery and the radiation. But as we wait, I’ll tell you this: Love abides.
Yes, yes and yes — lust is essential. But right now, sex seems quaint, old-fashioned. Oddly enough, it can’t compete with the depth and gravity of a light touch, a sly glance. I’m in the mood for the Beatles and “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” not Grace Jones growling, “Pull up to my bumper, baby.”
Don’t get me wrong. I really, really like sex. But given a choice between the mere biology of lust and the deep soul of love, I’ll take love. My body has changed — but my doctors say my libido will be warming up again before I know it. Deb understands, and we’ve adapted.
Deb’s love is one to live up to, one to reciprocate. Who else is going to snuggle up to me on the couch, smile, listen — and nod knowingly — as I complain about my hot flashes?
In the long shadow of prostate cancer, I’ve learned that I married the right woman.

The Best Advice Ever

My stupid mouth
Has got me in trouble
I said too much again
To a date over dinner yesterday
And I could see
She was offended
She said, "Well, anyway"
Just dying for a subject change
Oh, it's another social casualty
Score one more for me
How could I forget?
Mama said, "Think before speaking"
No filter in my head
...I'm never speaking up again
It only hurts me
I'd rather be a mystery
Than she desert me

These lines are taken from one of my favourite John Mayer songs (My Stupid Mouth). Although the song is a little funny it is the sort of funny that bespeaks irony and is reminiscent of our own tragedy. We are all victims of social casualties and more often than not are also the catalysts for the same. Some of the best advice I ever got was "Don't pass up the opportunity to be quiet." (Or, No pases por alto la oportunidad de estarte callado.) Too often I open my own stupid mouth and miss those precious opportunities when I should just shut up. Silence is, according to some, a spiritual discipline. If such is the case than it is a discipline in which I am severely lacking.