Wedding Photos

Off to Kansas City

Well, we'll be leaving in the morning for Kansas City. My oldest (Michael) is getting married. We're so excited. And a bit stressed. They asked if I'd so the wedding. Of course! How cool is that? I did my sister's wedding in September, and now I get to do my son's.

Anyway, I hope the weather holds up. They've been having some really bad ice down there.

Anti-intellectualism

I don’t know if it’s just me, or if it’s just in some of the circles I move around in, but there seems to be a sort of growing anti-intellectualism within Evangelical Christianity. There’s this idea that people should only read “approved” books. Some groups have even banned (or at least strongly discourage) their members from reading certain Christian authors.

Now, I’ve got to admit it: that really bugs me… a lot. Actually, I'm pretty sick of it. Folks who think they have no need for theology don’t realize that they are only one small step away from bowing to the shine of pagan gods. Folks who think that faith means turning the brain off don’t realize that what they think if faith is hollow and lifeless—dead. Folks who think that anything that smacks of theology is merely the “wisdom of men” and can be tossed out with the evening trash are deluded and deceived—they do not have the truth, only their own personal illusion of truth.

Faith is not blind. Faith and reason are both gifts of God. They are two sides of the same coin. One without the other is not truth but a lie. Faith that is not thought out is not biblical faith. It is empty-headedness. Reason that has no basis in faith is not intelligence, but vanity. They must go together—one lifting the other, one under-gurding the other, one informing the other.

It was Martin Luther who said that “Literalists are lemmings.” To have faith without reason is to have no faith. It is to be a lemming. It is to follow someone or something to our destruction. Faith that rejects reason and theology and intellectualism rejects Christianity.

That’s not to say that only the intelligent can be Christian. That’s not to say that faith is only for those who are theologians or scholars. By no means! Paul tells us that God’s foolishness is wiser than any human wisdom. It is not human wisdom we seek. It is God’s. And God’s wisdom comes only through diligence and perseverance and persistence and hard work. It’s what discipleship is all about.

Anyway, I suppose I could say more, but I won’t (at least not now—maybe later.). Suffice it to say that I believe it’s time (past time) for Christians to start taking their faith seriously enough to use their brains, to wrestle with the tough issues of their faith. It’s time to be transformed by the renewing of the mind.

The Road Ahead

I ran across this quote from a guy named Jean Pierre Camus worth thinking about. He says, "He who believes himself to be far advanced in the spiritual life has not even made a good beginning."

We all know people like that. But I don't think that's the point of the quote. The point is we need to examine our own spiritual attitudes. I've come to believe that there really is no such thing a "Christian maturity"... only maturing Christians.

When I look at the road ahead, looking back at how far I've come doesn't seem like such a great a distance after all. When we think of ourselves as "far advanced" it's because we compare our selves to ourselves (or worse, others) rather than the goal--which is Christ.

Forgotten Discipline

In the introduction to his book, Hunger for God, John Piper says:

“The greatest enemy of hunger for God is not poison but apple pie. It is not the banquet of the wicked that dulls our appetite for heaven, but endless nibbling at the table of the world. It is not the X-rated video, but the prime-time dribble of triviality we drink in every night. For all the ill that Satan can do, when God describes what keeps us from the banquet table of his love, it is a piece of land, a yoke of oxen, and a wife (Luke 14.18-20). The greatest adversary of love to God is not his enemies but his gifts. And the most deadly appetites are not for the poison of evil, but for the simple pleasures of earth. For when these replace an appetite for God himself, the idolatry is scarcely recognizable and almost incurable.”

Maybe you should pause here and read that again.

Lately, I’ve been reminded of a forgotten discipline in the Christian walk—the discipline of fasting. I wonder if we were to poll all those who sit in the pews Sunday after Sunday, I wonder how many would say they fast regularly. I wonder how many would say they have fasted for extended periods of time, setting aside the “simple pleasures of earth” for a period of time to hunger more after God.

I am shocked (but not surprised) when I hear long time Christians who say they have never practiced the discipline of regular fasting. Many have never fasted. It seems we have too much apple pie on our tables. It seems we nibble too much.

Fasting, like prayer, is not a way to manipulate God. Fasting, like prayer, is not something added to our life—it needs to be a lifestyle. We fast because Jesus said we will. We fast because what we really hunger and thirst for is righteousness—not Papa Murphy’s. We fast because there is nothing—absolutely nothing—that this world can offer that can take the place of God himself—not even God’s gifts. We fast because it reminds us that a banquet awaits in heaven. We fast because right now, we live in a world filled with injustice and oppression and God calls us to fast in order to break those chains. We fast because nothing can satisfy the hunger in our souls but God. We fast because we have become overstuffed—full of ourselves and the pleasures of earth.

Perhaps it’s time to rediscover the forgotten discipline of fasting. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they will be filled.”

School and The Bible

I know… it’s rather pathetic. It has been so long since I’ve bothered writing anything. It’s not that nothing’s been going on; it’s that too much has been going on.

School’s been occupying most of my spare time. I’m working toward another Masters degree, but mostly I just love being in school. It gives me a place to question, to think outside the box without having to worry about people thinking I’m a heretic (or worse… a liberal).

Anyway, I’m right now in the midst of a class on Biblical Theology. It’s been an incredible journey—too much to take in, but enough to whet my appetite to make it a life long pursuit. Of course, that may sound funny coming from a pastor of 11 years. What have I been doing every Sunday if not preaching from the Bible? And I have, backed by hours of study and preparation. But BT takes Bibles study to a deeper level than mere exegesis. It also helps to expose many of the popular myths that have crept into the pews (and pulpits).

You see it’s sad when our theology is formed by the Left Behind series more than actual Biblical facts. It’s tragic when you walk into a Christian book store and you’re inundated by books on how to grasp the American dream and make it yours—all in the name of Christ of course—but when you go looking for serious books on in depth Bibles studies they seem to be missing from the shelves. It’s sad when we’ve allowed proof-texting to become a substituted for the plenary study of Scripture.

Anyway, enough about what’s sad. What’s exciting is that there does seem to be a renewed interest in Biblical literacy. Even though it may be small and inceptional at the moment, it holds great promise.

Vegas

Here we are... Las Vegas.

My sister is getting married and asked if I'd do the wedding. It's my first Vegas wedding. And no, I'm not going to wear an Elvis outfit (thank you... thank you very much).

Anyway, it's interesting here. Yes, it's Sin City. Sex everywhere. It right there, in your face. But you know the thing that bugs me the most is not that (as bad as it is), but it's the waist. It's the selfish, all about me, over the top, make me sick opulence.

I mean, here we are in a world where people die every day because they don't have food, water, the bear necessities of life. I mean a simple think like diarria (sp?) kills so many! And here I am in the middle of this hole in the universe that is sucking up so much of the world's resources in this vortex of narcissism and selfishness. It is truly repulsive.

It's like we've stepped into this emptiness where nothing is. That advertisement that says, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" is true because it's almost as if this is a non-place. The rules of fairness, social justice, have no place here. There in only one thing--ME.

Anyway, what I am I going to do with this experience? How am I going to let this form me? How am I going to let it form and shape my kids?

I'm not sure yet. But one thing it has re-stirred in my heart is a greater desire to impact my world for justice. It seems to me that somewhere along the Christian road we've kicked out this idea of justice and replaces it with the notion of judgment. God help us. Somewhere along the way we've strayed from the truth that God wants to redeem the world, not condemn it, not destroy it; and definitely not insulate us from its pains and injustices. Yet that's just what we've done in so many of our churches. We've built myopic monasteries that cater to my needs, my well being, my spiritual satisfaction. Really, when I think about it, it's not a whole lot different than Vegas. God help us.

Hearing from God

Have you ever heard from God? Oh, not in an audible way. But in a way that you know that this idea that just popped up in your thought wasn't from your own mind or imagination--it was divine.

Have you ever had that happen to you?

Yea, me too... just this morning as a matter of fact. But this time it was a kind of time-delayed voice. It was like God sneaking up behind me and whispers, "Remember what you heard way back in February? That was for you."

Back in February I was at a conference and one of the speakers said he was sitting in his office and it was as if God said to him, "You need to be more afraid of me than you are of your people." It thought that was pretty cool--it had nothing to do with his presentation, but it was pretty cool, so I wrote it down.

Well, today God reminded me of that, It was as if God came up beside me and said, "John, you need to be more afraid of me than you are of your people." It wasn't audible, but it was clear enough. It was unmistakably God.

I had to confess. I had to repent. I had to ask for God's forgiveness.

I also had to ask for God's help.

I am so tied to people's approvals. I want to be liked. I want people to like what I say and always speak well of me. But not at the cost of God's disapproval. And that's been the problem, I think. I've been more afraid of what others think about me, and less concerned with what God thinks about me. I don't want to rock the boat, even though God is saying, "It's time to jump ship. It's time to get out of the boat."

I'm sure it's going to take some courage... I'm sure it's going to take some faith... I'm sure it's going to take a lot of praying... and I'm sure I'll stumble on the way.... but I'm done with being afraid of people and what they think.

God called me, not people. God has commissioned me, not people. God has ordained me, not people. I am God's, not theirs. And I seek God's approval above all else.

Distractions

I've been thinking about distractions lately. Maybe it's because I've been fighting through so many of them lately. But it seems to me that Satan loves distractions. It keeps us from focusing on Kingdom work.

Lately there has been a lot of distractions. Satan has been extra busy. The Devil has been hard at work in people's lives. He uses people that way. And he does so all in the name of truth. But it's not truth, it's a lie. After all, he is the father of lies.

But he sucks people in. They don't even know it--until it's too late. And sometimes I wonder if even then. Some folks live a delusion that has tainted the whole world to them. Not only are they distracted, but they have become the distraction. Satan wins.

But, of course, in the end Satan never wins--God does.

It's funny how these distractions seem to mean less and less over time. They become little more than a bee sting that hurts at first, maybe even swells up and festers; but eventually it fades away and is forgotten.

I guess when I think about it, these distractions amount to little more than the desperate roar of a lion who has lost his teeth. It makes a lot of noise, scares a lot of people, but is relay pretty powerless. The sad thing is how many folks want to take up the lion's roar. The sad thing is... how many people run and never look to see how toothless and powerless these roars really are.

I suppose what I'm saying is: I'm tired of being distracted by the pride (think double meaning here) of toothless, powerless, lions roaring away in the Devil's den. Let them roar. I am no longer listening. Like Nehemiah up on the wall, I'm too busy doing what God has called me to do to be distracted anymore. I will not come down, there's more important things to do.

Like sharing the good news of God's love and grace.

Like being Christ to others.

Like bringing the Kingdom of God to my little corner of the world.

Tired

I'm tired.

Not sleepy tired, but tired of taking two steps forward only to be knocked backwards 10.

Tired of struggling to be true to God, only to be called a heretic.

Tired of fighting. Tired of arguing.

Tired of trying of embracing people only to find a knife deep in my back.

Tired of being hurt. Tired of the pain.

Is it worth it anymore? Does anyone care? Should I even care if anyone cares?

Does God care?

Sometimes I feel like Job surrounded by his wonderful friends. Sometimes... but most of the time I just feel alone.

I'm just tired, and I tend to get apathetic when I'm tired.

Cool! An eagle just flew by--spiraling over the trees in front of the church. "They will sore on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."

I'm still tired. I'm still weary. I still feel faint. But maybe ... maybe it's okay.

Masks

I've been thinking about this "showing up" thing some more... about this whole idea of being fully present. What does that look like? How do we become fully present? Jeremy got me thinking down these lines with his comment.

Being fully present is a big thing... an important thing. And since it is so big and important maybe I should think about it more. Maybe I should try and figure out what it looks like. How do we become fully present?

Well, the first thing that seemed to come to mind about being fully present is about taking off the masks. After all, how can we be present anywhere if we are hiding behind something?

I guess it's about being real. And being real is a scary thing. We become vulnerable. We become raw. It's risky. That's why it's so much easier to keep the mask on.

I think church people are good at wearing masks. Church is a good place to come for masks.

Which is really messed up, because church should be the one place where you can go to and feel safe about taking off the mask and being real. Church should be a place where real people come and share their real struggles and their real victories... without feeling threatened, judged, or looked down on. Church, of all places, should be a mask free zone.

Anyway, back to being present. It just seems to me that taking off our mask is the first step in being fully present.

Showing Up

I'm pretty sure that most of us who follow Jesus, who call ourselves Christian, believe that God is everywhere... that God is present in all places at all times. I'm pretty sure we all understand that there is nowhere we can go to where God isn't already there waiting for us.

So, if we think that, if we really believe that, then why do we pray for God to show up? Why is it that sometimes--after a church service or a prayer meeting or a bible study--we say that "God showed up," and other times it seems like God's presence was nowhere to be seen--or more to the point: felt?

We rely pretty heavy on our feelings. Or at least it seems like we do when it come to spiritual issues. I wonder if sometimes we've made those feelings out to be idols. We start to chase after the feelings--the warm fuzzy God-feelings--instead of chasing after God. We begin to hunger and thirst for the experience rather than the one who gives the experience.

Anyway, I think sometimes when we say, "God showed up," what we really mean is that the feelings we experienced met with our expected understanding of what God showing up should feel like. Really, it has little to do with God showing up or not. After all, if God is everywhere at all times, God always shows up.

So... that makes me think. Maybe the problems has nothing to do with God showing up. Maybe what it really has to do with is whether or not we show up--I mean really show up, not just occupy space.

Showing up is hard. It requires sacrifice. To show up means we need to leave something behind. To show up means we need to set aside personal agendas, personal expectations, personal distractions. To show up means we need to be fully present.

Maybe that's one reason we miss God--not because God hasn't shown up, but because we have never become fully present to the God who is already here. Maybe we were looking for something different--a different feeling, a different expression of worship, a different... well to be blunt, a different idol.

Being fully present is about making a sacrifice. It's about sacrificing all those idols we tend to fashion out of the fragments of the world in which we live. It's about sacrificing our expectations in order to experience the God who is already present. It's about really showing up.

What would happen this Sunday if we all decided to show up? What would happen if every Sunday we came to worship with the attitude of being fully present for whatever God does in our midst? What would happen if we learned how to be fully present to a God who is always present for us?

I have a funny feeling we'd be saying, "Boy, God really showed up today."

Prayer by Grace

I'm reading Henri Nouwen's book Reaching Out. In one section he talks about prayer as a gift.

I like that.

It's easy to think of prayer as a discipline--something we do to make something happen. It's easy to think of prayer as part of our daily "to do" list--"read your bible and pray every day and grow, grow, grow." But when we reduce prayer to just that--a thing we do--prayer tends to become a very heavy burden. It becomes very difficult to sustain.

Maybe that's why, for most of us anyway, a consistent prayer life is difficult. It has become a duty... a chore. Even if it is something we love to do... even if it is something we desire with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength... when it is only a discipline we do, it become dry and sterile and ineffective.

But if we were to include the notion that prayer is a gift--it is "God's breathing in us, by which we become part of the intimacy of God's inner life" (Nouwen), all of a sudden prayer become liberating... life-giving... prayer becomes not only a means of grace, but grace itself.

We like to talk in terms of being saved by grace, not by works. Well, why not pray by grace, not by works? Prayer by grace would be prayer that is our response to God, not something we initiate. Prayer by grace would be we are entering in on what God is already about (and doing). Prayer by grace would be answering God, not simply telling God. Prayer by grace would be about surrender.

Labeling

Okay... guilty. I've done it. I admit it. I've bought one product over another simply because of the label. Whether it's because of a brand name identity, or because I just like the advertising better, I've done it.

But then again, who hasn't. After all, there's a sense in which we tend to identify ourselves by the brand we buy. Call it "Label Identity," or "Label Image." That's why we avoid certain generic products. They don't carry the same image.

Generic has a kind of bad name. Somehow, because the packaging is less flashy... because it lacks the advertising fire power... it's lower quality... it's inferior.

I remember when "generic" first came out. It was in the grocery store--plain white labels with plain black letters. Basic stuff.

Not so much anymore. Even generic has gone through an image over-haul. Even generic has falling prey to the labeling craze. Black and white doesn't sell.

Except for some. For some, black and white isn't about the color of the paper and the ink; it's about their opinion. It's about their understanding of what is and what isn't. It's about how they label their world. And the way they label their world is all about creating insiders and outsiders.

That's another thing about labeling--it build walls and causes division. You got the PC users over there and the Mac users over here. You got the Dodge guy and the Ford girl. Jews and gentiles. Democrats, Republicans. Liberals, Conservatives. Orthodox and...

Anyway, you get it. Labels have a way of causing problems. They can lead to division. They can make things artificially black and white.

Now, labels are good--when they are doing what they are supposed to. They identify what's on the inside of the packaging. But in our consumer driven, marketing powered, advertising rich culture, the label has become an end in itself. They have come to represent product superiority--brand arrogance.

Those of us who have labeled ourselves as followers of Jesus need to get beyond the micro-labeling that tends to cause division... that tends to create brand superiority... that tends to be exclusive and arrogant.

Maybe that's why the very first followers of Jesus were known simply as The Way. Simple, inclusive, basic label. Nothing flashy. Nothing fancy. Just The Way. It identified who they were and what they were about--following in the Way of Jesus. And isn't that what the Kingdom of God is supposed to be all about--following Jesus who is the way, the truth and the life.

Using God

You know, one of the things that really frustrates me is the miss-use of God to justify our actions and attitudes... the way God is used to validate personal opinions and fight individual battles. Oh, I'm not talking about Jihads or the Crusades or the Inquisition or anything as dramatic as that. I'm talking about the more subtle ways God is used and miss-used.

Sometimes I think those subtle ways are perhaps even more detestable to God. There's something about them that smacks of arrogance... of setting ourselves up as God's lone spokesperson... of making our opinion the one supreme authority all others must bow down to. There's something about it that just irks me... makes my skin crawl and my stomach turn.

Here's what I don't get. You've got one person--devote, sincere, passionate about following Jesus. And then you've got another person--just as devote, just as sincere, just as passionate. Both pray, both read the Bible, both go to church. Yet one of them seems to think that, somehow, they have the inside track on God. Somehow they think their opinion, their interpretation, their understanding, is "right" and everyone else who doesn't agree is wrong--or ever worse: is a heretic.

They justify themselves by saying, "I've prayed about this and God showed me."

No doubt they have (prayed that is).

But what if the other person has prayed also? What if the other person was equally assured by God? Does that mean God can't make up his mind? Or does it mean that perhaps the answer wasn't so clear? Or maybe one or both wasn't really listening. Maybe one or both went into prayer already set in what they expected to hear.

Here's what I'm wondering. How many times do we use God to express our own personal bias? How many times to we use God as a sort of all-powerful trump card--"Well God told me, so you must be wrong"? How many times do we use and miss-use God?

The answer, I'm afraid, is far too many. As a matter of fact, I would imagine it is one of the main fracture points within the church today. Oh, it's not that difference of opinion is wrong or bad. They are healthy and necessary. It is the tension that keeps us digging. It is the tension that keeps us wresting with Truth.

The problem is when we justify our opinion--when we try to validate ourselves--with "Thus saith the Lord." I think we need to be far more careful with how we do that. I think we need to be way more cautious in how and when we say "God told me."

After all, God is not a private God. God communicates most often, and most effectively, through community... a community that has spanned the centuries. There is a mighty stream of over 2,000 years Christian tradition that must temper any sort of private "God told me" interpretation. We have 2,000 years of Christian heritage we must listen to and connect with in order to keep us balanced.

Certainly God speaks. But more often then not God speaks in and through the greater body called the Church before he ever speaks through any individual. I just think we need to be way more careful than we are about how we use God's name. I just think we need to think twice, before we say "God told me." And I defiantly think we need to be extremely cautious in expressing our opinions as "Thus saith the Lord."

Forgiveness

I've avoided writing this for a while now. I'm not sure if it's because I wasn't ready, or if it's because I hadn't felt safe enough.

Still don't know if I'm ready. Still don't know if I'm safe enough. But I need to write this anyway. I need to get this out there for my own soul.

After all that's what forgiveness is about... that's what forgiveness seems to affect the most--our own soul. We forgive in order to be free. We forgive in order to grow. We forgive in order to be cleansed.

I need to be free. I need to grow. I need to be cleansed.

Sometimes hurts go very deep. Sometimes hurts go so deep they actually bring about a death. Sometimes that death can fester into something vile and unclean. I don't want that to happen to me. That's why I need to write this. That's why I need to forgive.

...forgive the hurt.

...forgive the wrong.

...forgie the death.

I'm not sure if I'm ready because I still hurt. I'm not sure if I'm safe enough because I still feel the pain of being wronged. I'm not sure if I can becasue there is still a part of me that feels like it's been murdered.

Rob Bell talks about forgiveness as walking away. He says it's about making the choice not to carry the guilt of an offence any longer. He says it's about setting it down and then walking away from it.

I want to walk away. I want to move on. I want to be cleansed.

As I thought about that whole idea of walking away it struck me that the further you walk away from something the smaller it becomes. That gives me hope. It gives me the hope that even though it still hurts, the hurt will become smaller the more I walk. It gives me hope that even though the wrong is still raw and exposed, it will become smaller and healed over time as I continue to walk after Jesus.

I think that's the key. It's not just walking away in any old direction. It's walking away in the way of Jesus. It's walking in the Jesus way. And the Jesus way is the way of life--abundant life.

So I suppose what I'm doing in writing this is I'm setting the hurt down. I'm letting go of the wrong, releasing the pain, forgiving the offence. I am turning away from it. And I am walking after Jesus.

To Be Formed By God

To be formed by God means waiting:
waiting for the right moment
waiting for the right condition
waiting for the right opportunity.
It means waiting until I am ready
to sit on the Potter’s wheel.

To be formed by God means darkness:
it means sitting in the dark clay-bin
feeling very alone and forgotten.
It means enduring the darkness
being cured by time
prepared by patience
readied by resting in the darkness.

To be formed by God means
learning to yield –
my will, my desire, my life—
first to the darkness
then to the hands of the Potter.
It means stillness:
stillness in the darkness
stillness on the wheel
stillness under the pressure
of the Potter’s persistent hand.

To be formed by God
is to allow God’s fingers to press
deep into my most unyielding center
to squeeze out all the air bubbles
that can cause fractures and cracks
when I face the fire.
It means allowing God the freedom
to crush me when I need to be crushed
to scrape me up when I get off center
to press me into whatever shape pleases the Potter.

To be formed by God means
learning to trust the Potter
trust in his love
trust in his wisdom
trust in his will
trusting that no matter how hard it may seem
or how painful and difficult it may be
the Potter is the only one who knows me
and can shape me into a vessel
for his use
for his glory
for his purpose.

Perspective

Why is it that some folks seem to look at everything and always try to see what's wrong? While at the same time there are others who are always looking for God in everything?

It's kind of sad when you think about it. I mean, if all you can see is what's wrong, that's probably all you'll ever see. And if all you can see is what's wrong, let's face it... life would pretty much suck.

Maybe that's why there's so many depressed people walking around.

The other thing is usually it's not a matter of seeing what's wrong; usually it's a matter of pointing out what I don't agree with. And of course, what I don't agree with is what's wrong. If it doesn't fit with my way of thinking it's always wrong. You know... round earth fitting in a flat-earth world view... the sun being the center of the universe... cotton candy not being made out of cotton.

I don't know, I just think it would be a miserable life to always be on your guard like that... always ready to put up your fist and throw a punch... always looking for what's wrong. I don't think that's how God wants anyone to live. Least of all those who claim to be following Jesus.

It just seems to me that it would be much healthier to go through life looking for God in everything. After all, as Christians, we do believe that don't we--that God is everywhere? And if God is everywhere, we should be able to recognize God everywhere...

...in everything.

...at work in everybody.

I wonder what would happen if as followers of Jesus we--instead of always pointing out what's wrong with our world.. our culture... people--what would happen if we started looking for God in all those things? And then, what would happen if we started helping others see what we see?

See God.

Maybe ... just maybe... if we started looking for God more... seeing God more... helping others see God more... maybe, just maybe we'd be doing what Jesus was talking about when he prayed "your kingdom come, you will be done."

Maybe it has to do with perspective.

Maybe it has to do with recognition.

Maybe it has less to do with what's wrong, and more to do with what's God.

Truth

Truth seems to be a hot topic lately. You could even say there are wars being fought over truth.

I just have to wonder, though, if truth is truth--if truth is absolute and unchangeable--does it really need us to wage a war over it?

What I mean is... it just seems to me that the real point about truth is not that it needs to be defended (as if somehow a lie might make the truth less true). The real point about truth is it must be lived out.

You see when truth is only a point--an idea, a concept, a proposition--to be defended, debated, and dissected... it's dead.

And truth is not dead.

Truth that is lived out is alive. It engages people. It engages culture. And it transforms.

That's because truth is bigger than our idea of truth. Truth is bigger than anything we can say about truth. Truth is bigger than any list we can make. As a matter of fact, truth has no bounds. It cannot be contained. Truth is infinite, because God is infinite. How do you defend that? How do you debate that?

All you can do is encounter it... experience it... let it change you.

I don't know. I just wonder when we'll learn how to get out of the way and let God be God, let truth be truth, and simply humble ourselves before the God who is all truth and let the infinite invade and infect the finite, transforming it into something amazing.

Somehow I think that's what the Kingdom of God is all about.

Why is it so hard to keep disciplined?

Obviously if I haven't written anything since February, there's a problem.

It's not that I haven't had anything going on. It's just that I have not been disciplines enough to pause long enough to write.

Maybe that's the really problem--pausing. I'm always in such a rush. I find very little time to pause... very little time to linger.

It's like I've always got something important I've got to rush to. It's like the next moment is somehow more important, more urgent than this moment.

Maybe that's why I miss so many moments.

Why am I so undisciplined? Maybe it's because I haven't learned to linger. I haven't learned to pause. I haven't learned to rest.

Road to Recovery

Patience, why is it such a hard thing to learn? Maybe it has something to do with our instant society. We don't like waiting for things--especially not things we feel strongly about.

Patience has been a tough lesson for me. I'm still learning it. I have a funny feeling I'll be learning it for a long, long time. That's kind of funny when you think about it--impatient about learning patience. But it's true--I don't like waiting for things.

Take running. That long, slow build up... forget it... it takes too long. I feel good. Why not keep upping miles? Well, I found out--bad knee. Now I'm forced to learn patience while I let things heal.

I took a whole week off--last week. Now this week I'm starting back... nice and slow. The problem is, the knee feels pretty good (no pain anyway). Why not just jump right back in? Why not up the miles... I feel good?

Patience.

Oh, what a hard lesson to learn! What a difficult character quality to develop. There's just something compulsive in my personality that makes me want to dive in... go overboard with things... become impatient when I have to wait... when things don't happen instantly.

But the truth is things do take time. I know that. I just keep forgetting (ignoring) it. I've lost 65 pound--in a year, not overnight. My fitness level has improved--in a year, not overnight. My relationship with my wife is richer, deeper, more meaninfull; but it's taken 23 years of marriage to get this far. The exciting thing is, what will if be like in another 23 years?

Patience.

Running takes patience. The body takes time to adapt and adjust. Muscles need to develop... ligaments need to become stronger, more resilient... bones need to strengthen... injuries need time to heal... it all takes time, and can't be rushed.

Patience.

Relationships take patience. They need time to build trust... break down facades and remove masks. They need time to develop a kind of transparency that can only come from years and years of being together... sharing life's ups and downs... being there for each other in sickness and in health. It can't be rushed.

Patience.

Maybe that's why Paul lists patience as one of the "Fruits of the Spirit." It grows over time. It multiplies itself over and over again in our lives. It reproduces itself in the life of others. Patience may not be easy, but it does tend to be contagious. After all, God has been incredibly patient with me. And hopefully some of that patience is wearing off in my life.

A Little Frustrated

A little frustrated. I've tried to push through. I've tried to ignore it. I've tried... but it hasn't gone away. Funny how that works. Well, not really funny, but pretty predictable.

Here's what happened. A couple of weeks ago I went out for a 9 miles tempo run. Felt pretty good, but sometime during the last mile my lower right leg felt real tight--along the inside front of the calf. Soon after that--after the run was over, and everything--my right knee felt funny. It hasn't gone away.

The frustrating part is, now I'm having to take this week off from running. And hopefully that will be enough. Oh, I'm doing all the regular stuff--ice, stretching, and all that. Hopefully that'll be enough for it to heal.

It's taken me four weeks to get to this point. Like I said, I tried to ignore it... push through... hope it went away. It didn't, so now I've got to deal with it.

I've noticed I have a tendency to do that with a lot of stuff. Maybe it's not just me. Maybe it's a part of human nature (at least it makes me feel better to think so). The sad thing is when I start to do that with my spiritual life.

It's kind of like God puts this abrasion--this pain--in my life to point out some flaw, or some character quality that God wants to work on. I try to ignore it... push through... hope it goes away so I can get back to life as usual. But God doesn't want "life as usual." God wants Christ-likeness--and that's far from usual.

I wonder what would happen if we were to pay closer attention to all those little "pains" in life that come our way? What would happen if instead of avoiding them--going the other way or ignoring them--what would happen if we took the time to really examine them... see if we can get to the root of the pain.

You see I'm starting to figure that out with my running. The pain in my knee is not from my knee. It has to do with tightness in my calf and/or my hamstring. Even if I could get rid of the pain, if I don't take care of the root problem (the tightness) the pain will come right back.

Perhaps some of the same sort of examination is needed in my spiritual life when the pains come along. Maybe I need to look past the pain to find the root. And maybe it's there that God waits to do a deeper work in my heart.

It seems like I've run in all kinds of weather this winter--rain (lots, and lots of rain), snow, cold, and ice. That's one thing about running is when you're out there, you're out there in the middle of what ever the weather throws at you.

Sometimes it gets pretty old. Last week I just said, "bag it" and went down to the gym for a work out. I kind of felt guilty afterwards. Kind of like I cheated. I think maybe that's another quirky thing about running--part of the experience of running is about being in the weather... good or bad. There's no way to escape it. And there's a part of me that doesn't want to escape it.

Oh, certainly sometimes it sucks. Sometimes I think it would be better to be inside, on a treadmill or a bike or something. But then again, when it's over... when I look back... I think if I had gone inside I would have missed something. Even those times when I grumble because my feet are soaked and may fingers are cold, there's something special about being outside... running.

I think a lot of life is like that. I'm certain a lot of religion is like that--hiding instead of engaging. But really, if anything, religion should not be an escape from the world. It should be a means to engage the world around us more fully. To often, though, I think it's more like going to the gym for a more comfortable workout instead of heading off into the rain for a run.

Kind of sad, but I have a funny feeling that we're missing a lot by doing that. Maybe I need to head out for more runs even when there is snow on the ground. Maybe I need to figure a way to make my religion more of a way to engage the world I live in than a means to escape it.