The Folly of Umbrellas

It was a dark and stormy night in Waco. My favorite kind of night. After an afternoon full of grading papers my mind needed a break and I bethought I should take my nightly constitutional, as is my custom. The distant peel of thunder had been rumbling in the evening air like ten thousand tympani, but I reckoned I could take my promenade afore the heavens would open. When, however, I flung open the door, there had come soft rains dressing the earth in glistening garments and washing the air of stifling Texan humidity. I yearned to luxuriate in the blessed coolness, but hesitated to venture into the precipitation. Finally, I snatched the umbrella by the door and sallied forth.

As I am wont to do, I fired up my nearly defunct Ipod and selected a sermon by Major Ian Thomas to edify my mind and nourish my spirit as I exercised my body and refreshed my soul. Lightning and thunder provided accompaniment to MIT’s wise words about Mary and David’s perfect hearts towards the Lord. After reaching and circumnavigating the Garden of Contentment, I removed my earphones and sang a rousing rendition of “Singin’ in the Rain” as the inclement weather alternately gnashed its teeth and spat bright power across the skies. Returning the earbuds to my ears I resumed the sermon and directed my steps toward home. 

As a native Oregonian born in England, I come by my hearty appreciation for rainy weather honestly. As I sashayed through the soaked sidewalks on Baylor’s deserted campus, I tipped and twirled the umbrella to expose my face to the sprinkles. As MIT discussed the simplicity of letting God be God, I ruminated on the necessity of the umbrella in keeping the rain off me. I minded not a good wetting, though my glasses adorned my face and my garb was ill-suited for daring the elements. However, I collapsed the umbrella and welcomed the falling blessings. The thought occurred to me that I was preventing the beneficent weather from bathing me in its enervating and soothing caresses, which informed my eventual decision to eschew the protection of the umbrella.

This idea also occurred to me in a spiritual avenue; namely, that too often believers (or at least, I) beg and plead for the blessings of heaven to shower down upon us when it also seems like we throw up blockades or protectors to shield us from the very blessings we implore. And before I postulate on why this might be so, let me defend this assertion.

In my life, for the last decade or so I have undergone trial after tribulation after disappointment after privation. From physical ailments that continue to inflict themselves upon me, to financial poverty which nags at me like a blister in my sole, to indecision and anxiety about the future, to the discovery of dear friends only to lose their presence again, my heart has been battered and torn, sick and blind, lifted high and brought low. Consequently, these last ten or so years constitute the greatest gain in spiritual maturity and devotion to God I have ever experienced in my life. Too many blessings have been lavished upon me, too many dear relationships developed, too many chains struck off, too much freedom gained in every facet of my life to even begin to elucidate here (though a thorough examination of my blog will give some indication). Regardless, the Lord has been exceedingly gracious, loving, kind, and good towards me, and I know that I have no idea just how gracious, merciful, kind, and loving He has truly been. Even so, I am greedy for more. I want to see my own failings and predilections toward sin completely eradicated. I want to find new and deeper relationships with people, or deepen those ones that have become immensely dear and important to me. I want to conquer my self-condemnation in regards to body image and pharisaical legalism, so that I might be freer to love and serve Jesus. I want to see miracles, to participate in wonders, to impact other peoples’ lives in dramatic ways. And for all these things I pray.

But I wonder how serious I am. Because the blessings of God are not always what we want and how we want them. 

When I considered collapsing the umbrella and letting the rain pour down on me, I had to consider that my glasses would become wet, making visibility an issue. I would become drenched (though the rain was not yet very vigorous as it soon would be), which on a cool night might lead to catching a cold. These may seem like frivolous and inconsequential considerations, but arise they did in my mind, and I had to accept the possibility of consequences and discomfort in order to experience the blessing.

And herein lies the application to myself as a believer (as may also apply to a great many others). The blessing of God entails not just the fulfillment of our desires and longings (if even that); with it comes the imperative that we should submit our lives, our fortunes, our hearts and wills to the dictatorship (benign though it certainly is) of the Holy Spirit. Elijah was a mighty prophet of the Lord, but he also lived in solitude and loneliness on a Spartan diet in the wilderness, had to face down a murderous king and a hostile crowd, and suffer the rejection of communicating the Lord’s displeasure and censure of Israel. Paul and the apostles all met rather unpleasant ends after enduring innumerable hardships for the sake of Christ even as they performed miracles and saw the spread of the Gospel around the Roman empire. All down through the ages, those who have been used by God to move mountains and level armies, to reform ecclesiastical corruption and defy oppressive governments, have usually endured strong persecution and rejection at the hands of those they attempt to minister to. And certainly no one better exemplifies this concept than the Lord Jesus Christ Himself, who raised the dead and walked on water, who calmed storms with a word and conquered demons with a stern voice, who restored sight to the blind and hope to the wretched, yet suffered for the sin of all mankind even as he was tortured to death on a Roman cross, despised and rejected by His chosen people, betrayed by his disciple and condemned by the priests who claimed to serve God better than anyone.

The upshot is: receiving blessings from God may be more than I bargain for. And I think that subconsciously I sense that, which is why I’m still hesitant to throw aside the umbrella protecting me from full exposure to the reckless raging fury that Rich Mullins called the love of God, the wild and unpredictable Spirit that might impose strictures on things I would be loath to relinquish, or to sacrifice my pride, my money, my time, my dignity, or my body in ways I would find difficult to accept. To abandon myself to God’s will entirely might mean walking away from my cherished dreams and ambitions of being a college professor and writer. It might mean a life of chastity, of never capturing the love of a woman and attaining a Godly wife. It might mean humbling myself to live in places I would not want to live, to do things I would not want to do, to resign myself to never losing weight and having a physique I can be proud of. It might mean, in short, the death of myself. How far will I dare to die, that Christ might live in me? Will I take up my cross in spirit as well as truth? Will I suffer the cold, the temporal tragedies and tribulations that total devotion and submission to the Father’s will might entail?

It occurs to me (and perhaps this is of diabolic origin) that taking the bitter with the better when it comes to receiving God’s blessing is rather unfair. After all, isn’t God good? Doesn’t He love us and want what’s best for us? Shouldn’t we expect His blessings since we are now His (adopted) children, co-heirs with Jesus, declared the righteousness of God in Christ, inhabited by the Spirit, priests and temples all in one? Why is God making unreasonable demands of us like the complete annihilation of our own desires and ambitions? Surely they can’t be all bad, can they? I fully intend to teach college students literature in a way that pleases and glorifies God, and to write about things that will direct people towards a deeper contemplation of Him. Why would God not want that to happen? Why would He not give us what we ask for? Doesn’t the Bible say that all we have to do is ask (John 14:13-14)? 

In order to answer this, I turn a retrospective eye to my journey to grad school in Waco. I had contemplated continuing on for my Ph.D. while still at Truman getting my M.A. in English. I decided against that and moved to Kansas City. After several failed attempts at making it in the professional world, I again began to consider making another run at doctoral programs, eventually deciding to apply in 2010. I applied to five schools, all of whom rejected me. I applied again to five in 2011, throwing in Baylor as mostly an afterthought. I’d met a girl who went here and spoke well of the school, though she was not a grad student nor an English major. After four of the five rejected me again, I resigned myself that the Lord was closing this particular door. I had a job that paid well, even if I hated it, and friends and a church home I enjoyed, especially those from the small group I attended for several years. I sincerely surrendered the situation to the Lord and began contemplating my next move when Baylor finally rejected my application. 

They, of course, did not, and even offered a few extra dollars to help come here. An absolute criteria for acceptance was a fellowship that covered tuition, which was also offered. The Lord provided. I accepted, lost the cushy job in Kansas City, and moved down to Waco, away from any and all connections for the first time in my life (even in Kansas City, I had an uncle in town, and my parents a mere 3 hours away). 

Had the Lord not deferred my desire to go on to grad school for six years, I would not have had the experiences in Kansas City that I did, the immense growth in maturity and spiritual development that the events and people there provided. I would not have found my brother Caleb, a mentor in Uncle Eric, my theological sparring partner Boen, my dear friends Seth and Mayberry, or my capacity for worship at New Day and spiritual nourishment from Lloyd Rindels. Had I been accepted to Oregon as I devoutly hoped and not gone to Baylor, I would have missed out on the wonderful relationships I have developed here, like Andy or Jeremy Larson. Had I not been required to tutor for a year instead of teaching right away and not been assigned to the Athletic Writing Center, I would not have made three friends who have become incredibly dear to me: Ingrid, Daniel, and Christine. Had I not been constantly teetering on the brink of financial insolvency, I would not have seen the Lord bless me through others, most notably Jeremy Larson.

All these things have been blessings from the Lord, and all of these blessings have involved situations that have tested my patience, faith, and sanity at various times and in various measure. This seems to be the way the Lord operates, and reflects a major pattern in human experience, that the success is that much sweeter because of the possibility of or the previous reality of failure. In this fallen world, pain is a part of pleasure or at the very least serves to enhance pleasure by contrast. 

What is the conclusion of all this rambling? What you take from this is your business. As for me, I see the pattern, the blessing of the Lord that comes from the midst of pain and suffering, from trials and tribulations. I believe that even greater blessings await me, and if I must walk through thorny paths to reach them, I am resolved so to do. You may avoid pain and discomfort by shielding yourself from the full force of God’s will, but you will also shield yourself from experiencing His full blessing and promise and Presence. The choice is yours.

The Reincarnation of Jesus Christ

I wrote a piece for my other shared blog:
http://bibleglasses.wordpress.com/2013/08/12/reincarnation-of-jesus-christ/

Good Sorrow

Tonight I said goodbye to Ingrid, who has become one of my dearest friends. We’ll just leave it at that. As I struggled to contain my tears, I was struck by a revelation that I shall attempt to elucidate here. 

There are two kinds of sorrow in this life: good and bad. The bad kind of sorrow is what most people think of when they begin to grope for reasons to disbelieve in God; loved ones dying of cancer, senseless crimes like rape or murder or hate-fueled evil, natural disasters, the wickedness of people who corrupt other people or companies or governments or whatever other resource they can for the purposes of their own selfishness. This kind of sorrow is “bad” because it doesn’t seem to coincide with the way we think the world should work: children starving in Africa or sold as sex slaves around the world is wrong, and what, after all, have such innocents done to deserve the sorrow and torment they endure? And how could a kind and merciful God tolerate such wickedness and stand aside from intervening in the midst of such suffering? Disputing this canard is not the point of my blog, so I shall merely point out that the only redeeming value of such sorrow is that others might be moved to action to intervene upon the sufferer’s behalf, to save them. This is a symbol of what Christ did for us, and an opportunity for us to embody Christ to the world. But the sorrow itself is bad, coming as it does because of the existence of pain and evil, sin, necessitating its correction or termination and ultimately the salvation of Jesus Christ.

The other kind of sorrow is that which I now struggle with, and this sorrow is good. I would like to explain this sorrow and then postulate on its meaning as regards the Christian’s walk with the Lord and understanding of who He is and why He does the things He does. A modest goal; we shall see.

Now, at this point you may be wondering, how can any sorrow ever be good? My friend is leaving Waco to enroll at Purdue in Indiana for her doctorate program, which is a step up for her in relation to her desire to specialize in medieval literature. The program’s reputation is better than Baylor’s, she’ll be working with some of the best scholars in this field, and they’re giving her a sweet ride as far as fellowships go, better certainly than Baylor. Lest you think that she was motivated solely by such calculations, allow me to disabuse you of such notions. She had made many friends down here, she is well-liked and respected by the English faculty as a whole, and could easily have stayed down here as received a good education with decent prospects. She brought the decision before the Lord and I believe that her departure is in accordance with His will. 

I’ve gotten to know her quite well over the year we had together. We worked in the same writing center, giving us ample time to discover who the other was and how our personalities interacted. There was a great sense of camaraderie in that writing center among all of us, for various reasons both good and bad, and she and I and Daniel had a particularly jovial time riffing during the down times there. We watched movies together, had dinners and dances, had a class together as well, and just shared our lives. My attachment to her might have been greater than hers to me but even so we had a wonderful friendship. Even more important, ultimately, is her devotion to the Lord and her amazing capacity to love others and pour out her life for others. Her interactions and attitudes were a constant and firm (albeit gentle) rebuke and reminder to me to pursue the Lord even more wholeheartedly. Rare indeed is the person who emanates such a sweet aroma of the Spirit, and I was very blessed and humbled to spend time with her and watch her dedicate her life to God. 

So this evening was that much more difficult to endure. Ever since she announced her decision I’d been trying to prepare myself for today, sometimes steeling myself, sometimes sinking in grief, at the prospect of losing such a wonderful person from my life. This goodbye was in some ways as difficult as it was saying goodbye to my friend Caleb from Kansas City, though not in the same way since we were of different genders which limits the depths to which unmarried people can unclasp their hearts. Regardless, I quickly began to blub as we prayed, and that set her off, so we both ended up a bit teary. Afterwards, I began to reflect on this idea of sorrow as a good sorrow.

The sorrow that we felt at being parted was due to the love and friendship we shared and the fact that it was coming to an end, at least for now. God alone knows what the future holds, but we will never have what we have had and quite possibly will never share our lives again this side of eternity. And I was heartbroken. Still am. But I believe that this sorrow is a good sorrow, because it’s the sorrow of Love, the love for Jesus that bound us even closer than normal colleagues and friends, a love that may only be surpassed on earth by that between spouses and parents-children. This love is the kind of love that should exist among every Christian, and when it does, it baffles the world even as it incites in their hearts an indescribable longing that can only be satisfied by Christ. 

Moreover, the sorrow I feel at her departure is untainted by selfishness and bitterness. The months leading up to this gave me ample time to give up any sentiment of resentment or despair that lapped up against my heart, and which I might have indulged in as a younger man. But I had directed my heart and will to rejoice in her opportunity, to enjoy her company while I still could, and to thank the Lord for the time we spent together. So the sorrow is as pure an expression of love as I am capable of in this world. And herein lies the crux of the matter: sorrow, good sorrow, is another form of love. The sorrow we feel for a loved one on their death bed is mixed with the hope in the promise that they are soon to be fully and finally united with God and that in just a little while we too will join them in that union, and our love will reach even greater heights than humans can imagine as it is completely expressed through the Lord. 

Furthermore, the experience of forming a friendship with those in Kansas City, particularly Caleb, helped me to realize the power and preciousness of fellowship with others, and the sorrow I felt leaving them behind enlarged my capacity to love others and to form new friendships in Waco. So too I imagine the sorrow of losing Ingrid’s fellowship, as piercing as it feels at the moment, will reap harvests of new friendships and relationships as this experience enlarges my ability and desire to find new people to love, and to love those I already love more fully and authentically, especially the Lord.

And so, even though I’ve broken down a few times as I have written this, and even though my world is dimmer than it has been, I can embrace the sorrow and rejoice in the sadness that I feel, for it testifies that I can love and that God is remaking me in His own image, for He is love and I will never face a parting from Him. And though my will shall have to drag my heart through times of grief and nostalgia, the Lord has promised to heal my heart, to restore my joy, and to bring new friends and new fellowships as I continue to pursue Him. For His very nature is love which requires other persons to love, and so our reflection of His image must be comprised primarily of love for Him and for each other. And sorrow is the price we pay here on earth. I pay it gladly.

Sinful Despair and Loving Obedience

The past few weeks have been rough. After an exhausting semester in which I produced around 250 pages of writing for my classes while working for peanuts at a job whereat the administration treated me and my fellow GAs with hostility, I finished the semester with less than stellar efforts in my papers. Additionally, familial drama and physical distress added to my load, followed by a presentation in Boston last week that was received with some disapprobation. On top of which is the imminent departure of a friend who has become rather dear to me this summer, plus my extreme poverty and inability to find gainful employment which may necessitate withdrawing my 401k or taking a student loan just to pay the bills until I start work again in the fall. Finally, my lack of self-discipline in my eating habits continues to sabotage my earnest efforts to lose weight.

This past week I’ve struggled in my weaknesses of the flesh and consequently in my walk with the Lord. Yesterday I gave up, as I have done many times. I concluded that I was a hopeless failure, fit to quit, utterly irredeemable and a thoroughgoing reprobate (look up the meaning). In essence I said to the Lord, “I renounce any hope of making progress in curbing my appetites, in seeing advancement in walking with You as You deserve, of pleasing You with my life beyond the sheer desperation that will keep me forever penitent and desperately clinging to the promise of transformation beyond the grave. Lord, I can never offer anything other than complete and utter depravity and failure in this life, even in my walk with You, so I hope You can handle that. Furthermore, no woman could ever stomach to hitch her wagon to me, nor do I deserve or would I wish my own calamitous character upon any woman, so I shall remain a confirmed bachelor for the rest of my days and thus spare any unfortunate woman from being stuck with me. Not that any women are lining up for the ‘privilege’ anyway, which is ultimately for the best.”

Now, mind you, I wasn’t giving up on Christianity, on the work of Christ on the cross and in the garden. No, I was merely giving up on expressing and progressing in Christianity beyond the shattered wretch who throws himself at the feet of Christ crying “Have mercy upon me, O Lord, a sinner!” 

After helping a friend move today and making my customary self-denigrating remarks in crude attempts at humor, I felt compelled to pick up a book I’d been reading called Telling Yourself the Truth by William Backus and Marie Chapman. It’s written by Christian councilors and psychologists and details the lies we tell ourselves that imprison us in sinful and destructive behavioral cycles, along with ways to combat such lies with the truth about ourselves as outlined by the Bible and relevant psychological theories. The chapter I opened to was about Self-Hate, and I read the following passage:

When Jesus said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends,” He prepared the way for us to be able to love ourselves in the purest sense. Condemnation, guilt, despair, self-degradation, shame and self-hate have all been nailed to the cross in His body. By his taking our sin on the cross with Him, we are set free to live healthy and abundant lives with wholesome, pure, swept-clean attitudes. When our lives are really beautiful in the eyes of God, they are pure and clean in the holiest sense. When do we please Him but when we are right before Him, living as He has shown us to live? If we lay down our lives out of guilt and self-hate, we are not fulfilling the very meaning of the above verse…

Another verse popped into my head: “If you love Me, keep My commandments.”

I realized, once I read that passage, that I was laying down my life “out of guilt and self-hate” instead of love and adoration and worship and gratitude for what Jesus accomplished for me. He doesn’t hate me, nor despise me for my many and continuous sins, for my constant failures and poor self-image and self-talk. As Ian Thomas proclaims, God never planned to take my sinful nature and clean it up; rather, He wants to kill it and replace it with His Spirit. Redemption requires the removal or the transformation of my heart and soul and mind and body through the ministration of the Holy Spirit. So when my sinful flesh sins again, it’s no surprise to Him and in no way reflects upon His Incarnation or my new identity in Him.

When I come to God out of sheer despair and self-loathing for having failed, I am ignoring or degrading the purpose for which Jesus suffered and died and rose again, namely, to bring abundant life and transformation to all who believe in Him. We are to follow Jesus and obey His word out of love for Him, not fear of Him or hatred of ourselves. This was God’s gentle rebuke of my attitude.

I will not detail all the ways God has blessed me this past year, in my friendships, studies, etc. except to say that He certainly has provided for me. My friend promised to pray that He will, and asserted confidence in His provision.

It’s actually rather stupid to be depressed over being depressed, to despair over despairing. Nothing makes the Devil and his minions more delighted and entertained when Christians engage in such practices. “Hell, we don’t even need to do very much! Just wind him up and watch him go! He flagellates himself with such gusto and despair we barely need to step in. This is so easy and hilarious that he’s doing it to himself!” Read the Screwtape Letters for this perspective; I truly believe Lewis was on to something. 

The Christian life is so simple and so hard simultaneously. All I have to do is walk every moment of every day in complete surrender to the Spirit within me, and He will accomplish His will as I make myself available to Him. Sin, depression, self-hatred, anxiety, and so forth will be ice cubes in the Sahara as I focus my eyes upon Jesus, instead of being icebergs that sink my progress continually.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus / Look full in His wonderful face; / And the things of earth will grow strangely dim / In the light of His glory and grace.

Amen.

What does God think of Actors?

Recently I attended an opera titled Dialogues of the Carmelites. The setting was France on the cusp of the Revolution and the Reign of Terror. A young woman entered a convent out of fear of the onrushing tumult and chaos, thinking to find shelter and peace of mind among the devout. Needless to say, she finds a temporary reprieve, but witnesses the Mother Superior dying a drawn-out and painful death, questioning her faith in God and His goodness or power, that she should die such an awful death. The citizens disband the convent and forbid the nuns to continue their observances; they defy the injunction and find themselves in prison, facing the guillotine, while the young girl has fled. The end of the play finds the women, one by one, slain for their devotion, including the girl who joins the procession of death at the end, finding her courage and faith and solidarity with her sisters. 

Now, I learned since that the performers were Baylor students, and I must say that I was impressed by their performance. Baylor being a Baptist college, the probability that they are Christians to some degree is rather greater than it would be at other universities or performance houses. Still, my musing that followed the spectacle still holds. And it is this: what does God think about people constantly invoking His name, as the numerous women acting as devout nuns did? Or the actress who has to transform from a Mother Superior spouting ecumenical platitudes to a dying woman railing against God and questioning His will?

Now, obviously, God is quite aware of the true state of their hearts, and their beliefs. Additionally, they are merely performing, pretending so to speak lines of piety. This begat the question in my mind of what God thinks of actors who are continuously and repeatedly mouthing lines that sound and seem worshipful and genuine, yet could be coming from the lips of people who are completely opposed to, or have no faith in, what they’re saying. 

I would like to differentiate between actors in movies and actors in plays. Some actors portray a genuine believer in a film, spending months enacting a character with faith. Ian Charleston comes to mind, who depicted Eric Liddel in Chariots of Fire so brilliantly. The actor was a homosexual who died of AIDS in the 1980s, so it seems likely that he was not a professing Christian; usually, homosexuals are quite antipathetic towards Christianity, and that is more the Church’s fault than theirs, but that’s a different matter. However, once the filming was done and the scenes completed, the actors could discard their roles and pretenses. They might film the same scene a dozen times, but not for different audiences, nor for alternating purposes.

Contrast that with actors in plays or operas who have to portray the same characters over and over again, with a newness and intensity requisite for each performance. They might perform the same scene fifty times if the play runs for six months, and of course innumerable more times should the piece succeed. What does God think of such people who attempt to evoke complex feelings of faith and doubt over and over again? Does this displease Him? Is it any worse than a hypocritical churchgoer who espouses the tenets of Christianity but doesn’t live them? Or someone who attends out of duty, social decorum, or habit, without any true devotion? He certainly does not condone hypocrites, but do actors pretending to be believers count as hypocrites? I truly have no idea what He makes of them, though I know what Augustine would say. But Augustine was prejudiced against the theater because of his upbringing and profession; besides, he probably saw few if any performances that presented a Christian character in any sincerity or realism.