Game Night Profundity

As I was journeying to Game night, I had a spiritual revelation. I almost called it an epiphany, but to me that term always suggested a purely mental awakening or flash of insight. This revelation, which was undoubtedly from the Lord as I shall shortly demonstrate, came at the heart level, the innermost being. A level, I might add, I am unaccustomed to living on, which added to the impact.

To go forward one often must go back first, and so it is with this story. Without droning on about the numerous troubles and tribulations in my life, a great many of which have, recently, been car-related, let me just say that yet another sizeable car repair was necessary, a bill I was unable to pay. Fresh from that, and the three hour drive from my parents’ house, I noted a noise in the car, which in conjunction with the “Service Engine Soon” light blazing defiantly on my dashboard prophesized future disaster (or at least, inconvenience). And I was tense, nervous as I merged onto the interstate; if the wheel came off, things might get hairy. To be sure, the chances of that happening were slim, but I seem to attract mechanical distress like honey draws bees. 

All of a sudden, a burden vanished.

The tension melted away, and inside my mind came the thought, How foolish can you be, to worry about this! If it happens, it happens. Worrying won’t prevent it; all it does is enable you to roll around in miserable self-pity even before you have cause! Besides (and here is where the Holy Spirit chimed in, if He hadn’t been speaking already), if the car does break down, that just gives God the opportunity to provide for you! It’s a chance to see Him work in your life, in physical, tangible ways! Hallelujah!
 

I chuckled to myself, and had a nice cozy talk with Him as my car hummed along. Upon arrival, I found myself cheerful, an alien state of mind for me usually. I can put on a bold face or fake levity, but the heart normally doesn’t overflow with it. Today it was. 

I was and continue to be thunderstruck at this blatantly obvious truth, that my weakness and desperation are merely opportunities for God to show Himself strong and capable on my behalf. How many times have I said this, and read this, and heard this! I believed it thoroughly, but my heart didn’t understand. Plus, what if that’s the reason so many things go wrong in life? What if God allows or causes mishaps because He not only knows it will drive us to Him, but He loves to show off! Not in a braggadocios manner, like a peacock strutting for a hen, but like a mechanic who drives along roads in hopes of coming upon a stranded motorist whom he can assist. God wants us to trust Him, to rely on Him, and the best way to accomplish this is to create or capitalize on situations where He is needed, to prove Himself. Boys love to show off for their fathers lifting heavy weights or demonstrating a killer karate chop, not out of self-aggrandizement but simply because they want their fathers to be impressed, to praise and cherish them. Girls adorn themselves in beautiful outfits and twirl for their moms and dads, eager to hear how gorgeous and captivating they are. Is there an element of this in God? Does He yearn for our praise and approval with childlike eagerness and innocence? Dare we ascribe such simple urges to the Ultimate complexity? 

We even see this in the reverse at times. A father loves the look of awe and respect in his child’s eyes, and he seeks to earn and deserve that respect, if he is a good father. In the same way, couldn’t the Father of all desire to see our jaws drop in wonder at His work? We marvel at nature and the deep mysteries of Scripture, which is right and proper, but what if He wants our wonder in the everyday humdrum of life? What if He wants us to praise Him because an unexpected bill arrived in the mail a day before an unexpected gift for the exact same amount arrives? And in the 24 hours between the bill and the gift, He wants us to praise Him and trust Him that all will be well?

What kind of a God would be like that? The kind that slips in the back door of Creation, in a manger, when everyone is scouring the landscape for a king? The kind that chooses a backwater country, a backwater city in that country, and a simple virgin girl instead of a seat of power and the lineage of Caesars? The kind that walks into Death’s open arms instead of whistling up legions of heavenly warriors? The kind that recruits fishermen and hookers instead of priests and rabbis? Who takes the ordinary, unimpressive things of life and reshapes the world?

That kind of God might.

Dirty Mirrors and Boiling Frogs

I cleaned my bathroom mirror for the first time in months the other day. And before you comment on the life of a bachelor, focus! I have a different point to make. I was and still am startled at the clearer image that glowers back at me when I face it. It brought to mind a verse from that seminal  thirteenth chapter in I Corinthians: “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face” (12). 

Apart from the immediate context of the verse, which declares that the imperfection with which we understand God’s love is temporal and will fade once all things come together in Him, another application occurred to me. Bear with me if this is something that you have heard before; I tend to be a slow learner and it helps to process things. Quite often we don’t realize how dirty things have become until and unless we clean them. Mirrors, toilets, cars, kitchen drawers, garages, and so forth; the list is endless. We think that we are perceiving things clearly, that while dirt or clutter may have clouded our view slightly we’re still mostly seeing things as they are. Then something happens to erase the smudges, silence the din, and clear away the rubble, and we realize just how clouded and crowded our senses have been.

And I’m sure you can relate to this, how the imperceptible accumulation over time can slide under the radar, building in the background. We’re frogs in water that are being slowly brought to boil. If the distractions and encumbrances had popped up all at once, in a headlong rush, it would be simple and obvious to recognize and redress the situation. But, and here is where I truly sense the great Malevolence spoken of so often in the New Testament, circumstances conspire to keep us ignorant of the distractions. The darkness slowly creeps over our field of vision until we can’t remember what it was to look into a clean mirror. That vivid image of ourselves, our Savior, and the world is gradually crowded out, by even the most benign and innocuous events of life. Nay, even, dare I say, by the spiritual laps we run, thinking that we are doing good work for God. Not every glass cleaner leaves a clean image afterward. 

It’s death by Novocain, which the Enemy much prefers to a stab to the heart. We are, like James said, people who look in a mirror and turn away, promptly forgetting what we look like. 

What is the remedy? What is the spiritual Windex to clean the mirror? Well, the first step is recognizing the possibility that the image we’re seeing may be marred or blurry. If we just accept the image as reality, then all else is moot. Second, we must consider what the true image is. Depending on what element of your life is being masked, this answer will vary, but generally whatever strengthens your dependence on and relationship with God are the areas the Enemy will try to distort. 

Third, clean the blasted thing! Quite obvious, no? But it’s sometimes easier said than done. Deep wounds and hidden sins can be both painful and difficult to unearth and even more to correct. But by and large the distortions can be remedied by simply turning back to the Word of God and His Spirit. Seek the truth of what God communicated through the writers, and ask Him for confirmation and affirmation. Be sure, however, to always remember that it is the death of Christ for us that redeems us and the life of Christ in us that is saving us. If you begin to drum up all the check marks in your favor in the Ledger, that will only further blur the image. Cast away all hope of deserving salvation or sanctification (I’m speaking to Christians, mind!), and throw yourself wholly at the feet of the Throne. He is the great Illusion-Shatterer. Humble thyself in the sight of the Lord, and He will exalt you.

Fourth, rise and repeat as needed. I mean, rinse. Slip of the tongue.

Death to Smitty!

I was musing about my lack of job, and hence finances, when it hit me. A question that we often hear but we seldom really ponder. A question that is so distasteful that it becomes a snap to allow it to breeze out of our minds whenever it enters. The question is, What do you want me to sacrifice to You, Lord?

My first impulse was to deny the validity of such a question. Why, I’ve sacrificed my whole life to Him! I’ve renounced my own selfish ways, the delusion of earning redemption on my own merit, the supremacy of Sin in my life. I’ve abstained from many sensual pleasures, to a greater or lesser degree, out of reverence and love for the Lord. I read the Bible daily. I listen to sermons and attend church virtually every week. I listen to Christian music and attend a weekly small group, sacrificing my favorite TV show to do so. (A sacrifice which, by the way, I don’t think God appreciates enough. I mean, it’s House! Come on!)

My second impulse was to answer the question, claiming that I’ve asked that question lots of times. And I’ve never gotten a clear, definitive answer. If it were movies or junk food or golf (as painful as that might be), then at least it would be unequivocal. But that never seems to be the case.

But the sad truth is that neither impulse is accurate. My litany of so-called sacrifices, while all true more or less, have cost me very little, or else have been things that coincide with my own natural inclinations, when they are even true. I do lots of things that direct my attention towards God, but they are all superficial; or at least, they all have the potential to be. Reading the Bible, attending church or small groups, tithing or abstaining from the Mortal Sins, can all be done out of a sense of self-righteousness and duty rather than in a true attitude of sacrifice and devotion to the Lord. Also, though I’ve never received an audible or tangible directive on areas to sacrifice, there are lots of things I have felt would benefit my walk with the Lord and my life in general to give up, like junk food or certain movies. Besides, the Lord may be waiting for me to prove myself willing to die in small things before He challenges me with the more important tasks that we associate with His ministry to a lost and dying world. 

You might be wondering what the connection was to the original context of the thought, my unemployment. Well, I was wondering to myself and to the Lord why He had not given me a job or finances. And the reply came in the form of the question I originally asked: Well, David, what are you willing to give to Me? It is so easy to regard God as an ATM or a sugar daddy, who is there merely to fulfill our needs and desires without any recompense on our part. But that’s not really how it works. 

Besides, if this is really a relationship I’m in with Jesus, then doesn’t He have the right to expect some quid pro quo? Not strictly an economic transaction, but a relationship wherein someone else has claim on you in some way or another. Someone besides you can alter and affect your will. Which is exactly what God wants of us; He wants our wills to submit to Him. In return, He will direct our wills and make His illimitable resources available to us. "All there is of God is available to the man who is available to all there is of God."

Something else that occurred to me today was the double-mindedness I posses. In discussing my philosophy of teaching I produced for a job application, I mentioned that students have to desire to excel, to learn, if they are going to benefit from classes. I can provide instruction and evaluation, correction and encouragement, but I cannot motivate them to try other than in the most basic sense of punitive measures. As the old adage goes, You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. Not, at least, if it doesn’t want to. And while I fully embrace this sentiment when it comes to my role as a teacher, I fail to comprehend or implement it as a student or subordinate in the sense of my relationship with the Father. As I said, if a student really wants to learn the material, then they will learn it; maybe not perfectly and entirely, but progress will be made. And I was struck by the fact that if I really wanted to control my appetites, to discipline my body and mind, then it’s simply a matter of doing it. So the fact that I haven’t done it must therefore mean that I don’t really want to do it, not at the most fundamental level. A discouraging revelation, but potentially life-altering.

And thus we come full circle. Because if I am serious about wanting to be changed and transformed by God into the image of His Son, then He will do it. Not only has He promised to do so, and He is not a liar, but it is also the fundamental reason He created man in the beginning. I have to want it, to desire it more than I desire the fulfillment of my own appetites and needs. It has to be more important to me than anything else. 

So that is my prayer. God, create in me this desire, to see Your will done in my life, to see Your image molded around me. This do I crave more than fleshly appetites or pampered egos. Ridicule me in the eyes of the world if You must, reduce my life to ashes (which seems to be the programme at the moment), consume my self-centeredness and replace my stone of a heart with a living heart, Your heart.

"We're gonna need a bigger..."

We talk about David and Goliath, and rightly so. When he demanded to face the giant, David didn’t rely on his human ability, his strength or prowess. He wasn’t after glory or the daughter of a king. He was enraged that the name of the God of Israel was being defied and defiled by a pagan dog, a blasphemous Philistine. If ever there was a greater contrast, a starker exemplar of the context of God versus the context of man, it would be difficult to imagine. On one side was David, a stripling youth who watched sheep all day. On the other was a professional warrior, Goliath, a giant of a man with tremendous strength when battles were won by having more and superior warriors. David feared the Lord and dedicated his service and his battle to Him. He relied on the Lord to carry the day, to go before him and fight his battles for him. Goliath depended on himself, on his fearful power and successful record. And God uses the low things of this world to bring down the great things. After all the weapons and training and experience, all the odds stacked on Goliath’s size, all it took was a single stone, and faith in God. David looked at God to deliver him from bears and lions and giants, and God was bigger than Goliath. So we justly associate this story with David and Goliath.

However, there’s another element of this: Saul and Goliath. For Saul was the king. And the description of him we are initially presented with is that he was tall, dark, and handsome, literally head and shoulders above everyone else. The people said, “Yes! That’s what a king is supposed to look like! He should be big and strong and winsome. Let’s have him rule us instead of God.” And Saul did his job well, from the people’s perspective. At least in the beginning. He struck the Amalekites and slew their whole army, salvaging only the king and the cream of the crop, in violation of God’s orders. This of course led to God rejecting Saul, since Saul was interested in pleasing himself and his subjects rather than pleasing God. But I imagine that up until this impasse with Goliath, the people were quite pleased with Saul’s performance in office. If you took an approval poll early on the results would have looked good. “What do you think of Saul as king?” “Well, the economy’s fine. Oh, yeah, we really showed those pesky Amalekites what for, didn’t we? Nobody’s going to mess with us while we’ve got Saul leading us, no sir.” “What about God?” “Uh, what about Him? I go to the tabernacle like everyone else. I make the sacrifices. I’m devout. What’s that go to do with Saul?”

Here’s the lesson: There’s always someone bigger. Saul was head and shoulders above everyone else. He was probably a great warrior. When public opinion was skewing toward David, the chant went “Saul has killed his thousands, and David his tens of thousands.” Obviously this was an example of how the people revered David’s prowess on the battle field over Saul’s, but Saul to have slain thousands (if possibly exaggerated) was testament that he was no mean warrior in his own right. So when Goliath stands before the Philistine army and challenges Israel’s best to come out and face him, the immediate sentiment would probably have been that Saul was the best, and being an Israelite and the king, surely could handle even a dire foe like Goliath. But Goliath was bigger and stronger, superior to Saul in every earthly aspect that mattered. Saul had been relying on his physical attributes, had believed the hype and probably saw himself as every bit the epitome of humanity that the people thought he was. What a blow to see someone bigger and stronger, to the extent that Saul looked puny in comparison.

Whenever you begin to rely on your gifts, the physical attributes and abilities that you were born with or have cultivated in order to cope with life, there will almost always come a moment when those physical gifts will be insufficient. Someone will come along who is bigger, stronger, smarter, faster, prettier, craftier, more skillful or disciplined, more gifted naturally, than you. Or a situation will arise that finds you unequal to the task, that you must come to terms with the painful reality that you cannot handle whatever comes by sheer dint of your training and gifts. What will you do? Will you try to slink away and huddle in your tent like Saul? Will you rail and boast and set yourself up as the end-all, be-all like Goliath? Or will you walk confidently onto the plain with the simple gifts and abilities God gave you, and relinquish them back to Him? Trust Him to use you to defeat the giant? Trust Him to be strong enough to overcome where you cannot?

Grace Message

The basic premise of this understanding of the Gospel is the idea that the Christian life is not something that I live; rather it is something I allow the Holy Spirit to live in and through me. Just like the brain controls the rest of the body, Jesus is supposed to control His Body, and we are members of that Body. We don’t decide what to do or where to go any more than our fingers or toes act independently of the brain. (Or rather, if they do, then something is seriously wrong, and it’s time to call in Dr. House.)

Now, even though every earthly analogy falls short, I particularly like the one in which a child attempts to write words, and the father closes his hand around the child’s so that even though the child is holding the pen and moving it across the paper, the father is actually responsible for what appears on the page. Even so our lives are our own, and we live them, but the Christian has the opportunity, the honor, and the responsibility to allow the Father to live our lives for us, to direct our will and actions and words. But it is much less obvious who is doing what than the analogy makes it seem, naturally. We can only be sure of the Father’s activity in our lives by the results: if the results are capable of being accomplished through our activity and ability, then it stands to reason that we are the originator of it. If, however, what happens is beyond our ability to control or create, if it is truly miraculous, something impossible to orchestrate apart from the omniscience, omnipotence, and omnipresence of God, then we may safely assume that it was God working through us to do His pleasure. Just like, to complete the analogy, a ragged, illegible scrawl can be attributed to the child’s handiwork, while a clear, eloquent and firm script must be the work of the father.

You may ask where this idea is supported in the Bible, and rightfully so. The clearest expression occurs in Galatians 2:20: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” In other words, I no longer call the shots in my life; not my will, but His be done. Or a chapter later, when Paul berates the Galatians: “I would like to learn just one thing from you: Did you receive the Spirit by the works of the law, or by believing what you heard? Are you so foolish? After beginning by means of the Spirit, are you now trying to finish by means of the flesh?” (3:2-3). In other words, we were saved completely through the actions of God and Jesus, and we access that salvation by abdicating our will and our lives, our attempts to please God through our own actions. Are we actually saying that, after being saved by faith, by depending upon the work and office of Jesus, that, now saved, we are going to discard Jesus until we get to heaven, we are going to revert back to the pre-Christian mentality of trying to please God through our sweat, blood and tears? Which is why Paul rails against them so much, and why he says in Colossians 2:6, “As you therefore have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him.”

Romans constructs this argument, especially in chapter 5, verses 9-10: “Much more then, having now been justified by His blood, we shall be saved from wrath through Him.  For if when we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, much more, having been reconciled, we shall be saved by His life.” The cross justified and redeemed us, but the resurrection saved us, because we are saved by the life of Jesus. And even as His life is not a single thing but an ongoing process, so too our salvation and sanctification is an ongoing process, not a singular event. If that weren’t enough, the next chapter hammers it home: “Or do you not know that as many of us as were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death? Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life” (3-5). Our sins were buried in His death and entombment, and so our lives were raised when the stone rolled away, that we may “walk in newness of life” right now, on earth. To think otherwise is to say that eternal life begins after we die, after life on earth is over. But the Gospel doesn’t say this; Jesus rose on earth, walked on earth, and concluded His ministry on earth, ascending to the Father only so the Spirit could come down and continue the work in the new way.

Here’s the final confirmation, from the lips of Christ Himself. While preparing His disciples for the crucifixion, He says that “He who has seen Me has seen the Father; so how can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?  Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father in Me? The words that I speak to you I do not speak on My own authority; but the Father who dwells in Me does the works.   Believe Me that I am in the Father and the Father in Me” (John 14:9-11).  Or in John 5:19: “Then Jesus answered and said to them, ’Most assuredly, I say to you, the Son can do nothing of Himself, but what He sees the Father do; for whatever He does, the Son also does in like manner.’” This is the final example of the Christian life, the life that Christ lived. He did not live His own life, according to His own will, but rather the will of His Father. In like manner are we to live.

And this is why this understanding of the Christian life has so captured my heart and mind. Because I have always tried to do the right thing, to live a good life, to be good. Basically my entire life has been lived as a Christian, and it kills me to look at my past littered with sin and failure. I despair. If there was one argument that might have convinced me of the falseness of Christianity, it would have been this concept that someone can be saved, and see little difference in their everyday life, no matter how honest and earnest their desire to change, to be different. It’s one thing if a person “converts” and then never demonstrates either a change or the desire to change; such a person’s conversion can be seriously doubted. But I have ever longed to please God, to live a life that He could say of it, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” And I have always failed. That has been a greater torment to my soul than my poor self-image based on body image, zero relationships, lack of career, etc. And when I read what Ian Thomas and Bill Gillham wrote, when I listened to Thomas’ sermons, it was a weight falling off my back; the sun switching on in my spirit. At last the Christian life made sense! At last it seemed feasible! At last, a practical application of the words of Scripture! Because I grasped what the problem was: me! I was trying to do my best for God, to live a righteous life on my own steam and out of my own desire. But my own desire to live righteously prove time and again hopelessly inadequate to overcoming the desires of the flesh, the old man that twists and perverts every good thing, every good impulse and healthy ambition. Not to mention the fact that the servants of Hell would hardly allow me free rein to live a righteous life. Even as I was unable to resist my own sinful nature before conversion, so I was unable to dismiss my sinful nature after conversion. And God never expected me to! He isn’t interested in rehabilitating my flesh; He wants to replace it, with His Spirit. He wants me to exchange independence for dependence on Him. To live is Christ, Christ in my living, thinking, working, sleeping, eating, hoping, loving, everything. Christ in me, the hope of glory.

And so, as Paul says in Philippians 2:12-13, “Therefore, my beloved…work out your own salvation with fear and trembling;  for it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure.” That is why I am confident in my ability to lose weight, to find a career, to gain a wife, to overcome. Because I’m no longer confident in my ability, but rather I am confident that “He who has begun a good work in [me] will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ” (Phil 1:6). I am His piece of work, and He’s the one who’s going to polish me off.

Life in the Valley of Death

Out of my window on a cold November’s morn, two squirrels race up and down impossible angles and invisible branches, darting in a joyous pursuit of life. A bird squeaks and flits among leafless branches, seeking sustenance in the face of want. I am reminded of the twenty-third Psalm: “Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I shall fear no evil, For Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

The bare branches fill the air like lines on a page, dormant yet pregnant. Even as winter looms, the dearth of death, I know those lines will one day blossom and flower with life, filling the sky with color and harvest.

Why, o men, do we struggle with each other? Why do we limit ourselves and our relationships? Why do we seek to control, to restrict, to exclude, what God has made? The fruits of our labors mock us; war, perversion, insanity, despair, loneliness and heartache. Rejoice, humanity! Your will has been done. Are you not proud? Are you not content? Are you not joyous with the products of your decision? Why do you clamor and snarl? Wherefore the outcry? Is this not what you wanted, when you excluded the Alternative?

We sit in the smoldering ashes of proud towers and wonder how the fire began even as we play with matches.

Brother strikes against brother, children against parents, husbands against wives. Should we wonder at the misery we produce? The estrangement and the pain? The isolation? Can we be so blind that we fail to grasp the blatant truth, our left hands unaware of our right? Have our senses dulled past the point where reality is nothing more than flickering shadows in a cave?

Who will deliver us? The Hand reaches out, humble and patient; do not slap it away. For one day it shall close into a Fist. Woe.

Are your ears open? Do your eyes see? Is your mind comprehendable? Or do words sail through your ears like a clipper ship at sea? Do they rebound off your heart and mind like pebbles off a tank? Can the Whisper pierce through your din? Will you even heed a Shout?

Will I?

Shout, Lord, for Your servant is hard of hearing.

And yet…and yet…

Sun follows moon, the dark cannot hold back the dawn. In the epitome of confusion and death, a budding shoot emerges, quietly defiant in pursuing life. And a thunderclap cannot be ignored.

Will we repent? Is it too late? He will not be denied, nor deterred, nor defeated. We follow Him, or are engulfed in waves of righteousness. He will not leave us alone! Laugh amidst the tears of pain! Dance on crippled legs! Sing with every wracking cough! Smile in the face of death.

Can you do that? Who can? Who can? Who ever could? Who?

“Even so, come…”

Adventures That Make You Late for Dinner

Today the pastor of the church I regularly attend preached about adventures. He exhorted us to shake off our lethargy and ask God to send us on adventures. Not necessarily that such adventures would take us around the globe to exotic locales, but simply that adventures would happen, that we would allow God to inconvenience us.

The idea of adventures has always appealed to me. It's why I love action/adventure movies and books; why I love science fiction and fantasy tales like Tolkien's masterpiece The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. As John Eldredge has written, men are wired to long for adventures, to pit themselves against doughty odds and see what they're made of, to fling caution to the wind and chase after their dreams, regardless of cost or safety. Eldredge claims that this is a divine mandate, a holy desire implanted into the hearts of men by God. (And women too, but they crave different kinds of adventures.)

And Lloyd was saying the same thing: God wants to throw adventures at us, not so we can prove ourselves strong and capable, but so that He can prove Himself strong and capable for us, through us, and to us on our behalf. Discard the hum-drum, he cried, passion spilling over into his sermon as is common with him. Dare God to sweep you away, and hang on for the ride!

Well, this sounds quite good to me. I loved Eldredge's books, as much for the references to movies and books as for the spiritual applications and insights he shared. Because I love those same books and movies, those stories. My heart soars and thrills when Luke Skywalker vaults to the sail barge in Return of the Jedi, outnumbered and outgunned, but steely-eyed, brandishing his lightsaber; when Samwise Gamgee stands over the prone Frodo and beats back a giant spider with a glowing sword and a vial of Light; when William Wallace glowers at the English and snarls his defiance; even when Mr. Keeting whispers "Carpe Diem" to a group of boys in a still hallway, and awe creeps over their faces.

This evening I watched, for the first time, The Man from Snowy River, a tale of Australian cowpokes, rugged mountain men, and wild horses stampeding across craggy peaks. Apart from the '80's music and a few moments of ham/corn/cheese, the movie was well-done and compelling. A young lad on the cusp of manhood loses his father and has to prove himself to be capable, a man. Through various adventures he wins the heart of a girl, defies her tyrannical father, and conquers the wilderness, embodied in the guise of the horses running wild and corrupting those horses owned by man. He triumphantly canters into the sunset, secure in his ability to handle anything life can throw at him. A heart-warming story with some truly breathtaking scenery and vistas that made my spirit ache with wonder.

Eldredge alludes to this story in his writing, as another proof of man's love of adventure, his drive to prove himself, his desire to win the heart of the woman and provide for her. All these are true, and my mind was brought back to the sermon. Often have I wondered what adventures lie in store for me. I imagined being a missionary in jungle surroundings, braving death to bring the Gospel to savage natives. I saw myself an author of epic tales that stir the heart and dazzle the mind, like my literary heroes Tolkien and C. S. Lewis.

The reality is, however, that my life in no way correlates to such daring-do and adventure. I scrape by with meager wages from a part-time job; I can't even ride a horse (at least, I've never done so). And as for the Woman, heh, well, that's as desolate a scene as the Salt flats of Utah.

It struck me that all the heroes of stories such as these had a dream, a goal, a drive to accomplish something, and the adventures happened to them while they were pursuing that goal. Bilbo was on a mission to conquer the dragon and reestablish the dwarves to their rightful rule under the Lonely Mountain, while his nephew Frodo had a greater task, to destroy the Ring of Power before evil overtook Middle Earth. Wallace fought for Scottish freedom, Neo raged against the makers of the Matrix, and Keeting sought to free his students from a dry and lifeless pursuit of academic knowledge in favor of experiencing full-blooded life. None of them went after adventures for their own sake; rather, they had something higher to aim at.

And this is what occurred to me as I mused on Lloyd's sermon: should I pray for an adventure for its own sake? To break the monotony of life, of the Christianity of duty, church attendance, and daily quiet time, simply because it's boring? That doesn't seem to be the pattern, does it? And here's what I'm missing: a mission, a goal, a quest. My dad talks of having that passion upon entering Wycliffe Bible Translators. He had a goal that all his efforts were directed at achieving, and he said that he was never happier and more fulfilled in this area than at that time.

One might object, "Isn't God the object of your pursuit, to know God more deeply, experience His life in your life and share that with others?" My rebuttal would be, does this constitute a specific goal? Every believer should feel the same way, but some  are called to be scientists, some missionaries, some pastors, some mechanics, some professors, and some managers of Chik-Fil-A. I understand and applaud the spiritual quest, but I'm talking about a quest for the here-and-now, everyday life. Because that's how the Lord can prove Himself strong on my behalf, providing for me as I walk in this life, breaking down barriers and opening doors for me. C. S. Lewis walked with God and wrote amazing stories and theological texts, but he was a professor in life. His passion was for English language and literature, and God used that for His glory.

I love literature as well and plan to pursue a higher degree in it, but is that my goal, the overriding motivation for the adventure? Do I need one, or is my desire for one fanciful?

Recent events seem to pile up misfortune and tribulation upon me, which can be adventuresome in a way but not if the person involved isn't striving for something and finding hardships come as a result. I'm not striving for a goal when my car dies and continues to perform poorly, when I can't find a job that pays enough to fulfill my needs. Giant spiders acted as impediments to both Frodo and Bilbo, like Longshanks to Wallace and the dean of Keeting's school, not to mention the father of one of the students. But those challenges arose while they were on the path toward the goal. My difficulties sprout up even when I'm going in circles or can't get out of the starting gate.

Does this mean the longing for adventure is any less keen? Certainly not. If anything, the frustration only increases the desire for some mission I can choose to accept, some goal to shoot for, some purpose in this life I can set my sights on, and the adventures that follow pursuing that purpose. It has been said that you should find what you love and figure out how to make money doing that. But what if you don't "love" anything? You like a great many things, but nothing that consumes you, that drives you. If you don’t have that, then what will you set your sights on? This is the unenviable position in which I find myself.

A Response to Car Troubles

It would be unfair of me not to provide a counterpoint to the previous post, as dolorous in tenor as it was. Without going in to the details of the car (except that it still looks like it will end badly, that is, with it being sold for parts), I should like to address how the Lord has answered my complaints and queries.

In essence, He spoke to me through the eighth chapter of Romans, which I had been approaching as part of my regular Bible study in the mornings. The chapter begins with Paul explaining the difference between the old man and the new man. One walks according to the flesh, the earthly way of being and doing and thinking and feeling, while the other walks according to the Spirit, because the Spirit lives in him. And because the Spirit lives in him, he is set free from fear (15), and is a son of God.

This served as a balm to my raw and swollen soul. This was comfort and consolation, the affirmation of my new position in life, my freedom from sin and fear, the opportunity to draw upon the resources of God. It helped even out my emotions through quiet consolation, a still, small whisper of love.

But the Truth came next, the bolstering up of my spirits, the renewing of my mind. Verse 18: "I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." Well, that rocked me back on my metaphorical haunches. I was suffering last night, and Paul's suffering is worlds' worse than mine will ever be, in all probability. It was a kind of dope slap upside the head: Wake Up! It's just some light and momentary troubles!

Which brings me to the famous passage beginning with 31: "What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?" He goes on to say that God's no skinflint, a niggardly Scrooge doling out coals that barely generate heat on a cold winter's day. He sacrificed His Son for us; do we really think He'll blanch at trifles like money, physical health, relationships, and the like? What are they but hay and stubble? "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?" (35). Are we that stupid as to think that the things of this world can break bonds forged in the blood of God's Son, God Himself? Even an unutterable tragedy like a car breaking down a few times can't come close to being in the same universe as the provision that blood-soaked cross and empty tomb made for us.

To add to my shame, the next verses talk of facing death, equating themselves to slaughtered sheep, before we come to arguably one of the most triumphant verses ever penned: "For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (38-39). We are to be more than conquerors in these things, never forgetting how we do this, "through Him who loved us," and gave Himself for us (37).

So this morning was a gentle dope slap and a spiritual hug.

Car Troubles: An Understatement

Tonight I found myself standing along the side of the road in 30 degree weather, at 10:30 at night, as my car's hazard lights dolefully signaled my depression in regular rhythmic bursts of light. Why, I asked myself? Why does this keep happening to me? What have I done? Is this punishment? Does suffering build character? Surely character-building must end and the character built must be put into practice, musn't it? How much more character do I need, O Lord?

To fully appreciate the situation, let me back up a bit. Almost 2 weeks ago my car died. Just conked out a couple blocks from my house. My uncle towed it to a mechanic he trusted and I was carless for a while, necessitating my father to drive 3 hours round trip to shuttle me to my classes. After a sojourn in Kirksville, he shuttled me back again, leaving me with the promise of the use of my good friend Walker's car. All the while the car in questions languished at the mechanic's, who seemed less interested in fixing it than taking his son to football games. 

 

At last, come Friday, I was told it was ready, after a mere $500+. I enlisted Walker's help on Saturday morning to pick it up, with a check from my parents since my cash flow is less of a flow and more of a dry ravine at this point. The mechanic refused to take a check, preferring cash. I had to cash the check and return today, once I could get someone to drive over with me. The mechanic had "fixed" the problem, but now the idle was reminiscent of my early attempts to learn stick shift, a violent bucking and missing of the engine at stops. It made it to Walker's house, where I enjoyed his company and games for a while. A mere three minutes away, the car shuddered and died. My best efforts to revive it were fruitless. Eventually Walker came and helped push it off the road, with a charitable passer-by also lending a hand. 

 

That is the tale. Less than 5 hours after getting the car back from the shop, it sputtered and died. Now, my ire toward the mechanic notwithstanding, I find myself in the position of Job, wondering why I seem to attract futility and misfortune like moths to light. Not only have I been unable to find gainful employment since being fired over 2 years ago, but I have had at least 5 significant problems with cars since then, beginning with the totalling of an earlier car. At this point the pattern is alarming.

 

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart; lean not on your own understanding. Acknowledge Him in all your ways, and He shall direct your paths." This verse floated into my mind as I drove to my house, fuming and talking to God. I poured out my frustration and despair to Him, and this is what He told me. The "lean not on your own understanding" seems easy enough, since I'm baffled at this continual catastrophe that seems to dog my efforts. Trusting in the Lord is harder, however. At least, for my heart. I am aware of the verses that speak of this, I know the arguments and answers to such wonderings; if the situation happened to someone else I would rush to offer sage wisdom and comfort. But when you're the one at the bottom of the trough and the wave looks a mile high as it looms, poised to crash over you, the calm logic rings hollow and the Christianese falls flat. My heart feels battered and bruised, bewildered and crushed, despondent and discouraged.

Birthday Musings

What would you do if you had five years to live? Or one? I guess the difference would make quite a difference, but the point of the well-worn exercise is to reexamine your life. As I celebrate another year of existence, and begin to delve into the bleak and cynical world of the television series Mad Men, I find myself pondering such arcane issues as "where do I find enjoyment in life? What do I do that satisfies me and brings me peace and contentment? And more importantly, what would I do differently if a clock was running down somewhere?"

Would I be nicer to people? Or meaner? Would I stop procrastinating with my "dreams" and ambitions? Would I lose some inhibitions or gain some? It's a fun exercise, but it doesn't really get you anywhere to muse on it for its own sake. You have to move past it to look at how we define ourselves and our lives.

You see, the people in Mad Men, 1950's advertisement marketers, define themselves by pleasure. Notably, Don Draper, the central figure (I think "hero" is inappropriate for both the actuality and intention of the show's writers) smokes, drinks, has a wife and family, a prestigious and weighty job, a steady stream of women on the side, and, well, the world on a string. And I'm only 2 episodes in but I can already see that this is almost at the zenith of the parabola of his life. He's in his thirties, can get any girl that he wishes, goes home to a dutiful and doting wife, and makes a living in NYC in a bustling and challenging industry. Yet, he's unhappy. Deeply flawed. Desperately cynical. Absolutely existential in worldview. Live for the now, it's all there is. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die. Strike that, tomorrow we will die, whether tomorrow is the next day or 30 years away. Life ends in death.

We look at athletes, cultural icons like singers or actors, the filthy rich and powerful, all desperately trying to postpone that awful truth that death awaits all of them, that their beauty, their fame, their fortune, their abilities, their influence, their legacy cannot save them. No matter how filled the hyphen may be with success, pleasure, and happiness, the date always comes last. No hyphen ever ends unresolved.

And so I look back at my 29 years on earth and see no great accomplishments, in the world's context. I'm nearly broke, alone, rotund (to put it kindly), aimless. And before me dangles the promise that life will have greater meaning if you accumulate wealth, find a dazzling beauty's affection, and create an enduring legacy. But does it? Even someone like Shakespeare, whose work still remains relevant 300 years after his death, who is lionized and canonized, is no more than words on a page. His life is over, and long since his body has disintegrated. What has his fame and legacy profited him? What does it matter if a man gains the whole world without ever saving his soul?

You see, I'm tempted to resolve to live like I have a year left in life, or five. To stop procrastinating or drifting in life's uneasy eddies and DO SOMETHING! But what would I do? And why would it matter?

I am not unaware of the answer that Christ Jesus offers to this quandary that plagues every honest soul that looks around and at itself in frank evaluation. The answers, the counters, the hope, spring to my mind. That's kind of the issue, isn't it? If God's directing my steps, then the worth of my actions, my words, my very life, lie in that context as He decides and directs. It's a suspiciously simple answer: God! He's the answer! Like a cure-all that promises panacea, just trust God and continue on. Well, I trust God. And I'm still at that place I mentioned earlier. I've trusted Him most of my life, to varying degrees. And the alternative to God holds no attraction to me; as Mad Men exemplifies and reinforces, the crazed pursuit of worth, wealth, and ecstasy in the world's context is hollow and vain. I know it, like a man knows he's in love. It's a surety born not of mind or emotion but both, and therefore deeper and higher than either. I know God exists. I know He alone can answer these deep questions and notions we all face. I know that apart from Him, everything is vanity, a chasing after the wind. I know it.

I trust God, but my heart still cries out for meaning, for purpose, for peace and pleasure. How will God provide these? Or will He wait until death renders all questions moot?