This reflection doesn’t line up naturally with others of the season, although I’ll hazard to say it’s not that far off course. After all, one of the themes of all of these essays is the human spirit and what it means to live lives of significance.

Ostensibly, I want to focus for a bit on Alexandr Solzhenitsyn, one of the giants of the 20th century. Although he died a decade or so ago, he is being memorialized in some quarters this week on the 100th anniversary of his birth for good reason, some of which I’ll get to and try to tie into the general themes of these pages.

Everyone who knows me, knows that I am a reader. Always have been. I guess by this time, I’ve read in the thousands of books, many of which are not particularly memorable while many others are. I would enjoy the exercise of trying to come up with a Top 10, although with a particular slant. I’ve read plenty of just plain great books, many of which are novels, some written by people with the most amazing literary gifts. I don’t consider myself a literary snob, finding some of the fawning done by arrogant reviewers to be pretty worthless. I can be immersed in a captivating story, transported by language and imagery as authors weave their magic, much as I am by music of a certain style and taste. But, I can separate really, really good books from a select few that have actually changed my life. It is to these that I owe special consideration. Not only can I pinpoint  what it was that struck me so deeply at the time, I can trace how that experience was subsequently woven into my consciousness and shaped how I perceive so much about the human condition … politically, socially, culturally, economically, philosophically, spiritually.

The first was Les Miserables, written by Victor Hugo and published in 1862. Its unabridged version which I read in full in the eighth grade and that came to over 1000 pages, spoke deeply into my heart and mind in ways that helped me understand so much of what it means to be human, to struggle, to persevere, to live within a reality of both good and evil, and to know that there is so much more to being human that often meets the eye. Almost coincidentally, that year was 1968 and most of us of a certain age will remember how significant that year was in our history.

The second was John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath, published in 1939, receiving both the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize (one of his other great books that still sits on my shelf is East of Eden, for which he won the Nobel Prize in 1962). In Grapes of Wrath, which I read in the tenth grade, I lived the story of the plight of the poor in our country and came to know a degree of suffering that I was not currently enduring, thereby training my heart for deep compassion and my mind for purpose.

The third was Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment, published in 1866 and read during my senior year in high school. I grew up in a household devoid of religious practice and any discussion about God. We were largely political but not philosophical. Dostoyevsky opened up a window into the human soul for me, a window which later only expanded (albeit in a circuitous way at times) as I struggled alongside his protagonist, Raskolnikov, in a battle between Good and Evil, the nature of Free Will and the things that both restrict and liberate the human heart.

Each of these three stand out on their own but, collectively, helped mold me as a teen and pave the way into maturity. All dealt with conflict and mirrored the world that I was studying and actively engaged in as a young and idealistic man. They were also expressions of history, aligning with so many other books and sources I was consuming, setting a bedrock of values that meant I could not be a bystander in life. Such would not be an option.

Enter Solzhenitsyn, the famous Russian dissident, whose works exploded on the international scene in the 1960s and 1970s, rocking the world and further exposing the depths to which human beings could go to commit evil. But, they were not just about exposing the evils of totalitarianism. They were also about the nature of the human spirit, where that comes from, and its place is in this life.

I cannot pick a single book out as head and shoulders above the rest but group them together as the fourth major literary influence in my young life. Both novels and documentary, I can easily remember their titles: One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, The First Circle, August 1914, Cancer Ward and, most importantly, The Gulag Archipelago (three volumes for which he won the Nobel Prize in Literature).

The 20th century was witness to the most monstrous evil ever unleashed in the history of humanity. The scale of human destruction defies our sensibilities. We are well aware that violence has always been present in nearly every historical culture, sometimes in the most vicious of ways. What is truly worth noting, however, is that the violence of the last century was a direct byproduct of the quest of powerful societies to achieve utopian ideals. It was the most blatant example of how mankind can rationalize the most contemptible means in order to achieve a given end. And do so without blinking an eye.

Many tens of millions of innocent men, women and children were slaughtered, tortured, starved and forsaken to die early deaths in detention and “re-education” camps in order to feed the tyrannical natures of obsessed leaders. Entranced with the ideas that mankind could make perfect societies, men such as Josef Stalin, Adolph Hitler, Mao Zedung, Pol Pot and others whose names are both familiar and unfamiliar, set about the task of dehumanizing humans in order to create perfectible humanity.

Solzhenitsyn had a front row seat to much of this and his experience and commentary make him to be one of the greatest figures of the 20th century. I feel both blessed and cursed by my exposure to him. Reading Solzhenitsyn, there can be no innocence. There is no escape from the truths of his message. It condemns me to live in a world that is eternally broken, for, just because those men just mentioned are now dead and the horrors of those years are drifting into the pat, the exact same motivations and processes are fully alive today.

Which finally brings me to my point. I knew that Solzhenitsyn (like the formerly imprisoned Dostoyevsky before him) was a Christian, a faithful Russian Orthodox believer. I knew that it was his faith that provided him both the means to weather his years of Siberian imprisonment (the Gulag) in the most bitter of circumstances and the lens through which he made sense of it. But, I had either not known or forgotten the single reason he cited as the cause of these massive tragedies.

He said it was because man had forgotten God.

That’s it.

Oh, in his speeches and letters while in exile and later, after returning to Russia, he gave tremendous support for how and why mankind had forgotten God and what that meant, his conviction was rather simple, while also deeply profound.

Solzhenitsyn was a complicated man and not without his flaws. But, I am extremely grateful that I was exposed to his genius and his voice, crying in the wilderness that this is not what we were designed for.

For, indeed, just as a flower can bloom in the aftermath of devastation and we see the most remarkable examples of what is good about being human amidst unbelievable suffering, hope can flourish in unexpected places. For Solzhenitsyn to survive how he did and go on to electrify the world with his works, is a testimony to hope and how it can and should shape all aspects of our lives, regardless of what we face.

Oh sure, the counterargument will go, man has used God to rationalize enormous evil. Yes but what vision of God are we talking about?

For, the child who was born two millennia ago in a forsaken backwater region and who went on to become the most significant force in human history, is a God of both Love and Justice and is eternal, as are we. Everyone has a right to disbelieve that and there are many reasons why that can make sense.

In this time and place, I do not forget God and am grateful for that gift. I’m thankful for the influences in my life that have led me to this point. For Hugo’s depiction of the nature of Grace and Forgiveness. For Steinbeck’s depiction of what it means to be a human outcast. For Dostoyevsky’s depiction of the internal struggle inside each human being between good and evil. For Solzhenitsyn’s  portrayal of the reality of human degradation in the cause of idealism and how hope can spring eternal.

And for Jesus who continues to reach out to our hearts and minds so that we can best navigate this life in a way that exemplifies what is best about being a human being.

Thank God.

I was listening to a song this morning as I drove to a meeting. It’s entitled Reckless Love. I’ve heard it before, although from different artists.

Growing up, I’d have to say that my musical tastes were at least a little eclectic. My parents weren’t into show tunes or the popular music of the day. Both were raised with an appreciation for classical music which probably led me to take up the violin. Just about the time I learned how to make the thing work like it was designed to do, I discovered pop or rock music. In the many decades that followed, I had my favorites in both genres. I bring this up because, honestly, I didn’t pay that much attention to the lyrics in most rock songs. I liked the music but more often than not, the words made little if any sense. Oh, some made political statements, with which I could identify from time to time. But, for the most part, I just listened passively, enjoying the sounds that I liked and not paying attention to the sounds I didn’t like. I’ll defy most people of my generation to find deep meaning in more than a handful of the anthems from the 60s or 70s (other than a celebration of the drug culture, anti-war activism and the anti-authoritarian bent that is ever present in younger generations).

Of course, I had no idea (or if I had, no interest) in popular Christian music until, all of a sudden, I was a Christian and the words actually made sense. From some aged hymns to contemporary songs, I soon discovered that they were a version of prayer, that had clear themes and messages. One of my delights was/is when the lyrics describe a characteristic of God that I had come to believe through my own experience. When those lyrics were coupled with tunes, voices, instruments, and melodies that I enjoyed, I found that my habits of how and why I listened to music changed.

I may have mentioned that, in a conversation maybe a year or so ago, I was asked why I thought I knew the character of God. When I asked why that would be curious, the response was that God was so vast as to be incomprehensible and that made it impossible to know his character. My reply at the time was something like, “Well, of course, I can’t fully know God but I can certainly know his character just as we can never fully know anyone else (and they’re just people, not God) but we can know their character because the signs are there everywhere.” To me, if you’re in relationship with someone, you get at least some window into their character. With God, to me, the evidence is monumental.

In the late 19th century, a poet by the name of Francis Thompson published a poem with the title of “Hound of Heaven.” (Full disclosure: I had to look this up when I searched for the origin of the term, which I’ve heard many times in the past.) Two giants of British letters in the period afterwards had this exchange about the poem:

G.K. Chesterton: “It is the most magnificent poem ever written in English.” To which J.R.R. Tolkien responded that Chesterton was not giving the poem the credit it deserved. (I love this!)

In his study on the poem, John O’Conor says

“The name is strange. It startles one at first. It is so bold, so new, so fearless. It does not attract, rather the reverse. But when one reads the poem this strangeness disappears. The meaning is understood. As the hound follows the hare, never ceasing in its running, ever drawing nearer in the chase, with unhurrying and imperturbed pace, so does God follow the fleeing soul by His Divine grace. And though in sin or in human love, away from God it seeks to hide itself, Divine grace follows after, unwearyingly follows ever after, till the soul feels its pressure forcing it to turn to Him alone in that never-ending pursuit.”

There are three connected parables that Jesus told aloud to a gathering of self-righteous religious leaders and the castoffs (sinners) of the day. They are recounted in the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 15, and their connection is that each is about “lostness” and foundness.” Of course, they are fundamentally about the character of God. My personal story aligns with the third and best known, the one about the lost (prodigal) younger son but the preceding ones on the lost sheep and the lost coin basically say the same thing.

If you’ll stick by a while longer, you’ll see where all of this is going. 🙂

In the first parable, Jesus says,

“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.”

Now, this seems completely counterintuitive. What responsible shepherd would leave 99 sheep unprotected to go and find a single one who was lost? Who forsakes the 99 for the 1?

But, this parable was not designed to stand on its own but to be part of an extended message about God’s relationship with us. If taken to its final conclusion with the father talking to the obstinate elder son, the full picture becomes clear.

God’s love is reckless.

Grace is reckless.

When I heard God’s clear voice in March 2005, I’d never thought to any degree about the message contained in Luke 15. Yes, I’d read it at some point but, just as those songs of my youth really didn’t touch me in any meaningful way, the depth of Jesus’ teaching was lost on me. For good reason.

But, that changed in an instant when I surrendered. Suddenly, in the most vivid way imaginable, God showed/told me that he was always in my life from the moment of conception and that he would not let me go. And, in that moment, the heavens opened up and I experienced the rejoicing that, long pursued and desired, I had finally come home and I was loved beyond compare. Later, after reading the parables and hearing of a description of the Hound of Heaven, I could only say, “exactly. That’s what happened. That’s who God is. Period and end of report.”

I know that there are some people who have known me for a very long time that are puzzled and even turned off when I talk like this. But, it’s impossible for me not to. When you run and avoid like I did, seeking every excuse to hide and somehow always sensing (perhaps just underneath my consciousness) that there was a pursuit going on … but when, at last, I had nothing left and sat down to say I was done, it turned out that the pursuer wasn’t really a hound or even a shepherd but the God of all things who invited me to just look into his face. What indescribable joy!

Here are the lyrics to Reckless Love

Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me

You have been so, so good to me

Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me

You have been so, so kind to me

 

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

Oh, it chases me down, fights ’til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine

I couldn’t earn it, and I don’t deserve it, still, You give Yourself away

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, yeah

 

When I was Your foe, still Your love fought for me

You have been so, so good to me

When I felt no worth, You paid it all for me

You have been so, so kind to me

 

And oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

Oh, it chases me down, fights ’til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine

And I couldn’t earn it, and I don’t deserve it, still, You give Yourself away

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, yeah

 

There’s no shadow You won’t light up

Mountain You won’t climb up

Coming after me

There’s no wall You won’t kick down

Lie You won’t tear down

Coming after me

 

There’s no shadow You won’t light up

Mountain You won’t climb up

Coming after me

There’s no wall You won’t kick down

Lie You won’t tear down

Coming after me

 

There’s no shadow You won’t light up

Mountain You won’t climb up

Coming after me

There’s no wall You won’t kick down

Lie You won’t tear down

Coming after me

 

There’s no shadow You won’t light up

Mountain You won’t climb up

Coming after me

There’s no wall You won’t kick down

Lie You won’t tear down

Coming after me

 

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

Oh, it chases me down, fights ’til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine

And I couldn’t earn it, I don’t deserve it, still, You give Yourself away

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, yeah

 

At the end, I’m going to link to a YouTube live rendition of the song, by its writer and chief performer. I just found it today, although I saw them live at a concert earlier this year. It includes a brief interlude whereby he explains the lyrics. If you’re not used to pretty loud and exclamatory Christian music, this may seem quite different and maybe oft-putting. But (and here’s a window into my life now), I’m perfectly at home here. These are no haphazard lyrics. God is real and he loves each of us so much that he will never cease tracking us down and inviting us in. And, perhaps, the harder we resist, the harder we fall. Regardless, to have eyes open to this reality of God’s character is nothing less than completely life changing.

Or, as former slave ship captain John Newton wrote in 1779:

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound … I once was lost but now am found, twas blind but now I see. …

How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed. …

Twas grace that brought us safe thus far and grace will lead us home.

In conclusion, there’s no better time to consider who God is than this season when we celebrate his arrival here on Earth.

Amen.

Each of us plays many roles. Another way of putting this is that we have multiple jobs. I don’t mean jobs necessarily as our daily efforts to generate income. I mean the things we do that we believe are important and bring value to our lives and the lives of others.

I’m not sure how many of us sort of rank these things in matters of importance. Normally, I don’t. I just go about doing the things (or at least trying to do the things) that reflect my basic principles for living. But, from time to time, I’m reminded that I do have one preeminent job.

Disclaimer: I’m not especially good at this job a lot of the time. Such is the life of a somewhat bumbling apprentice!

For whatever reason, the nature of this job becomes more clear in times of challenge, when the world just doesn’t seem to operate like we’d wish … if we were in control.

In some ways, this reflection is an extension from yesterday’s posting on worry and how we handle it.

The naming of this job may rankle some people and it could puzzle others. I suspect that still others, who share my viewpoints, will agree with me that the performing of it can at times be difficult and, always, requires assistance.

My number one job is to point to God in all things.

So, just saying that in this culture and age can get one pegged as some kind of religious fanatic. Images of an old bearded guy on the street corner, yelling “Repent!” easily come to mind. Our modern sensibilities can be repelled by someone literally saying that God is more important than anything else and that we need to actually behave that way all of the time.

One of the reasons for this reaction is that many devout believers think that putting God above all other things is an exclusionary deal … when it is anything but. This is also one reason that belief (especially belief in the Christian God) is viewed with such suspicion or even derision, and rightfully so.

In my book, just pointing to God, as in the fact of his existence, is not really all that helpful. God is a curious being as he is not easily perceived, especially when the clues are not necessarily all of that in-your-face obvious. More importantly, it’s pointing to who God really is, in essence his character.

And God is a God of Truth and Love. Despite our cultural urges towards relativism, some things are just true and others false. Everyone actually believes this even if they believe they don’t. The key is to sift through all of the stuff and to figure out what truth is worth planting one’s flag in. God is good at helping us do that if we’re willing to listen and learn. And, despite our cultural urge to shape the concept of Love into something of our own making (including, for instance, happiness as the companion to love), this aspect of God’s character is mind-boggling in its enormous implications.

So, our job … my job … is to point to these aspects of God’s character through the ways we live our lives and interact with this world. Of course, this is where I’m sadly just a bumbling, albeit committed, apprentice.

One of the byproducts, however, in focusing on this number one job is that, increasingly and bit by bit, I feel worry dissolving into contentment. Anxiety re-channelled as hope. Fear morphing into trust. Distance replaced by familiarity.

Of course, if you were to graph this, it might look a lot like the stock market. Hey, progress for a time and then a backwards slide. But, here’s the thing about the stock market and a close relationship with God: The trajectory over time is always upwards.

Did I mention I need help with this?

The first line in one of the most famous prayers of all time, the Prayer of St. Francis, is

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

The following lines of that prayer detail how to do that but the point is that it begins with a request for assistance. This is because the doing of it can be a very hard thing.

Now, if someone were to ask me to cut to the chase and say exactly how I should perform Job 1, I would say it would be to try to be a blessing to others, to especially (but not exclusively) those who are broken or suffering. Just as importantly, it is to treat people in ways that are surprising to them. In ways that are kind, compassionate and considerate … out of the ordinary. And, one of the most surprising things to people is when they see someone handle true adversity with calmness and hope, not fear or worry.

I know people like this. Yes, they struggle as we all do but there’s something about them that is radiant in the middle of adversity. This is how I would define faith. It is not a blind belief in an unproved and unseen thing. It is a quiet yet firm resolve that there are greater forces at play than the thing that is being so disruptive at the moment. This faith is based on fact, not conjecture.

I can only hope that when my greatest challenges arrive, that I can respond in ways that others will pause and wonder where that comes from. And that my actions are truly reflective of a heart and countenance that come from God.

I believe that we are all eternal beings and that, when we understand what that actually means, the doors of heaven can open up to us right now in this life, in this place. I’ve seen it with great clarity, which to be honest, is a very big help in doing my job.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Help me to focus on what is really important which is who you actually are and what that means for all of us, whatever our beliefs. As great a leap as it is, help me to have, in some measure, the heart and hands of Jesus, he who best pointed to you and sowed blessings wherever he went. Giving thanks in all things.

Amen.

So, the initial pathology report is in. Thanks to something now called a “patient portal,” we can get up-to-the minute information directly. Even on a Sunday afternoon. The needle biopsy performed last Tuesday on a persistent lump on my neck shows a number of misbehaving cells, contrary to an initial diagnosis that predicted a small stone in a salivary gland. I’m thankful for physicians who care about me and were able to expedite a scan and biopsy. While the report, understandably, has a lot of technical jargon and the pathologist was unwilling to draw a firm conclusion of exactly what the mass is, it seems likely that it is malignant. Not definitive but likely. He recommended (which is not surprising) that the whole thing be cut out, presumably quickly. I will learn more in the next day or two, I’m sure, as my ENT and primary care docs come back to work and we begin to develop a plan.

Now, I’m pretty sure that no one wants to hear the word “cancer” although millions and millions hear it regularly. This episode may turn out to be relatively benign (we hope) or even that we were able to catch a malignancy in the earlier stages.

We tend to worry about things over which we have no control. Things that go bump in the night or, to put it a little differently, things that are hidden in the shadows, out of reach. Of course, we can also worry about very tangible things that are painful and that present us with major challenges and disruptions. But, worry is a thing of context as well as substance.

Anyone reading these words knows that Diane and I are closely connected with a significant number of people who suffer, most of whom bear their grave infirmities with tremendous dignity, as difficult as that is. As I picture their faces and challenges, I realize how blessed I am that they have invited me into their lives … and in a way that is anything but superficial. It is here where being human is a thing of radiant beauty.

We are currently camping in the local hills and I awoke early while still dark. In my reflection, I was drawn to one of my favorite songs, the most well known piece by a favorite group of mine, who we had the pleasure of seeing live in concert a little over a month ago. I have referred to this piece before and listen to it from time to time because both the music and lyrics resonate so deeply. It is entitled “Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)” and I felt called to include the lyrics here along with a few thoughts. If you’d like, you can see them perform this song live on YouTube.

The first stanza goes like this:

You call me out upon the waters

The great unknown where feet may fail

And there I find You in the mystery

In oceans deep

My faith will stand.

This comes from the famous story of Jesus appearing to his boat-bound disciples as walking on the water. He invited Peter to join him, which was a shocking and difficult thing for both Peter and the others to consider. Aside from this being an account of a miracle, it’s also a metaphor and tremendous lesson.

For someone such as I, who actually believes in a providential God who loves me fully and unconditionally, the knowledge that he calls me out of any safe haven (who among us actually lives fully in a safe haven?) is not news. But, it is good to be reminded constantly. It’s not just that I am called to cut the umbilical cord daily, unclasp my gripping fingers from false idols that are so tempting and distracting. It’s that I am called to go to a “great unknown where feet may fail.” Now, that’s something. Much as the unborn baby leaves the protective womb to go to an unknown place where failure is ever present, we are similarly called. The Good News is that, while failure is at hand, so is sweet redemption. For, “And there I find You in the mystery.” I respect that many people don’t believe in God and I understand that many who do, don’t spend a lot of time thinking about what that means. But, for me, truly “finding” God is the most powerful and remarkable feature of human existence. The fact that he remains “hidden” is a mystery and understandably so. I can go on and on about how he was hidden from me for so long or, rather, how I avoided him for so long but the fact remains that upon finding him, even though there might be a huge scary dark place underneath (around) me … the deep ocean as an analogy … it is upon that relationship that my life has full meaning. And upon that knowledge, I will stand.

The next stanza goes like this

And I will call upon Your name

And keep my eyes above the waves

When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace

For I am Yours and You are mine.

So, it’s one thing to hear the call to step out of the very nice safe boat and walk with confidence amidst the nasty things tugging at us. It’s quite another thing to actually obey.

I remember vividly when I leapt from that eight story tower in a swan dive, harnessed by bungee cords. I didn’t have fear for some reason until the split second when I was actually fully airborne. My split second thought was something like, “What in blazes did you just do?!” Well, at least when bungee jumping, I trusted a harness that seemed to be extremely secure and I trusted that people didn’t die bungee jumping (with a few exceptions) and far below me was this big inflatable cushion, so the knowledge of all of these tangible things made the leap perfectly rational, albeit a tad frightening. But, God is not like that so how is it that we can actually step out of the boat?

The answer is to “keep my eyes above the waves.” In other words, keep focused on God, not my worries or fears. For it is there, amidst the turbulence and worry that my soul (that deepest part of my essence) will rest. It is there that I will find peace and comfort. Why? Because we belong to one another: “For I am Yours and You are mine.” I had no idea what this could mean until it did. Of course, I forget and need to be reminded because I’m human and subject to frailty. Go figure.

The next stanza emphasizes this theme

Your grace abounds in deepest waters

Your sovereign hand

Will be my guide

Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me

You’ve never failed and You won’t start now.

I have reflected and written a lot about this phenomenon called Grace. It’s one of the strangest and most incomprehensible forces in all of reality when you get down to it. I think that the lyricist gets it right here. It abounds in deepest waters. I love that phrase and believe it to be spot on. While smaller graces can be present for all sorts of reasons, God’s grace doesn’t just appear in times of deepest trouble, it abounds! And, that grace comes from a “sovereign” (meaning supreme or ultimate power) hand. While I may stumble and fall, my desire to move into that place of comfort and assurance may not be enough to overcome my resistance based upon a fear that God will fail me. But God doesn’t fail and he won’t fail me now. He’s always with me, despite everything. I may not see his plan or want to trust in it but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have my ultimate best interests in mind.

(This last piece is a tough theological concept. For, we have to wrap our head around what it is that is actually failing. This is a major stumbling block to people believing in the God presented through Jesus. I know. It kept me at bay for decades. Unfortunately, I can’t go off on that tangent here and I’ve both addressed it in the past and can do so again in the future.)

The next stanza is actually repeated a number of times in the full length song

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever you would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior.

Ok now. Here’s the kicker. Up until now, it’s been all about trying to respond to God’s invitation to release the worries and deep anxieties. To trust him that he will be there regardless. No doubt about it, this is a hard thing to do but this last stanza really ups the ante.

It is no longer about responding to a call. It’s about seeking that call with no small measure of fervency. It’s about pushing beyond in such a way that the old reality by necessity must melt away as a through a mist, to be replaced with something not previously comprehensible. This is a big deal.

“Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders.”

Now, that’s something to get our attention. For, who among us knows of, not to mention wants, “trust without borders?” What does that actually mean? But, actually, that is part of the message of the Gospel. Trust God. And God doesn’t have borders or limits. After all, he’s God. Let’s not pussy foot around this. None of us wants to trust that way. It’s way too disarming or, even, dangerous to our viewpoint of who we are and what our lives actually mean. This level of trust is reckless … requiring abandonment which few or any of us really want to do, unless we have nothing left, in which case the choice might make more sense. Regardless, what does it take to actually ask God to take us there? And not just “there” but “wherever” as in completely unknown. Makes a nice phrase in a song but do we know what we’re asking for?

This is a plea to take me deeper than my normal life would warrant and in doing so, I will be made stronger than imaginable. It doesn’t make sense but that’s the core of the Good News and Jesus’ teaching. That by surrender (weakness) we are made incredibly strong. Not “strong” in the ways of the world, necessarily, but strong in the ways of a different kind of life. Of course, we can’t do this alone and so the lyricist rightfully points to both the means and the end, who is Jesus. Certainly a tough thing to manage thoughtfully if one does not accept that premise of who he claims to be. But, also a tough thing to manage realistically even if one is a committed pilgrim on the journey.

And, now, we come to the closing stanza, repeated from above.

I will call upon Your name

Keep my eyes above the waves

My soul will rest in Your embrace

I am Yours and You are mine.

I love this as a conclusion. Yes, we are called to something difficult to imagine. Called to risk. Called when failure seems likely. But this is a calling to a place so like the loving arms of a mother or father who we know has no greater regard for anything but us. And, this is the way things were meant to be.

In the face of this, what hold does worry have on me? What hold should it have? Yes, it’s natural to become anxious, especially in the face of news or circumstances that don’t  match up with the way we’d like to live our lives. But, there’s anxiety and there’s anxiety, some of which can take over and even become paralyzing. (See the massive upswing in this problem in our current culture.) Interestingly, Jesus basically says the choice is binary. Worry or trust God. That’s it.

Now, it’s not like taking a pill and the symptoms disappear. It’s more like a therapeutic process whereby we, bit by bit, learn how to reorient our perspective and, bit by bit, the embrace and the promise become more profound.

As I move to conclude this, after beginning before dawn, a few other things have happened in the midst of this writing. Remarkably, I received a couple of emails from my ENT doc before 7:30am which is a feat in itself. A few exchanges later and I received a call from the office of a top specialist asking if I’d be available to meet with him at 2:20 this afternoon. Come again? Pathology report online Sunday afternoon and the decks are cleared for me to see a specialist in 24 hours? Talk about faith moving mountains. This should qualify as a proverbial mountain. I started laughing. Amen.

Homes alight. Trees resplendent with ornaments of all kinds on display in windows and living rooms. Decorative touches everywhere. ’Tis the season and it feels good.

The five or so weeks between Thanksgiving and New Years are, in America, now called the Holiday Season. A time for breaks from school and work. A time for gatherings and feasting. Getting together with family and friends. Lots of food. Lots of shopping and gift giving. It is a time of hope and, hopefully, joy.

The apex, of course, is Christmas, one of the two holiest days on the Christian calendar.  Jews also have holy days, preeminent among them Passover in the spring, Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah in the fall. Hanukkah, while celebrated in this season, is a lesser holiday, commemorating the rededication of the Temple and reoccupation of Jerusalem in the second century, BC. Only a week apart, Christmas and New Years both point to a break from the past and the ushering in of a whole new thing.

In other words, there’s a lot to pay attention to.

Music is a big part of this season. Everywhere, the sounds of the season are evident. It seems every popular musician and group has produced a Christmas album or collection. With on-demand music, it’s easy to choose the genre to fit one’s mood or perspective. As far as Christmas music is concerned, I think there are two major divisions, if that’s a good way to describe them. Loosely, secular and religious. Publicly, secular reigns. Dozens and dozens of catchy tunes with lyrics full of snow, bells, Santa, good cheer and the wide array of symbols that allow people of all faiths and beliefs to participate in the fun. On the other hand are the traditional Christian carols and hymns that play in churches and homes where, to capture a contemporary axiom: Jesus in the reason for the season.

I have lived in each of these worlds and am comfortable that both are available. We exist in a pluralistic society, one of the strengths of which is to recognize the importance of symbols that point to mighty things. Things that draw us to deeper and better places.

’Tis the season where we embrace hope and peace. A pause in our annual rhythms from regular patterns of life. A time for reflection on the idea of promise and the possibility of renewal, even as the days are short (in this northern hemisphere), many trees have lost their leaves and the blossoming of spring is quite distant. Again, this is a time when we shed the old and delight in the new: Saying goodbye to many of the things that made the outgoing year difficult and hoping that a turning of the calendar will bring about better times.

Of course, such yearnings are just a part of human nature. We recognize that much is broken and in need of repair. We find ourselves successful at this some of the time and unsuccessful at other times. We know that this has always been the case. Some dream of a time when brokenness will disappear. Most people who subscribe to the major world faiths have a supernatural name for this, whether it is, for instance, heaven or nirvana. Secular humanists also have a faith that humans will ultimately come to a place without supernatural assistance and we will have utopia on earth (or amongst the stars). Some don’t envision these possible outcomes, only a dystopian landscape where the darker aspects of reality and human nature dominate and life is unbelievably harsh and cruel. This latter perspective is, unfortunately, the case in (perhaps to a lesser degree) the lives of many who find themselves bereft for all sorts of understandable reasons this time of year, surrounded as they are by all of this celebratory activity. They feel no tug to celebrate. In fact, retreat and withdrawal is their call.

I know of all these things and reflect upon them sincerely. I am a creature of rhythms and patterns. Of ups and downs. Of the swings of life, where we exist in the midst of both joy and suffering. I accept this as a part of human existence and no amount of wishing will make it other. Amidst this to and fro, I seek signs of meaning, helping to make sense of all things. Of course, I am not unique in this. Everyone does it, either consciously or subconsciously.

And, so, I come to this season particularly keen to explore its significance as well as enjoy its many trappings. Right now, I am looking forward to the arrival, in a couple of weeks, of dear family who I love deeply and the special moments within the timeframe of one day. Gathering for a late afternoon Christmas Eve service at church where I am surrounded by hundreds of people who share my deep and heartfelt recognition in the Christmas miracle of Jesus’ birth. I will hold Diane’s hand as we stand and sing of the glory that suffuses our reality, accompanied by all of those other voices and instruments that almost make the heart want to burst. Later, we will gather for our traditional Christmas Eve dinner with family and close friends before retiring, only to rise to the new morning, surrounded by gift unveiling, laughter and love.

But, to me, my most powerful urge is to just fall on my knees. I can do no other. For, the God who I recognize as sovereign and loves me beyond imagination and despite my many, many failures and inadequacies, has given me the greatest gift of all. The eyes and heart to gaze into that small and dank space in the middle of a foresaken land where, forever, the great divide between God and man was breached and the infinite light broke through. The light of redemption. The light of truth, love and grace. In the face of such light, I am awestruck, where the term “wonder” almost seems insufficient. The gift is the knowledge and the promise that transcends all prior knowledge and promises. What joy!

’Tis that season. And, I embrace it. Thank you, Jesus.

I’m so very far from perfect, I can’t see perfect on a clear day. But, I wonder.

You see, Christians are supposed to be different. And, then, I wonder.

Our lovely neighbor, Mirna, a perfectly wonderful Jewish woman and our dear friend for decades, died a couple of years ago. She was loving and adored us as we did her. She and her husband, Lou, were original owners in our neighborhood when we moved in, in 1987, and she survived his death and a number of other serious ailments with an amazing degree of grace. She always gave us a beautiful Christmas present and adored our boys. You can never choose your neighbors but we hit the jackpot with Mirna and she has been sorely missed.

Awhile after she died, her children sold the home and a couple moved in. They are both probably in their latter 50s, a tad younger than the two of us but not by much. As it turned out, they are both practicing Christians although I’m not exactly sure how we came to know that. Occasionally, I hear him singing a well known hymn in the shower with a strong clear voice. Otherwise, we don’t hear them much. Also, occasionally, we interact in front, usually to say hello. But, they are not friendly and it’s pretty clear they don’t want a relationship.

I had occasion to reflect on this, once again tonight, as I watched Tom amble slowly from his driveway, traveling on the sidewalk in front of our house, on his daily journey to the mailbox which is on the far side of our home. He does this after work each day. He’s a heavy set man and walks slowly but that’s not the distinguishing characteristic.

He never smiles and neither does she.

In the two or three years they’ve lived here, I’ve never seen them smile. I don’t think Diane and I go more than a few hours without smiling.

Now, I obviously get that life can be a tremendous burden and I’m not one to judge what difficult challenges other people face. In fact, I know people who face challenges that should bring them to their knees each waking hour.

But, I have seen many of such people beaming with radiance.

What gives?

What do people think that following Jesus is all about? It’s certainly not about wading through all the muck just waiting to give up the ghost. He didn’t teach nor live that. It’s not about following rules and making sure to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.

No, it’s about an abundance of the the life that God intends for us, regardless of the travails we face.

And, I’m not speaking of material abundance as so many of the so-called “Prosperity Gospel” advocates preach. It’s anything but material abundance. It’s about an inner state, whereby the mind and heart are aligned with God’s will. And, God’s will is about helping us navigate a world of both suffering and joy with him as our Sovereign.

Diane and I know avowed Christians who are filled with spite and envy. Self-professing Jesus-followers who are quick to judge and slow to forgive. They subsist, seemingly, under a cloud. One wonders why and how they missed the boat and it’s a sad thing, indeed.

Yes, the life Jesus lived was one of sorrow. He wept and suffered. But, he also celebrated, laughed and infused joy wherever he went. This came from a heart that did anything but judge but, rather, was structured completely around grace.

I want to reach out to grumpy and dour Christians and ask, “Why are you so mad? So angry? So bereft? Do you spend time with others who suffer terribly and seek to bring a lightness of being into their lives?” Because, that’s what Jesus did.

Jesus said he came to bring the Kingdom of God into this reality. What do people think that means? Do they think that means we glower and cast our eyes downwards? Do they think that means we stumble about our lives, coveting our private spaces and rejecting the abundance that relationships with so many others offers?

I do not walk in another’s shoes and cannot truly know the burdens another bears. But, I know about burdens and I know that we can choose how to bear them, as hard as that can be. Jesus spent a lot of time teaching us about that but I wonder if so many of his professed followers are paying attention. Which makes me sad.

I don’t know how else to greet the wonder of Christmas morning other than to marvel at the joy that there is an Emmanuel, which means “God with us.” There is actually a God who loves us beyond compare and wants us to participate in the glory that is completely available. I have tasted of this glory and it’s an amazing thing to behold.

I hope that our neighbors and others come to know this God they believe in, not as an inanimate object On High, but as a Being who is completely present, available, and ready to delight in us as only He can.

Glory Hallelujah!

I don’t know when I heard the term for the first time. Maybe sometime in the 70s, but definitely by the 80s. It could not possibly have been more foreign. It barely registered in my consciousness, probably only on the periphery as some sort of religious movement, of which there were plenty going around. By that time, I had come to understand a lot about religious movements, eyeing most of them suspiciously, especially those professing Christianity. Of course, I was not immune to the pull of Christianity, as it had a lot to offer. But, being “born again” smacked of cultish behavior and I was not enamored with cults.

By that time, I had experimented with a wide variety of religious practices, among them  versions of Hinduism, Buddhism and Catholicism, actually acquiring a masters degree in theology along the way. Go figure. But, this ‘born again’ stuff was tough to stomach so I observed it from afar. I had exactly zero exposure to anyone who could be called “evangelical,” believing them to probably be a kind of backward folk, largely residing in the midwest and southern US. I remember coming across “Jesus Freaks” and a weird guy with multicolored hair holding up a bible passage at sporting events, thinking they actually were pretty much freaks. I also vividly remembering the absurd behaviors of TV evangelists like Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker and others who seemed to be anything but authentic followers of an historical Jesus. While I had felt God’s call (or something akin to a God’s call) since my late teens and early 20s, it had retreated to the point of being more academic than experiential by the 1980s.

While I had been caught up in a variety of movements in those tumultuous 60s and 70s, I had a natural revulsion for cultish behavior. My intellect rebelled against the kind of action it would take to give up one’s independence in order to join some weird group, most probably led by a charlatan. Of course Jim Jones, Jonestown, and the Kool-Aid was a perfect reminder.

In fact, “drinking the Kool-Aid” became a perfect symbol of everything that was wrong with buying into the promises of those preaching some form of perfection.

Fast forward decades to sometime, probably in late 2005 or early 2006 when I stood up in front of many hundreds of people in three different church services to proclaim that I was a born again evangelical Christian. The earth had surely shaken off its axis.

I know that I had family and some friends who believed I had gone nuts. They had perfect cause to think that.

In fact, when I made that public declaration, I only had a loosely developed idea of what ‘born again’ actually meant, although I was convinced it applied to me and I was right. But, being right didn’t mean my grasp was all that solid. I just knew without a doubt that the phrase applied to me.

Before getting to the theology, it’s appropriate to just look at the facts.

As I’ve written many times, and shared in countless conversations, a tremendous thing happened in an instant. There’s no other way to put it. One moment I was one person and the next moment I was another. While, in the immediate weeks preceding that moment, I knew something was happening, I didn’t have an inkling about the power of what actually ended up transpiring. In retrospect it made sense. God was acting in his role of “hound of heaven,” chasing me down, akin to the parable Jesus shared about the shepherd abandoning the 99 sheep to go after the one who went astray. I had little clue at the time that this was what was happening but have no doubt in the aftermath that that is exactly what occurred.

Much later, when I watched the movie, The Matrix, I realized that I had taken the red pill and it shattered all of my former conceptions of reality. I’m not being overly dramatic. That is, in fact, what happened.

Well, now. One obvious conclusion is that I had succumbed to the seductive tug of religious promise, no different than millions of others who grasped at straws in the attempt to find ultimate meaning to lives largely adrift. Utopias, communes, sects, and so forth abound. Was I just another sucker?

I don’t blame those who find that I am of that sort. My defense is bound to fall on deaf ears.

In the third chapter of the Gospel of John, a religious leader was questioning Jesus basically about how to live within the Kingdom of God, to which Jesus famously replied that the only way was to be born again. When the leader asked what that meant as it was assumed a person could only be born once, Jesus said it was all about being “born in the Spirit.” Now, there are many, many examples in the New Testament about having to die in order to live, which is another way of saying we need to shed the old self and adopt a new one … the new one being largely unavailable until the old one is discarded. Honestly, this can be very confusing stuff and is a bone of contention within Christian circles. I won’t get into all of that except to say that I believe there are only two ways that it can happen, with both involving a choice.

Most of the committed Jesus-followers I know cannot pinpoint an exact moment when the old self died and the new self was born although many will testify that that’s indeed what happened. A few, on the other hand, can recall with exactitude the specific moment as a tectonic shift. The first group will point to a kind of evolution, recognizing that “being born again” probably occurred over a decent span of time. The second group will say it happened all of a sudden … a complete reorientation. This is what happened to me and it’s also what happened to the man many know as St. Paul or the Apostle Paul, the religious leader and murderer/persecutor of early Jesus-followers who then became the author of the majority of the New Testament and the most influential person in the history of Christianity other than Jesus.

I have shared many times what happened in an instant. Yes, it did involve a final choice, as I held on to the old by my finger nails, finally releasing as the gates of Heaven opened up. This was no intellectual exercise but a realization that I’d been hearing echos of reality for much of my life but as if through a dark and heavily smudged lens. No longer. With crystalline clarity, I saw. I knew. The overwhelming power of grace coursed through me as my heavenly Father showed me that he loved me beyond anything I could have dreamt, from the moment I was created in the womb. I was his son, adored and watched over my entire life, even as I meandered, whether erect or stumbling. I could feel Heaven rejoicing as, I learned later, it does so magnificently when one who is lost, is found. It was almost as if the molecules in my body were reorienting to this new condition, one in which I now knew I lived in this world, but was not of this world. I had arrived in this life some 51 years before but that was just a small blip compared to my eternal kinship with the Alpha and Omega. The true Womb that gave me life was not one of flesh but one of Spirit and into that Spirit I was reborn.

Having sought answers for years, going back to my late teens … having explored, studied and even partially practiced the disciplines of other faith traditions … I was familiar with the concept of “peak experience.” In some fashion, I would have said I’d had a handful of such experiences, especially as a young man. I had even seen first hand that there was, actually, a supernatural realm. But these paled against the awakening I was now experiencing. I was blind but now could see. I was deaf but now could hear. I saw myself as God sees me, and there is nothing like it.

In the days, weeks and months that followed, I knew I was a new creation, not unlike a very young child, trying to orient himself to a new world with all sorts of wonders and challenges. I learned that my situation was not unique and that it was described in detail, through scripture, song and the testimony of countless others. A new creation is just that. A new creation. It is a different thing, which is hard to describe to others who see me as the same person. And not just different but radically different. It’s new. Born anew.

To reiterate, the example of my dramatic experience, while not unique, is probably in the minority of such transformations. Being “born again,” in the teachings of Jesus and, later, Paul and others, is more about the result, not the specific process. It is what happens when full surrender occurs, a death to the old and rebirth in the new, through the love and grace of God.

I mentioned Kool-Aid before and how the analogy is used widely to connote blindly accepting some powerful message from a charismatic leader, often leading to dramatic separation from a present reality. In the initial case, with the cult demagogue, Jim Jones, the drinking of the Kool-Aid at his command led to death. It is no wonder that a highly secular world is justifiably suspicious about spontaneous conversions. I accept those suspicions because they are often true. Surrender to the wrong thing, even when done in the search for authentic meaning, can lead to death and destruction.

There is the famous story of Jesus coming across a woman at a well, who is leading a life of which she is ashamed. She is of Samaria, considered an outcast by the dominant Jewish culture. She cannot believe that this rabbi speaks to her but is captivated by his presence. She offers him a drink from the well. But, Jesus responds

“Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

Jesus offers living water. This is no substitute promise but the real thing. As I am in the world and still struggle with the things of this world and my own (too prevalent) weaknesses, I am deeply blessed when I remember and acknowledge that that living water courses through my veins, never to be taken away. So, when I forget and thirst for things of this world, I also know that there is a well spring that has a source and it is endless and magnificent.

So, what does it mean to be “born again?” Everything.

We can leave off with the words from the famous poem, Amazing Grace, penned by former British slave ship captain and born again Christian John Newton in 1779, now the most recognized of all hymns, loved as truth by untold millions.

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me!

I once was lost, but now am found,

Was blind, but now I see.

 

’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,

And grace my fears relieved;

How precious did that grace appear

The hour I first believed!

 

The Lord hath promised good to me,

His word my hope secures;

He will my shield and portion be

As long as life endures.

 

When we’ve been there ten thousand years,

Bright shining as the sun,

We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise

Than when we first begun.

Last night, a group of about ten of us wrestled with this concept of grace. If you’re going to wrestle with something, this one is a good match.

We began by considering the statement of a well-known Christian author that grace is the single feature that distinguishes our belief system from every other belief system in human history. I have written of this before. It’s not like the word is all that uncommon. But, it’s the primacy of grace in the whole belief system that sets Christianity apart.

Curiously, while it’s easy to argue that the concept of grace is at the very center of Christianity, it remains a difficult concept to grasp and even more difficult to live by, which should be obvious by how ungracious many Christians can be. Hence the wrestling.

As we’ve discussed, if mercy is choosing not to impose a consequence that is deserved, grace is the free deliverance of a gift that is undeserved. Of course, they are related but there is a difference.

Jesus-followers who have been at this as kind of a full time job for quite awhile nevertheless struggle with how to incorporate this central feature of their/our version of reality into daily practice. While we seek to emulate Jesus in at least some ways, we recognize that we are sadly deficient nearly all of the time. We remain broken vessels, burdened by layers and layers of stuff that would seem to bury us. (This is why so many people who look in the mirror and realize they can be cruel in either thought or deed or carry shame from past events decide they do not merit God’s favor. Many churches do a terrible job of helping in this department. The Gospel … Good News … is that we con’t have to merit God’s favor. It’s already a given.) So, this committed Jesus-following stuff is punctuated by the constant battle between how we are called to be and what we actually end up thinking and doing.

Part of the problem is our inability to be truly receptive to God’s grace. “You mean, even when I know I’ve thought/behaved inappropriately, he still holds my face in his gentle hands and says to me, ‘You are my beloved in whom I am most pleased’?”  If that’s not hard enough an image to conjure up on a regular basis, how about reenacting that posture with others around us? “Love God and your neighbor with everything you have.”

This was part of our wrestling match last night. We’ve given considerable attention over the years to the nature of God’s grace but we still have trouble hashing through how we are supposed to live out this defining characteristic in our own lives.

One of the points we contested was the place of anger in a reality defined by grace. Everyone in that room has immensely kind hearts. They love deeply, have giant reservoirs of compassion, seek to care for those in need, bear their burdens without complaint and recognize, with humility, that they/we need a lot of help. That being said, we sort of rolled up our sleeves and, for a few minutes, wondered if anger was appropriate in light of grace. Lovingly, we were not of the same mind, as I recall.

Now Grace is really pretty crazy. It’s completely counterintuitive in most ways so anyone who is striving to live a life within that context is swimming upstream. (This is to be distinguished from the act of being gracious, which is still a fine thing but not close to the whole enchilada.) The issue for us was not whether we Jesus-followers ever get angry, it’s whether anger and grace can coexist.

To me, if you peel away all of the layers it takes to answer that question, it might boil down to the question of whether God can hate.

(Before diving in full bore on this, I need to say that the opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference. This is significant.)

I need to jump over some valid questions about the nature of God, specifically does he have something akin to human emotions. I think we have to conclude, if God loves us unconditionally, that that is akin to a human emotion.

As I participated last night, had another conversation this morning and am reflecting now, hate is not necessarily the ultimate result of anger unbridled and taken to its extreme. So what is going on and what does this have to do with grace?

You see, unlike some of my dear friends, I believe that anger is not inconsistent with the Gospel and that it can reside in a reality where Grace is the dominant feature. The problem with anger is not that it’s always wrong (for a Jesus-follower) but that it can easily initiate a slippery slope, leading to frustration, seriously judgmental attitudes and a pushing of love into the background if it was ever there in the first place. Furthermore, it can descend into derision, and then contempt, which is really just another way of dismissing another’s humanity and failing to recognize them as God does. No, it’s not that anger is wrong, it’s just that our hearts often don’t know how to control it.

To me, hate can be another manifestation of unbridled anger but it is not the same as contempt. I don’t believe that contempt and grace can occur side by side but I believe hate and grace can. How’s that for a bold statement?

To me, there is nothing wrong with being angry when something is acting forcefully against love and in the cause of destroying sacred (meaning reflections of God) things. While God is always loving, he is not always gracious. His dispensing of undeserved gifts is always available but not always delivered. Why not?

Is God happy all of the time? Is God so consumed by love that he doesn’t object when we mess up? Does he not want to teach us to be more reflective of the beings he designed?

Does God love evil?

Does God treat evil graciously?

No. In fact he is at war with evil and ever since free will became a thing, the war has claimed countless casualties. This is the price of love. True love.

I will argue that true love requires anger. Anger at the things that attack true love, trying to defeat it.

Evil exists. Many people don’t like to say that and many Christians (especially in this pampered American society of ours) don’t have a lot of experience with it. But, it exists. It’s insidious and terrible and it has purpose. Yes, it has purpose. It also has method.

As parents, when we see one of our children, who we love as much as is possible, behave in a way that is clearly destructive to themselves or others, we get angry. We realize quickly that this thing is not as it should be. I’m not talking about little things where we kind of go, “tsk tsk.” I’m talking about a big thing … a gross misbehavior that is a kick to our guts and creates fear and anxiety that, if the thing is left unchecked, the road ahead is going to be terrible. We love no less but we are angry. We stand ready to extend grace if it is warranted (especially if the child is remorseful) but we don’t lead with it.

Does God hate? I don’t know. But, I believe he can be angered. Does he feel contempt? No, for that would mean he is dismissive and God is not dismissive because that is the same as indifference and indifference is the opposite of love, so God can’t be contemptuous, dismissive or indifferent.

I know God loves Adolf Hitler as much as he loves me. He cares about that man as much as he cares about me. This goes the same for Stalin and Mao who, with Hitler, blithely ordered the slaughter of tens of millions of people in order to achieve some fantasy-laden idea of utopia. That goes for the most vicious serial killers and mass murderers today. Is God angry at what we humans do to ourselves and one another so frequently? Yes. Jesus wept, we need to remember. And grief is not that far removed from anger.

There’s a common refrain expressed by many Christians that I don’t particularly like, although I suspect it carries a grain of truth. It is, “God loves the sinner but hates the sin.” Of course, this is meant to reflect that God’s love is never conditioned. It is immovable. However, he can’t stand the things we do to separate ourselves from him. (The main reason I don’t like this refrain is because, to me, it nearly always accompanies a kind of “holier than thou” attitude … a posture of judgmentalism on the part of the one expressing it.) For a very good reason, God gave us free will, for which there can be unpleasant consequences. Evil whispers to us that we should seek the things that lead to those consequences because we are deserving. While I understand there are those who believe that God kind of sits idly by, with no effort to intervene, I disagree. God is never idle. He yearns for us to turn back towards him, for us to return from pursuing the things that separate us. And, if I had to bet, he truly, truly does not like where many of those things lead. Because he does not want to lose us.

So, I can sort of get the refrain. This is why there is such rejoicing in heaven when one who is lost has been found. For reasons I can only fathom in the vaguest sense, God allows Evil to continue to exist for now. Does God hate Evil? Perhaps. But only in a way that an all-loving God can hate.

What I know is that the father was at least aggrieved, if not angry, at the forces that led his youngest son to leave his loving care and venture off to engage in extremely destructive behaviors. Yet, when the son realized his folly and expected nothing in return, just to come back as an indentured servant, pleading for forgiveness, the father ran towards his son, swept him up in his arms and extended a level of grace that is a resounding symbol of the nature of all things.

These are the things worth wrestling with and I am blessed indeed to participate.

Amen.

Lest we begin with a misunderstanding, this is not about employment. The Job in the title is pronounced “jobe” and is in reference to what many scholars believe is the earliest piece of writing in the Judeo-Christian scriptures.

Lets start, then, with a given: Life is hard. Suffering is one of its major features. Everyone suffers. Physical suffering. Mental suffering. Spiritual suffering. Oh, some of us, especially in the affluent west, try to mitigate suffering with all sorts of distractions. We live in such opulence, taking for granted things like running water, heat and air conditioning, sewage systems, availability of food and housing and so on … that not all that long ago would have been incredible luxuries or even unimaginable. But, nothing can prevent suffering, try as we might.

Many of us are fortunate enough to experience various spans of time where true suffering is less or even not in evidence. Of course, many of us also experience moments of happiness or even joy, things that are able to set aside the other things that cause us to suffer. But, those don’t last, at least in the sense that they prevent the inevitable.

Now, there is suffering and then there is suffering. I felt the call to write about this now although it’s not a new topic for these pages, of course.

We’ve all been there. Or, if someone hasn’t, then you will be there. One shoe drops. Then the other. Then you find you have more than two feet because the shoes keep dropping. It’s like, “What’s up? That, too?! I was just beginning to deal with that thing when all of a sudden there’s another thing … and then another and then another.”

We know the kindest people. I mean, really. I shake my head in wonder at how many kind people we know. I bring this up here in the context that Diane and I have both had some physical set backs recently. I had that fall some two months ago, resulting in a badly fractured rib and punctured and partially collapsed lung. Almost worse than that was the news that I would have some annoying restrictions on travel and activity. Wah!

Then, about a month later, Diane fell and has badly fractured bones in her right wrist that required surgery. Double wah! Oh, and about that time, we discovered a plumbing problem in our kitchen sink, one of our dogs was sick again and the Jeep started making funny noises. Can anyone out there identify?

In fact, these things are really just annoyances (the dog’s deal was temporary) and we both kind of refer to them as “first world problems” (as opposed to the “third world” where maybe hunger, disease and violence are more common). We are immensely grateful that we have excellent medical care, a beautiful home, food in the fridge and pantry, a veterinarian close by and, as I just said, an amazing network of kind and loving friends and family, wanting and able to pitch in in a heartbeat to help.

This is not Job material. About that …

The biblical Job was a man in the ancient mideast who seemingly had everything. Wealth, health, status, great family and all of that. Suddenly, things began falling apart. And, I mean everything. It was a cascade of terrible stuff. He was an honorable man with tremendous integrity but it appeared to everyone who knew him at the time that he must have really ticked off God because he really lost almost everything. His family started dying. His own health deteriorated rapidly. He lost much of his material wealth. People couldn’t believe how much he suffered. There’s an incredible backstory to this but suffice to say that his faith did not waiver amidst the most severe of life’s trials.

As I’ve written before, Diane and I are close to people who face daily challenges that make our current predicaments qualify as minor distractions at best. Hopefully, the last thing you’ll hear from either one of us is a real complaint, other than the off-handed and slightly self-deprecating, “Really? I can’t go to the mountains for three whole months!? Come on.” Such expressions are made with the full knowledge that a disruption like that is of no real consequence. No, on the spectrum of stuff, our current challenges don’t rightfully register on the scale. And, did I mention that we’ve had family, friends and resources in abundance to help us get through this patch?

I said above that there were a couple of reasons why I felt compelled to write about this. The second is a book I picked up after reading about it from a columnist I respect. It’s entitled, Dreamland, and is a very detailed study on the origins and impact of the opioid epidemic that is devastating large tracts of our society. I am not unaware of this crisis, having followed it both in the news and up close and personal as a high school principal. But, I have to say, this book is both extremely well researched and written and I am gaining much deeper insights into the nature of the entire issue. It is phenomenal on so many levels, one of which is helping me to further wrap my head around why so many people, many of whom come from middle class or affluent communities, become addicted and die at unprecedented rates. Another is the fact that we are very close to dear friends who each have a single child in their mid to late 20s who have become addicted and are suffering the tragic consequences. These are not abstractions but real cases, right here in Rancho Bernardo with two sets of the most loving parents.

One of the things I really learned with this book that punctuates what I already know is that, as a society, something has really shifted in the last several decades. And, that is the fact that many people now believe that “freedom from pain” is a fundamental right, sort of like people believe that happiness is a fundamental right. Of course, these two are related. It’s hard to be happy when in pain so the “system” needs to operate to ensure that these rights are protected and supported. Dreamland dissects this, providing all of the detailed history of opiates, their manufacture and distribution, both legal and illegal. It’s unbelievably sobering, to say the least. As I read it, my emotions ranged from anger to incredulity to overwhelming sympathy to a sense of loss and a more developed understanding of the nature of despair. While some of this may not reach Job status on an individual basis, I know that some does.

I have said it before and I say it again. We do not have a fundamental right to happiness and to the degree that we believe that is a degree to which we are seriously deluded. We also have no fundamental right to be free of pain. Suffering and pain are intractable features of human existence. No condition, no drug, will reverse that in a way that we can still call ourselves fully human. We all seek happiness and relief from pain and there is nothing inherently wrong with either. But they should not be primary pursuits and it is obvious what happens when they do become that.

So, what constitutes Job material? Well, I guess that means asking the question, “What do we most fear to lose?” No, I’ll amend that. “What many things would we have to lose that should realistically paralyze us with grief and cause us abject despair?” Certainly, the situation Diane and I have been in recently doesn’t qualify as a blip on that radar. Painful? Yes. Annoying? Definitely.

But, here is what’s true. Grace and blessings can flow from the most challenging of circumstances. We see it each week and are grateful for that awareness.

I don’t go many days without realizing that my lungs are now able to get a full breath on a regular basis. What is common for most people has never been available for me until four or five years ago. I get the most unbelievable, albeit brief, sensation when those moments of focus come. It’s like, “wow, that’s amazing. This is what life is like when breathing normally works!” I think that this is a microcosm of my approach to life now and also to the lives of others I know. Full breaths, one of the simplest yet most crucial of all mechanisms, are seen as gifts, things to be treasured. What if we paused to reflect on what that means in a broader sense? Each day, what are the things we take for granted that bring beauty into the landscape of our existence? What if we shifted our vision away from constantly seeking happiness or the abolition of pain by any means, towards recognizing the joys that are really quite within reach?

We have different friends who we know have to struggle to put one foot in front of the other as they meet each day. They carry a heavy weight of suffering, whether it is physical or emotional. They have a right to relate to Job. Is faith, for them, a panacea? Yes. Is it wish-fulfillment as many would characterize it, a kind of escape mechanism to dull the pain and offer some shred of happiness? Perhaps, but what if that wish is actually really just the voice of Hope ringing through the darkness?

There are two things, in my mind, that fuel the drive to keep on going when things are falling apart. One is the knowledge that God loves me/us without condition and that his love is more powerful than any earthly force or circumstance. The second is the belief that this is temporary … a fraction of a moment in time and that I am an eternal being. As hard as it is to muster up the recognition: This, too, shall pass.

We are all passengers on this journey. How we choose to occupy ourselves as such is the big question. The belief that either happiness or pain relief are due me in large measure as fundamental rights is only a distraction from a thing that is much more transcendentally true. Yes, we can escape from suffering but not in this lifetime. In the meantime we can learn from Job: No matter what, trust God.

As I move to conclude this series and was in a moment of silence this morning, a short snippet of well-known dialogue popped into my mind. I’ve quoted it before and think of it from time to time. The author is one of a handful of people at the top of my list, with whom I’d like to share a meal and a friendly chat in the next life. His works have deeply influenced me as they have many millions of others. Although long dead, his remarkable wisdom (especially his ability to translate the most complex ideas into the simplest of phrases) is nearly beyond compare. I’m talking about C.S. Lewis, the most well-known of his works being the classic Mere Christianity and the Narnia series of children’s stories. In the first book of that series, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the second eldest of the four children, Susan, is having a conversation with a beaver about a lion. The beaver tells Susan that she will soon meet the legendary Aslan, who Susan assumed was a man. No, said the beaver, he’s a lion, to which Susan said, “Is he quite safe?” To which the beaver replied, “Safe? Who said anything about safe? Of course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.”

The Narnia books are, together, an extensive allegory about the nature of all of reality. While, on the surface they are wrapped as a delightful set of children’s fiction, there is more than enough to keep adults entranced and deeply thoughtful. The giant lion, Alsan, is the Christ figure, the Jesus who walked the earth for the reasons I’ve been writing about.

So, yes. Jesus is anything but safe. In fact, he’s quite dangerous. He is the Great Disrupter, the one who tells us to die in order to live. And, no one can believe that dying is really an easy thing to do. Safe? No. But, he’s good.

And, therein lies the rub. Therein lies the key to the transformation process. Therein lies the pathway forward for each of us.

Transformation is about shedding the old and wearing the new. When the old is deeply ingrained behaviors, habits, attitudes and beliefs, shedding them can be incredibly difficult. There is a narrative out there that, by accepting Christianity (Jesus), we are then required to forego all sorts of things that make life fun and interesting. That we have to give up a ton of stuff in order to demonstrate piety, adherence to all sorts of rules and edicts. In fact, that’s really not true. Regrettably, many churches teach this and it’s a major reason why people reject the faith. No, the main thing we’re asked to give up is a belief that the things we have always idolized (as all of us do) are hollow or worse as compared to life with God. The fact is that Jesus’ life and ministry was largely a story of feasting and celebration, of the fullness that this life has to offer. It was about parties and laughing and hugging and sharing. It was about love and grace and woe to those who put rules and laws above those two things consistently. They were missing the mark and he begged them to open their eyes to a new way.

What is God’s plan for me? For each of us? Well, once we surrender and recognize that with Jesus at our side, with God at the center, we find that all sorts of resources become available. I could go on and on about this but I’ll just take a stab at a few.

We begin to discover that our identity, the way we think about ourselves, is changing. We begin to see ourselves and others as God sees us and that’s nearly miraculous to behold.

We find that some things we thought were compelling no longer hold as much sway. Some may discover that making new friends and developing new relationships is easier and that there are increased opportunities to do so. We find that going deep in these relationships, sometimes in ways that would have seemed fairly impossible before, opens up entirely new ways of understanding oneself and others.

We are drawn to pray and study, learning to listen for God’s gentle prompting and to respond when we feel his call. And, call he does. This is one of the sticky points and it points to part of the reason for the beaver’s reply. Being open to the call of an all-powerful (and, remember, an all-loving and gracious) God is not safe. Sometimes the call is to do something pretty routine and it comes, as is described, as a “still small voice,” frequently out of nowhere to do something specific, perhaps like approach a stranger kindly. The call can be something stronger, frequently persisting over time, maybe months or years. It doesn’t waver. It doesn’t disappear. It doesn’t necessarily push but it also doesn’t completely disappear if we truly remain open to God’s leading. I have felt all of these. The experience of my friend, Gary, is a case in point. He looks the part of a nuclear physicist. A pocket protector kind of guy (although he has a Grizzly Adams outdoor quality to him as well). Maybe 15+ years ago, he started getting the nudge and it didn’t go away. The nudge became more persistent and it was clear: “Time to go into prison ministry.” As Gary tells it, he was almost looking around the room, thinking God must be talking to someone else. This would be completely foreign and at least a little frightening to him. Finally, the pilgrim that he is, he surrendered and the rest is history. It has changed his life forever and his impact on the lives of hundreds upon hundreds of the most cast off members of our society has been nothing less than remarkable. Safe? No. Easy? No. Hard? Yes. Good? Absolutely.

Another person I’d like at that heavenly lunch table is Dallas Willard. Author of the best book I’ve ever read and I’ve read more than a few. To consolidate all of his teaching down to a few sentences, I’d have to say that his message goes something like this:

Jesus ushered in a thing we can call the Kingdom of God, which is a reorientation of all of reality. The key to this reorientation is, first, to recognize it (which is a head thing) and, second, to understand it is just as much about the heart. (This is me talking … if you had to condense the entire New Testament down to these two things, you’d clearly be on the right track.) Willard goes on to teach that our job is to align our head, heart and will. He is almost describing the work of a chiropractor. We are all out of whack and these need to operate in perfect concert with one another and with the will of God. This is not easy. It requires discipline, just as it does to diet, go to the gym, study for exams or any other task requiring significant effort and a change of habits.

On rare occasions, there is a spontaneous realignment, usually about some single facet of our lives. It is a mystery why this occurs but it clearly does. No struggle. Just presto, change-o. I have come across several people who were deep alcoholics who, when on their knees, literally, pled for Jesus to take it away, and he did. Instantly. My brother-in-law Jack is one of these and he’s been sober for decades. Gone without a fight. I know of other Jesus-followers who are not so fortunate, continuing to struggle with addictive behaviors, debilitative disease and other painful aspects of life. Aside from my inexplicable healing over two years ago, my one experience with such a spontaneous change is with my language. What is interesting about this is that I didn’t ask for it. I used to have quite a colorful vocabulary, largely acquired as a dock-worker in college. It fell into a rhythm, although I had enough sense to know my audience for the most part. Still, I was loose with the profanity, liberally sprinkling them into my speaking as useful adjectives or just plain expletives to emphasize a point. Shortly after I surrendered, I realized that I was offended when I heard such language and that I was no longer speaking that way. In fact, it seemed entirely foreign. I was following no specific teaching and did not feel especially encumbered. I now know why and that it is a piece of the transformation that is going on in my life.

There is a saying in some Christian circles that we need to “lay down our cross (or crosses) each day.” What this means is that each day is a struggle as we lay our heads and hearts open to where God can lead us. Each day, we are challenged with shedding the old and taking on the new. The cross symbolizes the place we give up our individual wills in order to accept the reality of God’s central place in our existence. The pilgrim’s path is hard. It requires surrender and discipline. All transformation does. Oh, but the benefits that arrive, mostly unbidden, are beyond compare. Often, it is two steps forward, one step back or vice versa. Often, we seem to be interminably climbing, as if up a cliff face with few or no handholds, perhaps even dangling, held by some infinitesimal yet all powerful thread. In those moments, when we are at our most vulnerable, we may discover a love so complete that we know heaven is real.

The life of a Jesus-follower is anything but easy. But it is truly good.

What is God’s Plan? We have enough information to make out the broad outlines and to fill in some of the big pieces. It’s a remarkable plan that will seem fantasy to many, ridiculous to some and puzzling to nearly everyone. Each of us are completely free to disregard some or all of it. It does start with a choice. Understandably, there are consequences either way. And, if God does exist and has a grand plan anything close to the one I’ve been describing, he has a plan for each one of us, again giving us a choice. We can choose to follow him or not. If we choose in the affirmative and we mean it, we are bound on a journey that is nothing like we could have imagined. We are given glimpses of heaven on earth and it is magnificent.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring and that’s ok. I just hope, should I awake, it is with a heart and mind open to God, it is with a prayer that he may give me the eyes to see others as he does, the heart to feel towards others as he does, and the hands and feet to participate with him in the restoration of all things.

Amen.