Here is (to date) my one and only monster story. It’s odd, but this truly is the way I remember it. I’d be quite interested to know how Kathie remembers it since she was there..
It must have been 1985 or ‘86 and it was Homecoming at Rim – that means it was late October. The skies were clear but there was a mighty wind tearing through the trees. Not a gentle whooshing but a roaring, shake-the-house, the-gods-are-warring-in-heaven sort of wind. That by itself gave he night a particular feel. There was no peace, no sweet October breeze. Instead everything was clamorous and tense. Later that night, as Kathie and I were driving across the Rim, we watched from a mile above the surreal effects of the wind storm as entire city blocks would suddenly go dark – victim to some tree falling into a power junction...or worse.
But I’m ahead of myself. We drove across the Rim because 330 was closed. For some reason Kathie picked me up in Running Springs. I don’t remember why, but perhaps it was because she had her CRX and I only had access to my father’s 1972 1/2 ton Dodge pickup – not really a ‘date’ vehicle. Regardless of the reason, we left my house and headed down Live Oak with plans to have dinner at Edward’s Mansion in Redlands – a house that looks almost exactly like the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland (just another vaguely spooky detail).
There was nobody else on the road, which was odd. It was Homecoming for more people than just Kathie and I and it was a Friday night to boot. You would think there would be people everywhere, but instead everything was buttoned up tight. Maybe the rest of the mountain somehow sensed that something otherworldly was afoot and decided to wait it all out behind closed doors. But Kathie and I were excited to be out and about. I was probably wearing a new sweater that Kathie bought with my mom’s money – a little plan the two of them had foisted upon me. I was willing to wear clothing that my girlfriend bought for me, but not anything that my mother bought for me. So the two of them conspired to upgrade my wardrobe bit by polyester and velour bit. Kathie was no doubt wearing a new dress with hair up and makeup – the whole nine yards. We were committed to go get our picture taken at the dance and no silly wind storm was going to stop us.
As we pulled to a stop at he bottom of Live Oak, where it joins Highway 330 on a wide, mile-long, five-lane slope, there was a Caldrons truck parked across the two downhill lanes. The truck’s back, and the driver’s, was to us and the pale orange glow from the sodium street light cast everything in sharp angled shadows. Keep in mind that the wind is absolutely howling. It’s bitter cold and even Kathie’s little sports car was being blown about in the gale.
It’s at this point where something went screwy in my head. Several very weird things are about to happen and yet they didn’t seem weird at all at the time. It was as if were hypnotized or something. I was the storm trooper letting Luke and Obi Wan go by as the Jedi waves his hand. “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for...” It was only quite a bit later as I started to think back on these next few minutes that I became convinced that I was witnessing something unnatural.
I’m at a stop sign with my windows closed against the wind. Roughly twenty-five feet away is this pickup-truck with it’s tail toward me. This major highway, on what should have been a very busy evening, was absolutely empty. I can see the back of the driver’s head through the rear window but I can also see his face, reflected in his port side mirror – the big 12 x 8 truck mirrors – and his face is not human. I wouldn’t say it was demonic, but it was monstrous – think Sloth from Goonies (“Hey you guys!”). All skin, and no hair – misshapen eyes that weren’t symmetrical, a mouth with protruding teeth and swollen lips. His window must have been down because I remember his arm resting on the sill like he was just killing time at a gas station. He never turned around to face us but I know that we had a brief conversation that could not have happened. With the wind, and the distance between us, and my closed window, it was impossible that I could have heard him, nor could he have heard me. But as we pulled to a stop I heard him say very clearly, as if he sat next to me in the car, “The highway is closed.”
“Oh.” I said, “What happened?”
“A semi truck jack-knifed. You’ll have to turn around.”
Despite the fact that everything in this moment was wrong in some way, none of it seemed odd in the slightest right then. Of course I can hear the monster man from way over there. Of course we have to turn around – I’m sure he’s only looking out for our safety. Of course he’d sit there with the wind screaming through his open window – it’s a lovely night after all. So I said “OK” and turned the car around.
I don’t particularly remember the next 20 minutes or so. I couldn’t tell you if Kathie and I spoke to one another or if we were silent. The next thing I do remember was mentioned already, driving across the Rim, trying to meet our reservation despite an additional hour of driving we had to do, and watching San Bernardino lights flicker and die in the invisible storm. I also know that Kathie and I were pretty certain that we dined with a vampire at Edward’s Mansion, but with so much Garlic on the snails, I guess we were pretty safe all the same.
It was an odd night all around, but the monster working for Caldrons was definitely the weirdest...although it does explain a lot about Southern California roads.
20 May 2006
12 May 2006
Slaying spirits
“Awake, O sleeper, rise from the dead!” - Eph 5:14
For a while now I’ve had lots of time to examine (and practice) this thing we call spiritual warfare – and I confess that it often seems rather silly. Or if not silly, perhaps incomplete, or false in some way. The problem is this word ‘war.’ In the wars that I see on TV, the final answer to who wins or looses comes down to who’s dead and who is still alive. Patton says that no war is won by a man dying for his country. “We win by getting the other bastard to die for his country.” There is a finality there – an unambiguous point where combat stops, one way or the other, it stops. But in spiritual warfare we’re talking about the combat between eternal things – spirits, angels, souls – there is no dying, no end. So praying against demons can at times feel like the drudgery of shooing flies away from a picnic. We wave our hands and the things disperse but they always return, over and over and over. Jesus describes an exorcism with some depressing details. The unclean spirit runs off to a dry place...whatever that means...but in time he simply comes back, and brings along his friends. What’s the point then?
There is no indication in Scripture, that I’m aware of, that suggests this war between heaven and hell is ever exactly won – at least, the enemy is never destroyed. Instead, the best situation we see is one where the enemy is chained up. It may be as simple as this – eternal means eternal. A spirit, by its nature, will never be destroyed, will never end, never, ever. Not the devil, not his angels, and not us. We are permanent fixtures of this universe for better or for worse. In which case, the more closely we associate ourselves with this earthly paradigm, where live is started and life stops, the less sense spiritual warfare will make.
In my Ninjutsu class we talk about something called Zhjon Shin – the indominatable spirit. The notion is that half of every fight is won and lost when your spirit interacts with your opponents spirit. It’s not just a matter of mental toughness or tenacity. It’s a matter of setting your heart to iron and projecting that spirit in your attitude, your state of mind, and your body language. When you see a kung fu movie and the hero, who has been loosing the fight till this point, takes a deep breath and sets himself again with a look of peace on his face, when Neo beckons to Agent Smith with a slight grin saying “Come get some.” - that’s Zhjon Shin. The kung fu master has won the fight already because his heart has overcome his enemy’s.
When this spiritual warfare journey started for me, the primary fight was simply one of self preservation. The enemy can’t kill our spirits anymore than we kill his, but he assaults us all the same - how? And to what end? For this we must recognize that when we talk about a dead spirit and a sleeping spirit, we are describing the same thing. While our spirits cannot be destroyed, they can be crushed, traumatized, or anesthetized – we can sleep. In truth our spirits can sleep long years while our bodies remain alive. “Awake, O sleeper” and “rise from the dead” are synonymous.
This is big leap for many of us. As young children our spirits are alive and zealous and longing for life. But as the years and wounds pile upon us it drives that spirit from the field. By the time most of us enter our early teens, we’ve already seen quite enough of this world and we want the ride to end, we want to get off. Our parents divorce. A beloved grandmother dies. Our camp counselors touch us where they shouldn’t. We want the pain the stop – the disappointment, the guilt, the anxiety – but it doesn’t. The sun rises and sets and races around to rise again – truly everything is vanity, chasing after the wind.
And it’s here that we learn to sleep.
We stop engaging, we stop hoping, we stop longing – because it seems to bring more misery than anything else. Our first crush is so aptly named. The immense joy of love screams into our tender, naive hearts like a bullet and we’re almost overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. But for most of us, it ends in a million pieces and we can’t fathom where all of this torturous pain has come from. I remember my first heart break, the begging, the foot stomping, the profound ache in my chest and how it all seemed so unfair.
Tragedy lives in these places of our lives. Where the experience is deemed quite unbearable and we vow not that we won’t feel that way again, but that we wont feel that deeply again. Our eyes dim and the heart thunders away like a frightened stag into deeper and deeper woods. The message that came to me in the midst of that first heart break was this, “You look like a fool. Look at you crying and whining and begging – and it only makes you look more ridiculous than you already do to the woman you love and to her parents listening upstairs. You’re pathetic!”
Listen to me – pay attention. That was spiritual warfare. Warfare waged against me.
I got thwacked by the pointed end of a well aimed shaft and I didn’t even know I was on a battlefield.
Of course that wasn’t the only arrow that came my way, but it was a potent one. Over and over, as my relationship with Rebekah has grown, I’m not so surprised that I love her more, but that there is still more of me that is capable of loving her. It’s the rediscovered capacity to love that has been so striking to me. It’s like this ice burg slowly rising out of the sea – revealing more and more and more of itself – unguessed at space and strength and structure that had always been there – but was pestered into dormancy by the war waged against me.
That’s the enemy’s battle plan, at least at first, and particularly when we’re too young or too misinformed to guess the true hand that is set against us. He wants to make us sleep – through pain or indulgence or distraction he coaxes our spirits to lay down the struggle and instead to close our spiritual eyes. It’s like our parents soothing us as we start on the long drive to Grandma’s house. “Why don’t you just grab a pillow and go to sleep. It will all be over soon enough.” What’s really happening is that they know you’ll be a pain in their neck so long as you’re awake – so long as your eyes are open you’ll squirm and fuss and kick. So long as your spirit’s awake – you’ll engage in this life and the struggle that proceeds around you. You’re more likely to sing, to vote, to write. So long as your spirit is alive and awake you’ll cause no end of trouble for the enemy who’s trying to hold on to this rock he calls his kingdom.
Does that make sense? The weapons of spiritual warfare are not meant, nor able, to kill. They are meant to suppress. That’s how prayer becomes a weapon, and song, and the simple name of Christ. Those physical actions come with a spiritual component – the exertion of your own spirit against another. In that way, it’s similar to the way many fantasy worlds explain magic – it’s a way of effecting the world through the exercise off our will. Keep in mind that we humans are hybrid creatures – body and spirit, and the motion of one effects the other. When I kneel, my spirit can’t help but be moved toward a submissive posture. When my soul is agitated, it tends to make me scowl. Which is why the physical acts of spiritual warfare can facilitate or embolden that corresponding action of my spirit.
This is also what I mean when I talk about fighting for men’s hearts. So many of us are asleep at our posts. Our lives have taught us not to engage, not to love too deeply, not to hope too much. We’ve been driven to seek spiritual sleep as the only defense to our continually broken hearts. That unbearable misery I felt over that broken heart – that wasn’t physical pain, it was spiritual pain. Physical pain would have been easier to bear, because it can only get to a certain point before it simply kills my body and it’s over. Spiritual pain can last forever and I suspect it can grow without measure. This assault on our spirits starts the day we are born and we soon discover that it just keeps coming and coming.
My experience with The Spirit these last years has been a process of waking up. Of drawing myself back up to my proper height without drooping shoulders and without a bowed head. When I do so, I make myself a bigger target, I get the enemy’s attention and I make myself deliberately more vulnerable to attack. The offer of The Spirit is not a safe life – but rather a vivid life. A life with both joy and sorrow – and lots of them both. I pray that will never go back. I pray that I won’t find myself like Cipher from the Matrix – knowing truth from lies...but preferring the lie because it’s easier.
For a while now I’ve had lots of time to examine (and practice) this thing we call spiritual warfare – and I confess that it often seems rather silly. Or if not silly, perhaps incomplete, or false in some way. The problem is this word ‘war.’ In the wars that I see on TV, the final answer to who wins or looses comes down to who’s dead and who is still alive. Patton says that no war is won by a man dying for his country. “We win by getting the other bastard to die for his country.” There is a finality there – an unambiguous point where combat stops, one way or the other, it stops. But in spiritual warfare we’re talking about the combat between eternal things – spirits, angels, souls – there is no dying, no end. So praying against demons can at times feel like the drudgery of shooing flies away from a picnic. We wave our hands and the things disperse but they always return, over and over and over. Jesus describes an exorcism with some depressing details. The unclean spirit runs off to a dry place...whatever that means...but in time he simply comes back, and brings along his friends. What’s the point then?
There is no indication in Scripture, that I’m aware of, that suggests this war between heaven and hell is ever exactly won – at least, the enemy is never destroyed. Instead, the best situation we see is one where the enemy is chained up. It may be as simple as this – eternal means eternal. A spirit, by its nature, will never be destroyed, will never end, never, ever. Not the devil, not his angels, and not us. We are permanent fixtures of this universe for better or for worse. In which case, the more closely we associate ourselves with this earthly paradigm, where live is started and life stops, the less sense spiritual warfare will make.
In my Ninjutsu class we talk about something called Zhjon Shin – the indominatable spirit. The notion is that half of every fight is won and lost when your spirit interacts with your opponents spirit. It’s not just a matter of mental toughness or tenacity. It’s a matter of setting your heart to iron and projecting that spirit in your attitude, your state of mind, and your body language. When you see a kung fu movie and the hero, who has been loosing the fight till this point, takes a deep breath and sets himself again with a look of peace on his face, when Neo beckons to Agent Smith with a slight grin saying “Come get some.” - that’s Zhjon Shin. The kung fu master has won the fight already because his heart has overcome his enemy’s.
When this spiritual warfare journey started for me, the primary fight was simply one of self preservation. The enemy can’t kill our spirits anymore than we kill his, but he assaults us all the same - how? And to what end? For this we must recognize that when we talk about a dead spirit and a sleeping spirit, we are describing the same thing. While our spirits cannot be destroyed, they can be crushed, traumatized, or anesthetized – we can sleep. In truth our spirits can sleep long years while our bodies remain alive. “Awake, O sleeper” and “rise from the dead” are synonymous.
This is big leap for many of us. As young children our spirits are alive and zealous and longing for life. But as the years and wounds pile upon us it drives that spirit from the field. By the time most of us enter our early teens, we’ve already seen quite enough of this world and we want the ride to end, we want to get off. Our parents divorce. A beloved grandmother dies. Our camp counselors touch us where they shouldn’t. We want the pain the stop – the disappointment, the guilt, the anxiety – but it doesn’t. The sun rises and sets and races around to rise again – truly everything is vanity, chasing after the wind.
And it’s here that we learn to sleep.
We stop engaging, we stop hoping, we stop longing – because it seems to bring more misery than anything else. Our first crush is so aptly named. The immense joy of love screams into our tender, naive hearts like a bullet and we’re almost overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. But for most of us, it ends in a million pieces and we can’t fathom where all of this torturous pain has come from. I remember my first heart break, the begging, the foot stomping, the profound ache in my chest and how it all seemed so unfair.
Tragedy lives in these places of our lives. Where the experience is deemed quite unbearable and we vow not that we won’t feel that way again, but that we wont feel that deeply again. Our eyes dim and the heart thunders away like a frightened stag into deeper and deeper woods. The message that came to me in the midst of that first heart break was this, “You look like a fool. Look at you crying and whining and begging – and it only makes you look more ridiculous than you already do to the woman you love and to her parents listening upstairs. You’re pathetic!”
Listen to me – pay attention. That was spiritual warfare. Warfare waged against me.
I got thwacked by the pointed end of a well aimed shaft and I didn’t even know I was on a battlefield.
Of course that wasn’t the only arrow that came my way, but it was a potent one. Over and over, as my relationship with Rebekah has grown, I’m not so surprised that I love her more, but that there is still more of me that is capable of loving her. It’s the rediscovered capacity to love that has been so striking to me. It’s like this ice burg slowly rising out of the sea – revealing more and more and more of itself – unguessed at space and strength and structure that had always been there – but was pestered into dormancy by the war waged against me.
That’s the enemy’s battle plan, at least at first, and particularly when we’re too young or too misinformed to guess the true hand that is set against us. He wants to make us sleep – through pain or indulgence or distraction he coaxes our spirits to lay down the struggle and instead to close our spiritual eyes. It’s like our parents soothing us as we start on the long drive to Grandma’s house. “Why don’t you just grab a pillow and go to sleep. It will all be over soon enough.” What’s really happening is that they know you’ll be a pain in their neck so long as you’re awake – so long as your eyes are open you’ll squirm and fuss and kick. So long as your spirit’s awake – you’ll engage in this life and the struggle that proceeds around you. You’re more likely to sing, to vote, to write. So long as your spirit is alive and awake you’ll cause no end of trouble for the enemy who’s trying to hold on to this rock he calls his kingdom.
Does that make sense? The weapons of spiritual warfare are not meant, nor able, to kill. They are meant to suppress. That’s how prayer becomes a weapon, and song, and the simple name of Christ. Those physical actions come with a spiritual component – the exertion of your own spirit against another. In that way, it’s similar to the way many fantasy worlds explain magic – it’s a way of effecting the world through the exercise off our will. Keep in mind that we humans are hybrid creatures – body and spirit, and the motion of one effects the other. When I kneel, my spirit can’t help but be moved toward a submissive posture. When my soul is agitated, it tends to make me scowl. Which is why the physical acts of spiritual warfare can facilitate or embolden that corresponding action of my spirit.
This is also what I mean when I talk about fighting for men’s hearts. So many of us are asleep at our posts. Our lives have taught us not to engage, not to love too deeply, not to hope too much. We’ve been driven to seek spiritual sleep as the only defense to our continually broken hearts. That unbearable misery I felt over that broken heart – that wasn’t physical pain, it was spiritual pain. Physical pain would have been easier to bear, because it can only get to a certain point before it simply kills my body and it’s over. Spiritual pain can last forever and I suspect it can grow without measure. This assault on our spirits starts the day we are born and we soon discover that it just keeps coming and coming.
My experience with The Spirit these last years has been a process of waking up. Of drawing myself back up to my proper height without drooping shoulders and without a bowed head. When I do so, I make myself a bigger target, I get the enemy’s attention and I make myself deliberately more vulnerable to attack. The offer of The Spirit is not a safe life – but rather a vivid life. A life with both joy and sorrow – and lots of them both. I pray that will never go back. I pray that I won’t find myself like Cipher from the Matrix – knowing truth from lies...but preferring the lie because it’s easier.
03 May 2006
Bootcamp NW
I just got back from a four day men’s retreat based on the Wild at Heart material called Bootcamp NW.
...breathe...
It’s not like I’m the kind of person who shies away from hyperbole, but the ongoing experience of my interaction with these concepts and these people can hardly be overstated. In many, many ways it’s changed my life. And let me be clear about something because I think it’s critical to understand. I am no John Eldridge groupie, I’m not a shill for some Wild at Heart cult. W@H is just one book among several that have been published in the last ten years or so that deal with similar concepts. Specifically: how should a Christian man look and act in modern America and why are so many of us asleep? So it’s rather gender-specific, in my mind it’s particular to today and I suspect it’s particular to America, or perhaps the west. W@H is only the book that caught my eye – it’s the Colorado colored version of something that I see the Holy Spirit talking to a LOT of people about in a LOT of churches. And the message seems to have real staying power. This message has outlasted at least two other pop-church messages that had more energetic followings, Prayer of Jabez and Purpose Driven Life.
That said, I also recognize that I’ve been guzzling the cool-aid for a while now. Regardless of anything else I know how much this train of thought, this set of tools and terms, has impacted my life and I’m really not very interested in debating the minutiae anymore. To that end, I’ve also become something of a cheerleader. I’ve taught at two miniature versions of this camp myself, I’ve lead small groups (Bands of Brothers is the proper jargon), and continued to explore these themes on this blog. Verily, if it weren’t for what W@H hath wrought (that was fun) I never would have had the nerve or the passion to do half of what I did this last year. I still waffle between thinking that this message would be valuable to every man I know and where it’s only useful to some – so far I can’t quite determine if the guys who don’t get it are resistant in some way or their just the wrong audience. Perhaps that’s not the point anyway. The point is to find that thing – anything – that will light your fire, and I’ve found mine.
So here’s a central theme that really turns my crank. When Christ says that He came to give us life, and life to the full (or life abundantly) when does that abundant life start? If I think that it starts when I’m saved, as opposed to when I die / resurrect, then why are most men in the church asleep, bored, distracted, living the same lives of quiet desperation that the men of the world do? If nothing else, the idea that this war we see described in scripture is 100% REAL and NOW and in my face – and that I might have a functional role to play in that war...now that’s an idea that catches my imagination. But I don’t want to recap the book here – read the book.
Michael – come to Bootcamp in November. I’ll buy your admission if you buy the plane ticket.
Compared to last year, this Bootcamp was less dramatic and more refreshing. God spoke on the same topics we hit last year and it really helped clear my head after a difficult season. In fact, by the time I went this year I was quite tired, quite bummed out, and wondering what the hell went wrong – dark days. Perhaps the best part of this weekend was the chance to gain some perspective. I mean – wow – what a year! It’s so easy to get myopic and only see what our most recent and immediate life has been, but the simple chance to go back over my journal and this blog, all since the last Bootcamp...He surely is my Ebenezer, where else would I go?
The last 12 months have been, without question, the most spiritually active in my life. But they’ve also been some of the most...what to call it...zoeally active? My life, my circumstances, my job – physical world things that can show up on a photograph or a bank statement. Those things too have seen all kinds of activity. Some joyful, some mournful, but all of it ALIVE! And that’s the great thing. I don’t see W@H or the broader movement calling men to ‘better’ lives in the sense of easier, richer, less stressful lives. Quite the opposite. The Spirit is asking men to get up off their asses swing the damn sword. There will victory AND defeat. The invitation is not to safety, but to risk. It’s not increased territory, but to contesting territory. Not to Christian purpose but to true Christian liberty.
I’m told that the Celtic Christians called the Holy Spirit The Wild Goose – utterly unpredictable. I hope to spend these next 12 months waking up every day with no idea what will happen because the Wild Goose goes where it will and my job is simple – chase it!
...breathe...
It’s not like I’m the kind of person who shies away from hyperbole, but the ongoing experience of my interaction with these concepts and these people can hardly be overstated. In many, many ways it’s changed my life. And let me be clear about something because I think it’s critical to understand. I am no John Eldridge groupie, I’m not a shill for some Wild at Heart cult. W@H is just one book among several that have been published in the last ten years or so that deal with similar concepts. Specifically: how should a Christian man look and act in modern America and why are so many of us asleep? So it’s rather gender-specific, in my mind it’s particular to today and I suspect it’s particular to America, or perhaps the west. W@H is only the book that caught my eye – it’s the Colorado colored version of something that I see the Holy Spirit talking to a LOT of people about in a LOT of churches. And the message seems to have real staying power. This message has outlasted at least two other pop-church messages that had more energetic followings, Prayer of Jabez and Purpose Driven Life.
That said, I also recognize that I’ve been guzzling the cool-aid for a while now. Regardless of anything else I know how much this train of thought, this set of tools and terms, has impacted my life and I’m really not very interested in debating the minutiae anymore. To that end, I’ve also become something of a cheerleader. I’ve taught at two miniature versions of this camp myself, I’ve lead small groups (Bands of Brothers is the proper jargon), and continued to explore these themes on this blog. Verily, if it weren’t for what W@H hath wrought (that was fun) I never would have had the nerve or the passion to do half of what I did this last year. I still waffle between thinking that this message would be valuable to every man I know and where it’s only useful to some – so far I can’t quite determine if the guys who don’t get it are resistant in some way or their just the wrong audience. Perhaps that’s not the point anyway. The point is to find that thing – anything – that will light your fire, and I’ve found mine.
So here’s a central theme that really turns my crank. When Christ says that He came to give us life, and life to the full (or life abundantly) when does that abundant life start? If I think that it starts when I’m saved, as opposed to when I die / resurrect, then why are most men in the church asleep, bored, distracted, living the same lives of quiet desperation that the men of the world do? If nothing else, the idea that this war we see described in scripture is 100% REAL and NOW and in my face – and that I might have a functional role to play in that war...now that’s an idea that catches my imagination. But I don’t want to recap the book here – read the book.
Michael – come to Bootcamp in November. I’ll buy your admission if you buy the plane ticket.
Compared to last year, this Bootcamp was less dramatic and more refreshing. God spoke on the same topics we hit last year and it really helped clear my head after a difficult season. In fact, by the time I went this year I was quite tired, quite bummed out, and wondering what the hell went wrong – dark days. Perhaps the best part of this weekend was the chance to gain some perspective. I mean – wow – what a year! It’s so easy to get myopic and only see what our most recent and immediate life has been, but the simple chance to go back over my journal and this blog, all since the last Bootcamp...He surely is my Ebenezer, where else would I go?
The last 12 months have been, without question, the most spiritually active in my life. But they’ve also been some of the most...what to call it...zoeally active? My life, my circumstances, my job – physical world things that can show up on a photograph or a bank statement. Those things too have seen all kinds of activity. Some joyful, some mournful, but all of it ALIVE! And that’s the great thing. I don’t see W@H or the broader movement calling men to ‘better’ lives in the sense of easier, richer, less stressful lives. Quite the opposite. The Spirit is asking men to get up off their asses swing the damn sword. There will victory AND defeat. The invitation is not to safety, but to risk. It’s not increased territory, but to contesting territory. Not to Christian purpose but to true Christian liberty.
I’m told that the Celtic Christians called the Holy Spirit The Wild Goose – utterly unpredictable. I hope to spend these next 12 months waking up every day with no idea what will happen because the Wild Goose goes where it will and my job is simple – chase it!
12 April 2006
Letter to a friend...
Dear anonymous friend, ;)
Thanks for sending these reflections on [your trip to the Gulf Coast to help hurricane survivors] – it’s always cool to hear how folks are encountering Christ and how it effects them.
I remember coming back from Kenya and all the stories I told and I all the experiences I had and how I KNEW that I would never, COULD NEVER, be the same. The poverty, the indifference to life, the endemic corruption – it was shocking and terrifying and so very sad. And yet, less than six months later I looked at myself and felt that in fact nothing had changed at all. I was in my same old grooves, my same old habits and I had stopped talking about Kenya because so many folks seemed like they simply weren’t interested in anything but my photos of elephants. I was sad for that. Like I had missed an opportunity to learn an important lesson (to say nothing for the people who yawned at another Kenya story).
But later still, on further reflection, I saw that Kenya had changed me but it wasn’t so obvious. There was a new plank added to my personality and when it was brand new it seemed dramatic and fresh and stood out like a sore thumb. But inevitably, life continued and that plank was slowly integrated into a structure with all the others. In time it no longer stood out, but rather it supported. It was a starting place – not an ending place.
So in the end I’ve come to see that despite all the things I’ve seen around the world, all the good experiences and all the traumatic ones, I’m called to bloom where I’m planted. That experience, like many others in Hong Kong, Panama, Mississippi, Nagasaki – they change me, but they don’t define me.
As this powerful memory dims in your mind like a setting sun, I hope you won’t begrudge the normal work of time. Instead, relish the fact that God has laid a new slab in the deep foundations of your life – and look expectantly toward what he will build atop it.
Grace and Peace – Chris
Thanks for sending these reflections on [your trip to the Gulf Coast to help hurricane survivors] – it’s always cool to hear how folks are encountering Christ and how it effects them.
I remember coming back from Kenya and all the stories I told and I all the experiences I had and how I KNEW that I would never, COULD NEVER, be the same. The poverty, the indifference to life, the endemic corruption – it was shocking and terrifying and so very sad. And yet, less than six months later I looked at myself and felt that in fact nothing had changed at all. I was in my same old grooves, my same old habits and I had stopped talking about Kenya because so many folks seemed like they simply weren’t interested in anything but my photos of elephants. I was sad for that. Like I had missed an opportunity to learn an important lesson (to say nothing for the people who yawned at another Kenya story).
But later still, on further reflection, I saw that Kenya had changed me but it wasn’t so obvious. There was a new plank added to my personality and when it was brand new it seemed dramatic and fresh and stood out like a sore thumb. But inevitably, life continued and that plank was slowly integrated into a structure with all the others. In time it no longer stood out, but rather it supported. It was a starting place – not an ending place.
So in the end I’ve come to see that despite all the things I’ve seen around the world, all the good experiences and all the traumatic ones, I’m called to bloom where I’m planted. That experience, like many others in Hong Kong, Panama, Mississippi, Nagasaki – they change me, but they don’t define me.
As this powerful memory dims in your mind like a setting sun, I hope you won’t begrudge the normal work of time. Instead, relish the fact that God has laid a new slab in the deep foundations of your life – and look expectantly toward what he will build atop it.
Grace and Peace – Chris
05 April 2006
Cool post...
Read this today and it hit me pretty hard.
Good post Marilyn!
Is Your Encounter With God Weak
Good post Marilyn!
Is Your Encounter With God Weak
03 April 2006
On Ownership
Ownership is a powerful thing. To look at a thing and say “That’s mine.” even better to say “I made that.”
For a man, owning things can often be a proxy for where we’ve gone in life, what we’ve achieved. Our first car is like a right of passage, a symbol of adolescence becoming adulthood. Of course, that car also teaches us some of our first real-world lessons about responsibility – it’s no longer an exercise in mom and dad’s laboratory. Often we get our first job just to pay for gas for our first car. Even more so a house - I had my house about 2 months when Darrin Miranda told me “From now on, every time you walk out the front door it will cost you $50 at Home Depot.” - he wasn’t far off.
I’m not really talking about ‘stuff’ here, I’m not talking about materialism. I’m talking about this powerful drive to have something that’s my own, whether it’s a physical thing like a car, or a house, or a baseball card collection, or something intangible like a degree or a business.
So there’s this guy I know, we’ll call him Fred. For the last two years or so, I’ve had the pleasure of watching Fred and his wife’s business grow from a neat idea with one customer who practically had to beg them to sell him something, to a growing-too-fast-dear-Jesus-help-us-keep-the-wheels-on success story. It’s been exciting and fascinating to watch God work in this thing almost despite anything they do to help or hinder the thing. But that clearly cool business story aside, what’s really intrigued me is how it’s changing the two of them, particularly Fred. I’m not certain this is 100% true, but I think this business is the first thing either of them have ever owned that was worth more than about $5,000. (not counting what their wonderful kids might fetch on the black market) And the effect on Fred has been deeply transforming. I’m sure it’s not only this, but there’s this new thing in his life, he now has the ability to look around that room with all the pots and pans and pepper and say “This is mine. I made this.” and no man can gainsay him. That is seriously powerful. It gives him a sense of pride, an anchor for his self-esteem. From there he can look around at the world and have faith for even better things – even more, that HE might be a functional part of those better things, hat God might actually use HIM.
In ‘Wild at Heart’ they say that a man’s deepest question is “Do I have what it takes?”
It’s the question that really asks – am I a man at all, or just a boy? And I’m watching Fred approach this question with a different look on his face than was there four years ago. Because there is this thriving, growing thing in his face every day – a business that he owns – he’s accomplished something that most men never do and you can see the thoughts racing in his mind – doing battle with the older, darker thoughts born of failure and fear. “Maybe they were wrong about me? Maybe I was wrong about myself? Maybe I really do have have what it takes...”
Today, more than anything I think, Fred finds himself at a moment where he needs to be on his own for the simple sake of proving to himself and others that he can be. It’s an unexpected crossroad, and that giant step forward yawns before him like the Grand Canyon. It’s a delicate moment here – this opportunity to assert our independence, because we can easily come to think the moment is about success or failure. But it isn’t – it’s about the courage to try. For my part, I’m trying to cheer him on in the way you encourage the kid frozen at the top of cliff dive. Is there real, actual danger? – yes, the water to the left is too shallow. But will this moment by pivotal – very much yes. If he turns away it will be a set back, a delay to this next phase in his life and the problem with these delays is that we never know which will be our last opportunity. But for now, it’s just that gut-wrenching, inch-by-inch approach to the precipice as you peer over the edge and fight the vertigo...you can do it Fred. You can do it.
But ownership cuts both ways. In another corner I have another friend, we’ll call him Bob. Bob has always been a superstar. Popular, self-confident, excelling in everything he puts his mind to. If Bob ever asked “Do I have what it takes?” he was able to confidently answer with a “Well duh!” And yet, like Fred, Bob doesn’t really own much at all. It’s certainly not for lack of trying, the guy’s been energetic and entrepreneurial for as long as I’ve known him, but nothing seems to stick. Another central theme in Wild at Heart is the notion that our strength is not for ourselves – it is given to us by God to serve others. Bob knows his strength, perhaps too well, but it’s hard for him to serve, hard for him to submit. The simple truth is that he’s usually smarter, better, faster, and more talented than the people he works for – it’s no wonder he finds it hard to get in line. Also like Fred, Bob finds himself at a crossroads these days – with decisions before him and he too, like Fred, has gone through some major growing these last 18 mos.
Now in fairness, I don’t know Bob as well as I know Fred, so I could be way off, but my sense is that ownership has become twisted in Bob’s heart to become more of a lure than a reward. He wants to own something so badly that it colors the way he sees other things, it changes the way he acts. Like a starving kid who finds a salad bar and eats himself sick...so sick he misses the main course. Maybe more accurate would be a kid whose BEEN hungry – who’s learned to take what he can today because you never know if there will be bread tomorrow. For Bob, it doesn’t even seem to be about owning any particular thing, just owning SOMETHING. He wants so very bad to say “That’s mine!” that he has a history of sabotaging the very things that would satisfy that need in his heart. It’s the lure of easy money and a quick fix and looking so long for the pot of gold.
It’s the juxtaposition between these two men that has got me thinking about ownership.
The one wondering if he can actually own anything, the other wondering why he doesn’t own more already and what he can own right now.
One who probably ought to leave the safety of the nest for the open sky, the other who probably needs, more than anything, to stop being a one-man-band and commit himself to sharing and collaborating.
I suppose, like most things, the relationship between ownership and sin is a gray area. The impulse to own can strengthen us or consume us. We can get unhealthy with a drive to have something that we become unwilling or unable to recognize that it’s really God’s in the long run – we’ve just been allowed to hold it for a while. We can likely grow to feel that we oughtn’t own anything because we’re too dumb, or too irresponsible, or too dirty – so we reject the gifts God offers us, or fail to recognize the opportunities he presents.
Perhaps the most compelling part of these men’s stories is the fact that from where I stand, both men have practically been buried by God’s advice in these matters – and both of them see just what I do...but they resist it. Whether it’s for fear, or pride, or just because it’s not what they expected, they hedge, they hesitate, they want more confirmation. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not criticizing here. I’ve certainly been in the same place, where you can’t see the forest for the trees and the electric bill. It’s just fascinating to be watching these stories unfold from the bleachers. That’s where I hope to take the time to reflect on my own vision of ownership. I’ve certainly been afraid to reach for something – been there. I’ve certainly lunged for a grape only to discover I missed the watermelon – done that.
And so often, the true motivator in me was fear. Fear of taking on responsibility, or fear of being left-behind by the Jones’. I think of the evening that Saul winds up camping in the same cave where David is hiding. Who would have blamed David for thinking “Here is Saul! God has delivered my enemy into my hands!” With this kook chasing him through the countryside trying to kill him, how much would fear have played on David’s heart – Make the strike! End your trouble now! This may be your only chance! But David didn’t give into fear – instead he’s able to step back and see the bigger picture and declares (in essence) “Just ‘cause I can don’t mean I should.” I even wonder if God HADN’T delivered David his enemy. Is it possible, that taking Saul’s life would NOT have been sinful, but it simply would have been less – less righteous, less inspiring, less wise – but not exactly wrong? What do we think of the incredible coincidence of the story’s set-up? We’re told God doesn’t temp us so we shouldn’t consider it some kind of test for David. Would the Devil lead Saul to that cave? That seems out of character for him to sacrifice his king, but more importantly there’s no indication of that in the story. Perhaps we can learn something from David’s son Solomon. When God offers him just about anything he might ask for we have every reason to believe the offer is'nt in earnest. Riches? Land? Dominion? They are all on the plate and given that situation I don’t think asking for those things would have been sinful for Solomon. But he asks for wisdom – given an invitation to be almost anything, he puts all his ambition and all his anxiety aside and chooses instead to submit. “God, teach me about you. And that will be enough.”
As a result he gets both.
For a man, owning things can often be a proxy for where we’ve gone in life, what we’ve achieved. Our first car is like a right of passage, a symbol of adolescence becoming adulthood. Of course, that car also teaches us some of our first real-world lessons about responsibility – it’s no longer an exercise in mom and dad’s laboratory. Often we get our first job just to pay for gas for our first car. Even more so a house - I had my house about 2 months when Darrin Miranda told me “From now on, every time you walk out the front door it will cost you $50 at Home Depot.” - he wasn’t far off.
I’m not really talking about ‘stuff’ here, I’m not talking about materialism. I’m talking about this powerful drive to have something that’s my own, whether it’s a physical thing like a car, or a house, or a baseball card collection, or something intangible like a degree or a business.
So there’s this guy I know, we’ll call him Fred. For the last two years or so, I’ve had the pleasure of watching Fred and his wife’s business grow from a neat idea with one customer who practically had to beg them to sell him something, to a growing-too-fast-dear-Jesus-help-us-keep-the-wheels-on success story. It’s been exciting and fascinating to watch God work in this thing almost despite anything they do to help or hinder the thing. But that clearly cool business story aside, what’s really intrigued me is how it’s changing the two of them, particularly Fred. I’m not certain this is 100% true, but I think this business is the first thing either of them have ever owned that was worth more than about $5,000. (not counting what their wonderful kids might fetch on the black market) And the effect on Fred has been deeply transforming. I’m sure it’s not only this, but there’s this new thing in his life, he now has the ability to look around that room with all the pots and pans and pepper and say “This is mine. I made this.” and no man can gainsay him. That is seriously powerful. It gives him a sense of pride, an anchor for his self-esteem. From there he can look around at the world and have faith for even better things – even more, that HE might be a functional part of those better things, hat God might actually use HIM.
In ‘Wild at Heart’ they say that a man’s deepest question is “Do I have what it takes?”
It’s the question that really asks – am I a man at all, or just a boy? And I’m watching Fred approach this question with a different look on his face than was there four years ago. Because there is this thriving, growing thing in his face every day – a business that he owns – he’s accomplished something that most men never do and you can see the thoughts racing in his mind – doing battle with the older, darker thoughts born of failure and fear. “Maybe they were wrong about me? Maybe I was wrong about myself? Maybe I really do have have what it takes...”
Today, more than anything I think, Fred finds himself at a moment where he needs to be on his own for the simple sake of proving to himself and others that he can be. It’s an unexpected crossroad, and that giant step forward yawns before him like the Grand Canyon. It’s a delicate moment here – this opportunity to assert our independence, because we can easily come to think the moment is about success or failure. But it isn’t – it’s about the courage to try. For my part, I’m trying to cheer him on in the way you encourage the kid frozen at the top of cliff dive. Is there real, actual danger? – yes, the water to the left is too shallow. But will this moment by pivotal – very much yes. If he turns away it will be a set back, a delay to this next phase in his life and the problem with these delays is that we never know which will be our last opportunity. But for now, it’s just that gut-wrenching, inch-by-inch approach to the precipice as you peer over the edge and fight the vertigo...you can do it Fred. You can do it.
But ownership cuts both ways. In another corner I have another friend, we’ll call him Bob. Bob has always been a superstar. Popular, self-confident, excelling in everything he puts his mind to. If Bob ever asked “Do I have what it takes?” he was able to confidently answer with a “Well duh!” And yet, like Fred, Bob doesn’t really own much at all. It’s certainly not for lack of trying, the guy’s been energetic and entrepreneurial for as long as I’ve known him, but nothing seems to stick. Another central theme in Wild at Heart is the notion that our strength is not for ourselves – it is given to us by God to serve others. Bob knows his strength, perhaps too well, but it’s hard for him to serve, hard for him to submit. The simple truth is that he’s usually smarter, better, faster, and more talented than the people he works for – it’s no wonder he finds it hard to get in line. Also like Fred, Bob finds himself at a crossroads these days – with decisions before him and he too, like Fred, has gone through some major growing these last 18 mos.
Now in fairness, I don’t know Bob as well as I know Fred, so I could be way off, but my sense is that ownership has become twisted in Bob’s heart to become more of a lure than a reward. He wants to own something so badly that it colors the way he sees other things, it changes the way he acts. Like a starving kid who finds a salad bar and eats himself sick...so sick he misses the main course. Maybe more accurate would be a kid whose BEEN hungry – who’s learned to take what he can today because you never know if there will be bread tomorrow. For Bob, it doesn’t even seem to be about owning any particular thing, just owning SOMETHING. He wants so very bad to say “That’s mine!” that he has a history of sabotaging the very things that would satisfy that need in his heart. It’s the lure of easy money and a quick fix and looking so long for the pot of gold.
It’s the juxtaposition between these two men that has got me thinking about ownership.
The one wondering if he can actually own anything, the other wondering why he doesn’t own more already and what he can own right now.
One who probably ought to leave the safety of the nest for the open sky, the other who probably needs, more than anything, to stop being a one-man-band and commit himself to sharing and collaborating.
I suppose, like most things, the relationship between ownership and sin is a gray area. The impulse to own can strengthen us or consume us. We can get unhealthy with a drive to have something that we become unwilling or unable to recognize that it’s really God’s in the long run – we’ve just been allowed to hold it for a while. We can likely grow to feel that we oughtn’t own anything because we’re too dumb, or too irresponsible, or too dirty – so we reject the gifts God offers us, or fail to recognize the opportunities he presents.
Perhaps the most compelling part of these men’s stories is the fact that from where I stand, both men have practically been buried by God’s advice in these matters – and both of them see just what I do...but they resist it. Whether it’s for fear, or pride, or just because it’s not what they expected, they hedge, they hesitate, they want more confirmation. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not criticizing here. I’ve certainly been in the same place, where you can’t see the forest for the trees and the electric bill. It’s just fascinating to be watching these stories unfold from the bleachers. That’s where I hope to take the time to reflect on my own vision of ownership. I’ve certainly been afraid to reach for something – been there. I’ve certainly lunged for a grape only to discover I missed the watermelon – done that.
And so often, the true motivator in me was fear. Fear of taking on responsibility, or fear of being left-behind by the Jones’. I think of the evening that Saul winds up camping in the same cave where David is hiding. Who would have blamed David for thinking “Here is Saul! God has delivered my enemy into my hands!” With this kook chasing him through the countryside trying to kill him, how much would fear have played on David’s heart – Make the strike! End your trouble now! This may be your only chance! But David didn’t give into fear – instead he’s able to step back and see the bigger picture and declares (in essence) “Just ‘cause I can don’t mean I should.” I even wonder if God HADN’T delivered David his enemy. Is it possible, that taking Saul’s life would NOT have been sinful, but it simply would have been less – less righteous, less inspiring, less wise – but not exactly wrong? What do we think of the incredible coincidence of the story’s set-up? We’re told God doesn’t temp us so we shouldn’t consider it some kind of test for David. Would the Devil lead Saul to that cave? That seems out of character for him to sacrifice his king, but more importantly there’s no indication of that in the story. Perhaps we can learn something from David’s son Solomon. When God offers him just about anything he might ask for we have every reason to believe the offer is'nt in earnest. Riches? Land? Dominion? They are all on the plate and given that situation I don’t think asking for those things would have been sinful for Solomon. But he asks for wisdom – given an invitation to be almost anything, he puts all his ambition and all his anxiety aside and chooses instead to submit. “God, teach me about you. And that will be enough.”
As a result he gets both.
17 March 2006
The Junie Story
Matt’s in bed and he hears, “Congratulations. You finally made it. Now get ready to move on to the next thing, hugs and kisses, God"
Back in 1998 I was new to Newberg. I was a full time student at GFU and living on my Navy education money, about $800/mo for rent, food, and all that plus school expenses – things were...um...tight. I was also new to my church, I’d been attending for about 4 months.
At the time, I had a strong feeling that I should give $500 to the church. You should know that the idea that God would give me some kind of a specific direction like that was a very new idea for me. I’d never really had anything like that happen before. And it wasn’t just a sense that I should give some money to the church, or a lot of money, but a specific amount - $500. That decision vexed me for over a month while I talked with my pastor, talked to my teachers, wrung my hands and flipped out. I had all kinds of good reasons not to do it – it was bad stewardship! It was way more than 10% of my income! It would certainly cause me to skip on other financial commitments that I had! Quite frankly the whole idea was just foolish. But from the moment He spoke, I knew that He had spoke, and what was really happening was that I was trying to find a way out from under it and my brain was leading that charge while my heart never really bought all the arguments. Also, all the counsel I got from people I trusted came down to something like this – despite the way the circumstances look, we’re called to obey. SO do that.
Eventually I screwed up my courage, took a deep breath and wrote a check. I drove that check over to my church and with downcast eyes gave the check over to John Teeters. “I’m supposed to give this to the church.” I said – moping.
“Really?,” he said. “Any reason in particular?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Well I think I know – thanks.”he said smiling...and that was that. No explanation, no big fanfare that was nearly up to the stress I had endured over the decision. Just a casual ‘Thanks” like I’d given him a lollipop. Still, it was behind me and the peace of finally having made a decision was reward enough. Right or wrong it was now officially in the past. On my back to the car, as clear as day, God says “Good job. Now prepare to give $5,000.”
I was like “You gotta be kidding me!” but I hid that thought in my heart for a couple years while I graduated from college, started working, and got married. In all that time I never knew what that whole episode was about except that it was a powerful lesson in obedience. I did miss several bill payments – God didn’t promise me that following his lead wouldn’t cost me anything. In fact, if anything, He promises that following Him WILL cost us – sometimes our very lives. But He also promises that it’s worth it. That one struggle with hearing his voice and trusting it no mater how things looked lead me into further adventures that turned into huge blessings. Going to Africa and marrying Rebekah are only two of them and for me I looked back on that as a turning point, and that was enough.
Bt then sometime in 2001, so about three years after that $500 check was done, there’s a guest speaker at church. It’s a young lady named Junie who has recently returned from a long term mission and she wants to tell her story to TFC since the church helped with her support. I’ve never seen or met Junie, but she’s so full of the Spirit and joy and seems so totally sold out for Jesus it’s neat to watch her. After hearing about tribes and weird food and jungle rot she wants to talk about Providence. Before she left she was raising support from TFC and one or two other local churches. With literally 3 days to go before her deadline she had raised $1,500 of the $2,000 her organization required her to raise – and she was getting desperate. She knew that the call to this mission was real but God hadn’t provided the money – what was she to think? And then, she says, a mysterious check for $500 suddenly came through TFC – it made her requirement almost perfectly and without that she might never have gone. She never knew where that money came from...but I did. I almost lost there that day – it was a good thing I was in the back – because God seemed to turn to me with this knowing little wink and whisper - “You didn’t think I would just fritter away your sacrifice did you?”
For the record, Junie went on to become the children’s pastor at my church – because of what we had done for her - where she did a fantastic job of raising God fearing little children. She was a fantastic source of joy and love and eventually found her husband there. But the story continues...
Not long after that I made the decision to quit my day job and start my own business. As part of that I took a loan against my house as start-up money and as that loan finalized and I’m looking at my bank account wondering about the best way to manage this cash God says “Remember the $5,000?” OK – I’ve just quit my job. I have a new wife which is a responsibility that I’ve never had before. We have a new house, that I just took a loan against. Are you serious? The struggle over $5,000 wasn’t nearly as vexing as the $500 because I had several years of experience behind me this time – I had learned to trust God in both thick and thin – so I did cough up the money. To date, there hasn’t been anything where God showed me a direct result of that donation, but then again, I’m at a place in my faith where I don’t really need that anymore. I know He’s good for it. I know it was something. Most importantly, I know that’s what He asked for – and I don’t need to know why. I do know that God’s hand has been on this business ever since then. Helping us through both good and hard times and making this a incredibly rich season in my life. If nothing else, just submitting Code-Monkeys to His will in that very tangible way has been a fertile field of spiritual growth.
After that $5k went out, as clear as day, God said - “Thanks. Get ready for $50,000.”
Back in 1998 I was new to Newberg. I was a full time student at GFU and living on my Navy education money, about $800/mo for rent, food, and all that plus school expenses – things were...um...tight. I was also new to my church, I’d been attending for about 4 months.
At the time, I had a strong feeling that I should give $500 to the church. You should know that the idea that God would give me some kind of a specific direction like that was a very new idea for me. I’d never really had anything like that happen before. And it wasn’t just a sense that I should give some money to the church, or a lot of money, but a specific amount - $500. That decision vexed me for over a month while I talked with my pastor, talked to my teachers, wrung my hands and flipped out. I had all kinds of good reasons not to do it – it was bad stewardship! It was way more than 10% of my income! It would certainly cause me to skip on other financial commitments that I had! Quite frankly the whole idea was just foolish. But from the moment He spoke, I knew that He had spoke, and what was really happening was that I was trying to find a way out from under it and my brain was leading that charge while my heart never really bought all the arguments. Also, all the counsel I got from people I trusted came down to something like this – despite the way the circumstances look, we’re called to obey. SO do that.
Eventually I screwed up my courage, took a deep breath and wrote a check. I drove that check over to my church and with downcast eyes gave the check over to John Teeters. “I’m supposed to give this to the church.” I said – moping.
“Really?,” he said. “Any reason in particular?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Well I think I know – thanks.”he said smiling...and that was that. No explanation, no big fanfare that was nearly up to the stress I had endured over the decision. Just a casual ‘Thanks” like I’d given him a lollipop. Still, it was behind me and the peace of finally having made a decision was reward enough. Right or wrong it was now officially in the past. On my back to the car, as clear as day, God says “Good job. Now prepare to give $5,000.”
I was like “You gotta be kidding me!” but I hid that thought in my heart for a couple years while I graduated from college, started working, and got married. In all that time I never knew what that whole episode was about except that it was a powerful lesson in obedience. I did miss several bill payments – God didn’t promise me that following his lead wouldn’t cost me anything. In fact, if anything, He promises that following Him WILL cost us – sometimes our very lives. But He also promises that it’s worth it. That one struggle with hearing his voice and trusting it no mater how things looked lead me into further adventures that turned into huge blessings. Going to Africa and marrying Rebekah are only two of them and for me I looked back on that as a turning point, and that was enough.
Bt then sometime in 2001, so about three years after that $500 check was done, there’s a guest speaker at church. It’s a young lady named Junie who has recently returned from a long term mission and she wants to tell her story to TFC since the church helped with her support. I’ve never seen or met Junie, but she’s so full of the Spirit and joy and seems so totally sold out for Jesus it’s neat to watch her. After hearing about tribes and weird food and jungle rot she wants to talk about Providence. Before she left she was raising support from TFC and one or two other local churches. With literally 3 days to go before her deadline she had raised $1,500 of the $2,000 her organization required her to raise – and she was getting desperate. She knew that the call to this mission was real but God hadn’t provided the money – what was she to think? And then, she says, a mysterious check for $500 suddenly came through TFC – it made her requirement almost perfectly and without that she might never have gone. She never knew where that money came from...but I did. I almost lost there that day – it was a good thing I was in the back – because God seemed to turn to me with this knowing little wink and whisper - “You didn’t think I would just fritter away your sacrifice did you?”
For the record, Junie went on to become the children’s pastor at my church – because of what we had done for her - where she did a fantastic job of raising God fearing little children. She was a fantastic source of joy and love and eventually found her husband there. But the story continues...
Not long after that I made the decision to quit my day job and start my own business. As part of that I took a loan against my house as start-up money and as that loan finalized and I’m looking at my bank account wondering about the best way to manage this cash God says “Remember the $5,000?” OK – I’ve just quit my job. I have a new wife which is a responsibility that I’ve never had before. We have a new house, that I just took a loan against. Are you serious? The struggle over $5,000 wasn’t nearly as vexing as the $500 because I had several years of experience behind me this time – I had learned to trust God in both thick and thin – so I did cough up the money. To date, there hasn’t been anything where God showed me a direct result of that donation, but then again, I’m at a place in my faith where I don’t really need that anymore. I know He’s good for it. I know it was something. Most importantly, I know that’s what He asked for – and I don’t need to know why. I do know that God’s hand has been on this business ever since then. Helping us through both good and hard times and making this a incredibly rich season in my life. If nothing else, just submitting Code-Monkeys to His will in that very tangible way has been a fertile field of spiritual growth.
After that $5k went out, as clear as day, God said - “Thanks. Get ready for $50,000.”
15 March 2006
More on that man thing...
I understand why the blogs put the newest post at the top, but this post is properly a continuation of the previous post – it should go beneath it...I wonder I can fudge the date or something to force it down? Anyway...
While I see this idea shaping up in my mind, I also think that it won’t properly crystallize without the counsel of the other guys. This thing, its structure and purpose and SOP should be shaped and fleshed out organically. “Wisdom is found in the moths of many counselors” says the Word. But that said, here are a few ideas:
I’ve been brought to the awareness that Jesus carries more than that lost sheep on his shoulders – he carries a double-edged sword with his robe dipped in blood.
That fires me up!
That’s the Jesus I want to follow into war.
And it seems to me that the trumpet is sounding.
While I see this idea shaping up in my mind, I also think that it won’t properly crystallize without the counsel of the other guys. This thing, its structure and purpose and SOP should be shaped and fleshed out organically. “Wisdom is found in the moths of many counselors” says the Word. But that said, here are a few ideas:
- We should understand money
Like it or not, money is a powerful force and there is a great deal of Biblical advice regarding money. We can’t be fully armed warriors if we can’t effectively weird this particular weapon. And it’s not enough to read a Larry Burkett book, we need to understand and experience both success and failure with investments and business. It goes without saying that enriching our own lives isn’t really the point, but nor is it verboten. The Word says a good man leaves an inheritance to his children’s children – so let’s work toward that goal. While money can no doubt be as much a blessing as a curse, we can’t eschew this tool just because of it’s potential danger.
- We should know how to fight
A man with a sword is an anachronism today – I’m not disputing that. But there is something singularly powerful about knowing that lethal force is within your reach. Being a knight, being a leader – being a man – includes the idea of the judicious application of force. In today’s world, that would only rarely mean physical force, but even there, a so-called knight turned to jelly by a 14 year-old with a knife, is clearly missing something. Learning to fight teaches us about our own strengths and just as well our weaknesses. It teaches us poise in the face of danger. It’s self-confidence, self-control, and the proper place of authority all in one. We learn to respect ourselves as we learn to respect our enemies – including The Enemy.
- We should value fraternity
Our American culture is too mobile, too segmented, too disconnected to build the kinds of deep, thick-or-thin relationships that make us strong. As these last few years have passed, nothing has changed so sharply in my understanding of God’s call on my life than my appreciation of community. This idea rests squarely on a commitment of these men to one another for a long time – years at the very least. Also, I’m not talking about soccer games, at least not ONLY soccer games. I’m talking about a deliberate effort to know one another (our wives and kids as well as the guys) and come to that place where trust one another deeply. Where we’re vulnerable enough to say, “Guys – I need help with this!” and where a guy who falls, a guy who chokes, or a guy who sins isn’t berated or preached to, but rather is gathered round and protected – given the space to catch his breath and heal. I’m sick and tired of that Christian culture where we shoot our wounded.
- We should be deliberate
This group should seek and embrace a purpose with zeal. It’s not enough to just agree that we’ll all hang out and try tom be Godly men. We need to approach this band, as well as the rest of our lives with direction. Not wandering, not simply reacting to what happens to us, but pressing on toward a goal. I confess that at this moment I don’t know what that ‘bigger’ goal would be. But I trust that when everything is in place, it will made clear to us. And don’t take this lightly. I know that it’s fashionable in these men groups to say that leading our families is the biggest adventure of all, but quite frankly – bullshit. No doubt raising teenagers (or twins!) presents certain significant challenges, but I’m really thinking that this is about more than keeping promises, more than loving our wives – The Round Table became legend because those men committed themselves to an ideal larger than life, larger than themselves. Let us seek and expect that God’s call will be mighty.All of this vision casting, all of this purple language, is really just this: Christ has awakened my heart to something huge – life abundant. He’s calling me to see the bigger picture and to be an active part of it. I want to move past the phase in my life where I go go God cautiously, with one eye always on the door, one foot always in the world – and instead to charge the throne boldly. And there still – to really find that place where my spiritual life, as rich as it might be, to mesh fully with my physical life. I’m wanting to move past timidity and safety and frakking boredom – bored at work, bored at church, bored all week until I get to watch Battlestar Gallactica where somebody else is living life to the fullest. Why do Treasure Island, and Lord of The Rings, and Lion King get me excited? Because they are full of adventure and the promise that great things happen when normal people stay a course. And my heart was MADE for adventure.
I’ve been brought to the awareness that Jesus carries more than that lost sheep on his shoulders – he carries a double-edged sword with his robe dipped in blood.
That fires me up!
That’s the Jesus I want to follow into war.
And it seems to me that the trumpet is sounding.
12 March 2006
Imperfect vision
"Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the men of old; seek what they sought." - Matsuo Basho
There’s something gathering at the edge of my vision – a dim outline of something that still lacks details or texture or color, but it seems to be increasingly vivid in the last few weeks. It’s a vision, I think, of where God will be moving me in the near to mid future, an assignment of sorts. As I’ve started to sense this approaching thing, sniffing for it on the wind, I find myself compelled to make room for it, to prepare for its arrival. For example, after five continuous years of hosting Skaggs Spaghetti Night – we’re calling that to a halt. After too many years of long hours at work, working overtime to get my fledgling business on its feet, I find myself with a fresh commitment to working my day and coming home on time – damn the deadline (which, by the way, has been an unlooked for exercise in simplicity and providence. It’s fascinating how many things actually DON’T need my attention). I’ve been cutting things back, cutting things loose, and deliberately saying no to things that at any other time in my life would have seemed like opportunities.
So as not to seem coy, and retaining my right to say “oops – I was way off” - here’s the shape of what I’m seeing.
It’s a little over the top – I know. But this is what is taking shape in my mind. A group of guys who really take this stuff seriously. Who value brotherhood and community above a promotion that would break this circle. Call it a modern round table. If one can put 1000 to flight, and two can put 10,000 to flight – what can ten men of integrity and honor and courage do?
There’s been a stirring in the church over this very subject, but this isn’t really about ‘the church’ - at least it isn’t about that building you meet in on Sunday. It’s very much about The Body and being very conscious and deliberate about picking up this sword and learning to use it. To become warriors and men of renown – knights.
And not by force of will, but by answering the summons.
This will hurt and be the process of years. This will cost you a great deal – it represents a significant sacrifice - but your life will be saved in the process. More importantly, the lives of your families, your sons in particular, will be rescued form this grey, flat, lifeless thing we’ve come to call modern American life. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be truly challenged once in a while? To actually have something actually on the line? To live a life of fullness where neighbors say ‘I want what that guy has. He is so ALIVE!”
And while the core of this thing is about Jesus, it’s not just about prayer. It’s not “Let’s stop to the throne room of heaven brother!” - it’s real live dirt and mud and blood. Learn to fight – for real. Swing a real sword so you know what’s like. We’re talking about life and death here – both spiritual AND physical. We love God with our whole spirit, but also our whole mind and our whole body.
Listen to me :: There will be men who read this post, even men who have never read my blog before, who will understand this call is for them. This idea won’t be new to them – it will be only an articulation of something that has been smoldering in their chests for months, maybe even years. The mind will yell “Yes! That’s it!”
I don’t know where this will go – I’m only trying to be obedient to the call on my heart as I understand it – invite.
And let me also offer this caution. Many are called, but few are chosen. The immediate invitation is this – come. Yes – I mean move your family, your job, your life. Come if you’re certain of God’s call and I know some of you are. But for many, many others the invitation is different – start something. Ask God about your own group of men that surround you. Surely this invitation is only one of many – there is no shortage of need for men who will step up and swing the bat. This will not bee the only such group to be formed. I have to trust God that He will hand pick the men for this group that he has in mind, but for others, others for whom the idea feels like a tug on their guts, raise a flag and see who salutes.
For me, I’ll wait and see who answers.
There’s something gathering at the edge of my vision – a dim outline of something that still lacks details or texture or color, but it seems to be increasingly vivid in the last few weeks. It’s a vision, I think, of where God will be moving me in the near to mid future, an assignment of sorts. As I’ve started to sense this approaching thing, sniffing for it on the wind, I find myself compelled to make room for it, to prepare for its arrival. For example, after five continuous years of hosting Skaggs Spaghetti Night – we’re calling that to a halt. After too many years of long hours at work, working overtime to get my fledgling business on its feet, I find myself with a fresh commitment to working my day and coming home on time – damn the deadline (which, by the way, has been an unlooked for exercise in simplicity and providence. It’s fascinating how many things actually DON’T need my attention). I’ve been cutting things back, cutting things loose, and deliberately saying no to things that at any other time in my life would have seemed like opportunities.
So as not to seem coy, and retaining my right to say “oops – I was way off” - here’s the shape of what I’m seeing.
- I’m seeing a group of men - a small group, probably no more than ten.
- All of them peers, so men of roughly the same age and stage of life.
- All of them ‘Servants of the Secret Fire’ as Gandalf says – Christians of deep and sincere commitment to our Father and His Son.
- Men who excel at their profession, who have achieved a degree of success by virtue of the fact that their hearts are truly engaged in their work and the work is truly submitted to God. Whether that be ministry or middle management, potter or policeman – what matters is passion. And I’m not talking about success as the world measures it but rather that spiritual contentment that he is where God placed him and his labor is an offering.
- These men recognize and accept the burden of leadership that they are called to. They have heard God’s call to their hearts to be bigger – to be more – whether that be leading their own families to God’s throne or leading a nation to the same place, these men know deep in their core that God has called them to more than punching a clock.
- And this is critical – these men understand that they will study war that their sons might study wisdom. They take up this mantle, this covenant with one another, for the express purpose of making their sons mighty men of God.
It’s a little over the top – I know. But this is what is taking shape in my mind. A group of guys who really take this stuff seriously. Who value brotherhood and community above a promotion that would break this circle. Call it a modern round table. If one can put 1000 to flight, and two can put 10,000 to flight – what can ten men of integrity and honor and courage do?
There’s been a stirring in the church over this very subject, but this isn’t really about ‘the church’ - at least it isn’t about that building you meet in on Sunday. It’s very much about The Body and being very conscious and deliberate about picking up this sword and learning to use it. To become warriors and men of renown – knights.
And not by force of will, but by answering the summons.
This will hurt and be the process of years. This will cost you a great deal – it represents a significant sacrifice - but your life will be saved in the process. More importantly, the lives of your families, your sons in particular, will be rescued form this grey, flat, lifeless thing we’ve come to call modern American life. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be truly challenged once in a while? To actually have something actually on the line? To live a life of fullness where neighbors say ‘I want what that guy has. He is so ALIVE!”
And while the core of this thing is about Jesus, it’s not just about prayer. It’s not “Let’s stop to the throne room of heaven brother!” - it’s real live dirt and mud and blood. Learn to fight – for real. Swing a real sword so you know what’s like. We’re talking about life and death here – both spiritual AND physical. We love God with our whole spirit, but also our whole mind and our whole body.
Listen to me :: There will be men who read this post, even men who have never read my blog before, who will understand this call is for them. This idea won’t be new to them – it will be only an articulation of something that has been smoldering in their chests for months, maybe even years. The mind will yell “Yes! That’s it!”
I don’t know where this will go – I’m only trying to be obedient to the call on my heart as I understand it – invite.
And let me also offer this caution. Many are called, but few are chosen. The immediate invitation is this – come. Yes – I mean move your family, your job, your life. Come if you’re certain of God’s call and I know some of you are. But for many, many others the invitation is different – start something. Ask God about your own group of men that surround you. Surely this invitation is only one of many – there is no shortage of need for men who will step up and swing the bat. This will not bee the only such group to be formed. I have to trust God that He will hand pick the men for this group that he has in mind, but for others, others for whom the idea feels like a tug on their guts, raise a flag and see who salutes.
For me, I’ll wait and see who answers.
09 March 2006
Conversations With Lewis
See: http://mysterycycles.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-admit-it-i-hate-islam.html
Whenever I tell my story, or ‘testimony’ in High Christianeese, I give a lot of credit to C.S. Lewis and 1994 (the year, not the book) for bringing me into the kingdom. I consider myself a rational, intelligent person and my intellect presented any number of barriers to my faith. I had innumerable questions about dates and ages and genealogies and on and on and on. Miracles, and resurrections and such were just so much superstition cloaked as something more important as far as I was concerned.
What’s interesting is that I would have called myself a Christian at that time if you had asked. But you see, I was a ‘thinking Christian’ not one of those min-numb robots who takes everything with blind faith. I was interested in the compelling similarities between Jesus’ teachings and those of Buddha, I had an enlightened, modern relationship with an intelligent girl that I lived with. I knew that responsible use of mind altering substances was actually a holy rite in several ancient religions and that laws prohibiting such things were either Republican attacks on my freedom by blue haired old ladies in New England, or an unfortunate necessity to address the problems of the irresponsible users. I knew that God was everywhere so there was no need to go to church, besides I’d almost certainly wind up running into some intolerant Bible-thumper. In hindsight, I was willing to call myself a Christian because that sounded kinda cool and I guess I did believe, at least, that God and Jesus were real – but it was like recognizing the Prime Minister of England on TV. My impression was based more on disjointed, occasional headlines than anything else. And since he really doesn’t have any kind of authority over me then what he thought or said was only interesting insofar as I agreed with Him, and could use his quote to win an argument and look clever.
For all those years, and many before then, Lewis’ Mere Christianity had sat on my bookshelf. I had read it years ago, found it interesting, but then moved on to some foul tome by Allister Crowley (Yeah, I had an occult phase) but eventually settled into a pretty steady diet of Discover, the History Channel, and Nova. I loved science literature and I considered myself a man of science. Toward the end of 1994 my squadron, VAW-114, moved over to CV-63 and I spent the next six months at sea. Despite what you might think about the Navy, you know the phrase ‘It’s not just a job. It’s an adventure!” - well most of the time it’s just a job, and even being at sea is little different in many ways. We work 12 hour shifts 7 days a week and there is simply NOT that much to do to fill those hours. Since I was on the night shift for much of that time, there were many, many nights in that six months where I was all caught up and I went wandering around the Kitty Hawk. On that ship, there are many rooms! Off the flight deck there were huge nets suspended 90 feet off the water – I often crawled out onto one of those nets and watched miles and miles of dark ocean slip beneath me. But other times, I’d roll on my back and stare up at up a sky so crowded with stars that I would audibly gasp. It was in those moments in particular that I had the time and the space to ask sincerely, “God? Are you really there? Is this Jesus thing for real?”...and He answered.
In that time, I devoured every book in the ship’s library on Christianity, particularly those by Lewis, and particularly Mere Christianity. That one book speaks directly to so many of the intellectual challenges I had to the faith. It was candid, but unapologetic. It was lucid and intelligent without becoming sophistry.
It was exactly what I needed to hear.
And it quite literally changed my life.
But as I mentioned, it wasn’t the first time I had read that book. Come to think of it, it probably wasn’t the second time either. Mere Christianity is one of those books that well meaning concerned Christians give to friends they’re worried about – so I’m sure somebody had offered the book to me as a gift in more than one occasion.
Had the book changed? Had the current edition been somehow improved from my older paperbacks? Not at all. Lewis’ rationale was exactly the same it had been for the previous 50 years. His logic was no sharper, his arguments no more weighty, his prose no more eloquent. It was the same book – it was event the same freaking paperback with the powder blue cover and sailors before me had dog-eared about every other page for their own mysterious reasons.
What had changed was me.
What had passed was time.
What had grown was détente.
In the simplest terms, I had come to a place and time where I was willing to listen. For crying out loud, I really didn’t have anything better to do, so I asked questions and God answered.
Prior to that trip, listening wasn’t what I was up to – I would have argued with you if you had suggested otherwise, and effectively, but in truth I was really only interested in raising a defense of my own ego, my own way of doing things, and my own draws to sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Not that I was some mad party freak, I was a relatively normal guy, but the point was that I knew what I wanted and it was important to me to defend that state against anyone or anything that challenged it. My worldview HAD to be right because so much of my existence hung on it. I wouldn’t have been able to put it to words at the time, but my guts knew that Christ’s call was truly to put all of that to death and that part of me was not going down without a fight.
Twelve years later, I’m still subscribed to Discover, and Wired and I love anything technology related. I’m such a nerd. But more and more I consider myself a man of faith – and I hope to grow in that space still more. I see faith as more powerful than knowledge now, more instructive, and ultimately more real. Some of those changes came through academic study – admittedly, a study of faith might seem like a contradiction, but history is littered with men and women like Lewis – wildly intelligent, sharp as tacks, and sold out totally for our Risen Lord – their stories and writings are fascinating. But it was Lewis who was there when I needed him, and I plan to get in the long line of folks who want to shake his hand in heaven.
But what has all this got to do with Devin?
Almost two months ago a pretty lengthy debate erupted on Devin’s site and I’ve been thinking a lot about it. The very long thread was characterized by one fellow who generally argued from the rationalist/materialist viewpoint and a number of Christians who tried to argue from a more Bible-based/Creationist viewpoint. But despite very well reasoned and very well documented posts on both sides – nobody was moving. It wasn’t quite like a stalemate because at least both players in a stalemate recognize the situation. It was more like the battle between the Merimac and the Monitor. Cannonball after cannonball fired with skill and accuracy, only to bounce off the ship’s iron hide. The thread eventually ended from exhaustion, not because anybody was able to make their point. And this battle royale got me thinking.
The word says “See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deception according to the traditions of men, according to the elementary principles of the world.” Col 2:8
As I watched Devin and Michael in particular raise a valiant defense, and as Kham countered them in his own way, I saw that the best intentions of both were playing against them.
Let me just say for the record - I‘m certain that Kham is nobody’s fool. He’s clearly well read and intelligent – but I do think that he’s dead wrong. What’s more, I think that his error may someday cost him his eternal soul – and that’s a huge thing. A gigantic motivator to convince him of the profound truth I’ve been made aware of.
Likewise, I fully understand the motivations of both Michael and Devin. They want to see Kham rescued from a prison he doesn’t even know he’s in. It’s like Morpheus meeting Neo for the first time. Will you take the blue pill or the red pill – without question, Morpheus could have just yanked Neo from his little pod without all that drama, but it would have killed him. Neo had to be willing – he had to be ready.
I’ll answer any question that anybody asks about anything – once. I love all the science, all the philosophy, all the intellectual gymnastics and Christianity has a wonderful body of deep, deep thinking to draw from. But I’m not interested in arguing with somebody whop just wants to argue. Because at that point it’s not about the logic, or the facts – it’s about the heart. It’s not for lack of reason that a person resists God , it’s anger, or fear, or pride, or whatever happens to drive that person, and in those case my argumentation is bad for both of us.
When I get in a conversation where I can’t even share fundamental notions about truth with my opponent, we literally have no common ground. Since he thinks I’m a kook already, everything I say – EVERYTHING, just sounds like foolishness. He rejects the very foundations of my thinking as ignorant, or parochial so every time I open my mouth it only reinforces his preconception. In other words – all my high reason only acts to drive us apart or worse yet, drives this man away from Christ. Even more insidious is the unfortunate fact that I’m likely to behave the same way. The fact of the matter is that Kham’s argumentation was beginning to tick me off. From where I stood, Mike and Devin were writing excellent responses to his questions but he would sweep them away with a comment that amounted to “Since you’re a Christian, everything you say, every source you cite, every thought you have is polluted with ignorance. So I won’t bother to address anything that you just said.” With a little distance, I see that what I’m really bothered by is the fact that he got under my skin.
All of this is because a man doesn’t come to God through reason, he comes because he’s called...and he responds in his heart.
A few more relevant quotes:
But aside from my contention that such conversation actually do harm for both parties, I think there is a bigger issue – these zero-sum engagements sap our strength, divert our attention, and devour resources. In short – the enemy is able to tie up a gigantic amount of time and energy that dissipates into nothing at best, anger, pride, and broken fellowship at worst.
How many thousands of words were spent on that thread? Slater the Younger said something along the lines of ‘As long as we’re talking about Jesus then it’s all worth it.’ But, with respect Chris, I think that’s naïve. It’s the kind of statement that seems unassailable on its face, so obviously true and wise that nobody would question it – but it doesn’t really mean anything at all - it’s not truth. Here’s another line like it: ‘Go in peace! Be well fed!”...and yet we do nothing to actually help the circumstances of those we bless.
If that thread continued today – with still more dueling facts that rise in ever blooming arcs of eloquence and subtlety...but nobody budges – is that truly worth it? What if continued for another three months – would it still be worth it? For that matter is it worth anything at all, to either side? I’ll tell you one thing, it would be worth it to the enemy. He would have successfully benched two major players (Devin and Michael) for all those hours with what amounts to sand in their eyes. How many real ministry opportunities would those two miss in that time? How many cycles in those brains would have been spent fighting a battle that was unwinable?
Do we leave the 99 to rescue the 1? Of course we do!
But we are called not only to be gentle as lambs, but as shrewd as serpents. We have to have the presence of mind to see a red herring for what it is so we can get back to the field quickly. If this truly is a war people – and I think it is – we can’t lose to something as boring as attrition.
I’m not ever going to talk somebody into the kingdom – ever.
But I can, and have, waste a lot of precious time – mine and theirs - trying.
Whenever I tell my story, or ‘testimony’ in High Christianeese, I give a lot of credit to C.S. Lewis and 1994 (the year, not the book) for bringing me into the kingdom. I consider myself a rational, intelligent person and my intellect presented any number of barriers to my faith. I had innumerable questions about dates and ages and genealogies and on and on and on. Miracles, and resurrections and such were just so much superstition cloaked as something more important as far as I was concerned.
What’s interesting is that I would have called myself a Christian at that time if you had asked. But you see, I was a ‘thinking Christian’ not one of those min-numb robots who takes everything with blind faith. I was interested in the compelling similarities between Jesus’ teachings and those of Buddha, I had an enlightened, modern relationship with an intelligent girl that I lived with. I knew that responsible use of mind altering substances was actually a holy rite in several ancient religions and that laws prohibiting such things were either Republican attacks on my freedom by blue haired old ladies in New England, or an unfortunate necessity to address the problems of the irresponsible users. I knew that God was everywhere so there was no need to go to church, besides I’d almost certainly wind up running into some intolerant Bible-thumper. In hindsight, I was willing to call myself a Christian because that sounded kinda cool and I guess I did believe, at least, that God and Jesus were real – but it was like recognizing the Prime Minister of England on TV. My impression was based more on disjointed, occasional headlines than anything else. And since he really doesn’t have any kind of authority over me then what he thought or said was only interesting insofar as I agreed with Him, and could use his quote to win an argument and look clever.
For all those years, and many before then, Lewis’ Mere Christianity had sat on my bookshelf. I had read it years ago, found it interesting, but then moved on to some foul tome by Allister Crowley (Yeah, I had an occult phase) but eventually settled into a pretty steady diet of Discover, the History Channel, and Nova. I loved science literature and I considered myself a man of science. Toward the end of 1994 my squadron, VAW-114, moved over to CV-63 and I spent the next six months at sea. Despite what you might think about the Navy, you know the phrase ‘It’s not just a job. It’s an adventure!” - well most of the time it’s just a job, and even being at sea is little different in many ways. We work 12 hour shifts 7 days a week and there is simply NOT that much to do to fill those hours. Since I was on the night shift for much of that time, there were many, many nights in that six months where I was all caught up and I went wandering around the Kitty Hawk. On that ship, there are many rooms! Off the flight deck there were huge nets suspended 90 feet off the water – I often crawled out onto one of those nets and watched miles and miles of dark ocean slip beneath me. But other times, I’d roll on my back and stare up at up a sky so crowded with stars that I would audibly gasp. It was in those moments in particular that I had the time and the space to ask sincerely, “God? Are you really there? Is this Jesus thing for real?”...and He answered.
In that time, I devoured every book in the ship’s library on Christianity, particularly those by Lewis, and particularly Mere Christianity. That one book speaks directly to so many of the intellectual challenges I had to the faith. It was candid, but unapologetic. It was lucid and intelligent without becoming sophistry.
It was exactly what I needed to hear.
And it quite literally changed my life.
But as I mentioned, it wasn’t the first time I had read that book. Come to think of it, it probably wasn’t the second time either. Mere Christianity is one of those books that well meaning concerned Christians give to friends they’re worried about – so I’m sure somebody had offered the book to me as a gift in more than one occasion.
Had the book changed? Had the current edition been somehow improved from my older paperbacks? Not at all. Lewis’ rationale was exactly the same it had been for the previous 50 years. His logic was no sharper, his arguments no more weighty, his prose no more eloquent. It was the same book – it was event the same freaking paperback with the powder blue cover and sailors before me had dog-eared about every other page for their own mysterious reasons.
What had changed was me.
What had passed was time.
What had grown was détente.
In the simplest terms, I had come to a place and time where I was willing to listen. For crying out loud, I really didn’t have anything better to do, so I asked questions and God answered.
Prior to that trip, listening wasn’t what I was up to – I would have argued with you if you had suggested otherwise, and effectively, but in truth I was really only interested in raising a defense of my own ego, my own way of doing things, and my own draws to sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Not that I was some mad party freak, I was a relatively normal guy, but the point was that I knew what I wanted and it was important to me to defend that state against anyone or anything that challenged it. My worldview HAD to be right because so much of my existence hung on it. I wouldn’t have been able to put it to words at the time, but my guts knew that Christ’s call was truly to put all of that to death and that part of me was not going down without a fight.
Twelve years later, I’m still subscribed to Discover, and Wired and I love anything technology related. I’m such a nerd. But more and more I consider myself a man of faith – and I hope to grow in that space still more. I see faith as more powerful than knowledge now, more instructive, and ultimately more real. Some of those changes came through academic study – admittedly, a study of faith might seem like a contradiction, but history is littered with men and women like Lewis – wildly intelligent, sharp as tacks, and sold out totally for our Risen Lord – their stories and writings are fascinating. But it was Lewis who was there when I needed him, and I plan to get in the long line of folks who want to shake his hand in heaven.
But what has all this got to do with Devin?
Almost two months ago a pretty lengthy debate erupted on Devin’s site and I’ve been thinking a lot about it. The very long thread was characterized by one fellow who generally argued from the rationalist/materialist viewpoint and a number of Christians who tried to argue from a more Bible-based/Creationist viewpoint. But despite very well reasoned and very well documented posts on both sides – nobody was moving. It wasn’t quite like a stalemate because at least both players in a stalemate recognize the situation. It was more like the battle between the Merimac and the Monitor. Cannonball after cannonball fired with skill and accuracy, only to bounce off the ship’s iron hide. The thread eventually ended from exhaustion, not because anybody was able to make their point. And this battle royale got me thinking.
The word says “See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deception according to the traditions of men, according to the elementary principles of the world.” Col 2:8
As I watched Devin and Michael in particular raise a valiant defense, and as Kham countered them in his own way, I saw that the best intentions of both were playing against them.
Let me just say for the record - I‘m certain that Kham is nobody’s fool. He’s clearly well read and intelligent – but I do think that he’s dead wrong. What’s more, I think that his error may someday cost him his eternal soul – and that’s a huge thing. A gigantic motivator to convince him of the profound truth I’ve been made aware of.
Likewise, I fully understand the motivations of both Michael and Devin. They want to see Kham rescued from a prison he doesn’t even know he’s in. It’s like Morpheus meeting Neo for the first time. Will you take the blue pill or the red pill – without question, Morpheus could have just yanked Neo from his little pod without all that drama, but it would have killed him. Neo had to be willing – he had to be ready.
I’ll answer any question that anybody asks about anything – once. I love all the science, all the philosophy, all the intellectual gymnastics and Christianity has a wonderful body of deep, deep thinking to draw from. But I’m not interested in arguing with somebody whop just wants to argue. Because at that point it’s not about the logic, or the facts – it’s about the heart. It’s not for lack of reason that a person resists God , it’s anger, or fear, or pride, or whatever happens to drive that person, and in those case my argumentation is bad for both of us.
When I get in a conversation where I can’t even share fundamental notions about truth with my opponent, we literally have no common ground. Since he thinks I’m a kook already, everything I say – EVERYTHING, just sounds like foolishness. He rejects the very foundations of my thinking as ignorant, or parochial so every time I open my mouth it only reinforces his preconception. In other words – all my high reason only acts to drive us apart or worse yet, drives this man away from Christ. Even more insidious is the unfortunate fact that I’m likely to behave the same way. The fact of the matter is that Kham’s argumentation was beginning to tick me off. From where I stood, Mike and Devin were writing excellent responses to his questions but he would sweep them away with a comment that amounted to “Since you’re a Christian, everything you say, every source you cite, every thought you have is polluted with ignorance. So I won’t bother to address anything that you just said.” With a little distance, I see that what I’m really bothered by is the fact that he got under my skin.
All of this is because a man doesn’t come to God through reason, he comes because he’s called...and he responds in his heart.
A few more relevant quotes:
- “...I say [that Christ is preeminent] in order that no one may delude you with persuasive argument.” Col 2:4
- “Remind them of these things [that we died with Christ], and solemnly charge them in the presence of God not to wrangle about words, which is useless, and leads to the ruin of the hearers. Be diligent to present yourself approved to God as a workman who does not need to be ashamed, handling accurately the word of truth. But avoid empty and worldly chatter, for it will lead to further ungodliness and their talk will spread like a gangrene.” 2 Tim 2:14-17
- “Do not throw your pearls before [folks who aren’t interested in pearls anyway] lest they trample them underfoot, then turn and tear you to pieces.” Matt 7:6
- “He who corrects a scoffer gets dishonor for himself” - Prov 9:7
But aside from my contention that such conversation actually do harm for both parties, I think there is a bigger issue – these zero-sum engagements sap our strength, divert our attention, and devour resources. In short – the enemy is able to tie up a gigantic amount of time and energy that dissipates into nothing at best, anger, pride, and broken fellowship at worst.
How many thousands of words were spent on that thread? Slater the Younger said something along the lines of ‘As long as we’re talking about Jesus then it’s all worth it.’ But, with respect Chris, I think that’s naïve. It’s the kind of statement that seems unassailable on its face, so obviously true and wise that nobody would question it – but it doesn’t really mean anything at all - it’s not truth. Here’s another line like it: ‘Go in peace! Be well fed!”...and yet we do nothing to actually help the circumstances of those we bless.
If that thread continued today – with still more dueling facts that rise in ever blooming arcs of eloquence and subtlety...but nobody budges – is that truly worth it? What if continued for another three months – would it still be worth it? For that matter is it worth anything at all, to either side? I’ll tell you one thing, it would be worth it to the enemy. He would have successfully benched two major players (Devin and Michael) for all those hours with what amounts to sand in their eyes. How many real ministry opportunities would those two miss in that time? How many cycles in those brains would have been spent fighting a battle that was unwinable?
Do we leave the 99 to rescue the 1? Of course we do!
But we are called not only to be gentle as lambs, but as shrewd as serpents. We have to have the presence of mind to see a red herring for what it is so we can get back to the field quickly. If this truly is a war people – and I think it is – we can’t lose to something as boring as attrition.
I’m not ever going to talk somebody into the kingdom – ever.
But I can, and have, waste a lot of precious time – mine and theirs - trying.
21 February 2006
On contentment
The other night I went to a fundraiser where two musical acts performed to raise money for a local charity. The first was Lori Willcuts, a local Christian/Country/Folk singer. I’ve had the pleasure to get to know Lori a bit because we work on her website and she’s one the sweetest, most genuine folks I know. More to the point I wanted to make – she a great musician and I really enjoy her music. Besides Lori, or after Lori as the case may be, came a gospel singer who’s name escapes me. This woman had an incredible voice. Her specialty is singing gospel and soul music standards with those remarkable pipes and wow!
So I’m sitting there enjoying this second woman’s performance and I find myself thinking about Lori Willcuts, who presumably is lurking off stage, hearing what I’m hearing. For a moment I imagine Lori, the wonderful musician that she is, watching this woman and close to tears. She’s thinking, “Who am I kidding? I can’t sing. THAT’S singing. How can I possibly compete with that.” And in a flash I see Lori abandoning her fifteen year effort, throwing her guitar in a dumpster and finally deciding if her hair is blonde or brown once and for all.
And as she does, the Devil smiles at the fruit of his labor.
More and more I’m convinced that contentment and satisfaction come almost entirely from simply using the time God gives us, using the talents he gives us, and doing so wholeheartedly. Case in point – even if there were a way to say with scientific certainty that Lori was an inferior singer to this gospel woman, who also sang her heart out for Jesus, the question for Lori in that Great White Throne Room won’t be, “Lori, why couldn’t you sing as well as her?” it will be “Lori, did you sing with all your heart?” and knowing Lori her answer will be “Yes, Lord.”
If this is so, then I suddenly see covetousness as a gigantic problem, and a profound sin. Rather than being thankful for the gifts I have I instead long for others. Neglecting the tools God has equipped me with, I envy the better singer, the better writer, the taller, the balder, the more, the less...the other.
About five years ago (I’m guessing, so give or take two years) I remember being pretty timid about singing in church. I wanted to worship “undistracted, unrestrained” as the song says but I “knew” I had a less than pleasant voice so I kept pretty quiet, singing mostly under my breath. I remember running across the verse about being faithful with little things and got the distinct impression that God was inviting me to sing – and if I did he would teach me how to sing better. Slowly but surely I found my spine – ugly or not I started to find the courage to nothing more complicated than raising my voice and soon I was having a great time! Hell, I couldn’t hear myself, I hadn’t really learning how to do that, but I was having a lot more fun. (Which totally transformed worship for me by the way...but that’s another story)
One day after the singing was over and we were doing the compulsory ‘say hi to the stranger next to you’ thing the woman in front of me turned around with this huge smile and shook my hand. “Praise God for your wonderful voice.” she said. I looked at her with one of those ‘Are you talking to me?” looks and she went on to say how my singing had made her feel. The experience still seems a little surreal to me in memory but it was this odd affirmation of something that I was kinda struggling with. Today, I’m a regular singer with our church worship team and it’s AWESOME! And let me be clear on something, it’s not that I somehow grew a great voice in that time. Rather I offered my mediocre voice to God and he made the most of it, and those days where I’m singing with my church and the Spirit it cutting loose – there couldn’t be anything more precious, more fulfilling!
OK – back to the point. Use what you have. Better yet, offer what you have to God and watch HIM use it. I never learned to sing well – I just sing from my heart, that’s what I learned. I realize that there is a fine line here as well. There certainly isn’t anything wrong with ambition and striving for excellence, but that’s different than coveting.
I reckon the other big stumbling block is fear. There is a great line from Dune – ‘fear is the mind killer’ Fear is probably a bigger problem for most folks than covetousness but it’s also less subtle – easier to recognize. Fear of failure, fear of success, fear of not knowing what to do next – all these things keep us from reaching our potential. God’s call to us so often includes an adventure of some kind and when that happens fears can roll in like a flood.
Remember that parable about the three servants and the master’s talent? It was fear that kept the third servant from doing anything with the money – he just buries it. When the master returns the servant says “I know you a hard man...so I buried the money.” That poor scrub gets thrown into the outer darkness – and for what? For playing it safe. I confess, that has always sounded pretty darn unfair to me. The servant didn’t steal the money, or squander it like the prodigal son. All he does is stick it in the mattress and he winds up in the teeth gnashing. Did you also notice that in Revelation, in the list of people who go into the lake of fire – you know idolaters, sorcerers, murderers – the people at the very top of that list: cowards.
I’ve always read Christ’s “Be anxious for nothing” as an encouragement. Sort of like “everything will be ok – you’ll see.” But I wonder if it shouldn't be seen as more of a command. Taken just as seriously as “Thou shalt have no other God before me” because in a way isn’t that what fear is really about? When I fear, doesn’t it suggest that I’m really not that sure that God’s in charge after all. Or perhaps it hints that I don’t believe God is all that good after all – perhaps he’s capricious, fickle, distant.
Love God.
Know Him and seek his heart – you’ll see that he IS good.
And be yourself – ALL of yourself. Don’t wish you were somebody else, somewhere else, sometime else. Take exactly who you are right now and offer that to the kingdom. Nothing will make you more content and nothing will sooner earn you the accolade “Well done my good and faithful servant.”
So I’m sitting there enjoying this second woman’s performance and I find myself thinking about Lori Willcuts, who presumably is lurking off stage, hearing what I’m hearing. For a moment I imagine Lori, the wonderful musician that she is, watching this woman and close to tears. She’s thinking, “Who am I kidding? I can’t sing. THAT’S singing. How can I possibly compete with that.” And in a flash I see Lori abandoning her fifteen year effort, throwing her guitar in a dumpster and finally deciding if her hair is blonde or brown once and for all.
And as she does, the Devil smiles at the fruit of his labor.
More and more I’m convinced that contentment and satisfaction come almost entirely from simply using the time God gives us, using the talents he gives us, and doing so wholeheartedly. Case in point – even if there were a way to say with scientific certainty that Lori was an inferior singer to this gospel woman, who also sang her heart out for Jesus, the question for Lori in that Great White Throne Room won’t be, “Lori, why couldn’t you sing as well as her?” it will be “Lori, did you sing with all your heart?” and knowing Lori her answer will be “Yes, Lord.”
If this is so, then I suddenly see covetousness as a gigantic problem, and a profound sin. Rather than being thankful for the gifts I have I instead long for others. Neglecting the tools God has equipped me with, I envy the better singer, the better writer, the taller, the balder, the more, the less...the other.
About five years ago (I’m guessing, so give or take two years) I remember being pretty timid about singing in church. I wanted to worship “undistracted, unrestrained” as the song says but I “knew” I had a less than pleasant voice so I kept pretty quiet, singing mostly under my breath. I remember running across the verse about being faithful with little things and got the distinct impression that God was inviting me to sing – and if I did he would teach me how to sing better. Slowly but surely I found my spine – ugly or not I started to find the courage to nothing more complicated than raising my voice and soon I was having a great time! Hell, I couldn’t hear myself, I hadn’t really learning how to do that, but I was having a lot more fun. (Which totally transformed worship for me by the way...but that’s another story)
One day after the singing was over and we were doing the compulsory ‘say hi to the stranger next to you’ thing the woman in front of me turned around with this huge smile and shook my hand. “Praise God for your wonderful voice.” she said. I looked at her with one of those ‘Are you talking to me?” looks and she went on to say how my singing had made her feel. The experience still seems a little surreal to me in memory but it was this odd affirmation of something that I was kinda struggling with. Today, I’m a regular singer with our church worship team and it’s AWESOME! And let me be clear on something, it’s not that I somehow grew a great voice in that time. Rather I offered my mediocre voice to God and he made the most of it, and those days where I’m singing with my church and the Spirit it cutting loose – there couldn’t be anything more precious, more fulfilling!
OK – back to the point. Use what you have. Better yet, offer what you have to God and watch HIM use it. I never learned to sing well – I just sing from my heart, that’s what I learned. I realize that there is a fine line here as well. There certainly isn’t anything wrong with ambition and striving for excellence, but that’s different than coveting.
I reckon the other big stumbling block is fear. There is a great line from Dune – ‘fear is the mind killer’ Fear is probably a bigger problem for most folks than covetousness but it’s also less subtle – easier to recognize. Fear of failure, fear of success, fear of not knowing what to do next – all these things keep us from reaching our potential. God’s call to us so often includes an adventure of some kind and when that happens fears can roll in like a flood.
Remember that parable about the three servants and the master’s talent? It was fear that kept the third servant from doing anything with the money – he just buries it. When the master returns the servant says “I know you a hard man...so I buried the money.” That poor scrub gets thrown into the outer darkness – and for what? For playing it safe. I confess, that has always sounded pretty darn unfair to me. The servant didn’t steal the money, or squander it like the prodigal son. All he does is stick it in the mattress and he winds up in the teeth gnashing. Did you also notice that in Revelation, in the list of people who go into the lake of fire – you know idolaters, sorcerers, murderers – the people at the very top of that list: cowards.
I’ve always read Christ’s “Be anxious for nothing” as an encouragement. Sort of like “everything will be ok – you’ll see.” But I wonder if it shouldn't be seen as more of a command. Taken just as seriously as “Thou shalt have no other God before me” because in a way isn’t that what fear is really about? When I fear, doesn’t it suggest that I’m really not that sure that God’s in charge after all. Or perhaps it hints that I don’t believe God is all that good after all – perhaps he’s capricious, fickle, distant.
Love God.
Know Him and seek his heart – you’ll see that he IS good.
And be yourself – ALL of yourself. Don’t wish you were somebody else, somewhere else, sometime else. Take exactly who you are right now and offer that to the kingdom. Nothing will make you more content and nothing will sooner earn you the accolade “Well done my good and faithful servant.”
07 February 2006
What have I missed?
About a week and a half ago I attended something called “Bootcamp Advanced” It was a follow up to the Wild At Heart themed Bootcamp NW and basically covered the Waking the Dead material.
It seemed to me like that single day was a splash of cold water in my face – bracing, invigorating, kinda shocking. It was like waking up after several months of being asleep at the wheel. I had such a tremendous experience at the Bootcamp in April and God loomed large in the following months. But, perhaps inevitably, life’s daily grind caught up and somewhere I fell back into the rut.
But after Saturday it was like POW! That vividness, that awareness of the things around me, and the knowledge of God’s presence were suddenly there again. The next day I found myself singing in one of the most powerful worship services I’ve ever been in, two days later I’m with my BoB and the Spirit is speaking about big things, then Sunday I wake up knowing that I need to be prepared for that day. I wind up reading a chapter on ‘counsel’ and that morning wind up talking to a single mom who really, really needed to hear some good news.
It’s great to fell God’s hand at your back, but the experience on Sunday really got me thinking. In the last several months, how many divine appointments like that did I miss because I simply wasn’t listening to that still, small voice? How many people around me really needed something, something I was able to give, and didn’t get it?
I’m not feeling condemned or anything like that, I’m just realizing, all over again, something I’ve said to lots of men as a may to get them to take their walk seriously – when we fail to be the men and women God calls us to be, real people suffer. If we really are the hands and feet of Jesus on earth then we need to be sober, vigilant, watchful, or people die – sometimes physically, sometimes eternally.
Father – please help me stay alert and not wander from the shadow of your wings.
It seemed to me like that single day was a splash of cold water in my face – bracing, invigorating, kinda shocking. It was like waking up after several months of being asleep at the wheel. I had such a tremendous experience at the Bootcamp in April and God loomed large in the following months. But, perhaps inevitably, life’s daily grind caught up and somewhere I fell back into the rut.
But after Saturday it was like POW! That vividness, that awareness of the things around me, and the knowledge of God’s presence were suddenly there again. The next day I found myself singing in one of the most powerful worship services I’ve ever been in, two days later I’m with my BoB and the Spirit is speaking about big things, then Sunday I wake up knowing that I need to be prepared for that day. I wind up reading a chapter on ‘counsel’ and that morning wind up talking to a single mom who really, really needed to hear some good news.
It’s great to fell God’s hand at your back, but the experience on Sunday really got me thinking. In the last several months, how many divine appointments like that did I miss because I simply wasn’t listening to that still, small voice? How many people around me really needed something, something I was able to give, and didn’t get it?
I’m not feeling condemned or anything like that, I’m just realizing, all over again, something I’ve said to lots of men as a may to get them to take their walk seriously – when we fail to be the men and women God calls us to be, real people suffer. If we really are the hands and feet of Jesus on earth then we need to be sober, vigilant, watchful, or people die – sometimes physically, sometimes eternally.
Father – please help me stay alert and not wander from the shadow of your wings.
2006 Goals
Just a few New Years Resolutions – a month late – and entered here so interested friends and family can poke me in the ribs over the course of the year to “encourage” me. ;)
- Complete my black belt. I reckon it’s about time to make a solid push to wrap this up. I need to finish fire (Ki) and work my way through wind (Foo). No small feat. I’m told that while wind is the easiest element to grasp intellectually, it’s the hardest to get your body to comply. I continue to really enjoy Ninjutsu, but with the baby coming up I’m doubting I’ll have a lot of time to train. So it’s it’s now...or wait an unknown amount of time.
- Achieve a proper salary for all the monkeys. Really, everybody in Code-Monkeys gets less money than market rate, including myself. In order to do that, and pay all the bills, I figure we need to make about $250k this year – so that’s my goal.
- Spend as little time as possible in front of the TV. That darn thing sucks up way too much time with no return on investment.
- Keep my head in the game – the spiritual warfare game...but more on that in another post.
30 January 2006
The Devil and Sun Tzu Part I
When the enemy strikes at you, look for two lines of attack first and foremost:
Communication:
We cannot afford to be on this battlefield without constant contact with our CIC.
Because this battle is so fluid, so unpredictable, and so delicate, the boots on the ground, Christians, need up to the moment information at all times. This information comes from two main sources:
Bear in mind that these two sources need to work together, neither is complete on its own. As a generalization, we should lean heavily on scripture as we’re learning how this all works. Scripture teaches us the timeless, invaluable principles we need to navigate the long-period ebbs and flows of the battle. For example: “Reprove a fool and you will get only disdain. Reprove a wise man and he will love you.” That’s a good principle on which we can base real world action. It’s the same kind of advice as we get from Sun Tzu in The Art of War, axioms like “When you are weak, appear strong. When you are strong, appear weak.” The advice doesn’t necessarily speak to a specific situation, but rather states a principle that a wise soldier applies as the need arises. But principles will, at best, prevail in a war of attrition. They will fail us when we need more granular guidance. Many, many Christians stall at this phase in their development by relying to heavily on the scriptures – which is rather ironic, because I hope to point out that it’s scripture, not me, that points to the need for something more immediate.
As we mature, as our security clearance is raised, we come to value divine revelation more and more. As our ability to discern God’s voice improves with practice we come to information that is custom tailored to a particular situation. Instead of the principle, “Go the extra mile.” we get “John’s wife was recently diagnosed with cancer and he’s overwhelmed. Help him paint the rest of this new drywall, not just the baby’s room.” It’s also the Holy Spirit that breaks the deadlocks we can find with competing principles. The ‘Good Steward’ principle might tell you that you must take that $100 and put it in your kid’s college fund. But the ‘Good Samaritan’ principle gives that same $100 to your buddy who’s car just dropped dead. But it’s the Holy Spirit that will tell you how to break the tie. The danger to revelation is that we can lean too far out on that branch and lose our balance. We can get so ‘spirit lead’ that we take every whim of our heart to be God’s voice and never look for confirmation in scripture. I can’t tell you how many earnest young men and women at George Fox University find themselves saying “God told me we’re supposed to get married....”
Here are two Scripture stories to illustrate my point. Remember Gideon raising and army? Any military advisor, and good principles of war say that more soldiers is a good thing. So the advice of principle says, “We have 30,000 soldiers – awesome!” But God tells Gideon - “No...you want fewer.” “Huh?” If you remember the story, Gideon’s giant army is eventually pared from 30,000 down to 300 – and he wins. Without his ability, and willingness, to listen to God’s immediate, this-time-only counsel, Gideon would have missed a huge opportunity. Principle, including all his Biblical wisdom, wasn’t enough. Now on the other side, we’ll look at the un-named exorcist in Acts. Caught up in the power of the Holy Spirit, probably way pumped after previous victories, this fellow finds himself face to face with a demon way out of his league. The demon says with disdain, “Jesus I know, and Paul I’ve heard of – but who are you?” The poor fellow then has his ass promptly handed to him. This guy needed to cool his jets and check his targets.
OK – if this is the kind of information we absolutely NEED to fight in this battle, this is exactly the information the enemy will try to keep out of our hands. Without it, we’re just swinging blindly if we’re swinging at all. This is also when we find ourselves on the giving end of friendly fire. So how will the enemy try to break communication?
We we fall into sin our pipe to God’s voice closes down from a fire hose to a water weenie. Now before this goes any farther, I want to be really clear about something. I’m not talking anything condemning here. The reality is that we live in a messy world and the battle is fierce. Sin traps the best soldiers on the battle. We need to be mature and wise on these matters, when sin happens to you you must know the danger you are in and the danger you pose so you can act appropriately. Specifically, don’t teach, don’t pick a fight with spiritual forces, and avoid major decisions. Recognize that you’re flying blind.
While pride is also a sin, I wanted to break it out here as separate issue because it has some unique characteristics. Pride doesn’t make us vulnerable in the way other sin can, instead it makes us stupid. It’s the prideful warrior who breaks formation and goes racing off after the orc scout on his own...right into an ambush. It’s also the prideful warrior who observes his buddy take an arrow and reacts with disdain instead of compassion. It’s the prideful warrior who thinks, “God has placed a powerful anointing on my life and I can face this new challenge just like I did the last dozen.” The first half of that statement might well be true and it’s not prideful to recognize God’s hand in your life, but pride looses track of where the power really comes from – we claim the strength as our own.
Distraction is like that dreadful Gift of the Magi story. It’s the bills, the kids, the career, the soccer games, the Bible studies, the accountability group, the marriage counseling weekend...and when was the last you just sat before God and rested? Our lives can get so crowded with stuff, even really good, valuable, Godly stuff, that we no longer have room for God. It’s like the husband who spends all his days at work to buy nice things for his wife...who only wants to sit and talk to him. Let’s be honest, there’s a lot of pressure to fill our lives with books, and groups, and studies and potlucks. I’m not saying any of those things are bad – but if they crowd out God himself, and the essential down time in His courts – then it’s all nothing. When the crap falls and we recognize that we’ve been operating with no contact to him, this can be a bitter pill – to look back at weeks, months, or years of futility without even the drama and momentary pleasure of some sin tsunami...instead we miss our Gideon moment because we never bothered to pause a moment and ask, “So God, what do you think?”
- Disrupt communication
- Divide and isolate
Communication:
We cannot afford to be on this battlefield without constant contact with our CIC.
Because this battle is so fluid, so unpredictable, and so delicate, the boots on the ground, Christians, need up to the moment information at all times. This information comes from two main sources:
- Scripture
- Revelation through the Holy Spirit
Bear in mind that these two sources need to work together, neither is complete on its own. As a generalization, we should lean heavily on scripture as we’re learning how this all works. Scripture teaches us the timeless, invaluable principles we need to navigate the long-period ebbs and flows of the battle. For example: “Reprove a fool and you will get only disdain. Reprove a wise man and he will love you.” That’s a good principle on which we can base real world action. It’s the same kind of advice as we get from Sun Tzu in The Art of War, axioms like “When you are weak, appear strong. When you are strong, appear weak.” The advice doesn’t necessarily speak to a specific situation, but rather states a principle that a wise soldier applies as the need arises. But principles will, at best, prevail in a war of attrition. They will fail us when we need more granular guidance. Many, many Christians stall at this phase in their development by relying to heavily on the scriptures – which is rather ironic, because I hope to point out that it’s scripture, not me, that points to the need for something more immediate.
As we mature, as our security clearance is raised, we come to value divine revelation more and more. As our ability to discern God’s voice improves with practice we come to information that is custom tailored to a particular situation. Instead of the principle, “Go the extra mile.” we get “John’s wife was recently diagnosed with cancer and he’s overwhelmed. Help him paint the rest of this new drywall, not just the baby’s room.” It’s also the Holy Spirit that breaks the deadlocks we can find with competing principles. The ‘Good Steward’ principle might tell you that you must take that $100 and put it in your kid’s college fund. But the ‘Good Samaritan’ principle gives that same $100 to your buddy who’s car just dropped dead. But it’s the Holy Spirit that will tell you how to break the tie. The danger to revelation is that we can lean too far out on that branch and lose our balance. We can get so ‘spirit lead’ that we take every whim of our heart to be God’s voice and never look for confirmation in scripture. I can’t tell you how many earnest young men and women at George Fox University find themselves saying “God told me we’re supposed to get married....”
Here are two Scripture stories to illustrate my point. Remember Gideon raising and army? Any military advisor, and good principles of war say that more soldiers is a good thing. So the advice of principle says, “We have 30,000 soldiers – awesome!” But God tells Gideon - “No...you want fewer.” “Huh?” If you remember the story, Gideon’s giant army is eventually pared from 30,000 down to 300 – and he wins. Without his ability, and willingness, to listen to God’s immediate, this-time-only counsel, Gideon would have missed a huge opportunity. Principle, including all his Biblical wisdom, wasn’t enough. Now on the other side, we’ll look at the un-named exorcist in Acts. Caught up in the power of the Holy Spirit, probably way pumped after previous victories, this fellow finds himself face to face with a demon way out of his league. The demon says with disdain, “Jesus I know, and Paul I’ve heard of – but who are you?” The poor fellow then has his ass promptly handed to him. This guy needed to cool his jets and check his targets.
OK – if this is the kind of information we absolutely NEED to fight in this battle, this is exactly the information the enemy will try to keep out of our hands. Without it, we’re just swinging blindly if we’re swinging at all. This is also when we find ourselves on the giving end of friendly fire. So how will the enemy try to break communication?
- Sin
- Pride
- Distraction
We we fall into sin our pipe to God’s voice closes down from a fire hose to a water weenie. Now before this goes any farther, I want to be really clear about something. I’m not talking anything condemning here. The reality is that we live in a messy world and the battle is fierce. Sin traps the best soldiers on the battle. We need to be mature and wise on these matters, when sin happens to you you must know the danger you are in and the danger you pose so you can act appropriately. Specifically, don’t teach, don’t pick a fight with spiritual forces, and avoid major decisions. Recognize that you’re flying blind.
While pride is also a sin, I wanted to break it out here as separate issue because it has some unique characteristics. Pride doesn’t make us vulnerable in the way other sin can, instead it makes us stupid. It’s the prideful warrior who breaks formation and goes racing off after the orc scout on his own...right into an ambush. It’s also the prideful warrior who observes his buddy take an arrow and reacts with disdain instead of compassion. It’s the prideful warrior who thinks, “God has placed a powerful anointing on my life and I can face this new challenge just like I did the last dozen.” The first half of that statement might well be true and it’s not prideful to recognize God’s hand in your life, but pride looses track of where the power really comes from – we claim the strength as our own.
Distraction is like that dreadful Gift of the Magi story. It’s the bills, the kids, the career, the soccer games, the Bible studies, the accountability group, the marriage counseling weekend...and when was the last you just sat before God and rested? Our lives can get so crowded with stuff, even really good, valuable, Godly stuff, that we no longer have room for God. It’s like the husband who spends all his days at work to buy nice things for his wife...who only wants to sit and talk to him. Let’s be honest, there’s a lot of pressure to fill our lives with books, and groups, and studies and potlucks. I’m not saying any of those things are bad – but if they crowd out God himself, and the essential down time in His courts – then it’s all nothing. When the crap falls and we recognize that we’ve been operating with no contact to him, this can be a bitter pill – to look back at weeks, months, or years of futility without even the drama and momentary pleasure of some sin tsunami...instead we miss our Gideon moment because we never bothered to pause a moment and ask, “So God, what do you think?”
Rebekah
Seen through the steam of my steeping tea,
she busies herself with a book.
Superimposed on the scene,
mindlessly rolling from finger to thumb,
rests her ring.
A handmade quilt, a lap napping cat,
and lingering strings of Christmas lights
round the corners of my house.
But Rebekah, and only Rebekah,
makes this peace my home.
she busies herself with a book.
Superimposed on the scene,
mindlessly rolling from finger to thumb,
rests her ring.
A handmade quilt, a lap napping cat,
and lingering strings of Christmas lights
round the corners of my house.
But Rebekah, and only Rebekah,
makes this peace my home.
08 January 2006
Thinking About the Weather
See: http://www.breitbart.com/news/2006/01/08/D8F0L3GG4.html
and: http://www.enterprisemission.com/weblog/2005/09/more-support-for-undeclared-global.html
“The Fire of God fell from heaven and burned up the sheep and the servants, and I alone has escaped to tell you.” Job 1:16
Can the Devil control the weather? It may seem like a pretty esoteric question, but I wonder if it isn’t quite relevant. In a culture fixated by the weather, and especially after a year dominated by weather related stories, it may be worth asking who is at the wheel.
In general, we think of the weather as an “act of God.” So much so that this is the official term used by most insurance companies to identify things like lightning strikes and tornados. And certainly, there are lots of scripture references that back this point of view up. The Word regularly points to weather events as evidence of His wrath or mercy. From Elijah’s miraculous drought and rain, to Revelation’s angels holding back the four winds. And yet, that’s not the whole story.
In Job, Satan is apparently able to make fire fall from heaven to kills Job’s flocks and a great wind destroy a house with all of Job’s kids inside. Now admittedly, fire from the sky the sky is not exactly a normal weather event, but the wind is certainly normal enough. And you might notice that Job’s servant reports the fire thing as “The Fire of God.” In his mind too, such an event is God’s pervue only. In fact the central thread in Job revolves around very wise, sincere believers who mistake Satan’s activity as God’s judgment. But wait, there’s more...
“...then He arose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and it became perfectly calm.” Matt 8:26
Did you ever think about this verse – Jesus rebukes the weather. Where I come from you only rebuke someone who is misbehaving, but maybe that’s just me. Was the wind somehow misbehaving? The Word says the disciples were afraid for their lives, so we can guess that the storm was significant, but is it possible that it was some kind of an attack, that in some way the weather had turned against Jesus and his disciples? (which reminds me of the withered fig tree – a story that totally bends my noodle, but I digress...)
We’re told that the Devil is the Prince of the Power of the Air (Eph 2:2). Satan huffs and puffs and blows Job Jr’s house down. Jesus sees something about a storm that isn’t right and commands it to get its act together. It would appear that there’s more to this weather thing than what we se at first glance.
Perhaps the real problem is that we still tend to think of the weather as simply happening instead of seeing it as a process that is constantly unfolding. Despite the 24-hour weather channel and the Doppler 800, we still tend to think of storms or heat waves as discreet events that have an immediate and direct cause. Something ‘happened’ and now we have a tornado.
But let me get back to my original point – can the Devil control the weather? Well there at least seems to be the suggestion that he can influence it given the opportunity, and weather control is one the A-1 Big Time Golden Fleece goals of the modern world. At it’s heart, the entire debate about global warming hinges on weather control - the assertion that the weather and climate CAN be effected directly and that if we accidentally screwed it up in the past, we can deliberately fix it now. Now the global warming question is pretty mainstream as far as that goes, but there are subcultures out there who are far more direct about it. See the link at the top of this page for a guy who claims unspecified agencies in the world are engaged in a secret weather war using fancy weather shaping technology. Opposite the camp that is willing to say weather control is within man’s reach is the crowd who asserts that the weather is specifically and unambiguously in the realm of God. Atop both of these is the increasingly intense focus our media puts on the weather. Hurricane Katrina was recently rated as the biggest story of 2005.
Imagine a man stepping onto this stage who can demonstrate his personal ability to control the weather. Whether by saying the magic words or by pushing buttons on a remote control – how would such a man be seen in today’s world? For a populations increasingly fearful of the next ice storm, or the next heat wave, or the next partly cloudy day, such a person would be seen as something of a savior. For those who already think the weather is controllable with the right tools, here is a leader – a man after their own hearts and aims with the proper tools. For those who insist that the weather responds only to God – they may find themselves with some very difficult choices to make.
“For false Christs and false prophets will arise and will show great signs and wonders, so as to mislead, if possible, even the elect.” Matt 24:24
and: http://www.enterprisemission.com/weblog/2005/09/more-support-for-undeclared-global.html
“The Fire of God fell from heaven and burned up the sheep and the servants, and I alone has escaped to tell you.” Job 1:16
Can the Devil control the weather? It may seem like a pretty esoteric question, but I wonder if it isn’t quite relevant. In a culture fixated by the weather, and especially after a year dominated by weather related stories, it may be worth asking who is at the wheel.
In general, we think of the weather as an “act of God.” So much so that this is the official term used by most insurance companies to identify things like lightning strikes and tornados. And certainly, there are lots of scripture references that back this point of view up. The Word regularly points to weather events as evidence of His wrath or mercy. From Elijah’s miraculous drought and rain, to Revelation’s angels holding back the four winds. And yet, that’s not the whole story.
In Job, Satan is apparently able to make fire fall from heaven to kills Job’s flocks and a great wind destroy a house with all of Job’s kids inside. Now admittedly, fire from the sky the sky is not exactly a normal weather event, but the wind is certainly normal enough. And you might notice that Job’s servant reports the fire thing as “The Fire of God.” In his mind too, such an event is God’s pervue only. In fact the central thread in Job revolves around very wise, sincere believers who mistake Satan’s activity as God’s judgment. But wait, there’s more...
“...then He arose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and it became perfectly calm.” Matt 8:26
Did you ever think about this verse – Jesus rebukes the weather. Where I come from you only rebuke someone who is misbehaving, but maybe that’s just me. Was the wind somehow misbehaving? The Word says the disciples were afraid for their lives, so we can guess that the storm was significant, but is it possible that it was some kind of an attack, that in some way the weather had turned against Jesus and his disciples? (which reminds me of the withered fig tree – a story that totally bends my noodle, but I digress...)
We’re told that the Devil is the Prince of the Power of the Air (Eph 2:2). Satan huffs and puffs and blows Job Jr’s house down. Jesus sees something about a storm that isn’t right and commands it to get its act together. It would appear that there’s more to this weather thing than what we se at first glance.
Perhaps the real problem is that we still tend to think of the weather as simply happening instead of seeing it as a process that is constantly unfolding. Despite the 24-hour weather channel and the Doppler 800, we still tend to think of storms or heat waves as discreet events that have an immediate and direct cause. Something ‘happened’ and now we have a tornado.
But let me get back to my original point – can the Devil control the weather? Well there at least seems to be the suggestion that he can influence it given the opportunity, and weather control is one the A-1 Big Time Golden Fleece goals of the modern world. At it’s heart, the entire debate about global warming hinges on weather control - the assertion that the weather and climate CAN be effected directly and that if we accidentally screwed it up in the past, we can deliberately fix it now. Now the global warming question is pretty mainstream as far as that goes, but there are subcultures out there who are far more direct about it. See the link at the top of this page for a guy who claims unspecified agencies in the world are engaged in a secret weather war using fancy weather shaping technology. Opposite the camp that is willing to say weather control is within man’s reach is the crowd who asserts that the weather is specifically and unambiguously in the realm of God. Atop both of these is the increasingly intense focus our media puts on the weather. Hurricane Katrina was recently rated as the biggest story of 2005.
Imagine a man stepping onto this stage who can demonstrate his personal ability to control the weather. Whether by saying the magic words or by pushing buttons on a remote control – how would such a man be seen in today’s world? For a populations increasingly fearful of the next ice storm, or the next heat wave, or the next partly cloudy day, such a person would be seen as something of a savior. For those who already think the weather is controllable with the right tools, here is a leader – a man after their own hearts and aims with the proper tools. For those who insist that the weather responds only to God – they may find themselves with some very difficult choices to make.
“For false Christs and false prophets will arise and will show great signs and wonders, so as to mislead, if possible, even the elect.” Matt 24:24
31 December 2005
How Arnold Schwarzenegger Screwed Up My Life
“...are you gonna drop the bomb or not?” - Forever Young, Alphaville
I don’t know – I must have been like 14 years old or something. Damon’s parents were at a party and had rented the newest laser disc to keep us boys occupied. A giant naked man looks analytically at the three punkers and speaks in an accent I don’t recognize, “Your clothes. Give them to me. Now.” A terrible, unfeeling thing that looks human, but isn’t human, reaches back from the distant, radiation filled future to destroy a child – no, to prevent a child from ever being born.
One of the truly defining characteristics of my generation, Gen-X, is our inability to make decisions, our unwillingness to commit. We shun organizational structure and programs and we insist that we keep our options open until there is literally no option left but the one we take. Growing up with an unprecedented number of choices to make from which of 129 different coffee drinks to purchase today, to which ‘career’ we’ll pursue...until something better comes along...we see almost every choice not in terms of what a thing is, but instead in terms of what a given choice excludes.
I languished after high school because I was totally unable to pick a major. I lingered at junior college for two years because the idea of actually deciding ‘what I wanted to do with my life’ was terrifying! What if I got it wrong? What if I THOUGHT I wanted to be a writer but only because I’d never taken a fencing class – there could be a whole world out there that I shut out just by declaring a major.
And marriage – forget it! Sure, the idea of finding and marrying my soul mate – my lobster – was a great and heart warming idea...but what if I got it wrong. I couldn’t bear the thought of marrying the ‘wrong’ person only to find myself enduring a loveless marriage and ending up just another datum in the well publicised 50% divorce rate. Probably the only decision that scared me more than marriage was the thought of bearing children.
So instead I just waited. I stalled for several years in my mother’s nest. I avoided finishing school, resting instead on being “a career student.” I had a series of “serious” girlfriends. I wasn’t willing to appear fickle or promiscuous, so these relationships were always at least a year long, but while I think all of these women were in earnest about their willingness to marry, or at least consider marriage, I think I always knew that I was incapable of making that choice (in short I was an asshole). I remember once there was a pregnancy scare and the deepest cry of my heart at that moment was relief. Two of my greatest sources of anxiety, who to marry and when to have kids, had been made for me! It wasn’t like a new pressure suddenly appeared on my shoulders but rather that two huge ones had been removed. When if turned out to be a mistake, the period was just late, I was disappointed – and not because I had glimpsed my child’s eye and now saw that gaze fading away, but because I was back to that old uncomfortable ‘maybe.’ Wanting to BE married, but unwilling to GET married.
Hoping that something outside of myself would make my choices clear, sitting still, becalmed in the fog of my life was better than risking running aground on the rocks that might be ahead, and standing still was far, far better than actively approaching the apocalyptic future I knew to be inevitable.
I’m told that my parents used to have nuclear war drills in school, where the sirens would wail and all the Buster Brown wearing kids would duck under their desks. By the time I was in school, knowing that the missiles were coming meant walking out to the Rim and waiting for Norton Air Force base, a mile below us, to go up in a mushroom cloud. Hide under my desk? Attempt to survive? Fuck that noise! I wanted to be fuel for the first fireball and not fighting with mutants for the last dented can of creamed corn. Let me put it more succinctly.
There was no future worth having.
As I grew up, nuclear holocaust was a foregone conclusion. It wasn’t if, but when. And it really had nothing to do with what anybody did – it wasn’t anybody’s fault – it was just going to happen. Sooner or later somebody with a key and a death-wish would launch one little missile, it didn’t matter whether it was Soviet or American, and that would be that. Mutually Assured Destruction was the term – and it said all there was to say – my destruction was assured. Even if somehow the nukes didn’t get us, the pollution would. If it wasn’t the pollution, it was the ice age. If not the ice age, it was the fragging androids. Movies like Blade Runner and The Day After painted a sickeningly dark – but deeply believable picture of what I had to look forward to. And The Terminator, probably more than anything else, was the catalyst for my nightmares.
The movie is set not in the skull strewn future that the robot comes from, but in the sunny, bustling world of modern LA. When Reese explains who he is he says he’s from “one of many possible futures.” It’s not that Judgment Day is inevitable, but it is so powerful, so charged with emotion and blood and stainless steel, that it reaches back into the 80’s, my every day, and literally creates itself. Sarah’s raw, instinctual drive to do nothing more complicated than save her own life, is what actually dooms her and the world. One simple woman, doing only what she thinks is right, kills everybody.
The suggestion is that things might have been different. If she had only given in – not fought so hard – her death, her submission, would have prevented that particular future for ever coming to be. All options were bad options, but some were worse.
All futures were miserable futures. That was my childhood and adolescence. No wonder I grew up unwilling to make any sort of decision. Any choice heavier than what to have form breakfast meant having an eye on the future and I wretched at what I saw there. So instead I chose to do nothing – hoping against hope that some escape would open up. When the Berlin Wall came down I was more perplexed than excited. I can’t say that it seemed too good to be true, because it didn’t really seem ‘good’ to me at the time. Better than a poke in the eye – sure – but I really couldn’t understand what it meant.
It took no less than a decade for that event to bloom in my heart as hope. It was that long before dystopian visions of the future like The Matrix felt like warnings instead of prescriptions. It took those years to unlearn my anxiety, to look out ahead of myself and plan.
I look today at this war on terror and even the nuclear threat represented by Iran or North Korea, even China, and find myself wondering at the hand wringing. From my perspective, even the worst possible scenario – say a half-dozen nukes in major cities and 50 million people vaporized – is so much less, by a factor of 100, then what I grew up assuming to be inescapable. As grim as the possibilities are today I’m filled not with a sense of what WILL be, but rather what CAN be.
It’s sort of ironic that as my faith in Christ has grown, and with it my faith that the “real” apocalypse is coming in time, that my hope for the future – my future – grows ever brighter. And not for some morbid sense that I’ll be on the right side of that coming equation but because I’ve come to understand love – love that “hopeth all things” – even hope that there is joy and life and contentment in my future, and that of my children.
That hope allows me to choose, allows me to commit, allows me to move.
It was on Easter Sunday, the celebration of life’s victory over death, in the year 2000 that I proposed to my wife. The hysteria and subsequent non-event of the Millennium was the last nail in that coffin of wicked anticipation. Rebekah was the first woman that I felt like I had pursued as opposed to being pursued. I had just graduated from George Fox University – with a major in history, and with honors. I had recently begun my first ‘career’ as a web developer and less than a year later I would purchase my very first house.
I feel now that Hamlet was right. “To be, or not to be...that is the question.” Wandering in the world without purpose, without vision, without action we become like the vampires we seem so enamored with; neither alive nor dead, just there – sucking the life from everything we encounter. Not immortal, but a-mortal. And yet for most of us, life happens anyway. We fall in love despite ourselves. We bear children often on accident, jobs become careers by virtue of how long we stall there.
This change of heart has lead to some unexpected consequences in my life. Not only am I willing to seek things; love, success, my Lord, but it’s also made me willing to risk those same things – to take a loan against my home to start a business for instance. It’s not that I’m sure of my success, but rather I’m sure my ability to get up again if I fail. This is NOT my last chance, and even it it were so the hell what?
So if I’ve learned one thing – forget what lays behind. Strive toward what lays ahead. Press on.
I don’t know – I must have been like 14 years old or something. Damon’s parents were at a party and had rented the newest laser disc to keep us boys occupied. A giant naked man looks analytically at the three punkers and speaks in an accent I don’t recognize, “Your clothes. Give them to me. Now.” A terrible, unfeeling thing that looks human, but isn’t human, reaches back from the distant, radiation filled future to destroy a child – no, to prevent a child from ever being born.
One of the truly defining characteristics of my generation, Gen-X, is our inability to make decisions, our unwillingness to commit. We shun organizational structure and programs and we insist that we keep our options open until there is literally no option left but the one we take. Growing up with an unprecedented number of choices to make from which of 129 different coffee drinks to purchase today, to which ‘career’ we’ll pursue...until something better comes along...we see almost every choice not in terms of what a thing is, but instead in terms of what a given choice excludes.
I languished after high school because I was totally unable to pick a major. I lingered at junior college for two years because the idea of actually deciding ‘what I wanted to do with my life’ was terrifying! What if I got it wrong? What if I THOUGHT I wanted to be a writer but only because I’d never taken a fencing class – there could be a whole world out there that I shut out just by declaring a major.
And marriage – forget it! Sure, the idea of finding and marrying my soul mate – my lobster – was a great and heart warming idea...but what if I got it wrong. I couldn’t bear the thought of marrying the ‘wrong’ person only to find myself enduring a loveless marriage and ending up just another datum in the well publicised 50% divorce rate. Probably the only decision that scared me more than marriage was the thought of bearing children.
So instead I just waited. I stalled for several years in my mother’s nest. I avoided finishing school, resting instead on being “a career student.” I had a series of “serious” girlfriends. I wasn’t willing to appear fickle or promiscuous, so these relationships were always at least a year long, but while I think all of these women were in earnest about their willingness to marry, or at least consider marriage, I think I always knew that I was incapable of making that choice (in short I was an asshole). I remember once there was a pregnancy scare and the deepest cry of my heart at that moment was relief. Two of my greatest sources of anxiety, who to marry and when to have kids, had been made for me! It wasn’t like a new pressure suddenly appeared on my shoulders but rather that two huge ones had been removed. When if turned out to be a mistake, the period was just late, I was disappointed – and not because I had glimpsed my child’s eye and now saw that gaze fading away, but because I was back to that old uncomfortable ‘maybe.’ Wanting to BE married, but unwilling to GET married.
Hoping that something outside of myself would make my choices clear, sitting still, becalmed in the fog of my life was better than risking running aground on the rocks that might be ahead, and standing still was far, far better than actively approaching the apocalyptic future I knew to be inevitable.
I’m told that my parents used to have nuclear war drills in school, where the sirens would wail and all the Buster Brown wearing kids would duck under their desks. By the time I was in school, knowing that the missiles were coming meant walking out to the Rim and waiting for Norton Air Force base, a mile below us, to go up in a mushroom cloud. Hide under my desk? Attempt to survive? Fuck that noise! I wanted to be fuel for the first fireball and not fighting with mutants for the last dented can of creamed corn. Let me put it more succinctly.
There was no future worth having.
As I grew up, nuclear holocaust was a foregone conclusion. It wasn’t if, but when. And it really had nothing to do with what anybody did – it wasn’t anybody’s fault – it was just going to happen. Sooner or later somebody with a key and a death-wish would launch one little missile, it didn’t matter whether it was Soviet or American, and that would be that. Mutually Assured Destruction was the term – and it said all there was to say – my destruction was assured. Even if somehow the nukes didn’t get us, the pollution would. If it wasn’t the pollution, it was the ice age. If not the ice age, it was the fragging androids. Movies like Blade Runner and The Day After painted a sickeningly dark – but deeply believable picture of what I had to look forward to. And The Terminator, probably more than anything else, was the catalyst for my nightmares.
The movie is set not in the skull strewn future that the robot comes from, but in the sunny, bustling world of modern LA. When Reese explains who he is he says he’s from “one of many possible futures.” It’s not that Judgment Day is inevitable, but it is so powerful, so charged with emotion and blood and stainless steel, that it reaches back into the 80’s, my every day, and literally creates itself. Sarah’s raw, instinctual drive to do nothing more complicated than save her own life, is what actually dooms her and the world. One simple woman, doing only what she thinks is right, kills everybody.
The suggestion is that things might have been different. If she had only given in – not fought so hard – her death, her submission, would have prevented that particular future for ever coming to be. All options were bad options, but some were worse.
All futures were miserable futures. That was my childhood and adolescence. No wonder I grew up unwilling to make any sort of decision. Any choice heavier than what to have form breakfast meant having an eye on the future and I wretched at what I saw there. So instead I chose to do nothing – hoping against hope that some escape would open up. When the Berlin Wall came down I was more perplexed than excited. I can’t say that it seemed too good to be true, because it didn’t really seem ‘good’ to me at the time. Better than a poke in the eye – sure – but I really couldn’t understand what it meant.
It took no less than a decade for that event to bloom in my heart as hope. It was that long before dystopian visions of the future like The Matrix felt like warnings instead of prescriptions. It took those years to unlearn my anxiety, to look out ahead of myself and plan.
I look today at this war on terror and even the nuclear threat represented by Iran or North Korea, even China, and find myself wondering at the hand wringing. From my perspective, even the worst possible scenario – say a half-dozen nukes in major cities and 50 million people vaporized – is so much less, by a factor of 100, then what I grew up assuming to be inescapable. As grim as the possibilities are today I’m filled not with a sense of what WILL be, but rather what CAN be.
It’s sort of ironic that as my faith in Christ has grown, and with it my faith that the “real” apocalypse is coming in time, that my hope for the future – my future – grows ever brighter. And not for some morbid sense that I’ll be on the right side of that coming equation but because I’ve come to understand love – love that “hopeth all things” – even hope that there is joy and life and contentment in my future, and that of my children.
That hope allows me to choose, allows me to commit, allows me to move.
It was on Easter Sunday, the celebration of life’s victory over death, in the year 2000 that I proposed to my wife. The hysteria and subsequent non-event of the Millennium was the last nail in that coffin of wicked anticipation. Rebekah was the first woman that I felt like I had pursued as opposed to being pursued. I had just graduated from George Fox University – with a major in history, and with honors. I had recently begun my first ‘career’ as a web developer and less than a year later I would purchase my very first house.
I feel now that Hamlet was right. “To be, or not to be...that is the question.” Wandering in the world without purpose, without vision, without action we become like the vampires we seem so enamored with; neither alive nor dead, just there – sucking the life from everything we encounter. Not immortal, but a-mortal. And yet for most of us, life happens anyway. We fall in love despite ourselves. We bear children often on accident, jobs become careers by virtue of how long we stall there.
This change of heart has lead to some unexpected consequences in my life. Not only am I willing to seek things; love, success, my Lord, but it’s also made me willing to risk those same things – to take a loan against my home to start a business for instance. It’s not that I’m sure of my success, but rather I’m sure my ability to get up again if I fail. This is NOT my last chance, and even it it were so the hell what?
So if I’ve learned one thing – forget what lays behind. Strive toward what lays ahead. Press on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)