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This video is tremendous, especially the thought that Berry helps us lose the pronoun “me” and welcomes the idea of community.
Peterson’s insight lives and breathes, especially in how the stories of the Bible and the stories written by great writers are bringing forth such simple insights into the Gospel.
I’m working on some thoughts about confession, I’m wondering if we do not insult the idea of confession by simply owning up to an act and not the life of inattentiveness and distraction that creates failure and distance from God. If we are to be true to confession, we have to be true to the individual and community weakness that leads to that act, and in so doing tell a story in our confession. Instead of “Forgive me for my anger” we should be saying “Yesterday I was thinking about how people don’t give me what I need or what I think they should give me, and I lashed out at someone, mainly because you’re not enough to sustain me.”
This is brutal for me to meditate on, which is the point. Y tu?
This week, even in its relative infancy, has been incredibly constructive and it brought me back to the blog even as I was considering whether or not blogging had any future for me. Too much pride in me, too much conceit, but is there anything to offer? I think the best thing I have to offer this morning is a thought from Leighton Ford from his book The Attentive Life that simply floored me today.
“When I find myself as a being before God, as a physical being in a world irradiated by light, as a moving creature, urged on but able to say ‘Whoa’, I am not ruled by urges, as a temporal being living in the I Am Eternal One, reminded by the clock to live here, now, I can be content with whatever I have. When I am still, compulsion (the busyness that Hilaryof Tours called ‘ a blasphemous anxiety to do God’s work for him’) gives way to compunction (being pricked or punctured). That is, God can break through the many layers with which I protect myself, so that I can hear his Word and be poised to listen.” (137-138)
This week has found me peeling back layers of my own pride, protectiveness, noise, self-promotion and desire to talk and be heard and simply to find the core of who I am in Christ. I hope to want nothing more than that in every avenue of life, but that will take some time. It is a difficult thing to chip away layers that have been laid over the past 30 years, and I don’t propose one author’s words or one time of meditation and prayer will be enough to do so.
That is why it is called “discipleship” or “spiritual formation” and not “spiritual completion”. The state of movement matters o so much more than the final destination.
That felt a bit heavy. But it is, but it is also very very good. I hope it makes sense.
For this trailer. I found myself moved just in hearing the bits and pieces that were offered, and I wonder how many people need to see this that never will.
Things are beginning to take shape at the new residence. I made a long-term statement by picking up asparagus crowns to plant, knowing they will not produce for at least two seasons. Once some interior adjustments are made on the house, I’ll be ready to head out and plant my late-but-worth-it garden, build the new compost container, and possibly put a rain barrel in place.
All in all, life is beginning to look more and more rooted. And it is good. Somewhere Wendell Berry is smiling (hopefully).
reading: “the enchantress of florence” salman rushdie
I take time on a regular basis to come back to Rich Mullins’ life and music. Most people only think “Awesome God” and some people even think cheesy Christian musician, worked with Amy Grant, etc. That is, however, a gross undervaluation of Rich’s character and contributions to the world. I watch the “Homeless Man” video and am struck by his beauty and simplicity.
I regularly recommend the biography “An Arrow Pointed Toward Heaven” as well. Here’s one of my favorite parts of the “Homeless Man” video.
Just a snip from Wright’s For All God’s Worth that caught me this morning:
“Just as evil is more than the sum total of individual acts of wrongdoing so Jesus’ victory over evil is more than the sum total of subsequent individual acts of selfless love. Christian faith, faith in the crucified Jesus, is more than my individual belief that he died for me, vital though that is. It is the faith that on the cross Jesus in principle won the victory over sin, violence, pride, arrogance, and even death itself, and that that victory can now be implemented.” (55)
First of all, let’s not miss what Wright is saying – the death of Jesus, a victory over evil, is greater than all the acts of faith we may do. This puts things like the spiritual disciplines into perspective: we do not practice solitude because we think God is pleased with our pursuit – we pursue solitude so we can go there and come back and not only be alive (cp. Exodus 15, 17; Matt. 4) but we can come to understand a new level of freedom from that death (and all of its friends) which Jesus defeated. Solitude then becomes an exercise in implementing victory to become more like Christ, and in so doing find ourselves courageous enough to enter places of silence, hunger, thirst, intellectual dispute, trial, joylessness, etc. and come back alive.
This is the place where spiritual disciplines transcend the moralistic, therapeutic deism (do the right things, feel better, because of God) that we’ve been taught. Disciplines don’t make you holy, at least not explicitly, they create a place where we lose the fear of sanctification. We become courageous enough to step beyond the comfort of knowable God into the blessed distress of a God who moves without our permission and asks us to follow.
Prayer becomes an experience in locating ourselves in conversation with God.
Solitude invokes wilderness where we are not without water or bread, but we are fed on the will of the Father.
Silence invokes the slow death of noiselessness that we all avoid – and I think we might be afraid to hear the voice of the marginalized and oppressed – and brings us under the counsel of God.
Fasting shows that trees of all kinds of fruit are subject to God alone – and that we’ll live without the FDA guidelines and in fact may live better.
Been a while since I filled the content field of the blog, and for those of you who read I am deeply sorry. Holley and I are still in the midst of transition to a new life and work in Orland Park, IL.
I don’t say that as an excuse, but today it is also a frame for what I’m about to say. Today I didn’t really feel like being a mature follower of Jesus. My head ached from changing climates, my body was exhausted from the rounds I’ve been making lately, and my mind was racing with the many things that need to be done before Holl, B, and I close on our first house at the end of the month (did I forget to mention that?)
Today, I felt like checking out – screaming at other drivers trying to navigate the gale force winds on I-55 south and finding some nice hole to crawl into before anyone noticed. Just me and my copy of “The Memory of Old Jack” with Holley and Bailey at my side.
The point that came ever so quickly to me is this: there is no checking out. My experience today in no way mirrors the oppression or suffering other followers of Jesus go through on a daily basis or have gone through in the course of history, but the reality is that the fairy-tale faith of fluffy Christian bookstores is not truth. Not that it isn’t absolute truth, which is a discussion that is as nasty as it is necessary, but the real root of the Greek “alethia” – it is not REALITY.
The reality is that bad days (which is all that today is, not a crisis of faith) are miniature rounding points that bring us to a place of greater maturity and softer lines of thought.
I’ve got more to post from the Halter & Smay book that I’m reading, “The Tangible Kingdom”, but it’s in my office 2 hours away and I don’t have a photographic memory.
It has been a few weeks since I watched this film and wanted to reflect on it then but couldn’t for many reasons which are likely just excuses. Moving on.
Vittoria De Sica’s Umberto D is part of the Criterion Collection, which includes other such powerful directors as Ingmar Bergman. The film is in Italian with subtitles and deals with the deconstruction of the pride and life of a man named Umberto D and his dog, Flike. What is striking about this film are some of the cinematographic moments, frames and lighting, as well as the narrative that unfolds. I think perhaps now in this economy, in this climate of Kingdom thinking, the movements of the film may resonate tremendously within the Western culture. I would really love to hear the reflection of others who have watched this, and what you make of the fluid moral and ethical storyline. If you need an intro to the Criterion Collection, I would still recommend “The Seventh Seal” by Bergman, but this might be a fitting intro as well.
The reason anyone should watch this is the unbelievable perspective it gives toward how industrialization and post-war economies are capable of completely annihilating human life, until it takes unlikely saviors to pull people back from total collapse.
listening: radiohead “2+2=4″
at the risk of sounding self-involved, I’ve been too busy lately to think straight. in the last week I’ve been in or through 7 different states (including Illinois) slept in 3 different beds (either by myself or with my wife, scoffers!) and dealt with teaching, attending a wedding, and a family funeral.
I spent time with new friends, old friends, and family. I tried to listen as much as possible, which is the key to any growth. I tried to maintain my energy level and intensity in conversations and exchanges, even with people who are way beyond the borders of my intelligence and experience.
I watched my wife drive away yesterday, to board a plan to Pittsburgh for her grandmother’s funeral. I realized that I would be a single dad for about 4 days and both relished and got a bit nervous over the thought. I agreed to fill in for my good friend, Phil the Presbyterian, and lead his Wed. night service while he’s gone.
I finished Berry’s “That Distant Land” and have moved on to try and finish Brueggemann’s preaching book (see former posts) before reading Cormac McCarthy’s “All the Pretty Horses”.
And then last night I watched debate #2. And then I watched the spin on FOX, NBC, ABC, and a bit on PBS. What I was most fascinated by was Tavis Smiley. He asked his panel a question last night, namely that both candidates seem terrified to say the word “poverty”. They all agreed and said it was because the working/truly poor are not the base candidates want to reach.
It was at this point I realized that the world may never change. If the poor are no longer a part of the social and political equation we are pretty close to becoming a stench in the nostrils of God. Our leaders or potential leaders can’t begin to even SAY the word poverty much less deal with and connect with those who are in the midst of it. In all of my activity this week, including the debate, what I’ve realized is that even though social justice is a far more visible and important conversation piece, the silos and ghettos that separate have’s and have not’s are still in tact.
My prayer is that somehow, somewhere, the scales may fall from our eyes and the truth might blaze out triumphantly in all of our effort and work–the poor are among us, and we are accountable through the Gospel for what happens to them. We are accountable as a nation and as a subculture that follows Christ. Accountable. Do we really remember what that means?
What if the entire country boycotted the election, by the way? Is it scarier to think of a failed democratic process or that someone would be put in power by the electoral college regardless of whether we voted or not?
Thinking out loud–your thoughts?
I used an illustration in class yesterday of a sermon I preached way back and when I asked the RHETORICAL question “Who of you here today is humble?” someone actually raised their hand. I made light of this as somewhat symptomatic of misunderstanding what humility really is, even though the lady who did it is a gem of a person. I couldn’t help but find it funny.
One of my students objected via email and said that it isn’t necessarily wrong to be confident in one’s own humility because it is something we should be seeking as followers of Jesus. The student also stated that it is primarily a position that focuses on others not ourselves. My response was that I think it is both a perspective on ourselves and a perspective on others, and that humility evidences itself not in self-proclamation (Yes, I am humble…) but in the ways we naturally and implicitly act/think/give/work/teach/live.
This has pushed through a strand of words that seem to float around the quest to be humble:
brokenness
empathy
compassion
splangchnizomai
self-awareness/self-critique
discipline
community
forgiveness
servanthood
self-denial
kenosis
the cross
thinking more and more on these lines, I wonder if humility is something anyone can really DISCUSS considering the fact that once we take a stand on the what/how/who of humility, aren’t we saying that at least the core qualities of humility are within us at the moment of utterance? Or, in working through the idea are we really saying “We can fall at any moment. We can screw up and act without love and anti-redemptively (which is anti-Kingdom) at the drop of a hat.”
Is humility the knowledge that we are not deserving of the quality of humility being ascribed to us even though we are searching through grace to have it describe us entirely? Is it an active pursuit or a passive admission? Is it the modernist climb of the “humility corporate ladder” or is it the way of the mystics/Desert Fathers/and other “dead guys” that says humility comes in falling through the “floor” of every single level of ascending status until you realize you were born to fall below others until you find yourself in the basement with Christ himself?
listening: “high and dry” radiohead
I am not a cat person. I have never been a cat person. We had 8 dogs over the course of my childhood. No cats. Holley is the same–no cats, not a cat person.
Yet, in December of 2005 we took in a wandering local cat during one of Illinois’ famous soul-chilling winters and she became a part of our lives. She came as we mourned a miscarriage, and she became (even against my hemming and hawing over it) a grand part of our family. We warmed to her largely because she was a cat that acted like a dog–came when you called her, etc. She had a quiet way of sneaking up on you and breathing in your ear when you were trying to do ab crunches at 5 am, both challenging your patience and tickling your semi-conscious body to lighten up. She lived with us and in us and around us, even at the worst moments of her behavior.
Immediately after taking her in, we found out that she had FIV (“cat AIDS” as I have crassly put it before). It acts much like HIV, hiding in ambush position until such time as an opportune infection arises. It weakens slowly from the inside out, making every sniffle a mine field, and ultimately can proves unstoppable. A recent kidney infection and the discovery of significant kidney damage presented us therefore with a deep challenge to which our decision was brutal and not without much pain.
We wept over putting Pepper down, intermittedly inserting “She’s only a ______ cat!” but to no avail over our emotions. Those of you who have been through this understand that no rationality works under these circumstances. None. We felt conflicted, sick, sad, and somewhat silly in public but serious in private about the whole thing. I imagine we are not the first nor the last to travel this terrain.
And even on a theological level, this is the curse of stewarding the “not yet”–the brokenness of creation is the brokenness of ALL creation, not just a “sin nature” of humanity (sorry to disappoint the modernist theologians present). Even the animals get broken in the mix. Stewarding life, acting humanely, etc. are not decisions that live in the completed Kingdom of God. We are not qualified nor confident to make decisions to end the existence of fellow members of creation–and we were never intended to (death penalty, anyone?).
And I say halleluia to that. Today we “speak in memory of and remember” (see the title of this post) Pepper and we see our way clear to believe this was the best decision.
I’ve spent most of this day looking around corners, listening, half expecting a shriek-meow hybrid to pour through the doorways and hallways of the house. Instead there is quiet, and soon quiet will bring peace.
