Reality Check

For the past few days, I have been feeling off.
I can't put a finger on it, something has just felt wrong.
Work has been dull, but not relaxed, and then my time at home afterwards has gone by fast, but not been enjoyed.

Today, however, I was reminded of my humanity.


I find it so easy to forget just why I need Grace.

I'll go through times when I'm reading very good things, I am feeling encouraged, I'm saying all the right things to all the right people. I feel like I am "doing well", perhaps - maybe, I even feel proud.

When we are doing well, we tend to notice. And when we notice something nice, we want other people to notice too.

So I feel as though I am "doing well", and I forget just why I need Grace.
It's as if I remember Grace as something that I needed "back then". Grace was a tool which I used to get out of that pit, "back then".
What a twisted mistake. It's such a subtle, naive, and even good hearted misunderstanding. My good intentions shroud the spine shattering truth, the truth of my sin.

The truth is hidden.

I was consistent in prayer, and high in hopes, I was encouraging in conversation, and ripe with peace, and I lost sight of the truth.

When I perceive myself as a person who is "doing well", I see success. And I tend to think that success merits a reward.

When I'm "doing well", I feel as though I'm earning something.
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So when I'm doing well, I feel as though I'm accomplishing some mission, I'm earning something, I'm pleasing the Big Guy upstairs.. and then I start the gradual, unnoticed, and therefore unchallenged, wander back into the state of "doing poorly".

When I eventually notice that I am not "doing well" anymore, I am struck with a terrifying shock.
You see, I get thinking that doing well is succeeding, and doing poorly is failing, and so when I do poorly, I have failed, and whatever mission I was accomplishing by "doing well" is failed, and the reward is lost.

This may seem obviously incorrect, and yes, it is incorrect, but I promise you, it is hard to notice when it is happening.

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To use more specific terms, when I am "doing well" I feel as though I am securing my salvation. I feel as though I am justifying the Love that God has for me, as if He needs an excuse to do anything!

So when I start doing poorly, I feel as though I have failed at earning God's love, I feel as though I have lost that victory I was "doing well" to deserve.

It takes me so long to remember, the victory I work toward has already been won.
The Love of my Father is already decided.

I cannot earn more of His Love, because that is who He is. I cannot become His child any more than I am, because that is all that I am.

I am powerless to win, or lose my place in His heart, and when I start acknowledging my "successes", I only end up drifting further from it.

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It is no wonder then, that I have been feeling off lately.
You see, I had forgotten that I need Grace every second. If not for Grace, I would not have even realized that I need it. I believe that there is no Peace apart from Grace. There is numbness, which has no discomfort in it, but there is no Peace.

Perhaps I am reading too far into three words, but I find great significance in Paul's letters when he greets people with the words "Grace and Peace to you".
Notice the order. He does not say "Peace and Grace to you", and again, maybe I'm over-thinking, but even so, Grace is necessary for Peace, and in that order.

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For the past few days, I have been feeling off, and I think I know why. I had forgotten that I am a human who is the child of God, and not a human who is to be his own.

I remember now, I remember to let myself know that I am loved by God., without the spiritual cosmetics of "doing well", and without the self condemnation after "doing poorly", but only as the child of God who I am, the sinner and saint alike.

Let God be who he is to you.

Grace and Peace

Gareth

He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!"

"Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other." - Rainer Maria Rilke


I have been loved dearly in the 19 years that I have been alive.
I have found my identity in the love I have for others, and in the love that others have for me, and primarily, in the "reckless raging fury that they call the love of God."

To love is to understand beauty.
I have received no clearer glimpse of heaven than in the loving relationships that have been given to me. It is one of the great ironies of life. Just as the love given to me has revealed holy truths to me, so too have the misunderstandings of love sent me spiraling down into the feelings of rejection and confusion. And so I can say, the love that has fit into my family has taught me many things.

To love is to understand beauty, but in an entirely different way.

Love is irresistible, and Maslow would have us believe it is a need. It is impossible to live without love, and in the same way, it is impossible to love without pain.

As Henri Nouwen says,

Every time we make the decision to love someone, we open ourselves to great suffering, because those we most love cause us not only great joy but also great pain. The greatest pain comes from leaving. When the child leaves home, when the husband or wife leaves for a long period of time or for good, when the beloved friend departs to another country or dies ... the pain of the leaving can tear us apart.

Still, if we want to avoid the suffering of leaving, we will never experience the joy of loving. And love is stronger than fear, life stronger than death, hope stronger than despair. We have to trust that the risk of loving is always worth taking.


The risk of loving, true loving, is always worth taking.

This is a truth that can only be understood by someone who is a person of hope. By a person who sees their story as nothing less than a contributor to the greater narrative. This truth can only be understood by a person who hopes in, and not only for things.  This truth can only be understood through the lens of redemption.

In C.S. Lewis' story The Great Divorce, we find the narrator amidst a group of souls entering heaven. Each of them is greeted by a former human, who is now a resident of heaven. He tells of a woman that he witnesses on the brink of understanding heaven. She is arguing with her old friend who greeted her, and her only agenda is to see her son who died when he was very young, many years ago. She cares nothing for seeing God, let alone serving him,  she only cares to see her son. As the conversation develops, the host who was trying to help her understand is unable to convince her of the true priorities. Before we are led away from the scene, we hear her say the words "I hate your religion and I hate and despise your God. I believe in a God of Love."

We never find out what happens to this woman, but we do get some explanation. As the narrator listens to his own heavenly counselor, we read the words

"love, as mortals understand the word, isn't enough. Every natural love will rise again and live forever in this country: but none will rise again until it has been buried."

This is a hope than I can, and must cling to. Just as God is creative in the formless and empty, just as seeds must die before they grow, Love will not rise, until it has been buried.

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The love that has tangibly fit into my life has never been separate from pain, and beyond that, there are loving relationships I have that consist almost exclusively of that pain.




On this Father's day, I think of my family, and the story that it tells, and I know that the story is not over.

To love is to understand beauty. And every natural love will rise again, and live forever in that country, but not until it has been buried.

That is a hope that I can cling to.

Bluebird

Bluebird

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?



-Charles Bukowski

Perspective

Tonight, I tried three times to write something original. Each time was wrong.
What I found was either too optimistic - leaving no respect for the true problems that exist, or it was hopeless, denying the truth that defines me.

I did find words, however, that both speak my thoughts, and comfort me.

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Dietrich Bonhoeffer was in Tegel Prison, in Nazi Germany for speaking words of truth in the face of a power of lies.

It was Christmas 1943, and if you think, you can just barely imagine how lonely that would be.  The prison's pastor knew who Bonhoeffer was, and so asked him to help write an encouraging hand-out that would be given to the inmates. On this sheet, Bonhoeffer wrote several things, including these beautiful words:

O God,
Early in the morning I cry unto you.
Help me to pray,
And to think only of you.
I cannot pray alone.
In me there is darkness,
But with you there is light.
I am lonely, but you don't leave me.
I am feeble in heart, but you don't leave me.
I am restless, but with you there is peace.
In me there is bitterness, but with you there is patience;
Your ways are past understanding, but
You know the way for me.


These are the words I was trying to write tonight, but I couldn't find them on my own.

28:20

And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.

Jesus’ heart of comfort disarms me.

Often, when I find myself overwhelmed with the faces and fears that life consists of, I turn to the gospels to read Jesus’ words.  He tells me not to worry about tomorrow, not to worry about what I wear. 
It’s so tough sometimes. I read those words, and I breathe deeply, and that feeling of freshness, of repair, fills my chest. 

I wonder if worrying is a luxury that Christians cannot afford.

The person who worries is the person who fears they have no control. Whether that is of a job placement, or schooling, or a friendship, it is a fear of being out of control. Even when we worry about others, it is us fearing that they are out of control, or that we can’t control them.  Of course then, Jesus would need to address the problem, for at the very heart of the gospel, we find a relinquishing of control, do we not?  We find a giving of one’s plans, one’s love, one’s hope, fear, faith, doubt, - one’s life to the master creator, the master designer.

This designer who is creative, who has an imagination, and a plan, and a heart of compassion, takes the voids, and he creates.  He plants a garden in the rubble.

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The creating heart of God is incurable. We learn immediately that "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." Out of the "Formless and empty" earth, God made life.

He was in control of it all, trees and rivers, mountains and mud flats. It was all a product of what is His immense imagination. The irreducible complexity of even detail was important to Him, it was all part of the fun.

It would have been beautiful on its own, just like that.  Rivers flowing, breezes blowing, trees swaying, and birds playing. And He knew that. He knew that it was good.

But he wasn't done.

He knew how beautiful His creation was, all following the natural order of things. The tree would bend to the wind, the ground would break to the paw, everything cooperating.

Was it enough?

Could this satisfy the desire to create that burned deep in the furnace of love?

Everything was beautiful, everything was good, but had there been a climax? Had there been a moment when the collage of colours and ideas had been fully realized?

It was all beautiful, it was all good, but it was all about to change.

Out of the very image of all that is true, out of the image of all that is right, out of the image of all that is just, and patient, God created man and woman.

It all made sense. The stirring music of nature had been building and growing, getting ready, the wind had been searching for the answer, and there it was.

God would befriend his creatures. God would Father them.

God would do what was necessary to interact with them.

And God had created a place to live with them.

A Home.

It was a Home that wasn't going to leave, it was a place they could dwell in, it was a place of stories, it was a safe place to sleep at night (or whenever, I'm sure afternoon naps were allowed), it was a place that they could look after one another, a place that they could live in unity, and relation with the nature around them. They were not residents of this place, but inhabitants. This place would affect who they would become, and it was a place that they would consider part of them, and a place they would return to.

It was a home for the Creator, as well as the creature.

They owed it all to Him, the One who chose to create.

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"You wanted us like you, as choosers not clones"

-Bruce Cockburn

A home to beauty itself.  The place of obedience and affection.

But you’ve heard the story, you know how it goes.

It didn’t stay the way it was meant to.

He chose to create home, and us, its inhabitants. He gave us his own ability to make decisions, and we used that ability to break his creation.

The home that was built on love and solidarity, the home that the Creator took such joys in composing, the home that made him laugh and sing, and smile, was a broken home.

This was no longer a place of safety.

The comfort had left this space.

The confidence in communion was no longer with them.

These creatures, who were once co-inhabitants with the Creator, were sent into exile.

And they owed it all to Him.

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The home had been broken. The beauty that once was, was gone.

Birth became painful, growing food became toil.

This was a dull, empty void compared to what was before.

The creation had failed.

The creator had not.

Think about it, what is a void to the One who created all things out of nothing in the first place?

This was exile, but it wasn't the end. The home that had been was taken, protected, and in their hearts it was replaced by a longing, a memory, a hope.

A void, to the Creating one, is an opportunity to be creative.

He would not leave them alone, He would grow a people out of them, and He would conduct, as the story of life played out.

The home is to be restored, and this time, the home-wrecking people are going to be part of the process. This is an imaginative master.



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When you are experiencing worry and trouble, it is often directly related to something that grieves you.  A sense of Longing is very deep in your heart, the longing for something, or someone who means very much to you. Or perhaps it’s the longing for something to be alleviated.   Either way, it is the concern for something that is close to your heart, and although you may not have the friend anymore, you may not have the family anymore, but you cling to that longing because it’s all that you have left of what was once true.

It is very close to your heart. 

If worrying is a luxury that Christians can’t afford, and instead they are called to surrender their worries, I become terrified.
It is no longer as simple as taking deep breaths and closing eyes.
This surrender calls for the complete emptying of one’s heart, of one’s love, of one’s identity.

This is a painful thing.  How are you supposed to give up that which is so close to your heart? That which is all that remains of what I once cherished?
If I give that up, I will be empty.

If I release that from the bonds of my heart, I will have nothing, there will be emptiness in me, there will be a void.

A void?  

My heart will be formless and empty.

Those are familiar words..

In the dark, formless, empty space of your pained heart, the Creator sees neither failure, nor disappointment, but he sees a story, a story for which he died, that he will help you write it.

Jesus’ heart of comfort disarms me,

It causes me to breathe deeply and behold that indeed, He is with me always, to the ends of the age.

Thistles and Thanks

sov·er·eign

   [sov-rin, sov-er-in, suhv-]

noun

1. A monarch; a king, queen, or other supreme ruler.

2. A person who has sovereign power or authority.

3. A group or body of persons or a state having sovereign authority.

Every Sunday morning, around 10 in the morning, maybe a little later, millions of people across North America tell God how much they love him.  People thank him for what he’s done, for the world around us, nature, jobs, family, friends. We list off all of the blessings that he has given, we consider the works of his hands-
well, we consider some of the works.

It is a very pleasant exercise to thank God for the trees, for the sunshine.  It is very comforting to remember all of the things that have clearly worked together for the good of us.  It makes for a nice environment on a Sunday morning, that’s for sure.

 A nice environment for Sunday morning, a nice breather in the busy week, a Sabbath?

Indeed, it is very easy to find the words of thanks, of gratitude, of praise, when talking to God of good things. These words are on millions of fridge magnets, and picture frames across the continent.
This North American church is a people fostered to know that all good things come from God.
And it’s true, they do, James sure thought so.

Keep that in mind while we talk about something else for a bit.

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We learn from Abraham that God is our friend. 
Several times that friendship is referenced as a template for us to mimic.   Now that sure complicates things doesn’t it?  Friendship is a messy game.
 Devotion to humility, but also to honesty - with God? What a confusing thought!

The very definition of “friend” implies not only a mutual understanding, but a balance.  “A person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard”.
If God were a deity void of personality and interaction, I know I would sure have an easier time feeling small.

Let’s imagine for a moment.

If my friend gives me a gift, I will be grateful. I will thank him, and I will smile upon the gesture, knowing just what it means, an expression of love, a tangible representation of his appreciation of me.

If then, that same friend comes to me, and hits me in the face, and I find myself cut and bleeding on the floor, how then do I respond? I doubt that I would be very pleased…

If the gift-giving was a tangible representation of appreciation, is the punch to the face not equally (or more) tangible, carrying an equally strong message?

In any friendship, for the sake of our relationship, I would need to respond with honesty in both circumstances.

If I never thanked him for the gift, he would be hurt, and that would damage our friendship (perhaps he would even hit me).

If I never approached him after being hit, then there would be a wedge between us, causing us to live in denial of the true gift of the other person.

It would be unfair for both of us for me to respond with honesty and gratitude after receiving the gift, if I did not also respect him enough to consult him honestly after being hurt by him.

A friendship requires honest, honest communication.

...and we learn from Abraham that God is our friend.

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Let’s return to the original discussion.

It’s easy, and important, to thank God for nice things.  The North American church does very well to satisfy the need of gratitude in a relationship with the Father.

But that’s not the whole story.

If only we could thank God for the good things, and just accept that life is going to be tough sometimes, but it’s not God’s fault, because he couldn’t do anything about it...
Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.
If we let God speak for himself for a moment, we hear him say that

“I form the light and the darkness, I bring prosperity and create disaster, I the Lord, do all these things”.

Now we have reached some dissonance that we desperately want to reduce.

Surely God was not in control of that Tsunami that hit Japan! It could not have been our Jehovah that shook Haiti to the ground! The rotting of my family was not God’s design!

A polite God has no place in a world of pain.

We know that we want to thank God for the sunshine and dew drops each morning, for the birds and children playing, but we don’t want to think of him as guilty of anything.
It would make this thing we call faith so much simpler to have a powerless god, but it would ruin our understanding of a sovereign God.   

 No, we cannot call ourselves friends of God, if we are not willing to be just that,
and friendship requires honest communication.

The kind that says “I don’t get you at all, you must be out of your mind”
The kind that says “You really have a twisted way of loving us”
The kind that says “Oh God, I believe, please help me believe”




Every Sunday morning, around 10 in the morning, maybe a little later, millions of people across North America tell God how much they love him.  People thank him for what he’s done, for the world around us, nature, jobs, family, friends. We list off all of the blessings that he has given.  Do we really consider the works of his hands?

We learn from Abraham that God is our friend. To be a friend of the Creator is a very big responsibility. There is no political correctness in this fight of faith. True reverence is honest, before it is polite.

Thank God he has big shoulders. He can take it.

And yes, he is a good friend.