What I Long For

Today was the day for faithfulness. In some sense, like many of the other fruit it is a rather esoteric principle that contains little extra actions that need be taken. I mean, hopefully I'm faithful already. Or, at the very least, not unfaithful.

But it does make one think. What, after all, need I be faithful to? What is it in my life that requires my dedication? My long obedience? My steadiness?

My relationship with God. My relationships with others. My commitments as a student. My calling as a minister. My duty as a son. The list goes on.

Faithfulness makes me think of my grandfather...he was always a stickler for it. For being dependable. For keeping your word. Its something I'll always remember about him. It's something I believe in.

It's something I believe in so much that, as I thought about it today, one needs to be careful about how much they pledge to be faithful to. How much they commit. For if being faithful truly means being steadfast and fully present to the commitments we make, spreading ourselves too thin with a multitude of promises is almost as bad as casually ignoring them.

Turns out priorities are important even when deciding what to be faithful to.

Both lazy disregard for commitments and stretching our bounds with pledges too many runs the risk of being unfaithful. And that's something all of us--especially us overachieving pastors--need always keep in mind.

Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc

I'm not perfect. Like so many others, I falter occasionally and give into my own selfish desires and casual laziness. I'm neither the nicest person nor the kindest, and I know it.

That said, I feel that in general I'm a pretty good guy. Though imperfect, I do try my best to focus upon the right and do the good thing. Which is, I suppose, why reflecting on the fruit of the spirit known as "kindness" and "goodness" has for me been a curious thing.

You see, my problem has not so much been that I've been bad or unkind these past two days...but rather that my actions in this direction have stood out too little from my baseline behavior. As a Christian and a pastor, these traits are often a part of who I am and how I comport myself (however imperfectly). Trying to be "extra kind" feels a little like forcing the issue when there are no such opportunities.

Yet in the midst of all of this, I was able to reflect a little more today on goodness and kindness through a set of circumstances. You see, today I had decided to spend my time fasting (something I haven't done for a little while and felt that I should). This went alright until I ran into a friend from college who had just moved to Princeton.

Having forgotten to help them move in earlier in the day and wanting to welcome this friend to town, I considered offering to take them to dinner. Though aware of my previous commitment to not eat, I knew that the kind and good thing to do would be to forgo my fasting in favor of greeting an old friend.

So I made the decision.

As I was doing so, I was reminded of Jesus' teaching and call to remember the true life of faith...and wondering if through this experience He was reinforcing in me God's call to make sure nothing came in the way of "true religion" and a loving faith.

It will be something to think about as I turn my attention tomorrow to....faithfulness.

"For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings." Hosea 6:6

Consider

The more I think of it today, the more I believe patience is not simply about waiting around for what we want to happen. Despite what it might seem, being patient has relatively little to do with wasting time.

Rather, its about not wasting our time and energy on worry. Not being caught up in the concerns of the future and perhaps failing to pay attention to the present.

From a certain point of view, maybe patience is just about learning to appreciate each moment and living them to the fullest.

And I like that.

"Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!" Luke 12:24

Pax

Peace was the order of the day during my little tour through the fruits of the Spirit.

Yet for some reason I found it a bit hard to actually "practice" peace today.

Not that I wasn't peaceful...I think I was. It's just that I don't know if there were many opportunities for me to be at peace beyond the occasional squelching of common irritation or impatience at the smaller stressors of life.

I thought perhaps that I might try my hand at being a peacemaker...yet there too I found little opportunity beyond the exigencies of my life's normal course.

I suppose the from a certain point of view today should be characterized a success. Problem is: it just didn't feel out of the ordinary.

Maybe that's a good thing. Perhaps I'm just normally a peaceful person. Perhaps God has created me this way and His Spirit has worked in me in this manner.

Whatever the case, probably the most important thing for me to remember is that any peace worthwhile doesn't come by our efforts alone--the worlds' efforts. They come from God.

How does that work? That's something to think about.

"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you; not as the world gives, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." John 14:27

Down In My Heart

In this day focused on joy, I found myself sorely tempted to be angry. You see, my senior pastor had asked if I could help a lady in our church move some of her possessions. A quick job, I thought...so myself and a man from the church traveled to her apartment to move what was needed.

Apparently, I thought wrong. What had been described as a "shed" was rather a large closet stuffed to the brim with tons of stuff. Old toaster ovens. An open bottle of detergent. A school desk. Clothes. Heavy boxes.

My friend and I had to move the things from the storage room, down the stairs, into a van, across the street, and into her new apartment. Not exactly what I had planned on.

Two and a half hours later, we were done. In that time, I had sure opportunity to be less than joyful. And at moments I was.

Yet for the most part, I had what I felt was a certain joy. Not happiness, mind you....but joy. A trust and thanksgiving to God for what he has provided and a kind of satisfaction with the work he has given me. It's been a bit of a theme today in all I've been doing. Just, well....a kind of peace and rejoicing in the place God has put me. And that's something I should dwell upon more often.

This morning I read from Psalm 4. Verses 6-8 helped me see--and learn, I think--what I did today.

"Many are asking, "Who can show us any good?"
Let the light of your face shine upon us, O LORD.

You have filled my heart with greater joy
than when their grain and new wine abound.

I will lie down and sleep in peace,
for you alone, O LORD,
make me dwell in safety."

All You Need

Today I attempted love. Attempted to reflect upon it and actually live it out. That was the goal.

I started reading a little 1 Corinthians 13 and 1 John...I prayed a bit, and then headed out into the day.

Along the way I learned a little about myself. Or rather was reminded.

It all happened during a lunch meeting I was having with some fellow ministers. Near the end of our time, one of the fellows there was sharing about his mother's cancer. He indicated that the prognosis was not good (only four to six months). A tough situation--and one that I was attempting to give attention to.

The trouble was, as time ran on I began to be distracted. To be impatient. To want to be elsewhere. And as that was beginning to happen, I came face to face with my own apparent lack of love.

Why, after all, was I so impatient? Where was my love? What kind of a person am I?

I share this not to show how horrible I am...because there are certainly other ways in which I have loved today. Rather I say what I say because it shows me how far I have to go in love. How much I need to let the Spirit work in me.

Because in this day devoted to love it still took conscious effort for me to do so.

It's something to pray about--and keep in mind even as I turn tomorrow to...joy.

There Is No Law

Tomorrow I am--together with a friend--going to begin an experiment. No chemicals or mathematical equations involved here, but rather the inner workings of mind, action, and spirit.

You see, tomorrow I'm going to begin to really think about the "Fruits of the Spirit" found in Galatians 5:22-23. There, Paul lists what he considers to be nine essential characteristics of the Christian alive in the Spirit:

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law."

I've been a faithful churchgoer and believer for some time now, and I can tell you that we Christians hear about this fruit a lot. We learn it when we're in Sunday School. We read it every time we pass through that part of the Bible. It's a part of the Christian vocabulary...and a good part.

But as with so much else, I feel like I haven't necessarily given enough attention to these spiritual traits. Haven't really focused on what they mean. Haven't really seen them as more than a nice list. Haven't taken the time to think about how they would really be lived out.

So that's what I'm doing now. Starting tomorrow, for each of the next nine days I am going to attempt to live out the fruit listed in Galatians 5 one by one. I do this not to try to prove I'm better than anyone else nor to attempt to make myself into something that only God's Spirit can make me, but rather so that I can understand more about what God calls the Christian to be and hopefully allow Him to work something new in me.

That's the plan. Join along if you like. Tomorrow is: Love.

Misplaced Hope

Last night I finished reading That Hideous Strength, the final part of C. S. Lewis' Space Trilogy. Its an interesting set of books that seek to retell the story of God and His work from a more cosmic--and lively--perspective. In the final volume, the forces of science ally themselves with more sinister spiritual powers in an attempt to achieve their nefarious ends, while a stalwart band of humans find themselves guided by angelic beings to offer the necessary resistance.

Its an engaging book, and one I understand much better now than when I initially read it in my high school days.

One of the characters that jumped out to me during this readthrough was Mark Studdock. Simply stated, he is a scholarly man torn between his desire to be identified with the "in crowd" (in this case those allied with the forces of darkness) and the more simple and authentic life he left behind long ago.

While in some sense his dilemma is nothing more than the old spectre of peer pressure writ large, I still can't help but identify with it. For though age has given me some distance from this stereotypically teenage plight, from time to time I can't help but get the twinges of desire for my own increased social mobility, standing, and respect. I get the feeling that I want to be something more in everyone else's eyes and that if I just try a little harder or politick a little more it can be so.

It's easy to fall into that trap...to want so badly the approval of our peers--or of a single person--that we'll bend and fold and shape ourselves into all sorts of contortions to arrive at that desired outcome.

Reaching beyond ourselves for something more is understandable. It's human. But denying who we are while doing that puts us in the gravest danger--the danger of losing ourselves and becoming a flat and lifeless parody of those around us.

And if we're really willing to do that? Then we're in quite a bit of trouble.

How much better the final fate of Lewis' Studdock, who in the end decided against the foolish path of comfortable accomodation and quickly felt "the relief of no longer trying to win these men's confidence, the shuffling off of miserable hopes...the straight fight, after the long series of diplomatic failures, was tonic."

Some days we all could use a bit more of that tonic as we begin to fight for who we're really supposed to be--regardless of the shifting sands of popular opinion or public approval.

Its true whether we're teenagers or not. And that's a fact.

Speak Softly

While there are few things in this life that really get me fired up, the task of preaching--bringing the Word before God's people--is something about which I feel deeply. I just do.

In my mind, it's a unique moment in our world. It is a human endeavor, but it is a work of the Spirit. It is public, but it is not a performance. It is common, but never base....at least it shouldn't be.

And in our world of 130 television channels and ever-decreasing attention spans, it is the one time of the week that no channel surfing can occur. A time when we are called to listen and by the power of God to be transformed by the experience.

Which is why I often feel sad when I hear a sermon that smacks more of personal opinion or public chiding than anything else. Where instead of using the moment as a time of public instruction and discipleship it plows ahead critiquing without caution, failing to take into consideration the deeply held thoughts and feelings of those faithfully listening.

Some would say that preaching of this sort is necessary and part of what it means to call Christians to account. To a certain extent I agree. Our world would be a much better place if ministers would learn what it really means to challenge their flock and hold them accountable to the things of God.

The trouble is, I'm not sure that all "prophetic" preaching is really that. In many ways, I feel like more of it has to do with personal preference and an unwillingness to walk slowly with a congregation as God works His change in them in His time. But still...it's an easy mistake for a preacher to make--one which I have been guilty of myself.

As with anything, to jump wildly ahead to a place far beyond is difficult, but at the same time rewarding. Yet to ask those around you to do the same? Often impossible.

And while God is amazingly skilled at working the impossible, I'm not convinced the swift and steady transformation is always His way. Sometimes seeing something new takes time. Sometimes God needs to bring us through certain pathways before we can be transformed. Sometimes we simply need someone to understand where we are before asking us to jump into the unknown. Which is why preachers often need to take things slow.

Yes, prophets are needed. But so are pastors. If somehow these two realities could be held together at all times, preaching might just--by the power of the Spirit--be the thing it is meant to be.

Raven Haired Riddle

Sonnet VII

From end to end the earth does not allow
Extremities as deep as those inside
No tempest, gale, tornado can endow
To me a greater storm in which to hide.
Like sun reflected from a crystal sea,
Her eyes remind at once of younger days
A laugh, a touch, a season filled with ease
Recall at once my heart that's never strayed.
Yet steady her affections seem not be,
And knowing this I comprehend so well
That though again what both my eyes have seen
Her wish remains still that an end be called.
On days like this it seems, just as she spoke;
On others? Moments bright yet rumour hope.

-J. Ziefle-

The Jeffersons

Not too long ago, I was applying for various PhD programs. Part of that process includes submitting a sample of one's scholarly writing for academic perusal. Deciding what to pick and how to revise it can be a bit nerveracking.

My job, however, was fairly easy. Since I'd only written one paper in American religious history during my entire time at seminary, I simply submitted that paper. It was about Thomas Jefferson and his edition of the New Testament known as "The Jefferson Bible."

What really grabbed me during this study was the title of one of the books I used. It called Jefferson a "grieving optimist." I liked the phrase...its juxtaposition of hope and fear. Pain and joy. Life and death. In my paper I tended to view Jefferson this way--a man whose vision of human progress (and subsequent rejection of organized religion) remained expansive at the same time the experiences of life and his own temperament always made the path of faith a powerful draw.

During my research, I came upon a beautiful description of the great Jefferson alone with his Bible after the death of his daughter. Solitary and reflective...and probably praying to a God he may intellectually have concluded was unable to answer. Simply remarkable.

Now, I don't wish the be misunderstood at this point...I am not pleased that Jefferson was upset. I am not rejoicing that his pain led him to God. Not at all. Rather, I'm just marvelling at how he was such a complete contradiction and how compelling the path to God was when there was nothing left for him. When he felt alone. When he was stripped bare.

I feel the part of the grieving optimist sometimes. Not in the same way as Jefferson...but still. The label fits...there's always that mixture. Perhaps those two words are simply what it means to be alive. To move through this world in any meaningful way.

To be one or the other is to venture into danger. Show me a total optimist and I'll show you a fool. Show me a complete griever and I'll show you someone not long for this world.

To be both? Well, that's just how it is most of the time.

For though the joy of the Lord may be a steady stream to which we may turn, the momentary--and contradictory--currents of grief and optimism can surprise us throughout our time in its waters...making the journey one of more growth than we could have ever imagined.

At the very least, it's something to think about.

An Other Time

It's hard to know what another person is thinking. What's going on inside their head. And even if they tell you, it's still not the whole story. Not by a long shot.

You see, one's emotions, one's hopes, one's dreams...it is these things that given the inner sancta of our minds the particular individualistic tinge that sets us apart from everyone else.

Simply stated, it's the very unique way of being you. It really is.

Seen this way, it is near unto impossible for you to ever know what someone else is thinking. Simply unfathomable. I can get close, yes...but never close enough to know entirely. Each person just has all this stuff that we can't ever seem to know about.

Beyond the simple facts of nature that add to this difficulty, the masks of our world and its media and customs often don't allow it, making in effect each person appear to us a very different kind of being than they really are.

Because we are the only people we really know, it's very easy to assume that others are less three-dimensional than we are That they are simply actors in the play in which we're starring. We (well, most of us, anyway) don't think this way because we want to be arrogant or cruel. Not at all. We simply think this way because it's easiest. Quickest. Because it allows us to move through life as "effectively" as possible without getting bogged down in all the details. It would, after all, certainly be very difficult to walk through the streets of Manhattan taking the time to really consider every individual we meet. Very difficult.

Which is why we don't. Why we learn to make others into "others" while ourselves remaining three-dimensional beings seemingly immune to such treatment.

Problem is, this type of living never lets us really get into the lives of others. Never lets us really share them. Never lets us care for the stranger as a person whose life is just as "larger than life" as ours always seems to be.

Ya, we can't know anyone as we know ourselves. That's a given. But maybe if we begin to consider the possibility that others could have inner lives similar to the ones we know so well, our race through life might slow down just a bit and take in a few of our fellow runners.

Each of us is special, yes. Full of energy and vigor and emotion and love and sadness and hope. I like that about myself...knowing that I'm unique. The thing is...that means the guy walking down the street has all these things to. And I need to keep that in mind.

A Producer

For the past few years or so, I've harbored two ideas for new television shows. Both play to my own interests, but might hopefully have some contact with a larger audience.

Hard to say.

Both are simple concepts (sort of). The first focuses on Jesus, but neither the Christmas "baby version" nor the fully grown prophetic model of the gospels. Rather, it seeks to fill in the "in-between" time...you guessed it---Jesus' teenage years. The way I see things, it would be a great option for the WB Network to pick up. It could be called "Nazareth" and follow the same model as so many other coming-of-age teen dramas.

In the show Jesus would know that he was special, understand his calling, but not yet understand completely that He was God. In addition to being occasionally funny, it would be a unique and humanizing look at the Messiah who, for all our devotion, still often seems far too distant from us.

Both the show and that last sentence will keep the theologians tied up for some time.

The other concept isn't as fraught with biblical peril, but is interesting. It would draw on an important human emotion--regret--and ask the question "What would happen if you could change the past?" In the style of "Law and Order" or "The Twilight Zone" each week would feature a new episode set in a universe where a person could choose--at any point in their life--to change one (and only one) mistake from the past.

Some would waste their chance far too soon. Others would save it up until the end and not get to use it at all. Others? Well, you'd just have to watch the show to find out.

So these are my ideas. Both ask questions of humanity. One wonders what a human being would be like if they were God. The other broaches the topic of whether humans should have occasional godlike powers and what their use of those powers would look like.

Something to think about, at least.

My Song

I realized something tonight. I'm not who I used to be.

And I don't like it. Not one bit.

You see, not very long ago I was idealist. I was a devotee of true love, honor, justice. All things pure and bright. Probably so annoyingly so that people made fun of me behind my back. Ya, I may have had my head in the clouds, but it was a good place to be.

What happened to change all of that? Life, I suppose. About one year ago it all changed.

In my idealism and naivete it seemed I overreached myself, confessed my dreams too freely...and the perfect world I had supposed to exist suddenly mocked me by its absence. Everything I had hoped for was just gone.

Though not conscious of all that was happening back then, it is clear now that the scope of my dreams began to be cut short. The hopes of the boundless horizon became limited to what was right in front of me. Choices made became pragmatic and attained a certain listless coldness. Idealism? Pretty much gone. And with it, so much of the beauty and wonder I could have experienced over the past twelve months have been lost--perhaps forever.

In many ways, that is as apt as any a description of my life since some of the momentous events of last summer. And I'm betting this phenomena is not limited to me...but everyone who has been let down. Whose hopes have been dashed. Who has poured their heart into living according to the deepest wisps of wonder only to realize their dreams were never shared by those who figured into them the most.

Like children building castles in the sand and imagining deep worlds of magic only to have them destroyed at the hands of the careless or malicious, we are devastated. Our hopes are gone, quickly replaced by loss, regret, and shame at ever having been so "foolish" in the first place.

And what do we do with that loss? We can--as I have done when my greatest dreams were dashed--harden ourselves and give up on such "foolish" pursuits in favor of the more utilitarian. Close ourselves off to wonder for fear that we will simply set ourselves up for a bigger fall in the future.

Or we can grab our pail and dream up something even bigger, realizing that our hopes are a gift from God, pointing to a future in which one day our greatest of hopes may ultimately be fulfilled.

It's up to us. But as for me, it's time go down to the sand with my spade and get to work again. After the past year I know I can't afford to waste opportunities and live lower than my dreams any more. It's not who I am and not at all what I am called to be.

Count Me In?

Polite society has innumerable rules. Some are logical and thought through, some are plainly obvious, while others...well, they are stuff of pure fancy. Whatever the case, they are that by which most of the world--at the very least most of our particular world--operates.

It doesn't take a complicated book of etiquette to delineate the many ways in which these laws guide our every actions.

In my mind, one of the most hallowed of these guidelines is simply to mind your own business. It is a code that dare not be broken lest the bonds of familiarity and friendship be stretched too far and snap back upon any transgressor with a painful fury.

For better or for worse I have followed this rule for most of my life. It is my default position. It's who I am. But here's the rub...does the Christian life allow for such individual and solitary living, or does it call for something more?

Two of my reasons for asking these questions have to do with recent experience.

Since becoming a youth minister, it has been my job to oversee the spiritual development of a group of teenagers. I am their pastor. I am responsible for helping them to grow in their relationship with God.

And, well, whether they ask for it or not I seem to have this tacit duty to call them to account on the state of their lives, morals, and choices. Its hard to know exactly what to do with that power and how to use it wisely.

The concept of accountability itself, so recently the rage in Christian circles, is the second reason for my late night pondering. Deriving from the idea that Christians are supposed to build each other up and help each other grow spiritually, accountability partners seek to develop closer walks with God by encouraging one another and calling one another to task over sin.

All well and good, I suppose...and often needed. But where does one draw the line? Should any Christian be able to call any other to account? Are the limits to accountability? Is there in the end some wisdom to minding your own business?

When does a Christian call the other to account and when do they simply let them find their own way? For if judgment itself must always be performed with great humility, so too must accountability.

We, after all, might be in the wrong ourselves.

Something about the blind leading the blind echoes in my ears, making me think yet again that only by looking to Christ can we truly understand what it means to see that to which we must keep account.

Less Mean, More Gold

"Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ." Ephesians 4:15

Its hard to be part of a group as large as the Christian Church. Hard because being a Christian means that--whether or not you intend it--people can assume that all Christians believe the same things. Or that because they know a certain type of Christian, you must be of the same kind. Or other Christians assuming that your opinion must be theirs since, after all, they are right.

Its complicated, but I guess in some way its what identifying with a larger group is all about. Kind of. For while there are many similarities between the Christian Church and other organizations or groups of human beings, a major difference exists. You see, in the Church, it's not about what we believe or look like or act...not primarily. It's about whose body we are a part of. Upon whom our lives are founded. Who we all look to.

And that's Jesus Christ.

This fact--though important for us and foundational for Christian self-understanding--will be unlikely to changes the opinions of people who are used to looking at the Church in a certain way. Altering those perceptions calls for something more, definite actions...which is why Ephesians 4:15 remains important.

Its a hard verse to live, but one that I feel flows directly from Christ Himself--the embodiment of God in truth and love. Because of Him, we cannot simply utter the truth coldly and walk away, expecting it to fix everything. Nor can we blindly accept everything under the perceived aegis of "love" and allow all things good, bad, or ugly. We must do something more to fulfill Christ's call as Christians and point to Him.

Neither unyielding fundamentalists nor sloppy relativists need apply. Letting them run the show, taking all the interviews and doing all the "big" things will only lead to our identification with those with whom I'm convinced most of us do not agree.

What is needed rather is speakers of loving truth. True love. Honest care and a Christlike Spirit.

And what will that look like? Let me know what you think.

Fire Works

Humility. It's good to get yourself acquainted with it.

I guess.

Tonight I had a rather humbling experience. I was hosting a meeting for some of our church's college students at the house, and (after some people had left and it was getting late) I decided to set off some fireworks. Why? Well...um...hard to say, really. Just thought it would be fun.

All well and good, I suppose. Until you realize that I live in a state where such things are illegal. But since my roommates had set some off on the 4th of July with no repercussions, I figured my lot would be the same as theirs.

Not so.

Apparently the neighbors were irritated enough the other night that the sound of fireworks tonight sent them over the edge. I can't blame two of them for chiding me for it. But it did sting.

It stung because I'm supposed to be smarter that that. Because I was embarrassed. Because others got to see how stupid I am occasionally. It was a mistake. And I hope I've learned from it. That's the desire no matter the misstep.

Not repeating this one will be fairly simple...

It's the others that I worry about sometimes.

A Poem For Three Weeks Ago

VI

On this fair date we are the hour of birth
Reminded of, in which a gleaming star
Didst come and deftly take her place on earth—
(This when compared Orion seems too far.)
A twinkling eye ‘midst beams of laughter there
Reminds us all of joys and carefree days;
Though gazing at a world so sinister
To her Creator turns back only praise.
She is no star, a greater light than that
More like the moon in midst of fullness be!
Illuminating nights and days in fact
By drawing others in to come and see.
A life, a light, now shone, God’s work in you
So stands my thoughts at this, your twenty-two.

-J. Ziefle-

For Better or Worse

It's very postmodern and "cool" to talk about Christian theology as having to do with relationships. For whatever reason, it seems to be the thing to do these days.

While some of this may be the winds of current trendiness, there is something deeper there. At least I'm becoming convinced there is.

You see, the more I think about faith the more I think about it in terms of a relationship with God. One that is dynamic, messy, prone to high and lows, and which needs constant attention and work to be maintained. No human relationship exists without these characteristics...and I'm not sure that our lives with God are any different.

With regards to relationships, what I am currently pondering most is marriage: how two people--dissimilar in individuality yet united in commited love--covenant with God, each other, and gathered witnesses to share their lives together no matter the circumstances and no matter the cost.

We know the vows. Sickness. Health. Rich. Poor. Better. Worse. A man and a woman simply promising to be there one for another no matter what.

While we know that this picture of marriage often fars fall short of how it is practiced in our sadly broken world, it's a good model. So good that it reminds me of the way that we are supposed to exist as Christians. As the Church. In our respective churches.

Like man and wife, we choose to be in relationship with God and by extension His family. We exist with them together. Whether or not we always "like" being in this relationship is immaterial. Because of the commitments we have made to God we need to stick it out. Work through it. Remain connected.

Just as--because of their vows--no husband or wife ought to end a marriage over one argument, so too no Christian should leave a church behind because of a bad spell or season. It goes against what it means to be united in Christ. What it means to be in a relationship.

I tell this to a married friend of mine who has problems with the current state of his ecclesiastical experiences. I share it because I believe it...and because I know that only by persevering in commitment to each other and the vows made--spoken or simply understood--can real relationships ever prosper.

Angst

Anyone that knows me well will be able to tell you that I have been through quite a lot these past few months. The stresses and anxieties of life, the ministry to which God has called me, and the choices I have made have led at times to some rather dark places.

The interesting thing about these places is that through them I have yet again become acquainted with my own creativity. Yes, in some sense I suppose its always there, latent and waiting. But it is only extreme emotion--most often sadness and longing--that brings it to the fore.

Why? Well, for me it is these moments when I am most in touch with my own emotions. When what I feel is right near the top of my mind. When it flows most easily into words.

It is never fun to feel this way. Not one bit. Even so, it is mostly then I feel that I can really speak truth...really get inspired...really be honest about life. Really share something that is true in a very particular way.

Facts are sometimes just facts. As a historian I deal with them frequently...and I like them. It's why when I first became a Christian the historical books of the Bible were my favorites. I enjoyed the stories.

Yet some years later I find my preferences have shifted, tending more towards the poetic and emotional books of the biblical canon.

Psalms. Jeremiah. Ecclesiastes.

Though the stories of Genesis are often quite interesting, I feel as if I understand them pretty well by now. I get what happened with Noah. With King Josiah. With Cain and Abel.

The emotions felt by the prophets and psalm writers? Well, I understand them too...but each time I read them I am able to experience them anew. To feel as they do. To hear their words and know they are true in a way that never gets old.

When I am going through tough times, their stringent and emotional honesty help carry me along in a way that I'm not sure any book of history could. Those writings have their use--to be sure--and are often full of gritty feeling themselves...but I know that when I am depressed, the first place I often go is David's psalms.

Because, well, I love them.

As I Sin

I'm currently reading through As I Lay Dying by Richard John Neuhaus. It's a thin little volume in which he reflects upon a time in his life when he almost died.

Cancer was a part of that experience, and his reflections on it have made me stop and think:

"...it is not really an invader; it is something internal to myself. It is a part of myself that went madly wild. What had happened in not the result of weakness or decline, but of an explosion of healthiness---cancer is a healthiness that is radically disordered, that is disengaged from the rest of the body, and therefore deadly in its vibrant aliveness."

You see, I've often heard sin compared to cancer. While I thought it perhaps a fitting analogy, I never gave it much thought. It seemed just another way of saying that sin was bad.

End of story.

But when I think of sin like cancer cells, it makes sense. Sin takes what we have--the good in us--and radically distorts it. Changes it. Takes what is at base life-giving energy and turns it to destructive directions.

It mistunes our hearts. Takes love and twists it into hate. Takes a healthy passion and makes it dangerous lust. Turns our love of God's creation into an excuse for materialism. It's tricky.

Sin is a cancer. It takes what was pure and ruins it. Has from the beginning.

And perhaps because it's so deeply connected to other good things inside of us it may be all the more difficult to see.

Leonardo's Cipher

Today the movie that everyone has been talking about opens in theaters.

The one based on the book everyone's been talking about.

Ya, The Da Vinci Code.

There has been a lot written about the book and the new movie. Frankly, more than anyone should attempt to read. And there's been a lot of debate and controversy. A lot.

I don't really want talk about all of that here. Many others have done a lot more research and are able present the facts in a much better way than I can.

What interests me is how such a conspiracy story became so popular. Grabbed the public's attention in just the right way. Made us more and more interested in things like Mary Magdalene, the Holy Grail, and Opus Dei.

While there are probably a lot of reasons, I suspect some of it has to do with boredom. What I mean by this is that many times life just seems too routine. As far as we can tell nothing special or exciting ever seems to happen and there is little magic left.

Whatever wonder we once held when looking at the world has regretfully faded away with the passing years of childhood.

What's left? Just life. And it seems far too plain.

It's why, I think, stories of adventure and fantasy really grasp our attention. Wizards and hobbits and space adventurers--despite their seemingly impossible actions--continue to draw our focus. They do so because they take us to another world that seems more alive than our own. More exciting. More wonder-full.

Conspiracy theories and tales of secret societies do the same thing, which is part of the reason why Dan Brown's story has become so popular. They make us wish for a more interesting universe and feel woefully dissatisfied with our own.

The effect of all such flights of fancy? Well, I don't know. Some would say that they can cause us to lose touch with reality. Others might consider them a waste of time. And they can be.

Me? Well, even if our worlds of wonder are factually inaccurate (like The Da Vinci Code) they still draw on some sense of yearning within all of us. And like my friend C. S. Lewis, I have a fair idea where all of this yearning is ultimately directed.

Our sehnsucht? Our longing? It is partially addressed by these stories but really seeks to point us farther up and farther in to a world far beyond human understanding--the world of God.

It's a world that does make our own pale in comparison, because it is so much more real.

Burnt Away

It's been my experience that I've been happiest when I've been involved with other people. Doing something larger than myself. Building relationships.

That's why some of my first advice to college students is "Get Involved." Starting out in new place surrounded by unfamiliar people can be daunting, especially if like me you are not the most outgoing person to begin with. And often it is only by partnering with others that we can begin to take ownership of our surroundings and feel as if we are a part of something beyond us.

While it is easy for me to imagine life without such connections--Heaven knows I've been there before--such thoughts are not pleasant ones. Life lived only for oneself can be cold and dark. Inward and backward. Sad, small, and lonely. Believe me, I know.

And I have to think that there's more to it than this. If, after all, simply getting involved in something with others is important for our emotional and spiritual well-being, how much more foundational it is to find that thing which we were made for and throw ourselves into it.

Here, I guess, is what I am saying: don't do things half-heartedly. If you know your calling and life's purpose, do not ever hold back. Be who you were meant to be. Spend yourself in the work of your life. Give all you have. Stop worrying about what will happen and just put it all on the line.

You see, we spend ourselves in so many things that fall so short of what each of us were specifically made for. We've all done it...I just hope that we can somehow learn to stop and then start realizing how much more we are called to. Hope much all those bits of ourselves we waste cannot ever come back.

Some might urge caution, telling us that we should slow down, hedge our bets. Part of that makes sense, but part of it makes me sad. Makes me feel that in doing so we would fall woefully short of where we should be.

After all, how could it possibly be a bad thing to fully burn the candle of our lives if giving light was our purpose in the first place?

Everyone

Who can say, "I have kept my heart pure; I am clean and without sin"?
Proverbs 20:9

No one, actually. Not me at least. And while this may seem somewhat forward, I suspect not you either.

Christians throughout the centuries have believed this to be true. Our experience has taught us it is. We just know it.

And we know more than that too. We know that because of our sin Jesus died. Because of our failure we are in need of his grace.

We know it well...but often far too generally. You see, it's a much different thing to sigh softly and say that everyone has sinned than to say to yourself, "Here's what I did wrong. Here's what I messed up with."

Taking the time to admit that is necessary. It can save me from the pride of thinking I am perfect.

Taking the time to admit this to the people around us can allow us to really begin to be honest with one another and build mature relationships. And it can help us to see our sin in perspective.

While the mistakes we make can be serious and the comfort we may get from knowing that others have failed is only slight solace in the midst of life's storms, it is something. It is something to know that our mistakes-though often serious--are not the end of the world. That despite how guilty we might feel, we are not alone and never wholly irredeemable.

There are times when all of our hearts are not pure. When we are dirty. Dangerous and damaging times common to every human being.

But they are not the end of the story. Not the end of God's grace. And that's something I am sure of.

It's About Time

"When the wine was gone, Jesus' mother said to him, 'They have no more wine.'"

"Dear woman, why do you involve me?" Jesus replied. "My time has not yet come."

This week begins a new phase in my life. Over the course of the past few years I've gone from child to adult, from student to graduate, from volunteer to youth pastor...and now I'm going from intern to supervisor.

This week marks the first time in my life I'm overseeing an intern. He's helping out with our youth ministry this summer, and I am excited about the prospects. In three days I've been able to accomplish more than in the entirety of the past two months. It's astounding.

But at a certain level, its daunting having him here. Daunting to realize that I am responsible for directing someone else in this way. I don't know if I feel ready for this step...but here it is.

I think of Jesus early in the book of John. Not yet having started his ministry in earnest...not yet having performed a miracle. And there's his mom, telling him to get out there and starting really living his calling.

His response is not that enthusiastic. He tells her it's not his time. Why? Well, maybe he's not quite ready yet. Maybe for a fleeting moment he's not sure. Or maybe he's talking about something else entirely. I don't know.

All the same, I take comfort in these words...the words of what may be a slightly hesitant Savior thinking about taking his first steps in fulfilling the time He was called for.

While our callings are different than his, we often face the same kinds of moments. Dividing lines in our lives between childhood and adult life, simply living and real destiny. And sure, we can try and turn away, hopefully imagining that the time we've both looked forward to and deeply feared might be put off for just a little while longer. It's a real option.

Or like Jesus ends up doing, we might stop for a moment, considering the purpose we were made for, and see what we can do about that lack of wine right in front of us.

Nietzsche Revisited

"For freedom that Christ set us free; stand fast therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery." -Galatians 5:1

Rules, laws, guidelines...I don't think Christians are supposed to follow any of them. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I'm just going to say it: we're beyond that. We're beyond right and wrong. We're beyond good and evil.

This sounds shocking. It sounds heretical. It sounds like I want the world filled with a bunch of Christian hedonists. I know.

All the same, I think what I've said it makes a lot of sense. Sure, the law helps society function, makes the cogs of human living function smoothly. But it is limited.

You see, rules simply hold us in place, only keep us from transgressing. Make us feel happy when we're "good" and guilty when we're "bad." But while they often rescue us from excess and keep us in line, they don't really make us better people. Just better trained animals.

And that's a problem.

Rules and laws often make us live in fear as much as they offer real guidance. And a lot of times, we can spend so much time trying to live up to them that it just drives us nuts.

It was Jesus who came along to free us from all these rules....and He did. As Christians, we are now free from the Law, free from rules that hold us down, free from worrying about whether we're evil or vainly trying to show others that we're good.

Finally, we can just live.

It's not a random and reckless kind of selfish living--to be sure--but a live lived in Christ. A new life lived in the Spirit. A life lived in love.

Which, I'm convinced, is a life that is much better than one that spends all its time concerned about things like good and evil. Yes, it is a life of good...but it's much more than that. It is the way we were always meant to be.

Sound scary? Ya, it does. Scary because we don't have the safety net of right and wrong anymore, just our trust in the power of the Spirit and the grace of God. But I'm convinced--no matter how hard it might be for me to actually live out--that it is the way of the Christian.

Opa

Now, my other grandfather...he's quite a character.

It's from him I get my last name, 50% of my German blood, and a certain boyish sparkle in my eye that can't help showing up from time to time.

He and my father are the two people in this world that I take after the most.

Which is sometimes a little scary.

Like me, my grandfather is a minister. Our faith has been a shared one for over a decade...but this new ministerial connection is unique in its own way. You see, as my faith has matured and grown and my theology become "more complex," I've found that he and I have ended up agreeing on a lot of things.

It's not the kind of connection I would have expected between a 72 year old retired pastor and a young seminarian...but nevertheless there it is.

Not too long ago I helped interview my grandfather for a project I was working on. In that conversation, he said something that I don't think I'll ever forget. Reflecting on the Church, he commented:

"I hear sometimes "a new thing, a new generation"..."in order to reach the young people we must do this, we must do that"....My answer to this is...though we as a Church have tried so many things we have not reached more or less. What we need is an outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon a congregation. If we have this, you will see what happens."

To me, that's a voice that echoes of experience with God. Experience in ministry. It accords with the best of theology and the truth of Scripture. It's something that a young man can say easily without thinking about it or feeling its depth...but that an old man who has spent a lifetime reflecting upon it realizes in all its power.

His words and words like them are things every Christian needs to hear. They're things I as a youth pastor need to hear. Because they remind us it is not about what we do. That our power is limited. That our schemes and efforts and plans alone often amount to so little and can often completely miss the mark.

But God's power? Well, that's a much different story. For just as no amount of scheming in utero could have changed the family I was supposed to be born into and the grandfathers I was meant to have, it is God alone who charts the Church's destiny and can truly change hearts and minds. As a Church we're meant to keep our eyes on Him. If we aren't doing that, what exactly are we?

Ya, the bells and whistles are sometimes there. But they're not necessary. They never were.

It's only God that makes a difference, and--as I ought constantly to remind myself--the Church needs to follow Him, not the latest trends or passions of this world.

Then, I think, we will see what happens.

Pop-Pop

The past is where I live. It's how I think. It's who I am. Matter of fact, I like the past so much that a good portion of my life's work seems destined to be focused on it.

When it comes to my personal thoughts about the past, I have often taken the time to reflect on my family's own journey. My heritage. The way in which my ancestors ended up where they were and lived the stories I've only ever heard.

And while these facts and romantic imaginings do still hold my attention, I find that the older I get the more of my own past there is to reflect on. To laugh at. To yearn for. To cry about.

I'm thinking today of my grandfather--the only person I've ever loved who has died.

And believe me, there are a lot of memories there.

Flying with him in his plane. Eagerly looking for candy in his coat pockets when he'd visit. "Helping" with his air conditioner repair business. Going to the flea market and watching him haggle over some item.

Of all these recollections, there is one above all others I hope will become a permanent part of my life.

I don't know how old I was...probably that awkward phase between child and teenager when nothing seems quite right. Some kind of nonsense was going on with my family or in my life, and he and I were together and talking. Well, he probably did most of the talking...but I definitely listened.

As we sat there he told me to be a man of my word. To keep promises that I made. To always make sure to follow through on what I said I would do. Basically, he told me I needed to be the kind of person people could depend on. I respect those words...and they've stuck with me.

And though I don't have my journal from college in front of me right now, I'm pretty sure it was when he died during my sophomore year that I pledged to live out that advice in his memory. Whatever else might happen, that's something I'll always have.

While sober reflection tells me I haven't come close to following those words as fully as I could have, remembering them now encourages me yet again to try and be the person he hoped I'd become.

Out of Sync

"Your focus determines your reality." --Qui-Gon Jinn

"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." --Jesus

We human beings are fascinating creatures.

We have opposable thumbs.

We have harnessed fire.

We can think.

We have souls.

It's pretty darn amazing when you think about.

You see, I think sometimes of how much good each of us is capable of, how much just one person can accomplish in their life. It is truly inspiring.

And then I think about how so many of us never end up doing anything at all.

And I guess there are a lot of reasons for that. A lot of things that come up and prevent us from fulfilling our potential. From moving beyond where we are to where we should--or could--be.

Being a student for about 20 years now has taught me a lot of things. A lot of interesting things and, mostly, a lot of useless things. I've made friends and lost friends. Gone to some schools and left for others. I've been on the move for some time and to be honest, I've never really settled down.

I'm a little tired of this wandering...but I guess one useful thing that this pilgrimlike existence has taught me is how easy it is to get caught up in worlds so much smaller than the one we were meant for. How this limits our horizons and draws the shades on a much larger vision.

Church politics displacing the cause of Christ. A failed exam seeming like the end of the world. The vagaries of desire and romance leading to a loss of all perspective. Workplace intrigue becoming the thing that keeps us awake at night and drives our waking passions.

How can these things really become our worlds? How can they so consume us that we see nothing else? I don't know. But they do. Letting this happen in the short term is bad enough...but when the boundless dreams of youth are exchanged for an existence that is life in no other sense but the biological? That's tragic.

Ya, all the trade-offs (at least the ones we're aware of) seem important at the time. But are they really? Do these things that seem affect us so deeply really mean much at the end of the day? At the end of our lives? If we're completely honest, are they the things that are really important to us?

I hope not. I know they're not. Yet we let them be. We let our focus shift from the right to the easy. From where we always hoped and prayed it would be to somewhere....else.

The more I think about it, the more I realize how my perspectives and focus have been wrong in the past...and how much that has cost me.

So it is. The worlds we create and live in our minds, while coming to us so easily, are often damaging...and in the end are nothing like the world God has out there for us.

Lord, Make Me An Instrument

I've decided that being a minister has to be a calling...and I think I'm becoming more and more certain of that. Because it is so tough. Because it demands so much of one. Because at times it nearly rends a person in two. It just has to be a calling...because otherwise I don't know why anyone would do it.

I guess I'm reflecting a little on my recent experiences in life. As a pastor. As a person. You see, it's been a long year for me. I've needed to hear from God and time and again have desparately sought him in prayer.

There have been moments I've been so broken down I honestly haven't felt like doing anything else, let alone praying for others. Yet as a minister I've had too. And that's felt weird. It's made me question who's going to take the time and pray for me. How I could ever be a help to anyone when there's so much going on in my life. It's made me question whether I should be a minister at all.

In esssence, it's made me ask whether being a pastor was going to destroy my spiritual life or turn me into the worst kind of hypocrite.

Despite these questions, every now and then God somehow has shown me something different. Called out of me something that I didn't even know--or didn't remember--was there.

Just last night we had a amazing service with the youth. We talked about prayer and spent some time doing just that together with the teens.

We were able to really pray with some of the youth. Really focus in on God. And I know He spoke to some of them.

Seeing one of our teens come forward and seek God's help makes me happier than I can express. Makes me hopeful and inspires me onward.

And as I sit here and think about that reality, it also makes me realize that despite my fears and doubts, maybe my calling as a minister isn't something I should question after all.

Ya, I need prayer and the support of others. There's no denying that. But I also really desire to see God work in the lives of those whom I shepherd. Which, hopefully, is the beginning of what it means to minister to others. The beginning of living my calling by God's grace.

"Oh Divine Master, grant that I may not

So much seek to be consoled as to console;

to be understodd as to understand;

to be loved as to love;

for it is in giving that we receive;

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life."

-St. Francis of Assisi

By A Prayer

Tomorrow I'm going to be talking with my youth group about prayer.

The motivation for the talk comes from this week's passage in Mark 1, wherein Jesus goes off by himself and spends some time praying. I've always liked the image of Jesus going off and praying by himself...spending some quality time with God...getting away from it all.

I don't know if this makes me out to be some pie-in-the-sky Christian, but I have to admit there are times when I simply need to pray. When there is nothing else that I can do but fall before God and talk. Listen. Thank. Beg. Cry.

Say what you will, but I like praying and know I need it.

I still remember back in college when I'd trudge down to the somewhat spooky basement of our main chapel building and find myself heading towards the small prayer chapel.

Sometimes I'd kneel and pray. Sometimes I'd grab a hymnal and sing. Sometimes I'd pull one of the notebooks off of the shelf and begin reading the prayers of other who'd preceded me in that dimly lit room.

I'm not sure who started the tradition, but there they were: prayer journals filled with the written supplications of so many who felt and lived and loved so much. And though I may never meet their authors in this life, the words comforted me. They told me I wasn't alone in all of this and that my prayers to God were not far removed from that great company of witnesses who had gone before. It was comforting.

Maybe that's why I like the story of Jesus praying by himself in a solitary place. Because, somehow, it makes me feel a little less alone when I find myself in the same spot.

Hard To See The Dark Side Is

"I tell you the truth," Jesus replied, "no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age...and in the age to come, eternal life."

-Mark 10:29-31

This past Sunday, I was given the opportunity to preach in our church's morning services.

I decided to focus on the idea of following Jesus. What that looks like. What that means.

I started off by looking at Jesus calling the first disciples. Then I talked about him telling them to deny themselves, take up their crosses and follow Him.

And then I got to the passage in Mark 10 where he tells them to leave it all behind.

And you see, he wasn't talking about leaving behind sinful things. He was talking about leaving behind our mothers. Our sisters. Our children. Our homes.

As I was preparing the sermon, I was reminded in some way of Anakin Skywalker in the most recent Star Wars movie. In the film, he has a vision of the future and learns his wife is going to die. He doesn't know how to stop it. He can't. But trying to consumes him.

I imagine myself in the same situation and I know how hard it must have been. Like him, we may just be unable to let go. Like him, being unable to do so may destroy us. Might shipwreck our souls.

At one point, he consults a mentor of his about the situation. He asks what he should do. His reponse?

"Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose."

I'm not trying to make Jesus out to be some kind of Jedi...but what he says to his disciples sounds a lot like this. What he says to you and me sounds a lot like this.

Trying to life a live following God and--for that matter--trying to live a life at all without being able to let go is just a losing proposition. Fears, hopes, people, friends, family, loved ones, doubts...some of these are good and blessed things but in their time each may have to be left behind. And we don't have to watch Episode III to know what can happen if we don't.

So what then, is it? What is it you see after closing your eyes that you know you cannot ever let go of? That you fear to lose more than anything else?

Maybe that's just the thing we need to be ready to let go.

Dearly Beloved

I saw something beautiful yesterday. I don't think I really expected to or had given much thought to it previously, but there it was.

You see, last night I had the opportunity to watch a couple renew their wedding vows after 25 years of marriage. The fact that they had loved together so long was itself beautiful...but there was something else very particular that stuck out to me as a thing of wonder.

After the two had repledged their lives to each other and promised faithfulness and love, the time came for the exchange of rings. The tokens of their affection for one another. The symbols of their love.

What happened next was unlike any wedding I have ever been to. To my amazement, their two grown daughters ascended the platform, stood next to the bride and groom, and placed the rings on their parents' fingers.

There they were. A husband and wife joined together in love all of these years renewing their promises through words and symbol. The beauty of it was that the expression of their commitment--the very tangible expression visible for all to see--was no longer two bands of metal.

It was the product of their union, the true testament of their love: their daughters conceived and nurtured as a part of that 25-year old pledge.

As the four of them stood there in that brief tableau, daughters next to parents, rings placed on fingers, vows made incarnate...I knew I was seeing something of beauty. A little, perhaps, of what marriage is all about.

I hope that it is something I never forget.

Where There's A Will

Determining the will of God can be a difficult thing.

I still remember being a senior in high school and trying to decide which college to attend. The time grew short, my choices were difficult, and I prayed and prayed that God would show me the right way to go.

I remember going to a Sunday evening service and having my fellow church members pray for me. They laid on hands, prayed earnestly, and truly expected me to receive an answer that very night.

The trouble was, I didn't. The group surrounding me prayed for some time and I became more and more frustrated. Eventually my youth pastor whisked me away, sat me down in his car, and told me that maybe God wasn't going to answer me in that way.

A few days later I simply took the chance and made a decision. And you know what? It turned out to be the right one.

When I think now about God's will, I think about a river. We're sitting there, floating in the water and being carried by its currents. Heading in the direction we are supposed to go.

Sometimes we are in the center of that current and sometimes we get weighed down slogging through the muddy banks, but slowly and surely we're moving where we need to be.

If we try to stop? Well, we can try...but we're still moving with the water. If we try to paddle against the current, we can never truly overcome its force. And if we try to divert our path and take a side stream, we often end up coming back out to the larger river.

Can we destroy our raft? Give up on the river? Well, maybe. But sometimes I'm not even sure that's possible.

In the end, we might not always be able to tell where we're going. But we're still headed there. And you know what? I'm really happy to trust that the current keeps moving me even when I'm not sure where it is.

Sonnet V

A flame its warmth increasing slow but true
Now born so young, its light a gracious gift.
Small yet but growing o’er the days renewed;
Alike together these new feelings lift.
In past at first our thoughts so fresh and rich
Come now together burning bright and fair
But then the night at once its courses stretch
And conflagration through our hearts does scare.
Decisions made and courses plotted then
Appeared as wise, yet brought too quick finis
Once made, not simply fix’d nor quick undone
Yet spoke regrets of them have newest lease.

For that same flame that burned too hot and bright
Is at its core a good and blessed light.

-J. Ziefle-

To Thine Own Self Be False

The older I get, the more and more I am convinced that the human brain can convince itself of anything it wants. No matter how divorced our self-image is from actuality and how much the facts of our lives remain woefully incongruous with our interpretation of those facts, we still press on far too often in our largely self-imposed willfulness.

The heartless soul who feels their actions are simply the "way things have to be." The adulterous man sure that he's not doing anything wrong. The pastor secretly embezzling funds from the church certain that he deserves the money he's getting. You know the story.

Whenever the utter nonsense of these positions is revealed, the watching world immediately recoils, certain that those involved in such acts must be the most evil individuals this world has ever spewed into existence.

I'm not here to defend those people. I'm just here to point out that we all do similar things, endlessly convincing ourselves we're in the right. It doesn't happen to all of us all of the time...but it does happen. Matter of fact, its probably happening right now.

Why? Well, I guess it is a defensive mechanism deeply rooted somewhere in our psychology. A real unwillingness to ever admit our mistakes.

And the scary thing? Most of the time, we don't even know that we are doing it. That doesn't make us innocent, not in the least. But it does make me stop and think about a lot of the things I do and the lot of the positions I hold.

Because if I, like everyone else, have it within me to convince myself that utter evil is justifiable...what then?

It's a dark question, I know. But it is one worth remembering.

Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts:

And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

Psalm 139:23-24

Growing Up

"Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness....." --A certain Galilean

I've recently been thinking about my own relationship with God. The state of my spirituality. Theologically speaking, I've been pondering sanctification.

For probably as long as I've been a Christian, I have thought about the kind of person I want to be. The kind of person I need to be. The kind of person who really lives out their faith in love every moment of every day.

Yet most of the time, it seems I'm nowhere near where I should be.

Sometimes people tell me I am being too hard on myself. Perhaps they're right. But then sometimes I think I'm not being hard enough.

Growing close to God and becoming a more spiritually focused Christian believer are important goals for me. It is my fervent hope that I could become a person whose first recourse is prayer, whose first thoughts are of God, whose spirit is infused not with my own wants and desires, but His. I need my relationship with God to make a real difference in the kind of person I am. The kind of person I am continually becoming.

Trouble is, sometimes I wonder whether I'm making any progress at all. Whether I am really growing closer to Christ. Whether I am being transformed into the person God wants me to be.

Because more often than not, I find myself making the same mistakes time and again. Failing here, there, and everywhere and never being the loving soul I wish I were.

I suspect I am not alone in this.

It's tough to have to admit that we fall short so often. That our highest ideals and hopes for serving God and others so often get waylaid.

All the same, I cannot help but believe that if we are really seeking after God and asking His help, our lives will somehow become something different. They just have to. I don't know--maybe it's not something I can see now, at 25 years of age. Maybe it's something one simply has to look back on after many years. I'm not sure.

So ya, we'll mess up...believe me, I know that as much as any. But maybe, just maybe, we'll fail less often. Maybe we'll realize the consequences quicker and learn love more naturally.

And maybe, slowly but surely, steadily but sometimes imperceptibly, we really will begin to forge ahead with a stronger relationship with God. At the very least, this is what I am going to be praying.

Because I think it's when we stop caring, when we stop struggling...it's then that we're in the most trouble.

Its Back

When my father was young and growing up in a conservative pastor's house, television was a sin.

To have it. To watch it. Probably even to talk about it.

Forty years later, that kind of attitude seems kind of cold and ill-informed. It's far too categorical a rejection in our minds. After all, aren't there benefits to television? Doesn't it help us learn new things, explore new places? Doesn't it open the portals of understanding so that everyone in our world can begin to understand each other a little better?

Yes, well, I suppose it does. And I'm not dismissing that in the least.

The problem is, the older I get the more I think that my grandparents were right back in the 1960s.

Television just might be a sin.

Some of my reasons for saying so probably has a lot in common with my grandparents' reasons. The language. The sex. The violence. The way in which what we watch has an insidious effect on what we start thinking and how we begin to see the world.

But if television is a sin, I'm convinced it is a sin for more than just that. It is a sin because it's just a waste of time.

In this age of hundreds of channels and season after season of our favorite shows on DVD, we have become so addicted to sitting and watching and occupying our brains with so much patent anesthetizing nonsense that many of us may be starting to lose touch with our own lives. Starting to lose touch with those we care about or ought to be caring about. Starting to lose our priorities and focus in a muddle of "reality television" marathons or the empassioned angst of any of a number of teenage groups on the WB.

Countless hours of my life have been wasted watching television. Countless hours getting caught up in the lives of imaginary people and artificial creations. They are hours I cannot ever get back. Hours that could have been spent doing so much more.

As a historian, I wonder sometimes why people in olden days seemed to get so much more done than us. Learned so much more. Loved so much more. Wrote so much more.

While some of that may just have to do with my own silly pining for the romance of the past, I'm beginning to think that a lot of it has to do with the fact that our forbears were never faced the temptations of mindless distraction that attack us daily.

Is television a sin? I don't know. But it is a question worth asking.