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.

Mystic Cords of Nonsense

Being a youth pastor and a PhD student in Church History is often a peculiar combination.

This past week I've been reading Doris Kearns Goodwin's 700+ page book Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln. It's a good book. I recommend it.

The problem is, it has absolutely nothing to do with the activity night I had planned for my seventh through tenth graders last night.

Or so I thought.

One of the games we were playing last night involved each person writing a small paragraph about themselves in as vague a way possible. I then read each paragraph back to them and we tried to guess who was who. For a little added wackiness, I has us all make up a funny fact about Abraham Lincoln to add to our paragraphs.

Among other things, we learned:

1.) Abraham Lincoln was secretly a crazy ninja that starred in movies such as Kung Fu Hustle.

2.) Abraham Lincoln had a big bump on the top of his head. That's why he wore that hat.

3.) Abraham Lincoln was so cool he taught Superman how to fly.

and my personal favorite....

4.) Abraham Lincoln had a pet leprechaun.

Every now and then, being a youth pastor makes history fun...and makes me realize that my life isn't quite as divided as I sometimes think.

Which is good, because I hear that houses divided against themselves don't do a good job standing...

More of Gravy

For a long time I've thought about including the story of Ebenezer Scrooge in a sermon. If for nothing else,there's a lot in it that "will preach." Greed, sin, redemption, love, forgiveness. It's all there.

While these are each important themes, I think the idea that most fascinates me about Scrooge is that it's likely he never set out to be a bad man. That he never intended to be the lonely old bachelor he is when we meet him on Christmas Eve.

Here, of course, I'm thinking of the flashback to his past. No matter which movie version you've seen, you know the picture: he's young and in love and engaged a wonderful young woman.

Yet in the midst of this, something happens.

Consider the possibility. Scrooge, it seems, wants to focus his attention on his work. On getting ahead. On being able to be financially secure in order to provide for his wife-to-be. No doubt this was in his mind the noblest of goals. But as he pursues it, that for which he was working the most slowly slipped away.

Like us, Scrooge never imagined himself a person whose name would be synonymous with wrongdoing. He was simply trying to do the smart thing. To do what he needed in life. After all, making money is not in itself an evil thing. It is just a thing.

But failing to do what is needed because our attention is too tightly focused on one area of our lives? Letting love and beauty slip away because we can't see the forest for the trees? Sure, it happens. But that's rough.

You see, a lot of times we think that the Church is telling people they're just plain evil and need to stop. And ya, sometimes that's true.

But sometimes...well, sometimes it is just trying to help us all see how misplaced our focus is. How mixed up our priorities are--so much so that we might not even realize.

How, in spite of all our wisdom and plans and seeming sureties, we--like Scrooge--are lost in the truest sense.

Once More

There's a couple of lines from the song "Square One" on Coldplay's most recent album that grab me in a particular way:

From the top of the first page/

To the end of the last day

The words make me think about the last day. The end. Whether our own or the universe's...in a certain sense I'm not sure if it matters.

I sit and I think and I wonder what the last day will be like. What my life and what all our lives will be like. If we'll know that day will be our last.

I have further to ask what I would do were I to know today was my last. Indeed, what any of us would do armed with that fatal information.

Would we, I wonder, do anything different?

Now, of course, the old sermon illustration is that we should live our lives in such a way that every day would be a fitting last day. That each day's journey is taken to the utmost.

While I track with that idealism quite well, I know all the same how messy life is...and how much we let slip through each of our fingers every moment of every day. How many regrets and missed opportunities can haunt us long after their time has passed.

So what, then? What would we do differently if today was our last day? What chances would we take? What lost loves would we track down? What relationships would we try to mend? What parts of our life would we reflect on and hope to recapture as we gazed back over the long course of our life's race?

In short, who would we be on that day?

It might seem morbid to talk of last days. All the same, sitting here thinking about them makes me a little keener on the journey of life, a little happier for the experiences I've had so far and, Lord willing, that I don't have to fit my hopes, dreams, and regrets into the fleeting hours of April 19th. If I did, well...that would be something.

All the same, it's worth considering:

If today's was the last sunset, what would I do? What would you?

My Dear Watson

"This is a great mystery, and I take it to mean Christ and the Church."

Ephesians 5:32

Thinking back to my teenage years, I can honestly credit my home church for helping make me the person I am today. And I'm not even sure if they knew they were doing it.

Now, did I always want to go? Sit through another sermon? Pray yet again? Well, no. And even when I did go, my motives weren't always the most pious.

You see, there was a pretty girl. There were good friends. There were fun youth group activities.

And yet.

Even though I didn't know what was happening, I was growing. Becoming older. Learning from God. Learning about relationships--with God, with my peers, with pastors and older people who I might have never otherwise come into contact with.

God was doing His work in those days. Molding me into something. Protecting me from myself and the dangers that surrounded me. Showing me what the true Church was really all about. And it wasn't something that anyone forced. It was God.

When I think today about the young people I pastor, I want God to shelter them and help them grow in the same way. I want us all to be bound to each other...not because we would have become friends anyway, but because God holds each of us tight in His arms, binding us together for His purposes.

Perhaps through this we will all begin to realize what "church" is supposed to be.

It's not a building...but it happens there. It's not a pastor preaching a sermon...but God does speak there. It's not a bunch of people spending time together...but it is God at work in the midst of gathered individuals, helping them become a community seeking to spread God's message of love to a world whose experience of relationships is often hollow and disjointed.

Without God working through the fragile fellowship of my own home church, I would not be where I am today. I know this. So tight were the bonds He formed in our midst that I still have friends from those days and will always credit those years as foundational for everything that came after. And I know that God's work in the Church is not done yet.

How does it happen? I can only point to God.

Sure, it's a mystery...but I'd be lost without it.

What Is Truth?

People hate hypocrites. They do. In many ways, they are seen as one of the lowest forms of life...things that are not worthy of attention, much less any positive regard.

In the eyes of so many, the Church is seen as the ultimate repository of people who can be classified as nothing other than "hypocrite." Smug and santimonious souls who sit back demanding that others follow the rules when they themselves transgress in so many ways.

And this is no urban myth. It does happen. It happens because we often think we are righteous in our own eyes. We like to convince ourselves of wished-for realities that have never been a part of our own lives. We lie to ourselves about our powers and quash our doubts by forcing rules on others. We go on like this for a long time, demanding perfection and never admitting our own woeful failures.

I desperately desire to avoid hypocrisy. It is destructive...it is damaging...and it is a lie. Yet as a minister, I know that people will come to me for moral direction. For spiritual guidance. To them I am a role model and in some sense am called upon to be as perfect as possible. And whether or not I have always followed the advice I must give them, I know I must give it because I believe and know its true.

The problem is that I'm not perfect. Far from it.

So does giving firm direction and/or telling others they are wrong in areas where one has faltered oneself make a person a hypocrite? It's a good question.

Yes, if I do so as if I was perfect. As if the wrong choice that a person might make is so obvious and easy that only the most ignorant or depraved would choose it. And believe me, the urge to treat someone like that can sometimes be a temptation.

No, if I can be honest about my own mistakes. If I can admit that wrong choices are sometimes easiest. If I can use my own experiences to help others understand wiser courses and better roads. If both of us can seek God's truth by the power of His grace.

For in the end, I would hope that guiding someone away from the mistakes one has made is not hypocrisy at all, but love.

An Easter Prayer

“The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it produces only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”
John 12:23-24

“Where O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?”
I Corinthians 15:55

We have come this morning to rejoice in the strangest of facts. The oddest of events. In a deep inconceivability that transcends us all…yet binds us each together.

We have come, O God, to rejoice in your resurrection—a victory over death that we little understand but for which we cannot offer enough of our thanks.

We exalt you this morning with ever increasing joy for this victory over the world’s fiercest foe, knowing full well that this accomplishment was not simply a one time trick of magic, not a performance to be applauded, but the end of Death itself. It means that our lives need no longer be bound by sin, by failure, by death. That the doubts and fears and pains of life have been met in you and done away with.

Though our lives have been dry and empty, like water spilled in the midst of the vast desert that is this cruel world, your power has gathered it all back together and made us whole.

Your first creation, though marred by our mistakes—sins that continue in each our lives to this very day—has again been restored to its rightful place. Death has been turned backwards, life springs anew, and our lives have been saved from the pit of their own ruin.

Though our weeks and days and months have been cold, we seek to do nothing but bask now in the warmth of your Holy Son, the one slain from the foundations of the world to bring us freedom. A freedom announced so boldly this morning by the sign of an empty tomb.

God, do not let us this day pass over these facts too lightly. Bind them deep in our hearts. Keep them ever in our minds. Let both your love and power at work on our behalf ever encourage and lighten our steps as we join together one with another in praise to you and walk into a world that needs your new life now as it has from time immemorial.

Raise us up from our death, O God. Raise us up from our sin. Raise us up to serve you, to live in new life filled with love. Let us live with the hope we know is true. The hope of this Easter and the hope of all Easters.

The hope of Jesus Christ.

This we humbly and thankfully pray in the matchless and gracious name of our Lord.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

A Hard Day's Night

Someone has asked me what God actually did on that Cross. It's a good question.

Amongst theologians, answers to that question are called "theories of atonement."

But then I don't really like theologians.

The short answer is that it is impossible to know. Sure, we acknowledge the effect--our salvation and deliverance from sin and darkness--but does that really explain what happened?

Well, not exactly.

All can I tell you is what I know about myself. You see, I know that I struggle through life. I know that I mess up. Sometimes this is because I accidentally stumble into something. Sometimes it's because my heart and focus are in the wrong place. Whatever the case, I just can't deny how much I fail and invite the spirit that kills into the center of my soul.

And I have tried to fix my own shortcomings, repair the destruction I have wrought...tried to resuscitate those parts of me, those relationships, those situations that are dead because of me. Most of the time, I haven't been able to. Even if I am, they promise never to be the same.

As I said, I speak only for myself. Maybe there are others who do not have such problems. Who don't mess up or when they do can always fix it. But that's not me. All I know is that I have been powerless to control such things and am incapable of stopping the forces of death my actions have unleashed.

What I need? Someone else to intervene, take the bullet. Use His power to absorb the mistakes that will certainly destroy me. For though they're mine to deal with, I can't do anything about them.

In a way, that is the divine nonsense that is the message of the Cross. It's God saying, "Josh, I know you're a putz. You're ruining yourself and have fallen so far under the power of death that I'm going to have to take your place. And don't argue with me about this. I'm doing this because it's the only way and you know it. I'm doing this because I love you."

Now why would someone do that? I don't know. But He did.

And that's a very good thing.

Not So Good

As a minister, there is one day a year that I want to ignore the gospel. Forget about resurrection. Turn a blind eye to grace.

That day is today.

Today marks the death of Jesus Christ, God in the flesh. It marks the day that He died in order to carry the weighty sins of our darkened world.

That's no light matter. No light matter at all. Nevertheless we Christians love to talk about Easter and immediately jump to reborn life, saying everything is quite alright.

As if our sins had no consequences. As if there was no price. As if it is all simply a nice story with which we enjoy comforting ourselves. It's a dangerous position to hold, especially in light of all of us out there who know quite well the effect that evil has upon ourselves, our world, and the lives of those it comes into contact with.

Failing to really think about death in our everyday lives is bad enough. It blinds us to reality and gives us a woefully false sense of security.

But failing to think about death on this day? Well, that's a travesty and does a great dishonor to our God.

For it was on this day almost two thousand years ago that God Himself was beaten. Was bled dry. Was totally and utterly spent...and not so Mel Gibson could make a movie. It was on this day the Creator of the universe came face to face with the enemy of all life and had His own taken from Him. Though he drank of His own free will, the cup he took was still one of utter destruction.

You see, on this day God is dead.

Thoughts of Suppers Past

We remember today the final meal Jesus shared with His disciples before the Crucifixion. The last time he broke bread with them. The fleeting moment all twelve of them were together in just that way.

I've been thinking about other "last times" today. Among those, I've been trying to remember the last time I ever saw my grandfather.

I think it was when I was heading off to college for my sophomore year. Before we said goodbye, he made sure to slip me some spending money. He would often do things like that. I was thankful for the money, but honestly gave it little extra thought. I certainly didn't know it was the last time we'd ever look at each other.

Yet there it was.

Over two years later I remember saying goodbye to all of my friends from college in the few passing moments that followed commencement. Taking pictures, hugging one another, holding back tears. We all knew it would never be the same again.

And there we were.

So too I well remember watching someone I cared about drive off slowly down the road for the last time. Something was very final about it...and I knew it.

For me, the Last Supper seems similar. It intrigues me.

Why? Well, I suspect it has to do with my own predilection for remembrance of things past. The way in which I think about final moments and "last times." Like some of those, this meal seems like a perfect moment...without a doubt the last the disciples would have before the events of that terrible weekend.

I'm not certain if all the disciples knew what was going on. The severity of it. Matter of fact, I'll bet they didn't. Yet things came and events took place.

And as they looked back later in life, I'll bet they knew. This particular supper? Ya, it was the last.

Jesus would return in glory, yes...and the disciples had God-given missions ahead of them. But still...it would was the last time all of them who had spent some much time together following Jesus around--even Judas--were together in just that way.

If we think hard enough, we know exactly what those bittersweet moments are like. We've had them, they carry a uniqueness to them that remains deeply meaningful...and they're gone.

Still, we remember them forever.

Day After Day

Lear: "Dost thou call me fool, boy?"

Fool: "All thy other titles thou has given away; that thou wast born with."

King Lear I.iv. 96-97

I am not sure what to write. Musings about life, Scriptural thoughts, random observations...well, they all aren't really grabbing me today.

Because today I am sad. Sad for choices I have made. Sad for some of the things I've become. Sad for some of the ways I have treated others.

This week is known as "Holy Week." For Christians, it serves to mark the last days of Jesus' life. It comes at the end of the season of repentance and fasting known as Lent and culminates in Good Friday and Easter.

Much of today's sadness is connected to a certain mourning I have been in for nearly this entire Lenten season. A mourning for specific choices made and actions taken.

And despite the fact that the Resurrection is almost here, I'm not ready for it.

I know about grace and I know about forgiveness. I've preached about them and experienced them and shared them with others. But now it all seems too easy. Grace seems cheap.

Maybe all of this is meant in some small way to help me understand the weight of sin and death that was the Cross. That somehow Jesus managed to carry this too.

But why did he have too? Well, because of me. Because of you. Because of our woeful and damning disregard of ourselves and others. And if that doesn't give us pause for mourning in this Holiest of Weeks, I am not sure anything will.

All I know is that I am sad.

And frankly, a fool.

Pass the Pineapple

"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." Galatians 5:22-23

I like these verses. A lot. I don't know if they exhaust the list of everything that I want to be, but it covers a great deal of it.

Today...well, I'm thinking about patience. About what it means. About how to let it grow in me.

I'm also thinking a lot about the old King James term for patience--"longsuffering." Nobody really uses the word anymore, but it does seem to convey what being patient really feels like at times.

Us? Well, we want things right now. We want things right away. In our world of high speed Internet and instant access and 24 hour grocery stores patience seems like a bygone relic of the old days. And when we can't have whatever it is we seem to think we want at the instant we want it, we get frustrated.

How pale much of our modern impatience must seem compared to the real patience of which Paul writes--a long suffering in this life. Sure, we think we suffer now with our sometimes insignificant concerns. And they do bother us.

But then something comes along that demands real patience and we suddenly know what it's all about.

How to get this patience with which we will must suffer long? Not from our own power, I can tell you that. The kind of patience Paul writes about--like the kind of love, peace, and joy--are only achievable in the Spirit. As gifts from God.

As with so many things, this means giving up trying to work things out in your own power and letting God take care of them in His time. It's above all else an act of faith. An act of trust.

Though it seems far too simple, I guess we just have to wait for Him.

A Deeper Magic Still

"The heart has its reasons, of which the mind knows nothing."

-Blaise Pascal

A friend recently told me that he thinks I'm too emotional. Well, not exactly. I suppose what he was getting at was that I am too apt to put my whole self into things almost from the beginning.

This in his mind is a bad move...after all, doesn't it make sense to guard one's heart? To keep one's emotions in check? To stay within the specified lines of acceptable feeling?

I think he's partly right. The emotions each of us carry with us are powerful things. Amazingly powerful things. They can take us to the heights of joy and leave us in the depths of despair. They can divert our thoughts, throw us far off track, and lead us to exist in ways we never would have intended. They can hurt us and can hurt others in real and tangible ways that have lasting results.

But at the same time I know that talking about the dangers is only half of the story. Sure, remaining cautious and nonchalant about various matters speaks to a certain wisdom and works with a certain temperament...

...but that does not mean the same approach is appropriate for everyone at all times.

You see, putting my whole self into something is just who I am and is for me the most honest way that I can be myself. It is who God has made me. To constantly hedge my bets....well, that would not work for me.

It would be a cold and shallow half life, and a very dishonest one at that. In other words, to live without the chance to really feel doesn't seem like living at all.

Sure, being willing to let the whole power of our emotions speak to the facets of our lives may lead to problems at times--and these must always be guarded against--but for me the alternatives just aren't that attractive.

Poetry, song, art, inspiration, love, devotion, piety, service--these are things that are done and done best by those whose emotions are fully invested in life. The greatest hearts have thoughts that know no bounds.

And you know what? I'm convinced the world is so much richer because of them.

Off On A Comet

Or rather, off on a road trip. A great American tradition that still perseveres.

See you soon.

What Immortal Hand or Eye?

Like all good entrepeneurs, William Blake published a sequel a few years later. He called it "Songs of Experience." It contains poems in counterpoint to his earlier work.

One of them is called The Tyger.

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

Gone here are gentle pastoral images of livestock. In their place is an animal of the jungle, a predator whose name appears misspelled to emphasize his truly terrible demeanor.

Where is the lamb? Well, we don't know anymore. It's gone...and I have to wonder if our new feline friend has something to do with that.

Just as a tiger is so much more awe-inspiring than a meek little lamb, some reject innocence outright, preferring instead the seemingly more powerful, steady, and rational guiding hand of experience.

But I have to wonder at what.

After all, is the pursuit of experience really worth trading all that' s left of the innocent in our souls?

It's a good question. What I do know is tigers do come sometimes--there's no avoiding it. But that doesn't mean we always have to welcome them.

Though tigers may be majestic creatures and their counterparts in our own lives can lead us to new and unfound territories, following them may mean trudging deep into the dark forests of our own nights. And that can be a damaging thing.

For despite our best intentions, leaving innocence behind can lead us lead us into some fearful places.

And a lot of times, gaining experience by that route isn't even close to being worth it.

Our Time In Eden

Among his other works, 19th century poet and painter William Blake published two thoughtful books of poetry.



The first of these is called "Songs of Innocence." It is a series of poems that centers on children and their thoughts. Listen to the words of his poem The Lamb:

Little lamb, who made thee?

Does thou know who made thee,

Gave thee life, and bid thee feed

By the stream and o'er the mead;

Gave thee clothing of delight,

Softest clothing, woolly, bright;

Gave thee such a tender voice,

Making all the vales rejoice?

Little lamb, who made thee?

Does thou know who made thee?

What, after all, is more innocent than a lamb? For starters, maybe a small child talking to a lamb.

And that's just what Blake wants us to see.

A lot of us so-called "grown-ups" might not be comfortable with such innocence. Maybe such daydreaming is a waste of time. Maybe the child will hurt himself. Maybe the lamb has "hoof-and-mouth" disease. At the very least, we call it "naivete" and move on.

Yet can we really move on? Do we really want to? What is it about innocence that drives us crazy sometimes?

Maybe we are afraid of looking stupid. Maybe we are afraid of missing the next big thing. But maybe it's just us being bitter that so much of our own innocence has been dissipated, washed away by the heavy rains of living. If we cannot have it, then why should anyone?

If nothing else, innocence was humanity's very first state of existence. It was good and pure. And no matter how far we are from that primaeval state, we all carry a deep connection to it.

Which is why I think any loss of innocence is a loss for us all.

David Does It Again

Part II

Perhaps the best way to describe wrestling with God isn't to look at Jacob.

Don't get me wrong--his story does provide us with an unforgettable image that should never be forgotten. But the actual mechanics of this wrestling? For that, it seems best to turn to the Psalms.

The words I read just last night seem to express this better than almost anything:

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me for ever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I bear pain in my soul,

and have sorrow in my heart all day long?

How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

Consider and answer me, O Lord my God!

Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death,

and my enemy will say, ‘I have prevailed’;

my foes will rejoice because I am shaken.

David, a man after God's own heart, does not seem afraid to yell a little. Maybe he's just got nothing left to lose. Maybe he's afraid, angry. Desparately needs somebody to fix the mess he's in, and he's not afraid to say so.

Well, I'm glad he's not...'cause I certainly am. A big part of me is petrified to go to God with such vehemence, such frustration, and--dare I say it--anger?

But still there it is, printed right in the middle of our Bibles. I think it tells us something like this:

"Tell God what's on your mind. Argue with him if you need to. Yell at him if you must. Be honest about how you feel. After all, He already knows."

It's a vision of wrestling with the Almighty that is still a little offsetting, but nonetheless seems true.

And the Psalm doesn't end there. For though David is extremely upset and demands God's help, he always does so in faith. If nothing else, its a lesson of trust in the midst of anguish.

The last two verses of the 13th Psalm:

But I trusted in your steadfast love;

my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord,

because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Domine, Exaudi Vocem Meam

Part I

During my last year of seminary, I took a class wherein I had to design my own funeral service. For some, this might be morbid. For the future minister, it's "kind of cool."

And so I did, right down to who I wanted to preach, fitting funeral music, and where the casket was to bit situated.

While all of that is interesting in its own right, the thing that has stayed with me the longest about the project was the Scripture I wanted preached at my funeral, Genesis 32:22-30.

It's the story where Jacob wrestles with God.

I suppose, idealistically, that this is how I wanted my life to be remembered. I wanted to be known as someone who really sought God's will and wasn't satisfied with the easy answers.

The problem is, I'm not sure that's the best picture of my life...I don't think I've wrestled that much with Him.

But I want to.

And to that end, it seems, I've begun to start. But as I prayed last night, I began to wonder what the bounds of this new "wrestling" ought to be. What is it even supposed to look like?

Well, Jacob was a schemer, we know that. He stole his brother's birthright.

Jacob was patient, too. He labored 14 long years to be able to marry the woman of his choice.

Patient scheming. Is this the answer to what it means to wrestle with God? Does it really mean just grabbing onto Him and using the power of your own wits until you get what you want?

Is that how this all works? 'Cause Heaven knows I'm trying to wrestle with God right now and still not sure exactly what to do.

To be continued....